Lucky

I had lunch with a group of friends today. A gal was in from out of town for the holidays so it was like a mini-reunion.

Being with those girls makes me realize how much I miss them, how lonely my new job can be sometimes. And how lucky I was to be with them for as long as I was.

Bittersweet I guess.

No Need To Check In

Poor J is passed out cold in our bed. And has been since before I got home. I woke him up (I shouldn't do that but I can't sleep it night if I sleep during the day so I end up doing that and it is WRONG WRONG WRONG but . . .) and he moaned something about a headache.

Must be some headache.

My shoulder popped out of joint today. It has never done that before and it better not do that again or it is totally grounded young man. That pain is what I imagine being shot is like--burning and shooting and the whole can't believe this is happening thing. It numbed out after a while but is still so stiff and sore.

So basically we are just a couple of octogenarians here, just passing time until bingo and the early bird special.

Lotto

In the midst of my pity party last night I failed to mention the most exciting thing that happened yesterday.

J won five hundred bucks!

My mother always puts scratch tickets in our stockings and usually we are delighted if some one wins five bucks. Actually, we all had to check his ticket because we were certain he was either lying or just wrong.

Of course, since we are impossible, we had this moment of, "Shit. Does this mean we will never win the real lotto?" Because five hundred free dollars isn't enough for these two whiney babies. I totally had that feeling when our friend Sam started dating a guy who's parents had won 12 million in the lotto. Like what are the chances that she would know TWO couples who had won the lottery? And does that still apply since we aren't really friends with her anymore?

So it is lovely to have him win five hundred bucks. YAY!

But still, we have our house all planned out for if we win a few million. I mean, it doesn't hurt to be prepared does it?

Denial

I hope everyone had an amazing holiday. Even if you do not celebrate perhaps you had a lovely Sunday?

Our was nice, very low key. With food and fun with my parents and new comfy pajamas for all. We got to talk to everyone in our family and my aunt in particular had great news.

My cousin is pregnant.

My baby cousin, several years younger.

Naturally, I am very happy for her. And I know that she and her husband are going to be amazing parents. But I did have to give myself a stern talking to about how life is not a race and her ability to have a baby has nothing to do with mine.

I can't help but be jealous of her very quick pregnancy. I can't help but wish it were me. I suppose this was bound to happen. I was the first of my friends and family to get married but they were all bound to catch up and want to climb aboard the baby train eventually and since we are infertile they are going to pass us.

I was just hoping to avoid this particular infertility cliche.

I don't like to think of J and I as infertile. Most of the time I don't. In my head it is all a question of timing or bad luck or something, anything but infertility. I am totally in denial here and I honestly think that is best for me. It allows me to keep a grip on things. To not get too upset about things. And most of the time it works, I truly am happy for my cousin.

And I even meant that. Look at me, being a semi-adult.

Six Drunks And a Limo

Last night was J's work holiday party. There are only three people who work there so the six of us (three nerds, three wives) went on what I swear was like grown up prom night. Beginning with a limo (which I have only been in at a wedding) in which we all got drinky with wine and toasts, onto cocktails and dinner at a fancy place. We ate so much food, and drank so much liquor and I guess I was the only one working early the next morning because they all yelled at me when I stopped drinking. But FIVE AM people. SO EARLY!

We became that loud table in the restaraunt--the one with drunks who are talking just a hair too loudly and are rather . . er . . .jubliant.

Oh the people he works with are so nice, their wives are so lovely, everyone so kind of funny and interesting. I dread those sorts of things because I am by nature shy and worry too much about what I am going to wear (we both wore jeans! to a fancy place! me!? and I didn't care!) and oh we both always talk too much or not enough. But it was so lovely. J is clearly appreciated, which is always good.

And we were out on a school night! With other adults. The others have kids so they were even giddier than us.

Six drunks, cruising down the freeway in a limo.

What a lovely Tuesday.

Date Night

Gossip spreads like wildfire in my family so it should be noted that my parents almost knocked each other down trying to notify me this morning of the latest news (my dad using his cell phone, my mom with email--look at them with their multimedia selves). My sister. Has a DATE.

Now our excitement and whooping it up at this news could be misconstrued. No. We are not celebrating as if we have finally found a buyer for the fucking Edsel. Long time readers will recall that my sister is the pretty one. She is funny and interesting and owns her own home. Part of me just thinks that perhaps the men of northern Florida just woke the hell up and noticed that such a treasure was available to them.

