Things that I (and perhaps you) have enjoyed recently:
Cinnamon Air Fresheners (Even though I feel cinnamon is overplayed especially in the scents department.)
French Vanilla Air Fresheners (Ditto.)
Experimental Late 70s British Rock.
Dance Parties. (Obvi.)
Light knits.
A certain pair of Converse.
Facebook and the fact that people are finally taking down their yearbook photos as their profile pictures. Finally! And yes, that means you too, Polo Bear.
Brother A.
Person/people talking about this blog.
1986 and one hit wonders.
Cold War politics on "America's Most Smartest Model."
"America's Most Smartest Model."
Art Vandal Ay eradicated AIDS today, you guys.
Secrets.
When people say "LUUUUUUUULZ" instead of laughing.
Gmail and Bruce Washington.
New bands.
The Class of 2007.
The Jews.
College Apps.
"Future Cegs Love Sounds"/ "Cegs for Drugs" and other things involving Uday Pulaski.
Things I have not enjoyed recently:
The pair of underwear I have on right now.
Alarm and the cause for it. (Both kinds)
Dust.
The fact that whenever I turn on the heat in Wesley Snipes this weird buzzing noise happens.
College Apps.
Mom A and what she said to me.
Sister A.
Uncertainty.
Flashing orange tabs.
Whenever I go into my browser I immediately begin typing <<http://www.f/>> and then stop. (Break the addiction.)
Other people. Like other other people.
Entertainment Weekly.
The fact that I haven't had the time to read a book.
The Frenemy and his band. In fact, most high school bands. Most.
That really sketchy guy that night.
"Street businesses." (Fuck you.)
Owns ME. (As uj.)
Monday, November 26, 2007
Saturday, November 24, 2007
The Secret to Their Sucksess
Now, if you are a hardcore fan of this blog (Anybody, hands?) you might be wondering "Id A, where is all the swearing?" The anser is, I didn't write this. V.I Melanin did. Id A did edit though, so when you read (Ed. note:...) it will actually be a note by an editor and not just 21st century schizophrenia. Blogosphere! Anyway, some venting, some anger, more than some frustration with attending a school in which everyone is white and wealthy, but still some manage to be the Whitest and the Wealthiest. (Note the caps. Supremacy, not that kind.)
It's that time of year again. The leaves are changing. It's getting colder. Spoiled lacrosse players are realizing they can now do EVEN LESS work because -- hey!-- they're already in college. Actually, a really good one, like REALLY GOOD. Actually its Douche U.
Let's analyze each of these outstanding C******** men a little deeper, shall we:
Bitch The newest addition of the horde of thieves. Like honestly, one could just call him hairy beast of the water. Seriously, if growing chest hair, looking fat, and rowing metal across molecules of hydrogen and oxygen can get you into Douche U - I was approaching this whole college process the wrong way (Ed note: Me too. If all you needed was upper body strength, I would've put down the fucking paintbrush and lifted like bricks or something). And dude, could you ask any more annoying question and/or wear uglier sweaters (Ed note: Is he even smart? Like, I don't think so, right? I don't actually even remember him existing? He doesn't shop at Mecca, but occassionally, I do like his crazy '80s garb. I'm a bad person). They don't call it a "crime" to wear poor clothing for no reason. You're a bitch.
Hoe "Yea! I can kick round objects of cow hide across arbitrarily drawn goal lines. Besides that, I like to spend my evenings housing hideous hair while pretending to be an intellectual. I used to be popular until people realized that I really have nothing going for me besides a kick-ass last name and a big house." Will be one of Douche U's finest, I'm sure. You a hoe (Ed note: And you TOTALLY look like that kid in elementary school who got everyone to pay the fat kid with low self esteem to eat like weird shit like Oreos covered in tin foil and ranch dressing. You suck).
Slut My favorite people in today's world are pseudo-toughguys. Like guess what bro, I pride myself in knowing I no longer participate in the same recreational activities that the fucking Native Americans did [see c.f., evolving/civilizing]. Might I also re-iterate that Skank U is going to be hosted some hideous hair styles. This kid's hair is as white as.....well whatever, it's white and ugly and not appealing and ugly. Your dad was in Skull and Bones (Ed note: Actually, you never leave), congratulations! Your father's intellect joins the rank of Mr. Bush's (Ed note: V.I., did you learn nothing from The General? It's Mr. PRESIDENT, you American hating abortionist!). You're a slut. (Ed note: Id A actually went to middle school with the hoe. And he is the EXACT same now as he was then. Like he had already written his ticket. Also, you remind of someone who is going to pay for an abortion in two years.)
