Dear boys,

I've seen you wandering around my neighborhood for a few weeks now. You're always in your black pants, white shirt, black tie combo with the nametags for easy identification. And I know you're required to do this by the church so it's not exactly how you would choose to spend your late teens/early twenties even though you've had your whole life to prepare. In addition, summers in Tennessee are hot and humid. Now, I'm not jumping to the conclusion that you're both from Utah, but let's face it, odds are that you probably are.

There is no one more Mormon friendly than me. Seriously. I don't even keep caffeine in my house. I've actually got a copy of the Book of Mormon somewhere in this house. I'd even invite you in and engage you in discussion about Joseph Smith, the angel Moroni, and I would even do my best to not discuss The Garment. Most people would come out of their various hangovers long enough to tell you to get the hell off their various doorsteps.

So when I'm walking my dogs and see you walking down my street I say hello. It's not just politesse, it's the fact that I love to discuss religion. So when you reply hello back and THAT'S IT, I'm on the upset side. My dog even wanted to meet you. Flashy, well, he's going through a weird shy phase right now, don't mind him. But not even a "can we come by and talk to you later?" or a "here, take a copy of the book of mormon!"

Try harder, bitches.

Loveyoumeanit,
Leah