The Blair Necessities

The Coffee Talk Companion is an ongoing feature in which we dissect and discuss former Facts of Life star Lisa Whelchel's online journal entries.



It's part two of the non-bike bike trip, people! And, boy are there some non-surprise surprises in store. What say you grab a cup of maple syrup and some maple syrup and read on?

Last time we talked, my mom and I were sitting at an adorable restaurant in Woodstock, Vermont enjoying a bowl of chili, playing cards, and missing my grandmother. Next, the waitress brought the chicken with ranch dressing flatbread. Imagine pizza with extremely crisply crust. Delicious.

We love how Lisa refers to her blog as "talking." As if her readers have a chance to respond to her prattle. Really, it's the perfect forum for her.

Oh, and what the Christ is "chicken with ranch dressing flatbread"? We don't believe for a second it has anything to do with pizza because we don't believe Lisa has ever seen a pizza. You can't fry pizza, right?

While in Boston we tried to eat everything indigenous to New England. Today we were on our maple syrup kick. We ate Maple syrup cotton candy and maple dipped cashews earlier, so for dessert we ordered a maple syrup ice cream sundae. Yummy! You can tell we aren’t real bikers.

We could tell you weren't bikers without the help of 1,424 fucking maple syrup concoctions, thank you. However, with the mention of said treats, we'll be forced to now think of you as fat non-bikers.



Our guide, Michelle, showed up toward the end of our meal with her fruit and yogurt lunch. We secretly laughed at her until it was time to get back on our bikes and ride the 22 miles back to the Inn.

What!?! Michelle has been nothing but accommodating to these two fat non-bikers, and they go laugh at her for eating a healthy, ENERGY-RICH snack?

What pious assholes. Srsly.

We quickly realized we were going to have to let all this food digest a bit first. So, we HAD to go shopping.

Undoubtedly with Michelle as chauffeur/hostage.

Last week, the lady who is in charge of all the wardrobe for the upcoming Bible Study DVD filming came to my house to see what I had in my closet that we could use for the taping. Besides being a stylist, she is also an image consultant. That means she is qualified to help you with an extreme makeover.

Good. When can she come over? We've been dying for a makeover ever since they started making those almond M&Ms and we let ourselves go to pieces. Pieces!

I was very excited when she offered to go through my closet and throw out anything I shouldn’t be wearing according to my age, body type, coloring, etc. I didn’t anticipate how painful this could be. She hauled off large garbage bags of some of my favorite outfits, many I have been wearing since my children were born. (I guess that was why she threw them out.)

Oh, to have been the hobo who went through that trash pile. Actually, would any readers in Texas want to find him to interview him? It'll be pretty easy—he'll be the one sleeping under the enormous tent that looks like this...



I later found out that she told a mutual friend that if she had really thrown out everything that I shouldn’t be wearing I would have to walk around naked until I could afford to buy all new clothes.

We're honestly trying to figure out if Lisa walking around naked would be much worse than her walking around in her clothes of choice.

Sorry. Of course it would be.

Well, at least we have a new BFF: the stylist.

Not that this is really new information. I get teased about my lack of style all of the time. Actually, I do have a style it is called “Comfort” with a capital “C.” Apparently, comfort doesn’t translate well on camera.

Nor in places outside of Mars.

All that to say, I needed to go shopping. So, I bought a cute pair of corduroy pants, a pair of shoes and the most authentic Vermont looking sweater I could find. Super-duper comfy. My favorite kind. (I’m going to be sure and hide it before the stylist comes over again.)

Witness here a perfect example of Whelchian logic:

1.) Stylist tells Lisa what clothes do not work for her.

2.) Lisa defines taboo clothes as "Comfort" clothes.

3.) Stylist gets rid of "Comfort" clothes.

4.) Lisa needs to buy new clothes.

5.) Lisa buys "Comfort" clothes.

We probably could have illustrated that theory in two steps, but, in true Whelchel spirit, we decided to explain something simple difficultly.

We were finally ready to make the long trek back.

Wait for it...

We met Michelle at the van to load our packages.

Last week we wanted to punch Michelle. This week we feel it would be more correct to refer to her as St. Michelle of Assisting Fat Non-Bikers Around Vermont.

She informed us that we really didn’t have time to make it all the way back before dinner.

Of course.

We were genuinely disappointed.

Of course.