Whore One word...Very Strong Acne Medication. Oh wait, that was more than one word (Ed note: Four, actually). Oh well, you still need it. Besides that, let's reflect on why you're getting into Skank U. O yes, you swing wooden bats. Wonderful. We had Indians, now we have cavemen. It's so thrilling to see empirical examples of just how far we've come as a race. I don't think I've ever met someone who pretends to try as little as you do. Funny thing is, you still get mediocre grades while working your ass off. (Ed note: I just fucking hate this kid because like, okay, he used to be fat anf when he lost his extra weight only then did he start hanging out with the 11030 mob and only until last year was he king. Well, shah maat.) Oh well, the whole "book" thing isn't for everyone. Especially not for Ivy fellows, apparently. You're a whore.
Conclusion: Douche U is a political machine. Douche U doesn't care that some people actually have brains. Douche U is for skanks. (Ed note: These four shitslices almost make me not want to go there. Like if only like every admissions officer could hang out with me and V.I., they would see how awesome we are.)
V.I. Melanin
It's that time of year again. The leaves are changing. It's getting colder. Spoiled lacrosse players are realizing they can now do EVEN LESS work because -- hey!-- they're already in college. Actually, a really good one, like REALLY GOOD. Actually its Douche U.
Let's analyze each of these outstanding C******** men a little deeper, shall we:
Bitch The newest addition of the horde of thieves. Like honestly, one could just call him hairy beast of the water. Seriously, if growing chest hair, looking fat, and rowing metal across molecules of hydrogen and oxygen can get you into Douche U - I was approaching this whole college process the wrong way (Ed note: Me too. If all you needed was upper body strength, I would've put down the fucking paintbrush and lifted like bricks or something). And dude, could you ask any more annoying question and/or wear uglier sweaters (Ed note: Is he even smart? Like, I don't think so, right? I don't actually even remember him existing? He doesn't shop at Mecca, but occassionally, I do like his crazy '80s garb. I'm a bad person). They don't call it a "crime" to wear poor clothing for no reason. You're a bitch.
Hoe "Yea! I can kick round objects of cow hide across arbitrarily drawn goal lines. Besides that, I like to spend my evenings housing hideous hair while pretending to be an intellectual. I used to be popular until people realized that I really have nothing going for me besides a kick-ass last name and a big house." Will be one of Douche U's finest, I'm sure. You a hoe (Ed note: And you TOTALLY look like that kid in elementary school who got everyone to pay the fat kid with low self esteem to eat like weird shit like Oreos covered in tin foil and ranch dressing. You suck).
Slut My favorite people in today's world are pseudo-toughguys. Like guess what bro, I pride myself in knowing I no longer participate in the same recreational activities that the fucking Native Americans did [see c.f., evolving/civilizing]. Might I also re-iterate that Skank U is going to be hosted some hideous hair styles. This kid's hair is as white as.....well whatever, it's white and ugly and not appealing and ugly. Your dad was in Skull and Bones (Ed note: Actually, you never leave), congratulations! Your father's intellect joins the rank of Mr. Bush's (Ed note: V.I., did you learn nothing from The General? It's Mr. PRESIDENT, you American hating abortionist!). You're a slut. (Ed note: Id A actually went to middle school with the hoe. And he is the EXACT same now as he was then. Like he had already written his ticket. Also, you remind of someone who is going to pay for an abortion in two years.)
Whore One word...Very Strong Acne Medication. Oh wait, that was more than one word (Ed note: Four, actually). Oh well, you still need it. Besides that, let's reflect on why you're getting into Skank U. O yes, you swing wooden bats. Wonderful. We had Indians, now we have cavemen. It's so thrilling to see empirical examples of just how far we've come as a race. I don't think I've ever met someone who pretends to try as little as you do. Funny thing is, you still get mediocre grades while working your ass off. (Ed note: I just fucking hate this kid because like, okay, he used to be fat anf when he lost his extra weight only then did he start hanging out with the 11030 mob and only until last year was he king. Well, shah maat.) Oh well, the whole "book" thing isn't for everyone. Especially not for Ivy fellows, apparently. You're a whore.
