First lesson in religion

Our usual babysitter has been on vacation for the last two weeks, so my 13-year-old niece has been coming over for a few hours every morning while Jon and I play Mario Kart in the basement. What? That’s what you thought we did, isn’t it? We play video games and see who can burp the alphabet while someone we’ve paid raises our daughter for us.

She’s a much different teenager than she was a young kid in that now she seems to be an actual human being and not an alien savage placed here by her overlords to see if she could single-handedly destroy the Earth. Leta loves her despite her annoying Utah accent, a speech impairment that prevents her from pronouncing the middle of a word, not because she doesn’t possess the physical capability to do so, but because she’s probably never heard the middle of a word. If you haven’t ever heard a Utah accent all you need to know is that if you had to listen to 30 seconds of a local newscast you’d offer a blow job to the first person who volunteered to stab you in the ears.

My niece is here only to play with Leta, not to teach her any meaningful skill, unless Assigning Varying Levels of Attractiveness to Mormon Church Figures is something they teach in school. I had no idea, but I guess the current Mormon President, Gordon Hinckley, is cute. Like, real cute, kind of like an iguana. Her bishop, though, is a total babe, and last week she saw that new movie about how the church started, and wow, was Joseph Smith ever hot.

Which may just be the most awesome thing I have ever heard spoken in the English language.