So, she drove us about nine miles down the road and dropped us off so we could ride the remaining 13 miles. We felt great and so proud of ourselves when we finally rode into town just in time for another fabulous dinner!

Honestly, we're kind of too angry to come up with anything amusing. Sorry. Not angry. Seething.

I have to admit, by the time dinner was over that evening the soreness was already setting in rapidly.

Yeah, fucking ingesting maple syrup Hot Pockets and Twinkies will get the best of anyone.

We hurt all over, especially…okay, how to put this delicately…let’s just say that I’ve had three c-sections but I’m fairly certain I now know what the day after a traditional delivery feels like.

Oh, just say it, Lisa. Your vag hurt. If god made your body, god made your vag. It's OK to talk about it. We've all seen one!

Well, most of us.

Oh! And allow us to go ahead and assume the pain is not from biking.

We figured a nighttime soak in the hot tub was just what our tired muscles needed.

Yeah, that's not gonna help.

The next morning we woke up thankful that the sky was clear so we could ride the entire 25 mile trip. We got an early start and especially enjoyed today’s route with lots of back roads and beautiful covered bridges. I strapped on my ipod, popped in one earplug (I left one out so I could hear traffic, etc.) and set my playlist to my favorite motion picture soundtracks. I imagined myself in a slow-motion montage, riding through the fall foliage, with David Foster and Dave Grusin scoring my journey with their incomparable musical genius.

That's funny—we just imagined ourselves in a slow-motion montage killing David Foster and Dave Grusin with fall foliage. But we do have to say, we're very glad Lisa left one ear unplugged for traffic. She really sets a good example for her readers. If you ignore every other paragraph. Of every other Coffee Talk. Ever.

Oh, and, Steve Jobs, were you aware that Lisa has an iPod? Is that, like, OK?

Later in the day, I selected Josh Grobin and had a spiritual experience all in itself as my front wheel barreled through freshly fallen orange, red, purple, and yellow leaves. I’m not kidding you, just as Josh and Charlotte Church crescendoed in their duet, “The Prayer,” a strong breeze swept through the trees and leaves start swirling from everywhere. It felt like I was in the middle of a snow globe, except I was surrounded by beautiful leaves.

Allow us to work this out mathematically:

If Josh Grobin + Charlotte Church + leaves = Lisa Whelchel spiritual experience (LWSE), then LWSE ≤ chili and sea bass

We'll clarify in movie critic's terms. The sophomore effort, while certainly worthwhile and enjoyable, arguably did not equal the astonishing debut.



I can’t even begin to express the worship I entered into when I tuned my ipod to CeCe Winans “Throne Room” while riding through views like the one in the picture.

See, Mr. Jobs. She thinks you tune an iPod. It's not a radio, lady!

Along the way, we stopped at a working maple syrup farm.

Oh, for the love of god.

We learned so much. This was the only time I wished my kids were with me. (The homeschool teacher in me, I guess.)

1.) Ouch. We feel for you, Tucker, Clancy and Haven. Well, Tucker. Kind of.

2.) We just want to make sure, Lisa, that the homeschool teacher in you knows that "The homeschool teacher in me, I guess" is not a sentence.



The couple who own and run the farm let us taste-test all the different grades of syrup. (And I thought there was only the one kind we bought at Costco.) We also discovered a new treat, maple cream. We determined we would have to also come back in the winter when they have maple snow ice cream day. The farms allow families to visit with their spoons while they pour maple syrup on the snow and let the kids dig in. Sounds like so much fun!

Sounds like a fucking sugar headache is what it sounds like. Jesus. How much maple syrup can one human consume? (We only ask because we want to know if it's less than or equal to the amount of maple syrup one Lisa Whelchel can consume.)

Sadly, about fifteen miles into the day’s ride, it started to pour rain like buckets, complete with thunder and lightning. My mom and I tried to keep riding but the rain was blinding and Michelle determined it was too dangerous. I couldn’t believe what a difference one day and 50 miles could make. We were extremely disappointed. We were having so much fun and we weren’t tired at all.

ARRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHH! You know why we're angrier than ever here, right? Right? We don't have to explain this one, right?

Still, I had a strange peace about the aborted ride. I just knew our very sovereign God was up to something.

Wow. "Aborted" and "God" just seven words away from each other. We're kinda proud of you, Whelchel. Still totally angry. But a little proud.