Conclusion: Douche U is a political machine. Douche U doesn't care that some people actually have brains. Douche U is for skanks. (Ed note: These four shitslices almost make me not want to go there. Like if only like every admissions officer could hang out with me and V.I., they would see how awesome we are.)
V.I. Melanin
Sunday, November 18, 2007
LOLappz
In a day I did nothing except procrastinate about doing my applications, I thought of my fake NYU supplement more than my real one.
Describe a trait or characteristic that has been passed along to you by your family. Tell us why you like or dislike this part of yourself.
White skin. I think my opinion of this is pretty obvious.
New York City is an essential element of academic and cultural life at NYU. If you could start a club or service organiztion at NYU, what would it be and how could you envision it impacting the larger community?
Um, how does that first sentence relate to the question? But anyway, I would start a club for people who like doing ordinary things like ironing, checking emails, naked. It would be called "The Club for People Who Like Doing Ordinary Things Like Ironing, Checking Emails, Naked." It would impact the larger community (you mean fatties, right?) by letting them know where they are not wanted so they don't even try to hang out, for real, like fat people are gross. Also it would stop sexual offenders on campus because they would be too busy sexually offending each other to sexually offend others.
You have been selected to sing in a talent show. What song would you choose? Why?
I answer your question with a question: Who is at this talent show? Is it people I am already friends with? People I want to be friends with? My grandparents? Regardless, the song would be "Hate That I Love You" by Rihanna (Ed. note: YAY!) and some guy who is totes black (Ed. note: BOO!) I feel that this song is timeless and would reveal to all three groups (and only those groups) a little about me. That/Those revelation/s: I am awesome and my iPod doesn't work in my car.
Please tell us what led you to select your anticipated academic program and/or NYU school/college, and what interests you most about your intended discipline.
Actually this is a good question. To find out who my real dad is, that's what.
Describe a trait or characteristic that has been passed along to you by your family. Tell us why you like or dislike this part of yourself.
White skin. I think my opinion of this is pretty obvious.
New York City is an essential element of academic and cultural life at NYU. If you could start a club or service organiztion at NYU, what would it be and how could you envision it impacting the larger community?
Um, how does that first sentence relate to the question? But anyway, I would start a club for people who like doing ordinary things like ironing, checking emails, naked. It would be called "The Club for People Who Like Doing Ordinary Things Like Ironing, Checking Emails, Naked." It would impact the larger community (you mean fatties, right?) by letting them know where they are not wanted so they don't even try to hang out, for real, like fat people are gross. Also it would stop sexual offenders on campus because they would be too busy sexually offending each other to sexually offend others.
You have been selected to sing in a talent show. What song would you choose? Why?
I answer your question with a question: Who is at this talent show? Is it people I am already friends with? People I want to be friends with? My grandparents? Regardless, the song would be "Hate That I Love You" by Rihanna (Ed. note: YAY!) and some guy who is totes black (Ed. note: BOO!) I feel that this song is timeless and would reveal to all three groups (and only those groups) a little about me. That/Those revelation/s: I am awesome and my iPod doesn't work in my car.
Please tell us what led you to select your anticipated academic program and/or NYU school/college, and what interests you most about your intended discipline.
Actually this is a good question. To find out who my real dad is, that's what.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
C'est la vie.
The current contents of my car:
-Those cool $10 sunglasses no one but me and I guess Pabeers is too fond of.
-A staple gun, hammers, screwdrivers.
-Tape. (related)
-Umbrella. (unrelated)
-Petroleum Jelly. (YOU DECIDE!)
-A distinct McDonalds/Chipotle/coffee smell.
-Three sketchbooks (one not used at all, two both less than half [that last part I just decided would make an AWESOME album name. {COPYRIGHT ID A THIS BLOG}])
-Countless small water bottles.
-Probably some Chapstick.
-Love.
-Oh, oh. And yeah the shit that's getting me into college.
This one's for you Polo Bear because you are Polo Bear and "ya got guts, kid."
-Those cool $10 sunglasses no one but me and I guess Pabeers is too fond of.
-A staple gun, hammers, screwdrivers.
-Tape. (related)
-Umbrella. (unrelated)
-Petroleum Jelly. (YOU DECIDE!)
