Ima tell you one time.

I think it is time to discuss my love for Justin Bieber. I love Justin Bieber.

I love his silky little mop of hair.

I love that I thought that he was thirteen for a while. (Turns out no, not thirteen. Sixteen, as of March 1st.)

I love his ridiculous pop songs. Every one. Seriously. I know them all. Word for word.

I love his baby face.

I love that all the girls in his music videos are taller than him. He's just a little guy.

I love that I learned what the word "shawty" means from him.

I love him. I am unashamed.

Which is why I was so excited when AJ showed me this drawing of himself:

Alex James DeCato

Justin Bieber

Insane, right?

I mean, I almost don't even know who's who.

Come on Barbie, let's go party.

Day at the lake: A photo Essay.

We are models.

We are mermaids. Merman!

We play chicken.

We play pigs stuck in the mud.

We throw sticks.

And rocks.

I pull off grandma glasses.

I painted my toenails pink.

We play frisbee.

Best of all, Mike and Nial sing Barbie World on the ride home.

Lift those heavy eyelids.

NyQuil is a miracle drug. Seriously. Last night I fell asleep at ten and woke up at eight. And, get this, I didn't wake up at all during those ten blissful hours. That has never happened to me before.

This is why I've decided to give NyQuil all of my love.

Every dog has his day.

We found a dog. She spent the night.

She wasn't allowed inside so we nearly froze to death cuddling with her outside. Which is bound to be really good for my cold.

Poor little girl, a collar but no tags. And Cami fed her nine hot dogs.

Fingers pressed against your lips.

Everyone is shushing me today.

Seriously. Like three different people, three different occasions.

The sheets still smell like your skin.

Someone told me that I smell like rich people today.

I'm still not really sure what that is supposed to mean to me.