June 24, 2011

The 20 Stages of Packing

Step 1: Become insanely excited for upcoming trip/adventure/quest.
Step 2: Start to think over every possible item that could be needed on said trip/adventure/quest, making sure to plan for the oh-so likely event of a flood, fire, zombie apocalypse, or other natural disaster.
Step 3: Begin packing, taking care to fold each article of clothing nicely.
Step 4: Spend two hours distracted on Facebook.
Step 5: Realize that the upcoming trip/adventure/quest is actually a lot closer than was expected.
Step 6: Panic that you will forget something important.
Step 7: Fly around the house frantically looking for whatever you know you’ll need in frenzied alarm.
Step 8: Realize that it is all pointless.
Step 9: Stop caring.
Step 10: Apathy.
Step 11: Shove whatever random crap you find on the floor of your room/bottom of your closet/back of your drawer into the suitcase/duffel bag at random
Step 12: Sit and/or stand on suitcase/duffel in a vain effort to make everything fit because it totally will.
Step 13: Come to terms with the fact that it will not actually fit in the aforementioned suitcase/duffel.
Step 14: Rage.
Step 15: Carefully consider the odds/weather forecast/crystal ball and pull out whatever bulky article of clothing/item you think you can live without. (Note: this item will be the one you need most on your upcoming trip/adventure/quest)
Step 16: Use impressive feats of strength and/or nuclear weaponry to finally zip said suitcase/duffel closed
Step 17: Realize that something has indeed been forgotten. Either carry said item awkwardly around or attempt to shove it into your carry-on.
Step 18: Begin trip/adventure/quest.
Step 19: Realize that you forgot your toothbrush.
Step 20: Scream to the heavens.

June 23, 2011

The Joys of Social Networking

I love Facebook. I really, really do. I’ll admit, it’s really not a healthy relationship – I put so much time and effort into it, I give it my whole heart and nothing less, and yet it continues to see over 400 million other people (“want you to make me feel/like I’m the only girl in the world/like I’m the only one you’ll social network with”). In fact, I’d say my relationship borders on emotionally abusive. But I love it, and so I stay with it.
That being said, I do have some major qualms with Facebook. Any relationship has its problems, and this one is no different.

1. It makes stalking way too easy.
2. You can find way too many cool and interesting people on Facebook. Which doesn’t sound like a problem, I’ll admit. It becomes an issue, however, when you realize that the only contact you’ve ever even remotely had with this person is through a social networking site. You’ve never talked to them and, coming from personal experience, it usually doesn’t work out well when you start a chat conversation with, “Hey, I’m Kait. You don’t actually know me, but we’ve been fb friends for a while now, and I’ve randomly stalked your every wall post and status update over the last three weeks. You’re cool and we have a lot in common. Let’s be friends!”
This icebreaker is even worse when it comes to boys.
3. No matter how many people are online there is NEVER ANYONE TO TALK TO.
(Very similar to the phenomenon in which a teenager will look at a fridge full of food and find nothing to eat)
4. “I’m just going to spend five minutes on Facebook, and then I’ll go right back to that essay that’s due tomorrow.”
Yeah right.
5. The Zuck keeps changing my #$&@!+#$ing layout. Yeah, okay, some of these changes are good and helpful and make it easier to navigate. But this “streamlined” chat and newfangled “groups” and whatnot are just messing with my system. Every time the Zuck makes a change, it takes me months to get used to it. Then the minute I actually know what I’m doing, I’m getting updated to the new profile or some other shenanigans. It’s rather uncool. The Zuck is a soul-sucking dementor. (that was a bit redundant)
6. Breakups go from sad reasons for the purchase of depressing, angsty teen music to horrifyingly public affairs in which everyone and their brother knows that you are now single and desperate.
7. You get to spend hours at a time looking at pictures of other people’s awesome lives and crying over how pitiful your own is.
8. Gossip spreads faster than herpes through the Bachelor contestants’ mansion.
9. Seeing everyone’s posts about that bangin’ party last night is just depressing when you finally come to terms with the fact that you are never invited to anything. *sighs*
10. That one guy. You know him, that one troll that always feels it necessary to post on everyone’s wall, like every status update, and comment on every new picture, oftentimes with either “Trollolololololol” or some inane comment. If you’re the Troll, you know who you are. NO one loves you. Get out.