-A distinct McDonalds/Chipotle/coffee smell.
-Three sketchbooks (one not used at all, two both less than half [that last part I just decided would make an AWESOME album name. {COPYRIGHT ID A THIS BLOG}])
-Countless small water bottles.
-Probably some Chapstick.
-Love.
-Oh, oh. And yeah the shit that's getting me into college.
This one's for you Polo Bear because you are Polo Bear and "ya got guts, kid."
Monday, November 12, 2007
I'm In the Barack Obama Facebook Group, Relax!
So. Today (yesterday?) Produce Pete and I, Id A, went to Mecca to begin his Pygmalion-esque transformation from "high school Produce Pete to college Produce Pete." My words. TURNITIN!
So after Mecca we went to Champs after Foot Locker and Athlete's Foot to find a pair of sneakers I wanted. This was after like half an hour of searching.
Then, we find them and I go to pay. Normal. Then the black cashier asked me who got the shoes for me. This is what happened:
No CJ: That'll be $50.32.
Id A: Ok.
No CJ: Could you tell me the person who got these shoes from the back?
Id A: I forgot his name. Sry.
No CJ: Well. What did he look like? (FACT: Everyone who works there is black.)
Id A: He's tall.
No CJ: ...
Id A: And black. (It;s at this point where I get a big shitty grin on my face and continue awkwardness)
No CJ: ...
Id A (to Produce Pete): Did he have facial hair?
Produce Pete: ...
Id A: I think is name was CJ?
No CJ: That's impossible. No one named CJ works here.
Id A (panicking): It was THAT GUY.
No CJ then left for like five minutes as I stood there with my Converse probably telling other No CJs this story. I am "That Really White Kid."
Here's the thing. I knew he was thinking "This kid isn't going to say he's black because he is superwhite and paid with a debit card. I'm going to make him feel uncomfortable." Entrapment much? But like, I win because I totally beat racism.
So after Mecca we went to Champs after Foot Locker and Athlete's Foot to find a pair of sneakers I wanted. This was after like half an hour of searching.
Then, we find them and I go to pay. Normal. Then the black cashier asked me who got the shoes for me. This is what happened:
No CJ: That'll be $50.32.
Id A: Ok.
No CJ: Could you tell me the person who got these shoes from the back?
Id A: I forgot his name. Sry.
No CJ: Well. What did he look like? (FACT: Everyone who works there is black.)
Id A: He's tall.
No CJ: ...
Id A: And black. (It;s at this point where I get a big shitty grin on my face and continue awkwardness)
No CJ: ...
Id A (to Produce Pete): Did he have facial hair?
Produce Pete: ...
Id A: I think is name was CJ?
No CJ: That's impossible. No one named CJ works here.
Id A (panicking): It was THAT GUY.
No CJ then left for like five minutes as I stood there with my Converse probably telling other No CJs this story. I am "That Really White Kid."
Here's the thing. I knew he was thinking "This kid isn't going to say he's black because he is superwhite and paid with a debit card. I'm going to make him feel uncomfortable." Entrapment much? But like, I win because I totally beat racism.
Friday, November 9, 2007
"Experimental" Comedy
The conclusion of a very long week brings (yet another) long weekend, work-wise. But for now, some thoughts:
Who the fuck invented turnitin.com? Fuck them. I hope they get the AIDS they could have cured instead of making such a fucking retarded website.
Why do I <3 lollipops so much? Maybe I'm a really slutty twelve year old rebellious Asian from Anaheim on the inside. Maybe.
Sometimes shitting is more than shitting, it's a fucking work out.
The college application process is in full swing and as much as I want to go to college, I really don't want to have to fill those fuckers out.
I have my own Frenemy. You should realize what that is. I'm not going to reveal who it is yet, but you all know him. I can never tell if we're friends or not and sometimes I really fucking hate him and he hates me back. Tah.
I wish blacks didn't exist.*
I finally what I'm going to do in my will. Inspired by what i read in the Unethicist on G*****, I'm going to keep journals and when I die people I don't like (or Frenemies [I plan on having many, it just makes things more interesting]) will get these journals and they will learn that even though I have been adult aborted I fucking hate them. From the after life. That's a hurt that won't go away. (And don't worry readers, you guy(s) are cool.)
