Pure Bullshit. I am livid. Here I am once again in Tekserve because my computer, only a little more than 3 months old is not working....AGAIN. I have long been an apple advocate. But today, they are the bain of my existence.
Angry Blog to follow.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Friday, July 22, 2005
Bernadette!
I am extremely fortunate to have family and friends who have always been supportive, walked with me through the hardest times of my life, as well as the greatest joys.
I know it is doubly rare that a lot of my friends I have known from nursery school, grade school, most through high school, even more through college, and even now, either live in the same city or keep in touch with on a regular basis.
Staring with the pink shirt moving clockwise: Bern, Mephistopholes, Linds, Jeremy, Dizzle, and Adam
I would like to single out a very special lady. Throw out a lil Shout Out. She checks my blog everyday and often comments.
She just had a Birthday on Saturday and a whole bunch of us went to celebrate with her at her new house in Hamden, CT, an old haunt of mine. I went to Photography school like down the street from where she lives now. She is always giving me shmack for not commenting on her comments, so I thought I’d give her MAD PROPS and right her a whole blog!!
I’m very jealous, she has a whole house and other than the initial cost of down payments and lawyer fee’s, she doesn’t pay that much more than I do in NY, for renting my apartment in “Murderville.”
Bern is one of the most fun ladies I know. She knows how to laugh and laugh right!
Here is a picture of her making the “Best ever face,” all it takes is a shot of Bern’s open mouth at any location for an evening or event or bowl of Jell-O to become………”the Best Jell-O EVER.” In this particular case, it’s “the best fudgy the whale and Cookie puss b-day cakes EVER.”
We had a grand old time, playing wiffle ball and an ultra competitive game of Bocce.
Note here the seriousness of the game as we are measuring whose closer with a stick. Red team kicked ASS.
We went to Ikea the next day, where I purchased a Poang Chair, specifically as a “thinking, relaxing, and reading chair.” It’s no Leather Chaise lounge, but it was affordable.
We also went to see the documentary, “March of the Penguins.” I really liked it. It was slow at times, but the story, narrated by Morgan Freeman was really interesting. I highly recommend that you go see it. I also highly recommend that you see it when your not tired or have been drinking, because while under the influence, the movie has the ability to easily slip you right into a comma if your not careful.
Damn you Morgan Freeman…why do you have to be so soothing?!
I know it is doubly rare that a lot of my friends I have known from nursery school, grade school, most through high school, even more through college, and even now, either live in the same city or keep in touch with on a regular basis.
Staring with the pink shirt moving clockwise: Bern, Mephistopholes, Linds, Jeremy, Dizzle, and Adam
I would like to single out a very special lady. Throw out a lil Shout Out. She checks my blog everyday and often comments.
She just had a Birthday on Saturday and a whole bunch of us went to celebrate with her at her new house in Hamden, CT, an old haunt of mine. I went to Photography school like down the street from where she lives now. She is always giving me shmack for not commenting on her comments, so I thought I’d give her MAD PROPS and right her a whole blog!!
I’m very jealous, she has a whole house and other than the initial cost of down payments and lawyer fee’s, she doesn’t pay that much more than I do in NY, for renting my apartment in “Murderville.”
Bern is one of the most fun ladies I know. She knows how to laugh and laugh right!
Here is a picture of her making the “Best ever face,” all it takes is a shot of Bern’s open mouth at any location for an evening or event or bowl of Jell-O to become………”the Best Jell-O EVER.” In this particular case, it’s “the best fudgy the whale and Cookie puss b-day cakes EVER.”
We had a grand old time, playing wiffle ball and an ultra competitive game of Bocce.
Note here the seriousness of the game as we are measuring whose closer with a stick. Red team kicked ASS.
We went to Ikea the next day, where I purchased a Poang Chair, specifically as a “thinking, relaxing, and reading chair.” It’s no Leather Chaise lounge, but it was affordable.
We also went to see the documentary, “March of the Penguins.” I really liked it. It was slow at times, but the story, narrated by Morgan Freeman was really interesting. I highly recommend that you go see it. I also highly recommend that you see it when your not tired or have been drinking, because while under the influence, the movie has the ability to easily slip you right into a comma if your not careful.
Damn you Morgan Freeman…why do you have to be so soothing?!
Thursday, July 21, 2005
My "hood"
I’m probably going to get a phone call from my Dad about that whole drunk at 16 thing. Ahhhhh…what is he gonna do, ground me? He will probably find the same humor in it that I do after so many years anyway. But while we are telling secrets of old, I wanted to spill another one. It has to do with a conversation I had last night with my neighbor, about our neighborhood.
First I should tell you where I live; my friends call it “Murderville,” although it’s more commonly referred to as Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. But not just anywhere, it’s on the outer edge, closer to Bushwick really.