June 21, 2011

Letter #1

Dear My House,

Hi there. We haven’t chatted in a while. How have you been? I’m great, thanks for asking.

So, I have a couple of things that I want to talk to you about. Just a few things, don’t worry too much. Now don’t get me wrong, you’re great. You’ve been doing your house-y thing just fantastically for the last twelve years. You’ve sheltered me from the rain, you’ve kept me warm in the winter, you’ve housed (haha, punny) my entire life’s possessions, and without a single complaint either! That kind of dedication is admirable, truly, and I respect you for it, I really do. You’ve been the location of countless study sessions and slumber parties, you’ve been home to (Haha, punny again. There sure are a lot of house-related colloquialisms and phrases of speech out there.) a plethora of childhood memories and experiences, and never once did you tell me that a pair of jeans made me look fat (even when I knew they really did) or judge me for singing in the shower.

That being said, I think we should address a couple of things. Okay, one thing. Now, normally I wouldn’t say anything – I don’t want to be a bother – but this is kind of a major concern.

We have to talk about the spiders.

I know, I know – you’re really friendly, and you like people and nature and whatnot. However, that doesn’t make it okay for you to let those little eight-legged aberrations take up residence in your welcoming nooks and crannies. Especially because I have to live here, too, and I’m not the biggest fan of spiders.

Spiders are gross. And when I come home from five days of arachnid-slaying, the last thing I need is to see one of those monsters in my sink or in my pool or in my shower or by my front door or in my garage or descending right in front of my face and then hiding in my couch.

It’s really not cool.

And this seems to be a new problem – but a problem nonetheless, and one that must be remedied quickly if at all possible.

Now, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job. You’ve got this housing thing down cold, and that’s fine by me – I’d rather be off walking around or something (sorry to rub your face in that, I know it must be hard to live your life as a stationary object). But we should at least be able to come up with some sort of happy compromise, right? Write me back if you’re willing to work on this issue with me. I’m sure that if we talk this through we can manage to make sure everyone is happy.

Love always,

P.S. We’re still cool, right?

June 20, 2011

False Advertising

 “What would you do for a Klondike Bar?”

I have seen this ad for years. I have heard the jingle and seen the people frantically scrambling or pushing over old ladies to get their hands on what the advertisements would have you believe to be the food of Jesus and the unicorns.

All of this hype, and somehow I managed to make it seventeen years on this earth without having ever eaten a Klondike Bar. I’m not going to lie, the commercials were pretty persuasive. The ice cream alone looked good – but then again, it’s food, coated in chocolate, filled with ice cream. I mean, how could you go wrong? Needless to say, I had expectations.

My expectations of a Klondike Bar:
  1. Pure, heavenly, unadulterated deliciousness
  2. A chorus of angels singing out as I take the first bite
  3. The best thing I’ve ever tasted
  4. All the world’s problems disappearing
  5. Magic
I might have been setting
myself up for disappointment.
What it actually tasted like:
  1. Synthetic chocolate
  2. Ice cream
  3. Foil. I’m really coordinated when it comes to eating foods that are wrapped in user-unfriendly packaging.
  4. Disappointment
  5. Failure

So what would I do for a Klondike Bar?

My answer: Eh, I guess I’d walk to the fridge, but unwrapping it is a lot of work….and my fridge is so far.....

June 19, 2011

Can you actually call dibs on being right? Because that could really come in handy....

My friend and I get into random arguments like this all the time. And when I say that I don't mean "on occasion." I don't mean "every once in a while." I don't mean "once in a blue moon." I don't mean "when the mood strikes." I mean all the time. It starts with something stupid like me saying, "You're the best." She will then one-up me with, "You're the best times infinity." And I will continue with, "You're the best times ten to the infinite power." And so on and so forth. Then it will devolve into us childish arguing over who is right and who is wrong (picture the two kids from Emperor's New Groove only I'm the fat little boy).

But this time, she pulled what I think is an illegal move, or at least a yellow card or something because otherwise that is an unfair advantage. Mostly because I didn't know you could do that.

Bree: Dibs on being right!
Me: You can’t call dibs on that! 
Bree: I can though!
Me: Nuh-uh!
Bree: Yes-huh!
Me: …… cotton-headed ninnymuggins.
Bree: You’re a corttonheaded nimbymuggins!