We soon found out what it was. Between packing up, driving in traffic and getting lost on the way to the rental car company, there was every possibility that we would have missed our flight – again. And, this was the last flight out for the night. I’m so glad that when Steve isn’t there to take care of me, that God still is.

So basically Lisa is saying that because god did not allow her and her mom to finish the bike ride, the reason they came to Vermont in the first place, they had time to return to being assholes about everything else. Nice work, god.

My mom and I played cards almost the whole flight home. Can you believe she came back from behind and beat me?! I guess she’ll be eating a juicy steak soon. I’m so thankful we took my Nanny’s advice and hopped on that train – and our bikes!

Just to clarify, the train is the Nanny's proverbial train. The plane is how they really got home. And the bikes are what they did not ride.

Anyway, that brings us to the end of this week's Coffee Talk. We hope you didn't enjoy Lisa and her mom's non-bike bike trip in Vermont as much as we didn't. We just want to point out, in case you missed it with all the maple syrup smoke and mirrors Lisa conjured up, that we think it's quite interesting that a purportedly godly woman like Lisa would go on a group trip and not mention word one about anyone in the group. Isn't her job as a Christian supposed to involve talking to people, getting to know them, bringing them together, sharing the joy etc? All we get is how much she and her mom took advantage of the group leader. And without one word of thanks from either of them.

This is the perfect example, friends, of why we, as Jews, don't feel one bit of regret for killing Christ.

See you soon!

From your BN editorial team:

1.) Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your comments. We lurve comments because comments mean you're reading the site. We also adore your pointing out what we miss. You see, each of Lisa's entries is so chock full of nuttiness that it would be impossible for us, in the limited amount of time we have to post each week, to process it all. Alas, we have established a rule for ourselves—we write the first thought that comes to us whilst reading each Coffee Talk entry. After we then post, we come back occasionally to proofread during which we certainly have new thoughts, wish we had never committed to old ones, etc. However, if we entertained those urges, we'd be rewriting this site forever, and, clearly, life's way too short.

SO, the point is, good job highlighting certain bits of Whelchel bananas we may have overlooked. Please continue. Just make sure you lavish praise on us first. Obviously.

2.) For reading the above bit of hoo-ha, here's a gift:

The Coffee Talk Companion is an ongoing feature in which we dissect and discuss former Facts of Life star Lisa Whelchel's online journal entries.

This week, Lisa and her mom go for a bike ride. A bike ride that in no way could have ever lasted longer than her post about it. Hope your tires have air in them...

So…my mom randomly asks me if I would ever like to go with her on a weekend bike trip in Vermont. I said, sure that sounds fun. The next day she asks me if I’m available the following weekend. Amazingly, yes. That is how we decided to go on (what we thought was to be) a 30-mile bike trip.

Well, hello, Mother Whelchel. We don't believe we've had the pleasure. But we already admire you for choosing to spend the obligatory time with your daughter in a situation where you can pretend you don't hear her.

Never mind the fact that I don’t own a bike and the last time I even rode one was probably sometime before I had children. My Nanny always told me, “Catch that train while you can because you never know if it will pass this way again.”

That was from episode 7 of season 3, the one where Yetta goes on the subway and antics ensue.



My Nanny was a wise woman so my mom and I hopped on this train.

Ouch. Mom got outplayed by the Nanny. This should be interesting.

Or not.

The brochure said that we would be biking 12 miles the first day and 17 miles the second day. We realized we better get training before we flew to New England on the following Friday. On Monday we rode the stationary bike for six miles. On Tuesday we rode real bikes for six miles. On Wednesday we bought bike shirts, socks, and shorts (not the tight ones!)

(Thank god!)

On Thursday we biked in our neighborhood another six miles. That was the extent of our training.

Four days of training? Jesus. Hey. We have an idea, Mother Whelchel. Next time how about you suggest you and your daughter go for a 30-mile how-to-use-a-comma trip?

My mom picked me up at my house at 5:00 in the morning to catch a 6:40 flight. We got to talking and laughing on the way to the airport and forgot to call to verify the departing gate. Of course, we ended up parking in the wrong terminal. We finally arrived at the check-in counter only to learn that we were five minutes late for the 40-minute-before- departure window of time allotted for checking luggage. We had our toiletries in our bags so we couldn’t take them on board with us. We decided to put our luggage on the next flight and we’d still take the earlier one.

