Holy House Party! Fancy-Pants is Gonna Explode!
Ugh...It happened again. I'm walking to my car after school on Friday and feel the vibro-mations in my pocket. I look my phone and what do you know, it says Angela. I answer with the casual "Talk to me". Well much to my dismay there's another little pause, followed by "Oh, I'm so sorry, this Angela's mom again." This time, however, it seemed way too surreal to be true, so I decided Angela gave her phone to someone to pretend to be her mom. So I responded with "No way. You liar, who is this really?" It wasn't long before I was convinced it was really her mom, and after many apologies, I found out the Bomber was broken and I was asked to take Angela and her brother home. I thought this a prime time to turn on the ol' Balogh charm and see if I could score some points with the Kaiser family. They got in the car and that's when I remembered: there is no legacy of charming Baloghs. Every account of a Balogh man meeting his to-be wife was an accident, a fluke, if you will. Long story short, her dad made me promise I'd never come over again, and me and her brother are mortal enemies.
We got a cat. I call it Cornwallis.