Apparently arguments with my friends end in textual speech impediments. It must be my rapier wit or dazzling rhetoric or something. Dang I'm good.

June 18, 2011

I prefer watching VHS’s because you can rewind the tape and watch people walk around backwards.

I think my parents are concerned for my sanity and/or psychological fortitude.

Not like this is anything new, of course.

It’s just that when I get stressed or upset, I don’t cry (lie). I don’t go for the chocolate (little lie). I don’t stress bake (itty bitty lie – but don’t complain about that one because if you’re my friend it tends to benefit you and your stomach).

I break out the Disney movies.

Oh heck yes.

There is something fantastic about classic Disney cartoons. Here are 15 reasons why Disney classics are the best movies out there.

1. You can’t beat characters randomly breaking out into song every 12-15 minutes.
2. They are all between 90 and 120 minutes, which is short enough to keep my attention.
3. The pretty colours and happy music also keep my attention. Like shiny stuff.
4. That satisfying click a VHS makes when you have fully rewound it. Okay, maybe that isn’t a trait specific to solely Disney, but still, it can’t be beat by the streamlined whirring sound a DVD makes. These young whippersnappers (I tried to spell that “whipperschnappers” but apparently that is incorrect. I feel like my entire life up to this point has been a lie. And like I’ve probably looked stupid in the past spelling it the apparently incorrect way.) don’t realize what they’re missing.
5. Have you ever actually looked at the animation in classic Disney movies? I don’t mean the characters with their blocky colouring and outlines, I mean the hand-drawn backgrounds. The opening scene from Beauty and the Beast, where the “camera” pans through the forest in front of the Beast’s castle and the narrator starts to say, “Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young Prince lived in a shining castle,” is simply beautiful. The detail is exquisite.
6. Alan Menken is my hero. Musically, that man can do no wrong. He composed for almost all of what my generation refers to as “classic Disney.” I mean, who else would have thought to have African-American gospel singers tell the story of Hercules? I get goose bumps whenever I hear the closing score from Pocahontas (on the soundtrack, the track titled “Farewell”) – the way he makes the music move is just incredible. I – words can’t even describe. *musical giggle*
7. Howard Ashmann is a close second on the hero list. He was one of Disney’s head lyricists, and the peak of his work was Beauty and the Beast (though he died shortly before the movie’s release). I can gush about him and Alan Menken for hours, ask my friends.
8. Just once, when you’re all alone and no one can hear you, randomly break out into the opening lines of “Make a Man out of You” from Mulan. The pure epic is unbelievable.
9. Nostalgia. Those movies and the creaking noise the old plastic cases make when you crack them open and the way the weight shifts inside the tape and the bright blue screen you see when you hit “stop” all take me back to days before everything was so complicated and messy. For an hour and a half I can sit down, forget about my troubles and why I am upset and just be happy.
10. You can’t beat the pure hilarity of the lyrics.
11. “And, as I always say, if it’s not Baroque, don’t fix it!” Win.
12. Pocahontas was the reason I actually had any motivation to do my summer chapters of APUSH.
13. These movies actually have MORALS. I know you may not be familiar with them, but hidden amongst the mild racist tendencies and flagrant political incorrectness are excellent ethical standards to live by.
14. Every time I watch a Disney movie I think about Disneyland, which, as we all know, is the happiest place on earth.
15. I need a 15th reason because 14 is an insignificant number, 10 is too  small a number, and I can’t think of another 6 to make it to an even 20. SO, I just have to say that Disney movies are timeless. Cliché, maybe; false, no.

I love Disney movies. The end.

This is probably isn’t helping my case.

June 17, 2011


Do you have the time?
Time’s running out
This time
Every time
Be there in time
It’s about time
Time to get a watch
Watch the time
Time after time
Save time
Kill time
Only time will tell
One more time
Time to grow up
Time change
Time for a change
Time heals all wounds
Time ticks
Time tocks
Time drags
Time crawls slowly
Time flies by
By the time you’re ready
Give me some time
Take your time
In the nick of time
Time to waste
A waste of time
Time to go back
Turning back the hands of time
Time to wait
Time to spare
Time on your hands
Time slipping through your fingertips
What I would do for more time
Make the time
Take some time
Not enough time
Time to start over

God I would feel beast if I owned this.