Remember that episode of "Hey Arnold" where the sentence "Stoop kid's afraid to leave his stoop" was said like a million times? I do.
Remember when Dane Cook was like REALLY funny and everyone said "sangwich" and "rum"? I do. It was back when New York magazine used to come to my house but then I realized they put all the articles online and its free so I cancelled my subscription. And like, I think that Dane Cook is just kind of sad. Because he's like kind of done but like won't let go. And he's a huge douche. And he is gue gue gue. None of the stuff he does is really that funny anymore. Like I feel like in forty years when the 17 year olds of the 2047 are watching "I Blank the 00's" ("love" doesn't exist in Ann Coulter's America unless you love cocaine and giving blowjobs [only for laydeez!]) someone of John Krasinski level fame will say "What ever happened to him?" and VH25 will put up a picture of 2047 Dane Cook and we (US) will look at it and think "I remember how he used to be young and have some hand symbol that looks like when people are fishing things from their assholes." And then we go back to our jobs making small metal objects that don't serve any purpose except to ensure that we are making them.
We really should have moved tables. Like I get it, you know how to talk now leave me the fuck alone.
Favorite Sentences of the Week:
1. "There's a big difference between raping somebody and just being really agressive."
2."As Oscar Wilde once said: 'I love sucking dick.'"
I <3 the new iPod commercial.
Produce Pete gets a makeover this weekend. Urban Outfitters!
Who the fuck invented turnitin.com? Fuck them. I hope they get the AIDS they could have cured instead of making such a fucking retarded website.
Why do I <3 lollipops so much? Maybe I'm a really slutty twelve year old rebellious Asian from Anaheim on the inside. Maybe.
Sometimes shitting is more than shitting, it's a fucking work out.
The college application process is in full swing and as much as I want to go to college, I really don't want to have to fill those fuckers out.
I have my own Frenemy. You should realize what that is. I'm not going to reveal who it is yet, but you all know him. I can never tell if we're friends or not and sometimes I really fucking hate him and he hates me back. Tah.
I wish blacks didn't exist.*
I finally what I'm going to do in my will. Inspired by what i read in the Unethicist on G*****, I'm going to keep journals and when I die people I don't like (or Frenemies [I plan on having many, it just makes things more interesting]) will get these journals and they will learn that even though I have been adult aborted I fucking hate them. From the after life. That's a hurt that won't go away. (And don't worry readers, you guy(s) are cool.)
Remember that episode of "Hey Arnold" where the sentence "Stoop kid's afraid to leave his stoop" was said like a million times? I do.
Remember when Dane Cook was like REALLY funny and everyone said "sangwich" and "rum"? I do. It was back when New York magazine used to come to my house but then I realized they put all the articles online and its free so I cancelled my subscription. And like, I think that Dane Cook is just kind of sad. Because he's like kind of done but like won't let go. And he's a huge douche. And he is gue gue gue. None of the stuff he does is really that funny anymore. Like I feel like in forty years when the 17 year olds of the 2047 are watching "I Blank the 00's" ("love" doesn't exist in Ann Coulter's America unless you love cocaine and giving blowjobs [only for laydeez!]) someone of John Krasinski level fame will say "What ever happened to him?" and VH25 will put up a picture of 2047 Dane Cook and we (US) will look at it and think "I remember how he used to be young and have some hand symbol that looks like when people are fishing things from their assholes." And then we go back to our jobs making small metal objects that don't serve any purpose except to ensure that we are making them.
We really should have moved tables. Like I get it, you know how to talk now leave me the fuck alone.
Favorite Sentences of the Week:
1. "There's a big difference between raping somebody and just being really agressive."
2."As Oscar Wilde once said: 'I love sucking dick.'"
I <3 the new iPod commercial.
Produce Pete gets a makeover this weekend. Urban Outfitters!
Sunday, November 4, 2007
"That Makes You Lord Henry Wotton"
A weekend of mixed reviews.
Saturday:
Art. I am REALLY handy, like I built a fucking stool but only because I broke another one. You might have heard about it. Also, I'm so set for P-day which is nice. Then I went into the city to hang out with Sister A. Fun. Mouse. Not so much. I also took a really big shit. Like a gargantuan.
Sunday:
Term paper. All day. Like, literally, all day. Done. It was so not Oscar Wild(e).