In short, my roommate and I are probably two of the ten white people in the neighborhood. And no I’m not exaggerating; I’m probably being generous. We moved in last November. The apartment is beautiful and cheap for the space and we were the first people to move into the building. But when you liver in NY in a nice apartment, you either pay through the ass, or live in the ghetto. Our case is the latter.
I would like to say that I have had no problems living in the hood. And for the MOST part, it would be true. I speak to people on the street all the time, I’m very friendly. I never ignore people when they are yelling at me, even if I don’t know that they are yelling at me. I make friends; help out the neighbors with stuff if they need it.
You’re waiting for the but.
BUT! I think it was February, I got mugged. I only lost $80 and a bit of pride, and a bit of skin on my arm. I’m fine. I was very upset after it happened, and that it happened in “MY neighborhood”, as I kept yelling frantically in the back seat of the police cruiser, while trying to identify the culprits at 5:30am in the dark and every guy was wearing the same diamond patterned, black Northface winter jacket and blue jeans.
But I digress.
So the conversation that I had with my neighbor brought it all flooding back. We were outside on the “stoop” which is common fare in the hood, and she points to a street light at the intersection, “you see that red light up there, it’s a camera, we livin in a RED zone.” Red Zone? I reply. She proceeds to tell me that the house down the street (now this I had a hunch about) is a haven for drug dealing. So the cops have it on surveillance. No surprises in the conversation yet. So I tell her, “well did you know that someone was shot in that building 4 months before we moved in here?” No. No she didn’t, but she also didn’t seem to care. So then I tell her about getting mugged, when it happened, the circumstances of being held at knife point by two guys, one at my back and one in front with a bandanna. I ALSO tell her that I was contacted a month or so after, by a detective that said they opened the case back up because it had happened too often in the same place by men fitting the same description. I told her they were young, probably 14-16, same age as her son.
And do you KNOW what she said!!
I don’t think you would even be able to guess…..
She says, “ahhhhhh, they were just kids…..having FUN.”
I’m not shitting you. I was secretly devastated inside that she would think so, but I made a small joke in regards to how I hope they had fun with my money or something rather, she chuckled, I became maybe a bit noticeably disturbed, so I excused myself.
So. It is amazing to me to have been witness to this extreme difference of opinion, and it was an eye opener to the diversity, although a bit grotesque in this case, of man, in general. We ARE, to some extent, products of our society, our culture, our upbringing, and our surroundings.
So that was it. Wanted to talk about it. Before I finish this blog. I am going to leave you with my “mugging pointers.” Cause at the very least, I learned a lot of what not to do, but more importantly, what I SHOULD have done.
1. Avoid getting mugged in the first place: don’t travel alone in unlit areas, between the hours of 2 – 6am, especially on the weekends…..spend the $ on a cab for door-to-door home delivery of your loved ones.
2. Give them what they want; whatever they ask you for, it is NOT worth your life or injury.
Those are the basics, but I think some of these next ones are learned only through experience. I hope you never have to use them, but I still hope you take note.
3. Look your assailant in THE EYES, stay calm.
4. Look for an IDENTIFYING FEATURE: a tattoo, what kind of shoes, clothes he/she is wearing. Something that you will remember and recognize.
5. If you give them what they want, they will most likely leave you unharmed…..but watch which DIRECTION they go.
6. CALL 911 immediately, as fast as you can, make note of the CROSS STREETS where it happened.
7. HAUL ASS TO A WELL-LIT, POPULATED AREA.
I didn’t do 1, 3, 4, or 5. I was unable to tell the police which way they fled, and was certainly unable to recall what they looked like, whether for that half hour we circled the neighborhood, or for when they called me in to look at photographs much later, I just didn’t have the foresight to think of those things. I keep telling myself that if I had, we might even have found them that night.
First I should tell you where I live; my friends call it “Murderville,” although it’s more commonly referred to as Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. But not just anywhere, it’s on the outer edge, closer to Bushwick really.
In short, my roommate and I are probably two of the ten white people in the neighborhood. And no I’m not exaggerating; I’m probably being generous. We moved in last November. The apartment is beautiful and cheap for the space and we were the first people to move into the building. But when you liver in NY in a nice apartment, you either pay through the ass, or live in the ghetto. Our case is the latter.
I would like to say that I have had no problems living in the hood. And for the MOST part, it would be true. I speak to people on the street all the time, I’m very friendly. I never ignore people when they are yelling at me, even if I don’t know that they are yelling at me. I make friends; help out the neighbors with stuff if they need it.
You’re waiting for the but.