Remember when we said we admired Mother Whelchel? Scratch that.

And be sure to join us for the next episode of When Out-of-Touch-with-Reality Humans Do Everyday Things when Lisa Whelchel and her mother go to the supermarket to buy gas and try to pay with barley.

We had to catch the airline terminal skylink train to get to the departure gate. Wouldn’t you know it, one side was shut down for maintenance. That meant, rather than being two stops away from our gate we had to ride around the entire airport back to almost where we started in the first place. By the time we finally arrived at the gate, they had already closed the door of the plane and wouldn’t open it for us to board. Oh well, we’ll just have a nice breakfast and catch the same flight with our luggage.

We never, ever thought we'd say this, but thank you, Homeland Security!



Not quite. The new flight leaves from the gate we just came from. We decided we better not take a chance on missing this flight by eating at a sit-down restaurant. So, we grabbed a bagel sandwich, reboarded the airline train, toured the perimeter of the airport and disembarked in time for early boarding.

Be sure to join us for the next episode of When Out-of-Touch-with-Reality Humans Kill Time when Lisa Whelchel and her mother eat a burrito wrap and take a tour of a chair.

By this time, I’m really missing Steve.

For the love of god. This might be a good time, Whelchel, to think back when you weren't attracted to him and wondered how you were going to manage to have kids with him. (Please see our previous post if you've forgotten.)

He takes care of all of these details for me and I don’t even have to think.

That explains a lot, actually. Though does that mean Steve is ghostwriting these Coffee Talk entries?

Apparently, my thinker is out of shape and I better get it together again if I’m going to be in charge this weekend.

"My thinker." Nah. All Whelchel.

While on the plane, my mom challenged me to a three-day “Gin Rummy” tournament. The goal was to play as many hands as possible and whoever had the most points by the time we touched back down at DFW on Sunday night would take the other one out for a steak dinner. The heat was on! Can you believe I won all but one game while we were on that flight? My mom seriously considered catching a plane to Vegas when we landed in Boston. It was a pretty amazing streak of good luck.

Be sure to join us for the next episode of When Out-of-Touch-with-Reality Humans Have Fun when Lisa Whelchel and her mother rent a video. (Don't worry—we're done with this "joke.")

That is about the only luck we had all day, though. After our departure fiasco, we finally landed in Boston. I, being rather frugal by nature, rented the tiniest car possible from the cheapest rental car place available. I’m pretty sure we rode the rental van from the airport in Boston, caught a ferry, went through two tunnels and finally ended up at an off-site rental company in a neighboring state – all to save $3 dollars-a-day.

Maybe you'd like to ask Steve, in taking care of all the details, where the fuck the Facts of Life money is. As evidenced by almost every single post on our site, we'd sure like to. We understand it probably wasn't much, but, come on. Days Inns and now this? Lisa, the trick with rental cars is to rent the cheapest car you can find at a company located IN THE AIRPORT. Then, when you get there, either they don't have any of the cheapest cars available and you get upgraded for free. Or you upgrade yourself and dole out an extra $10 to ride in comfort. Especially when you're with your elderly mom.

Cheap bitch.

My original goal for catching such an early flight was to have time to grab lunch at my all-time favorite place to eat in Boston, “Serendipity3” for their specialty, a frozen hot chocolate. We navigated the rental car through the endless construction and tunnels to Faneuil Hall Marketplace only to discover that my favorite restaurant closed down years ago. Bummer!

Idiot.

We decided to find a local restaurant and make the best of it by eating everything “Boston” we could order. For lunch we shared: Boston baked beans, New England Clam Chowder and crab cakes, while playing more cards. My winning streak continued to hold up through lunch.

Whore. (Sorry. We had to finish it out.)

We still had a three-hour drive ahead of us so we hopped back in the car and drove the next two hours in crazy traffic, making us dangerously close to missing dinner at the bed and breakfast. This whole time my mom kept saying, “We are on vacation and we are together – don’t worry about it.”

We like Mother Whelchel again. Well, as much as you can like someone who spawned Lisa.

OK, we loathe her.

So, we didn’t. Instead, we swerved off at a local Target to buy more supplies.

Huzzah! An official Whelchel naming of a chain! Unfortunately, it's Target. Girl, whatcho doin' in mah Target? Wasn't there a Wal-Mart nearby? Shit.