Saturday:
Art. I am REALLY handy, like I built a fucking stool but only because I broke another one. You might have heard about it. Also, I'm so set for P-day which is nice. Then I went into the city to hang out with Sister A. Fun. Mouse. Not so much. I also took a really big shit. Like a gargantuan.
A sidenote, and completely unrelated to shit: Borders and Barnes and Noble, get your fucking act together. And, tell your employees to stop judging and making chit-chat at the same time. That book was for my mom. If I wanted passive aggression and a bad haircut, I'd look in the fucking mirror.
Sunday:
Term paper. All day. Like, literally, all day. Done. It was so not Oscar Wild(e).
Friday, November 2, 2007
"Perfect for Parties -- Pirates AND Westerns"
In a week that had its ups (Thursday!) and its downs (Wednesday, boo! [get it?]), there was one constant: a test of wills.
TEST OF WILLS #1: The Stool v. Id A
I need to plan better/invent time machine/gravity destroyer. Want to know what happens when you mix exhaustion, 50 lbs. of plaster, water, a garbage bag, Wanda, a stool, and a lot of sweat? No, you don't. It hurts. So many cuts on my hands, which makes me look like I want to hurt myself and on Tuesday night, I kinda did. Also, Hairfan, who knew!? But anyway, it was not pretty.
TEST OF WILL #2: HOBBITLORD v. Id A
"Congratulations! You have outbid user: HOBBITLORD for item: Skeleton Keys!" That is the Little Miss Sunshine of sentences. It made me laugh and cry at the same time. But, there was more. The email I got from the seller of said Skeleton Keys (five (5)* to be more exact) on eBay trumps that: "Ahoy Matey! Thank you for your purchase. Your booty ships at sunrise-" Surprised? No. Because the description of the keys said they were just like the ones Jack used in his escape in the POTC**(!) (I didn't get what that meant at first). But like, such is life. I really hope this person doesn't turn out to be my roommate and then I can never go into my room ever again.
TEST OF WILL #3: Id A vs. Society's Definition of "Art"
So, TEST OF WILL #1 was salvaged into this really cool installation piece. Mixed reviews. The teachers are split, but all the good seniors (and I include myself in that group) love it. But like, I have to "realize the idea." 14 days to P-day. Ruh roh.
*Why does that occassionally happen? I mean, even Mexicans know what "five" means. Right?
**If you abbreviate things like this, let me ask you something. Will you look in the mirror? Do you like what you see? No? TOGETHER, you can change and maybe not be that person who sits in the back of the bus/stands near the doors of the subway/train and breathes really heavy in ten years. I thought so.
TEST OF WILLS #1: The Stool v. Id A
I need to plan better/invent time machine/gravity destroyer. Want to know what happens when you mix exhaustion, 50 lbs. of plaster, water, a garbage bag, Wanda, a stool, and a lot of sweat? No, you don't. It hurts. So many cuts on my hands, which makes me look like I want to hurt myself and on Tuesday night, I kinda did. Also, Hairfan, who knew!? But anyway, it was not pretty.
TEST OF WILL #2: HOBBITLORD v. Id A
"Congratulations! You have outbid user: HOBBITLORD for item: Skeleton Keys!" That is the Little Miss Sunshine of sentences. It made me laugh and cry at the same time. But, there was more. The email I got from the seller of said Skeleton Keys (five (5)* to be more exact) on eBay trumps that: "Ahoy Matey! Thank you for your purchase. Your booty ships at sunrise-" Surprised? No. Because the description of the keys said they were just like the ones Jack used in his escape in the POTC**(!) (I didn't get what that meant at first). But like, such is life. I really hope this person doesn't turn out to be my roommate and then I can never go into my room ever again.
TEST OF WILL #3: Id A vs. Society's Definition of "Art"
So, TEST OF WILL #1 was salvaged into this really cool installation piece. Mixed reviews. The teachers are split, but all the good seniors (and I include myself in that group) love it. But like, I have to "realize the idea." 14 days to P-day. Ruh roh.
*Why does that occassionally happen? I mean, even Mexicans know what "five" means. Right?
**If you abbreviate things like this, let me ask you something. Will you look in the mirror? Do you like what you see? No? TOGETHER, you can change and maybe not be that person who sits in the back of the bus/stands near the doors of the subway/train and breathes really heavy in ten years. I thought so.
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