I don't really know why my sister hasn't dated in years. I just know that she hasn't. And that would be fine, because really I have a man and it isn't THAT great, so GOD KNOWS she doesn't NEED one. But I just want her to be happy. And dating is fun.

If I was going to list out all the things that I think my sister needs a man would be pretty low on the list, below a way to teach her cats to use an automated cat box and above a Chia pet. But not WAY above the Chia pet. Know what would be very high on the list? FUN.

She has always been a serious one. Not much of a joker. Not one to just spend the day hanging out with friends (though she has always had the nicest friends). And dating is part of that. She was a serial monogamist (with questionable taste but that is a whole other story) and so the whole dating for fun and profit (not prostitution you pervs! the beer! the dinners!) was not so much for her.

I just hope she has a great time tonight. Relaxes. Laughs. Comes home happy.

Thank You, Kristin, For Saying What I Wanted To

I promise this is the last I will mention it but this post by Kristin pretty much sums up how I feel about the holidays right now. This section in particular:

"I think that the christmas season is pretty much rammed down the throats of non-Christians, and I can see that for some people it would be really, really irritating to have to live with the constant reminder, from November 1 to the middle of January, that (what appears to be) everyone in America is celebrating a holiday that you don't, and that you will be expected to go along with it regardless of your feelings. It is just stuffed down the throats of people who don't celebrate it - you can't get away from it, you can't ignore it, you are just stuck watching this veritable orgy of holidayness, and it isn't your holiday, and people who do celebrate it all seem to think that you should just suck it up and deal. You will have to play 'secret santa' at work, and get cards that wish you Merry Christmas and have people get angry with you because you aren't sending out your own 'holiday cards', and people will say it to you, and get angry if you don't say it back, and call you a grinch, and worse. And all those Christmas celebrants will just tell you that somehow you are the jerk, for not just going along with it. Or they will try to guilt you by stating that they are only celebrating the secular Christmas, not the religious one, so why dont you do the same." ***

This is the most brilliant thing I have seen written on the subject and I deeply wish I had written it. It isn't that I don't want y'all to have fun, I just don't want to join in. And I am so damn tired of people making me feel bad about that. Just enjoy your Santa Claus and eggnog and leave me out of it. Let's talk on January 2, ok?

***Edited to add that I have tried to email this poster, even registering for the board, to let her know that I have quoted her so extensively. Unfortunately, I have not been able to, if anyone is a member of ThreeWay please help!

I Guess This Makes Me Anti-Christmas

I generally avoid Fox News and Bill O'Reilly because I really like having an entire head of hear versus one that has had eat strand ripped out in fits of rage. But this WAR ON CHRISTMAS nonsense needs to stop. Because it has leaked out into mainstream media, because this bullshit needs to STOP NOW.

I do not understand what crawled up the asses of some people about Christmas this year. Because they are not protesting the removal of religious items from stores or public venues--the are angry because retailers are using Happy Holiday signage instead of Merry Christmas, because communities are calling their trees Holiday Trees. They are protesting the non-denominational expressions of commercial aspects of Christmas as being anti-Christian.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

Let me explain something to people.

Stores are using Happy Holidays because there are, in fact, several holidays during this season being celebrate and like good capitalists they want to make all of their customers feel welcome while they spend their money. This is not a wave of PC nonsense this is good business and O'Reilly should know this, in fact I suspect he does know this.

Communities are trying to keep religion out of their holiday displays because well the entire community is not Christian. Now I know that this simply STUNS many people in this country. Just makes them gasp with horror because how could this have happened as our forefathers fought for a Christian nation? Except they totally didn't. Most of them were not Christian. And a big sector of this country isn't either. O'Reilly has been floating this stat that 90% of Americans celebrate Christmas so he doesn't want to hear the diversity argument but well that is simple of him isn't it? Because there are a lot of people of different religions that celebrate the secular holiday of Christmas. And there are people who are inter-married. And there are those of us who don't celebrate it at home because we are big Jews but we celebrate it with our mothers because really who wants to make their mama cry because she cannot do a stocking for them? NO ONE.