June 16, 2011

I might be socially awkward.

My best friend and I went on a school trip to Disneyland over spring break. After the guys we were supposed to traipse around the park with ditched us because we would “only slow [them] down” she and I decided that rather than wait in crowded lines for hours at a time we would just frolic around the park for the day. We got on every ride we wanted to go on (never waiting more than 20 minutes in the process – what swag), ate tons of good food, and ended up sitting for an hour in the lobby of the Animation Studios at California Adventures watching classic Disney clips on the giant screens. One of the highlights of my day was when we went to the Animation Academy and I managed to draw Piglet – and it ACTUALLY LOOKED LIKE PIGLET. (And you call me artistically challenged? HA!)

However, at one point we went to the Imagineering building (right above the Carousel of Progress and smack dab between Autopia and Space Mountain, in case you were wondering) and started to just mess around with the gadgetry and toys and whatnot. We walked into the “Home of the Future” exhibit, where the floor rotates, but only part like a ring sort of thing. So there’s this outer ring of floor that doesn’t move and the whole inside circle part does move around – or maybe it’s the reverse and the outside ring doesn’t move but the inside  does – and you can’t tell while you’re inside but when you see the seam the two pieces move independently and –

This isn’t making any sense. Either you know exactly what I’m talking about because you have been there or you don’t. If you fall into the latter category then picture this: the floor moves funny and Kait is easily entertained (and highly uncoordinated). That’s the big picture here.

You’re with me?

The scene of the spaz.

So only these two random people, my friend, and I are in the room, and I am playing with the funny half-moving floor. As I’m doing the splits on the moving floor this happens:

Random Male Person to me: [laughs in a flirtatious manner] That floor is fun to play with, isn’t it?
Me: [continues to play with floor obliviously]
                                                            [a few seconds pass]
Random Male Person: [looks awkward] Or not….
Random Female Person: [laughs] Let’s go
Friend: Excuse me, I’m sorry, my friend has issues with social awkwardness
            [Random Male Person and Random Female Person exit stage front-to-the-other-exhibit]
Friend: Kait! You are such a spaz! That guy was talking to you!
Me: [looks up] Wait, what?? He was talking to me?? Oh crap!

The story ends with me running after the guy trying to convince him that I’m not a frigid *@#$& ignoring his untoward but flattering advances - I’m just oblivious and lame - but the ship had sailed.

So, in other words, I had to go out of my way to avoid Random Male Person and Random Female Person in Disneyland the entirety of the rest of the trip.

I’m awkward.

June 9, 2011

A rabbi, a priest, and a minister walk into a bar. Bars serve people of all religions.

My friends don’t believe that I’m funny.

If one of you makes a crack about me not having any friends I will unleash a horde of ravenous raptors (Alliteration! Woo!) on you and your firstborn. I have friends. Goodness.

My friends don’t think I’m funny.

I’m frigging hilarious.

Today while lounging in the choir room office (in a totally educational manner, mind you) I decided to grace my audience with a bit of my completely normal and gut-busting humour in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Me: What is green and has wheels?
Random Soprano: I don’t know, what?
Me: Grass. I lied about the wheels.
[laughs uncontrollably]
Random Soprano: I don’t get it…..
Me: You don’t get it?? But it is so funny! Here’s another one: What did one lawyer say to the other lawyer?
Random Alto: I don’t know, what?
Me: “We are both lawyers.”
            [laughs again at the unbelievable hilarity currently being exuded from my mouth]
Student Teacher: Oh dear God, I should not have given you sugar-laced hot chocolate this morning.
Me: [still laughing]

The sad thing is, this kind of thing happens a lot. I don’t know why. I’m funny, I promise.

Why don’t you believe me?
This is my yearbook picture.

