Chubby bunny
There is nothing like Chubby Bunny...Don't tell me you have never played! EVERYONE has played chubby bunny...Well, perhaps it's a girl thing, since my husband has never heard of it.
Allow me to explain....A group of people sits in a circle (or square, depending on your preference) and passes around a bag of jumbo marshmellos. The point is to take turns by putting a marshmello in your mouth and still be able to say "Chubby Bunny" with each marshmello you put in. Ahhhh.....it makes me want to gag just thinking about it! My sister, Jennifer, sent me a You-Tube video with 10 WHOLE MINUTES of watching people do this to themselves (if you are interested, check it out at You-Tube "San Ban Pirates 3." VERY entertaining...)
Girls camp...what a memory...I remember my first year. I had just moved from California and I don't think I owned any pants longer than a pair of boarderline Daisy Duke cutoffs. And it didn't even occur to me that I would need anything other than tee-shirts. Let's just say it was a wee bit chilly up in the New Mexico mountains. Good Ol' Camp Morning Star. Other things happened that year besides me freezing to death, but I won't mention those things here...let's just say that if you don't want your personal (and embarassing) information spread to every member of your ward, don't tell them to anyone under the age of 43. Even then, you are taking chances.
Allow me to explain....A group of people sits in a circle (or square, depending on your preference) and passes around a bag of jumbo marshmellos. The point is to take turns by putting a marshmello in your mouth and still be able to say "Chubby Bunny" with each marshmello you put in. Ahhhh.....it makes me want to gag just thinking about it! My sister, Jennifer, sent me a You-Tube video with 10 WHOLE MINUTES of watching people do this to themselves (if you are interested, check it out at You-Tube "San Ban Pirates 3." VERY entertaining...)
Girls camp...what a memory...I remember my first year. I had just moved from California and I don't think I owned any pants longer than a pair of boarderline Daisy Duke cutoffs. And it didn't even occur to me that I would need anything other than tee-shirts. Let's just say it was a wee bit chilly up in the New Mexico mountains. Good Ol' Camp Morning Star. Other things happened that year besides me freezing to death, but I won't mention those things here...let's just say that if you don't want your personal (and embarassing) information spread to every member of your ward, don't tell them to anyone under the age of 43. Even then, you are taking chances.
Comments