The thing that makes me most crazy about this whole scenerio is that people are losing sight of what is really wrong with having Christmas programs in public schools or asking every child you see about their visit with Santa. Imagine how exclusionary that is for a kid who doesn't celebrate it. Imagine how hard it is to be different. Not because they or their family did anything wrong but because they believe something different. And because people are too caught up in their own shit about wanting to see little Timmy be in the nativity scene at school instead of church where it fucking belongs to think about how crappy that it. How WRONG it is.

I remember growing up I had this Jewish friend and every year before Winter Break teachers would have us do sing-alongs or something equally stupid (yay for public schools) and I would always ask if there were Hanukkah songs we could sing. This was a well intentioned question--even if I now know that I was a goddamn tool--but I missed the point. How depressing for that guy to have to sit through this shit every year. To be a freak. To miss out on it. And to have people get all in his business about why his family didn't celebrate (NOT EVEN A TREE?!).

I am not Christian anymore. But I do recall that some of the ethics of the religion involved kindness to others. Wishing peace and love to everyone. And screaming into the TV about how the Jews and the Muslims and Buddhists and the atheists and everyone else should shut the hell up because it is Merry FUCKING Christmas people and don't you forget it is not bringing Peace on Earth. It seems to me that this portion of the Christian community has lost sight of what is important (though in no way do I think they are the majority).

Since y'all are celebrating the birth of your savior and all, how about you be nice to the world for the rest of the month.

Just give it a shot.

A Moment

J was out working until almost three this morning. This pissed me off (not at him, at the world) because I worried about him--it was icy--and because the fucking dogs kept waking me up every twenty minutes to go and check to see if he was home yet.

I hate those goddamn dogs.

He slept in until 11 today and was quite chipper. I got up at my usually 5 and feel like some one hit me over the head with a bat.

I made it through the day. I just wanted to get to my reward of a hot shower with deep conditioning treatment and an early bedtime after watching last night's Project Runway. The perfect night right?

Except on my machine there was a message from my father-in-law. He is here.

SHIT.

My house isn't clean. I can never sleep when he is here (the smell of smoke gives me headaches and he always reeks of smoke). And it just makes me CRAZY that he pulled this crap.

I am going to go have a moment.

Hate Might Not Be Strong Enough

We have reached that point in winter where my skin starts screeching "OH HELL NO!" It begins slowly, so that I can pretend that I am not going to look like the Cryptkeeper before January. Little flakes form under my nose and between my eyes--which makes me look like I have dandruff of the eyebrows which is sexxxxy. Then I get small bumps on the temples. And last week the whole thing went to hell when sheets of my skin came peeling off my cheeks.

I know. Try not to crash your servers searching for my address so you can come gaze upon my hotness. Self-control please.

It is time to dig out the big guns, thick moisturizing creams, a whole crapload of lotion.

I am not stopping with my love for hot showers, I do not care if I need to coat myself in oil in order to survive them.

Of course I did have a moment when I was layering J with moisturizing (since he is a bit scaly too) and I was telling him how this stuff was great because it wouldn't make you break out and he looked at me and laughed. He said, "oh baby I haven't worried about that since eighth grade."

You hate him too don't you?

One Reason I Am Not A Lesbian

Almost every marriage shares certain hot button issues that cause nuclear meltdown fights with door slamming and towel throwing--money, family, money--these issues cause some of the most horrifying nights in the marriage. But eventually you sort it out, not that this issues solve themselves or even get settled, but they evolve into the sort of discussions that you can have with just strained faces and tense words.

My in-laws are such a topic.

Well, specifically my father-in-law.

I think I have written a bit about this before (but am too lazy to search) but my husband does not have much a relationship with his dad. J was brought up in a weird way (that I cannot think about too carefully or I will either cry or scream) and as a result just feels distanced from his dad. They do not have a lot in common. His father also has some mental health issues and no social skills at all. So usually when he comes to visit they sit and stare at each other, totally uncomfortable. His father will ask him pathetic questions that he should know the answers to like "how old are you?" and "what is your middle name?" and J feels frustrated by the whole thing.

And I am just tired of it. I am tired of dreading it. We have been here for three months and I have been dreading this visit since the day we moved in. I dread it not just because of the ugly time when he is here (which I often miss because my attempts at small talk just make it worse) but because J gets in a foul mood for days before hand.