Rain was in the forecast so we bought rain gear, energy bars, bottled water, bike gloves, sweat bands, and a cute little bike bag for the front of my rental bike.

Which reminds us—we just bought a cute little desk bag for the front of our desk because we're really tired of getting vomit on the computer. RILLY tired.

We drove into the “Inn at Water’s Edge” just as they were serving the first course of dinner. My mom and I spent the next couple of hours with our tongues hanging out. Nothing! was as we expected.

That's a lot like how we didn't expect to hear about Lisa and her mom's tongues hanging out.

Sorry. Let us rewrite that sentence in Whelchel style:

That's a lot! like how we didn't "expect" to hear, about Lisa and, her mom's tongues, hanging, out I miss Steve!

For starters, this was a really fancy five-star bed-and-breakfast that served a four-course dinner each night. I was satisfied after the pasta dish and that was only the beginning. There was still a salad, a tiny dish of lime sherbet (to cleanse our palette,) the main dish and dessert, still to come.

Apparently, Lisa and her mom were not only eating but also painting. Pay attention, ladies:

A palette is either the board on which a painter mixes his pigments or a particular range, quality or use of color (Merriam-Webster, palette). A palate is the roof of the mouth, or, in the above implied meaning, a usually intellectual taste or liking (Merriam-Webster, palate). "Palette" is not an acceptable spelling of "palate," as the two words have very different meanings (see above). However, kudos for the correct spelling of "sherbet."



We were also surprised when my mom was served her entrée. You see, when we called to say we were running late they asked us which of the four entrees we would like for dinner. I chose the chicken and my mom chose the chili and sea bass. (That sounded really good on this crisp, cool, fall evening.) By the time my mom was served her ganache chocolate cheesecake, we realized she wasn’t going to get her bowl of chili. We later figured out she had ordered “Chilean sea bass.” Oops. We felt like real hicks.

OMG.

Deep breaths.

OK.

We don't know what's worse. The fact that we momentarily thought, Chili and sea bass—now that's different! Or that we're going to continue reading after Lisa and her mother thought they ordered CHILI AND SEA BASS.

For the love of god.

The next thing to stun us was meeting the group with which we would be riding for the next two days. They were all so young and fit! They brought their own professional bikes and gear and they obviously knew what they were doing. Uh Oh, we were in big trouble. My mom affectionately dubbed them “The Kennedys.” They talked of vacationing at their island home and parties at the lake house and grandparents that had letters from the president hidden behind circus costumes. And we were at the other end of the table still waiting for our bowl of chili.

We really don't have much to say here. Other than to formally ask what possessed two never-bike-riders that they could do a 30-mile bike trip IN VERMONT? God may work in mysterious ways, but we challenge him/her/it to explain this one.

Oh, and when you figure it out, god, we'll be at the other end of the table still waiting for our bowl of chili.

After dinner, we met with our adorable tour guide, Michelle. Now, picture your favorite camp counselor, imagine her spending her life biking, hiking, cross-country snowshoeing, helicopter-dropped skiing, and eating granola she gathered herself, and you get the picture. This girl knew the outdoors intimately.

Can one "gather" granola? Wouldn't that just be dirt? Oh, and if we ever met adorable Michelle, we'd adorably punch her.

We took a seat in the billiard room to go over the bike route for the next day. My mother and I looked across the room at each other with panic in our eyes when Michelle passed out the maps. The shortest distance planned was a 22-mile loop but everyone quickly agreed that the 44-mile loop to Woodstock and back was the way to go, with the possibility of an additional 20-mile hill-climbing option if everyone felt up for it. Oh my goodness! We were definitely in deep trouble.

MWA HA HA!



We went back to our room scared to death. Neither one of us had ever ridden farther than six miles and we were just praying we could make it the 12-miles advertised on the website for the first day’s route.

Oh, just so you know, in true Whelchel fashion, just as her entry begins to get semi-semi-exciting, it approaches closure. Not that that's a bad thing, obviously. But we just didn't want you to get confused or anything.

We finally got to the happy place we needed to be to get some sleep by deciding that we were there to make a memory together and if we had to ride six miles, then load our bikes up on the van and drive to the Woodstock, only to eat lunch and shop the rest of the day, then that is just what we would do.