June 7, 2011

Everything I will ever need to know to cope in the real world I learned from AP World History

Jerry Bentley, editor of the "Global Traditions"
APWH textbook and my personal hero
(right next to Gandhi and Captain Kirk)
  1. Don’t piss off the peasants. They have feelings. And pitchforks. They will revolt. You will not be happy.
  2. Peasants don’t like it when you refer to yourself as “Sun King” or publically discuss how God gave you the right to be the ruler of the less fortunate or less evolved. It’s kind of a downer.
  3. Mongols are not to be trifled with. They will MESS YOU UP.
  4. Don’t get involved in a land war in Asia (only slightly less well known is to never get into a battle of wits with a Sicilian when death is on the line).
  5. Don’t touch the white man’s daughter. Bad things happen.
  6. Russia is never a good place to invade, especially in the winter. This shouldn’t be news to anyone who has ever played Risk. Is anyone else as frustrated as I am by the complete lack of scale on the Risk game board? The Ukraine is NOT that large, and I don’t think it is possible to paddle a canoe from South America to Africa
  7. Nuclear weaponry beats rock, paper, AND scissors (and lizard and Spock).
  8. If you want to get back at someone, just get their entire country addicted to opium. (When I learned about the Opium Wars in APWH I was genuinely ashamed. That was really uncool, random British traders.)
  9. The oil trade is where it’s at.
  10. Be friends with the biggest guy with the sharpest pointy stick and the best aim (preferably one who ain’t too bright). Chances are he’ll be your leader pretty quickly.
  11. If a fleshy, white guy randomly shows up and tells you that he is your long-lost deity finally returned to earth in human form, don’t give him all your gold. Instead of eternal salvation you’ll probably end up with smallpox or typhus.
  12. Rich people really couldn’t care less whether or not you own that land – if that’s where they want their railroad, then by God that’s where they are going to build that railroad.
  13. Communism: it’s a party.
  14. Quakers make the best of friends.

June 6, 2011

I think I take more naps now as an AP student than I did as a child

Today during lunch hour (after I bought my milk and cookies – lunch of champions) my two friends and I decided that napping on the cement was the best use of our time before sixth period started. We lied face down on the cement in the middle of the walkway between a wing of classrooms and our Tree (we have claimed it as our own land and are currently contemplating secession). The cement was warm and the sun hit my back in a fashion that could only be described as heavenly (apparently Nirvanic is not a word, though it would be a lot more rhetorically effective). By covering my face with my sweatshirt (for some reason it has been unseasonably cold in my town, despite the fact that it is June) I was able to block the sun from my eyes and actually relax. After the unbelievable stress I have been going through this was the most content I had been in weeks.

Rather than questioning our behavior, all of my friends (Yes, I have friends. Shut up.) spent the rest of the lunch period being jealous that they had not thought of this a month ago during AP testing or four months ago in the midst of Murderous Academic Event season.

This made me realize that, including my new walkway nap spot, I have established no less than six prime napping locations on campus over the last three years. There is the couch in the choir room (one of my favorite places on campus, easily), the lab table in the unused science classroom (I once spent an entire Science Olympiad workday sleeping there. At one point I stretched out on my back and realized that, because the table was more of a slab than anything, I felt like I was being sacrificed on the Stone Table. Right as I yelled out to my teammates, “I am Aslan!” our coach decided to walk through the door. I think he’s considering recommending me to a medical professional. The psychiatric kind.), the floor in my calculus classroom (On the day before the AP test I decided that integrating inverse trig functions was far less important than getting a desperately deserved nap. My friend didn't mind when I channeled my inner ninja from my place on the floor and saved him from a falling 32 oz soda.), the sofa in the Social Studies department office (where I spent a good portion of Mock Trial season my sophomore year after I came down with mononucleosis), my car (does that count as on-campus?), and the shaded patch of grass by the Tree.

The scary thing is that I’m sure I’ve barely scratched the surface when it comes to creative places to nap. AP students are beyond overworked, and it’s not just because of the classes we take. Most of us can handle the homework that’s assigned, finish the projects within a timely fashion, and basically make it through the year with little difficulty. The problem, however, is what we do when we’re NOT in class.

AP students, it seems, are far more likely to participate in extra-curricular activities, be it Robotics, Mock Trial, History Day, Science Fair, Youth Court, Student Senate, Science Olympiad, programming team, choir, band, orchestra, or one of the dozens of clubs our school offers. Then there are AP study sessions that each take up 3-6 hours a week outside of regular class time. Not to mention the commitments we make outside of school – volunteering at a local hospital, participating in a regional environmental committee, tutoring on a voluntary or paid basis, internships at universities, athletic teams, Community Theater. Most of us don’t get home until after 8 or 9 each night. Factor in the three or four hours of homework we need to complete and you will understand why we are always so tired. Sleep doesn’t count when you are already overworked and overstressed to the point where you’re going grey at 17. I can’t think of the last time I woke up in the morning and felt legitimately well-rested.