He was already pissy this weekend--some mess with a computer he was building--and this has just made it worse. And I know as the wife I am supposed to just cope with it because my god that man actually talked to my crazy grandma with the photo album full of dead body pictures and sometimes he brings me cokes while I blog in bed and don't I owe him something?

No internet I do not.

I am tired of this. But I am at a loss as to what to do. I admire his unwillingness to just let go of his dad and not talk to him anymore since it causes so much tension for everyone. But at the same time their current solution is just maddening. Do I have relatives that make me want to rip my eyeballs out? SURE DO. But either I find a way to deal with it or I call them on it. Or both.

And I don't bitch at my wife about it either.

That is why I have a HUSBAND.

The Benevolent Dictator

Oh Darla.

How I hope you might forgive us one day.

J took the dogs to the groomers today as the clippers are lost somewhere in this house since the move and I was just not up to cutting her coat using a pair of manicure scissors. And not cutting that shaggy rug was not an option because well she smelled. I am sorry my baby but you did.

The chore probably came about three months too late because look at our before picture (left). Doesn't she look like she weighs about fifty pounds more than she should? Horrible, unimaginable things would get caught in her fur and she smelled like death.

Of course, I think that they went a little overboard. J told me that they butchered her but I didn't imagine that they cut off all of her curls. But they did. And all of her pale blond highlights (sometimes I like to pretend that I am the kind of woman that gets her dog highlights but alas I am not so rich or vain--they are natural). She looks so tiny tiny tiny and like a smooth dachshund instead of a long hair.

She is very very angry. But not so angry that she will not let me carry her around and feed her macaroni and cheese. She is benevolent like that.

How Sad Is It That The Bowling Alley Still Totally Has A Smoky Haze

This weekend was just so short y'all.

Yesterday was spent getting my mother done with her shopping for the holidays. And J stayed out to all hours of the night building a computer (he is such a wild one isn't he? am so tempted to just lie and say he was out with strippers). This morning we slept in (as he was out all late and the dogs would not BELIEVE that he was not in the basement and would not allow me to sleep--hateful beasts) and then took down some stuff to the guy who's computer he built and ate cheeseburgers and braved Toys R Us and then now the weekend is over.

How can this be?

I would like a do-over. One where we did not try to go bowling twice but could never get a lane (we were trying to celebrate Washington's new no smoking laws by going to the smokiest place in all of creation but sadly it was like busy with regular customers). One where I did not act like a big brat when I was too stupid to figure out my I-Pod. One where I have not absolutely demolished a bag of Doritos and eaten three grapefruits.

One where I do not have to go to work tomorrow.

OUCH

I am eating the highly nutritious and delicious (if gross sounding) dinner of Doritos and ruby red grapefruits. The dogs are highly uninterested in the citrus but are staring with HOT EYES at my Doritos. I think Darla wants to marry a Dorito someday. A nacho cheese one.

J is down with his friend, building him a new computer, and I am watching episodes of Degrassi Junior high on the Ti-Faux. (did you know that they play practically endless loops of Degrassi Junior High and Degrassi High on cable now?).

But. Uh. I am having a girly problem also. Because y'all my boobs hurt. As in, pain when I breathe, cough, or bounce around at all. Not that I am in the habit of bouncing around but you understand that it is uncomfortable.

So I am just going to keep eating foods that turn my fingers orange and trying not to move at all.

I Do Not Want To Drown

When I was younger I hated how my mother deferred to my father. She would not make a decision without him, she worried constantly about his opinion--even about silly things like her clothes. She cooked for him and fussed over him and let him have his way.

It would just enrage me. It just smacked of sexism and I just felt like she should stand up to herself.

As I have gotten older I see now that my mother lacked self-confidence but also had a tremendous respect for my father's opinion. They have been married for well over thirty years and part of that comes from coming to decisions together. And even though some of those decisions felt ridiculously trivial to me, I see now that whatever it takes to stay together is what it takes.

Still I hated it. And I never wanted to be that woman. I didn't want to defer to anyone and I wouldn't want any child I ever have to see me as unequal in any way. So imagine my pleasure at realizing that I do the same things that my mother has always done.

Not everything. I don't listen to him at all about clothes, other than "does my ass look hotter in this or that?" I don't worry about if I am buying the brand of corn that he prefers. And of course we talk about everything to do with our future, our money, the life that we are building.