What troupers! Oh, and just so you know, the uncomfortable tingling you're experiencing presently is your body sensing the scrapbook entry that's going to come of all this. If it gets too unbearble, stop reading and immediately make yourself a Stoli and Hi-C.

In the meantime, I sent a text message to my friend, Priscilla, and my mom sent one to my sister-in-law, Maria, asking them to pray for rain.

That's weird. Priscilla and Maria don't sound like Indians.

The next morning we awoke to rain.

They must know Indians.

Praise the Lord! We were saved. Or so we thought. But, no! These lunatics were planning to ride in the rain.

Um, OF COURSE THEY WERE. People like Michelle enjoy horrible challenges. Not to mention getting as dirty as possible. And not in a good way. In a bad, bad way. See, Lisa, this is why you have cable. So you don't actually have to do any of this crap. Wait. You do have cable, right? Steve hasn't taken that away.

Steve?!?!

We had no choice, we had to play along. We suited up in our Target rain pants and jacket and took off in the pelting rain.



These people were crazy! Mom and I made it the first five miles and were graciously met by Michelle at the bottom of “Hysteria Hill.” She offered to load up our bikes and drive us to the top. “Yeah, thanks. In this rain, I just don’t know if we could make it.” (I didn’t mention the fact that we couldn’t even have made that hill on electric bikes!)

What pusses.

Lisa and her mom are totally the unenthusiastic people in the tour that you want to kill from the moment you begin the tour. And by "tour," we mean, "watching old episodes of The View."

The rest of the day was idyllic. We stopped at the Calvin Coolidge birthplace and memorial. We drank his favorite drink, Moxie, and ate Maple Syrup cotton candy. We taste-tested Vermont cheddar cheese and bought souvenirs.

Again, this can all be done at 3 a.m. on the Travel Channel.

Sorry. Did we say Travel Channel?

We meant Boring Shit That No One Else Ever Does Channel (173 on NYC Time Warner).



Once again, Michelle came to our rescue by driving up with the van just about the time we remembered that we were traveling on bicycles and had just bought another five pounds to stuff into our little bike bags.

Aw. Michelle. Now we want to adorably punch her for catering to these shenanigans.

Four hours and 22-miles later, my mom and I finally arrived in Woodstock.

That would be so sweet if it were 1969 and/or we were completely high.

The rest of the team had already come and gone, and were halfway up the optional hill-climbing route. We didn’t care. We had just ridden 10 miles farther than either one of us even dreamed we would.

Yeah. Who cares about ruining an event people look forward to for months? We're sure they didn't mind. Just like Lisa wouldn't mind if two people showed up to one of her Foursquare conventions and totally inconvenienced her.

Email us if you're in.

Perhaps, the best memory of the whole weekend was still ahead. We stumbled onto this adorable little pub where we finally got to eat our bowl of chili. But this wasn’t just any bowl of chili. It was a tureen of turkey, beef, and bean chili covered with melted Vermont cheddar cheese. It was still raining outside and we were wet, but warm, on the inside, getting warmer by the minute – physically and emotionally!

And fattily. Ugh.

My mom and I relished every second of this wonderful experience, making this amazing memory.

At the expense of others' memories, of course.

Our mantra from the moment we signed up for this weekend had been, “What were we thinking!” From this moment on, our mantra became, “Nanny would have loved this!” I haven’t missed my beloved, adventurous, grandmother this much since she went to be with Jesus.

Is that where she went? 'Cause we think she's probably living in Argentina and not missing her selfish daughter and granddaughter.

We turned a definite corner over lunch and for the rest of the trip we chose to enjoy each challenge to the fullest, grabbing this train and jumping on, ready to enjoy the adventure wherever it took us. I still have a day-and-a-half to write about but I have to wrap it up for now.

Hallelujah.

I’m in Michigan for a MomTime Getaway and I need to shower, get the kids up from their nap, and get to the church for the first night. I wish you all were here. Can’t wait to share the rest of this trip with you next week.

Be sure to join us for the next episode of When Out-of-Touch-with-Reality Humans Think They Can Do Something They've Never Done Before and End Up Selfishly Destroying the Experience for Others While Cluelessly Yet Passionately Believing They're the Only Ones Who Matter in the First Place when Lisa Whelchel and her mother merely exist.

Until then, enjoy the chili and sea bass.