Why do we do this to ourselves? Maybe it’s for the same reason we are in AP classes – we want to go to college.

The pressure to do well in school in order to be accepted to a prestigious university is tremendous in our group. We overextend ourselves to no end because that is what is expected of us by our parents, our teachers, our counselors, and our peers.

So what can be done? What can you do to help ease our pain?

Implement naptime as a regularly scheduled class period.

We beg of you.

June 5, 2011

I'm the Normal One

Somehow the topic of  the ubercool game “Settlers of Cataan” came up at a party. The conversation that ensued went something like this.

Me: I want to play Settlers. Who has a board?
Friend: I don’t want to play Settlers with you. You cheat.
Me: But we could have an alliance! We could dominate Cataan!
Friend: Why would I ally with you?
Me: Well I would have a 1:3 Mystery Port. That could come in handy.
Friend: So? I have a ton of sheep and a 2:1 Sheep Port. That’s way better.
Me: You misheard me. I have a 1:3 Mystery Port. 1 of whatever you have for 3 of whatever you want.
Friend: What kind of Settlers board are you playing with? I don’t think that exists.
Me: I also have longest road. And largest army. And an extra mystery port.
Friend: I don’t want to play anymore.
Me: Only because you’re losing.
Friend: No, because your imaginary board is rigged.
Me: *sticks tongue out*

I have cool friends.

What Every Single AP Essay/Project is Like for Me

You know how they say that your eyes are bigger than your stomach? When it comes to projects in school it tends to be that my motivation is bigger than my willingness to actually do work. I have this nasty tendency to get incredibly excited about projects in class that pique my interest - personal choice essays, "soundtrack of my life" projects, whatever - and then expect the moon, the stars, and everything out of my finished product. This is the heart-wrenching, gut-destroying process I go through every 4-6 weeks whenever a teacher has the audacity to assign something I dare to actually give a rat's rear about.

  1. Get unnecessarily excited
  2. Plan my project/essay the day it is assigned
  3. Make said assignment an unnecessarily massive undertaking
  4. Plan a timeline which will enable me to finish said assignment in a timely fashion with appropriations for edits, proofing, and general awesome (note: do not factor in time for unforeseen circumstances such as major projects in other classes, mock trial scrimmages, desire to read qc/xkcd/treelobsters/doctorcatmd or any of the other online #$%%&#* rubbish that I read daily, or general sleep deprivation)
Note: Expectations at this point of the finished product include scoring more than 100%, causing my teacher to break down in tears from the sheer beauty of my diction and syntax, ending global warming, curing cancer, and solving the crisis in the Middle East. And a unicorn that poops rainbow skittles (the sour kind, because they are the best).

  1. Begin actually working on said assignment, but do not complete enough to constitute a rough draft
  2. Decide that whatever I have completed thus far is sufficient to earn a break
  3. Allow said break to continue indefinitely until three-five days before the assignment is due
  4. Panic
  5. Promise myself that I will get my act together and work on the assignment for at least one hour until the due date to ensure quality work
  6. Continue to put off assignment because it really is a lot of work and no one will actually care if my paper is only 4 pages instead of the 8-10 pages I told myself was necessary to actually carry through with my grandiose plans. After all, if I get an A it’s all good, right?
Note: Expectations at this point of the finished product include getting an A and avoiding public ridicule.

  1. Realize suddenly that it actually is the night before said assignment is due.
Note: Expectations at this point include getting a completed assignment turned in, preferably on-topic if at all possible.

  1. Panic
  2. Push through and hammer out the last three-quarters of the assignment
Note: Expectations at this point include not failing the class.

  1. Sit back and admire my sloppy handiwork
  2. Allow myself to take another break for three hours
  3. Realize that it is now 2 AM and no one has proofread my train wreck of a paper
  4. Bribe a classmate to proofread my paper
  5. Refuse to take any of their recommendations to heart because I am obviously their intellectual superior
  6. Attempt to print paper
  7. Learn that there is no printer paper in the tri-county area
  8. Computer crashes
  9. Sobbing. So much sobbing.
  10. Manage to print out whatever tripe I typed out in between panic attacks and stress eating
  11. More sobbing.