BUT. I do this thing that I hate. I obsess about money. Part of this comes from the rather tenuous relationship we have had with money over our marriage. A couple of career changes, getting married young and a couple of layoffs will do that for a couple. I am by nature cautious anyway (I have vivid memories of my piggy banks as a child--I was such a damn miser) so I have a hard time giving myself permission to spend money.

Right now, Linda, is laughing. Because over the past few months I have bought new furniture, new clothes, stuff for my house--not exactly the behavior of some one who is worried about money. This is all true, but no one understands how much spending every dime of that fucked with my head.

I can't help it. I worry about whether it is ok to buy lunch, whether I can buy a new jacket (since I am fucking freezing), is it ok to go to the movies? I bother J all the time with this crap and I can tell it upsets him. He is used to it by now and just sort of impatiently snipes, "WHATEVER YOU WANT BABY."

I know I have talked about being afraid of turning into my mother and wow my mom has lovely qualities that I would like and this is SO NOT ONE of them. I would like her generous nature, her way with people, her capacity for love. I do not want to be the wacko lady who really wants to buy the fancy shampoo but is having a moment.

Also. I think J might hold my head under water if I don't quit it.

Racking Them Up

Look. I am still READING. Two more on the book blog.

GARSH, No One

Today was sort of all over the place. Good news (babies born early but much healthier than imagined!), bad (work stuff dull dull dull) and everything in between. It was the sort of day where I laugh outloud at my desk over nothing at all and then almost started bawling on the bus ride home.

I am not sure what is going on with me. My life-long claim that I am not a drama queen is really taking a credibility strain because just everything is such a Big Deal.

My work crap is the same story and dear GOD am I ever going to just not feel that way? I would really like to run away and join the circus and somehow I think I am too old. And really I do not think anyone wants to see my ass in a tutu. Perhaps I could be a lion tamer instead.

The holidays feel like they are happening to some one else. It is a funny thing when you throw out your old traditions, if you are me at least you find that you flounder around a bit without them. We aren't doing much, J and me, just getting through the month. Which seems a little sad but not as sad as the alternative. You know, murder-suicide.

My neighbor has this truly delightful Goofy light-up Christmas thing on her porch and oh how I envy it. I really want a light-up Goofy menorah. Something just a little awful. And fabulous.

Maybe that would snap me out of my drama queen zone. Because who can pull that shit on Goofy?

Perhaps I Still Have Some Humanity

Six years ago I worked on commission for an electronics store. I made a lot of money at that store as I was one of the few female salespeople in the company and one of the few people in the store that wasn't a complete asshole. I learned a lot about people, and why I hate them in that job, and decided that though I made a shit-load of money in sales they just were not for me.

When the company went under in this country I moved onto other things and hardly ever think of those people anymore. Except one. Who rides my bus.

Now this guy was a real prick back then, but probably most people would have never known. He stole sales and tried to guilt people by showing them pictures of his kids. He was no serial killer or anything, but I learned that a commission guy who would steal sales intentionally would run over his own mother in a John Deere tractor for money.

We have been riding the bus at the same time for a few years now. I am pretty good with faces and I have always been sure it is him, but he never said a word. Just looked at me with recognition. I mean what is he going to say? Hi I don't remember your name but didn't I try to get you to give me a four hundred dollar sale by talking about my kid's birthday party once? I mean I couldn't remember his name either so we just sort of road the bus.

But today I must have had my friendly face on because he came up and asked me all about what I am doing, talked about how all the guys were working in this one place, how they dicked him so he left. On one hand, he was the same old asshole, but on the other, who cares. Six years ago. No idea how old he was then or now but I wouldn't want to be judged entirely on my behavior when I was twenty.

On the other it is not like I am in danger of losing income to him now either.

So we part ways quickly and I get on the bus where this very nice young man starts telling me about how he sprayed water on a city inspector today. Got yelled at five or six times and still got promoted. Because he doesn't believe in prideful things. Kept reading me sections from his Bible. Telling me that it was no problem at all to not care about TV or work because this life doesn't matter only studying the Bible until you die and go to Heaven. Or something.

I didn't have the heart to explain to him that I don't believe any of that or in Heaven and really could you just eat your jelly beans and shut up?

Where is all this niceness towards people coming from?

Still Reading

Over on the book blog, Lolita, not all that sexy.

I Really Do Not Want To Do This

Oh colon-of-mine, I have such a BONE to pick with you.

I had a lovely dinner with my family yesterday, involving lots of rare red meat which is my favorite kind, and as a woman from the midwest I am ENTITLED to eat as much red meat as I want because that is the land of COW y'all.

But you, or some other nameless ugly part of my digestive system, decided to expel that meat in what could only be called an ASSPLOSION and that is unacceptable and we need to talk about it.

I spent entirely too much time in the bathroom today. This cannot happen again. Or you shall be fired. I have googled "colon exchange program." I will move us ALL BACK TO IOWA if I have to DO NOT MAKE ME TURN THIS CAR AROUND.

I trust your future performance will be less offensive to me and my red-meat loving soul.

It better be.

Only 364 Days To Go Baby

Yesterday was J's birthday and it was spent doing very J-centric things. Watching the USC game, having his friends over, eating his favorite foods. Actually it is alarming how normal a Saturday it was--apparently he always gets his every whim catered to.

He also wouldn't stop grabbing my boobs and yelling, "But it's my BIRTHDAY!" Because the b in birthday stands for boobs you can grab whenever you want? Dunno. V. v. annoying and I am thankful that it is over for the year, hope you enjoyed the groping homie.

Our friends came over and we played a viscious round of Uno Attack and I got drunk on a new cocktail J invented to use up the lime juice that I bought for my sister while she was here. I don't have a name for the delightful concoction which is loosely based on a lemon drop but I am thinking of Lime Cordial--DELICIOUS. Catchy huh? But only said in that precocious-British-child accent.

Today I spent my time snarking on J that, "It's not your birthday!" as he kept trying to grope my boobs.

Payback's a bitch.

Really It Is Not Even Real Goulash

The other night, my parents lost their heat.

Yes, during our snowstorm. I mean they got THREE INCHES. So I don't think my mother has been truly warm for about ten years. She is freezing in the summer. She wears fleece in eighty degree weather. My father jokes that at night if he licked her ass his tongue would get stuck (yes I know that is ALARMING to hear, they are my parents you think I ENJOY THIS?).

It is because of my mother that I keep blankets in every room of the house. I have strongly considered putting an afghan in the bathroom (for those moments on the toilet where the less clothing makes you feel well a little chilled) but I haven't found a place to hang it that is not scary and just WRONG. My mother leaves her coat on in my house. Sometimes she wears a scarf. The woman is cold (I am sympathetic to this because this is my future y'all and it scares the shit out of me). So that woman being without heat is possibly the most cruel thing that could have happened.

It is like the evil minds of every secret organization in the world got together to torture her for her secret recipe for Very Not Hungarian At All Are You Kidding Me Goulash. SHE WILL GIVE YOU THE RECIPE. The repair man was able to come right away but the part he needs to fix their furnace is not going to arrive until Monday. So my mom is having to spend all of her time in front of the oven or the fireplace and with a tiny dachshund wrapped around her for a personal heater.

Good luck getting that dog out of your bed once the heat works.

She Is Not Pleased

It is snowing here.

Part of the appeal of the Seattle metro area is our temperate climate. It doesn't get overly cold or hot here very often and dare I say we like it that way? People not born here (myself included) always cackle and laugh at the spectacle we make of ourselves in this town when it snows or there is ice.

People panic, it is not unusual at all for people to refuse to leave their homes at all during a "snow storm" (meaning snow fall of more than an inch). Schools close at the slightest provocation. People stay home from work. It's pathetic and funny and a little frightening to see how the whole town shuts down.

Part of it is our topography. This is a hilly region with a lot of water, ice can be difficult to manage especially for the very inexperienced drivers that live here. The rest is just the fact that no one in this fucking city has ever grown up when it comes to snow. They pray for it, wish for it, in a way that is just fucking stupid. And they PANIC when it falls. They would just rather die than drive in it. Or they pretend it isn't there and drive like madpeople which turns out just as well as you might expect.

This is how they had to close the freeway tonight.

For an INCH OF SNOW.

The animals and I are not pleased. Darla has sworn to me that she shall not need to pee at least until this shit melts and possibly until spring. Do not bother asking in otherwords.

Rooster.

Is not pleased.

Did you make it snow? Because she will CUT YOU bitch.