BUT! I think it was February, I got mugged. I only lost $80 and a bit of pride, and a bit of skin on my arm. I’m fine. I was very upset after it happened, and that it happened in “MY neighborhood”, as I kept yelling frantically in the back seat of the police cruiser, while trying to identify the culprits at 5:30am in the dark and every guy was wearing the same diamond patterned, black Northface winter jacket and blue jeans.
But I digress.
So the conversation that I had with my neighbor brought it all flooding back. We were outside on the “stoop” which is common fare in the hood, and she points to a street light at the intersection, “you see that red light up there, it’s a camera, we livin in a RED zone.” Red Zone? I reply. She proceeds to tell me that the house down the street (now this I had a hunch about) is a haven for drug dealing. So the cops have it on surveillance. No surprises in the conversation yet. So I tell her, “well did you know that someone was shot in that building 4 months before we moved in here?” No. No she didn’t, but she also didn’t seem to care. So then I tell her about getting mugged, when it happened, the circumstances of being held at knife point by two guys, one at my back and one in front with a bandanna. I ALSO tell her that I was contacted a month or so after, by a detective that said they opened the case back up because it had happened too often in the same place by men fitting the same description. I told her they were young, probably 14-16, same age as her son.
And do you KNOW what she said!!
I don’t think you would even be able to guess…..
She says, “ahhhhhh, they were just kids…..having FUN.”
I’m not shitting you. I was secretly devastated inside that she would think so, but I made a small joke in regards to how I hope they had fun with my money or something rather, she chuckled, I became maybe a bit noticeably disturbed, so I excused myself.
So. It is amazing to me to have been witness to this extreme difference of opinion, and it was an eye opener to the diversity, although a bit grotesque in this case, of man, in general. We ARE, to some extent, products of our society, our culture, our upbringing, and our surroundings.
So that was it. Wanted to talk about it. Before I finish this blog. I am going to leave you with my “mugging pointers.” Cause at the very least, I learned a lot of what not to do, but more importantly, what I SHOULD have done.
1. Avoid getting mugged in the first place: don’t travel alone in unlit areas, between the hours of 2 – 6am, especially on the weekends…..spend the $ on a cab for door-to-door home delivery of your loved ones.
2. Give them what they want; whatever they ask you for, it is NOT worth your life or injury.
Those are the basics, but I think some of these next ones are learned only through experience. I hope you never have to use them, but I still hope you take note.
3. Look your assailant in THE EYES, stay calm.
4. Look for an IDENTIFYING FEATURE: a tattoo, what kind of shoes, clothes he/she is wearing. Something that you will remember and recognize.
5. If you give them what they want, they will most likely leave you unharmed…..but watch which DIRECTION they go.
6. CALL 911 immediately, as fast as you can, make note of the CROSS STREETS where it happened.
7. HAUL ASS TO A WELL-LIT, POPULATED AREA.
I didn’t do 1, 3, 4, or 5. I was unable to tell the police which way they fled, and was certainly unable to recall what they looked like, whether for that half hour we circled the neighborhood, or for when they called me in to look at photographs much later, I just didn’t have the foresight to think of those things. I keep telling myself that if I had, we might even have found them that night.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Washington Diggity C
I am writing this blog on the train ride back from our nation’s capital, Washington D.C. I was up at 5am and on Amtrak this morning for a Top Secret mission, secure Vietnamese visas for the crewmembers of our show at ALL COSTS. I was instructed to use force…if necessary.
I have been to D.C. before, a few times in fact. The first time I was a sophomore in high school. I was in concert choir since 8th grade and our school had been invited to sing at some anniversary celebration for Lincoln or something rather. I remember just a few things from that trip.
One: It was during the two-week period that I “dated” THE hottest girl in school, while she was on the fritz with her jock boyfriend, John Dennis. Who if I’m not mistaken became a model of some type. Good for him, I wonder if he’s still an asshole?
Two: I got really drunk. I wasn’t even 16 I don’t think. We had smuggled Long Island Ice teas in Lipton Ice tea bottles ( It wasn’t MY idea, that’s for sure). I remember drinking until 5 in the am and then having to be at our ACTUAL nation’s Capital building for a tour before we left to go back to CT. I believe in fact that a good friend Matt Bishop actually had to put me in the shower and dress me…and support me up for a good part of the morning. I remember as a joke, someone put an air freshener can in my coat. Yeah….really funny joke when your hung-over / still drunk in the Capital building. Someone probably told me one day, I’d look back at that and laugh. What do you know, they were right.
The other time I went it had something to do with an online date. The results were not pleasing, and not of worthy mention here in these pages.
So anyway, I remember liking D.C., in general. It’s beautiful in the spring with all the cherry blossoms. However, many years later, I was much less impressed. First of all, it was hotter than NY I’m sure, very sticky. Their Union Station was nice, much prettier than Grand Central. But from the train station to the Embassy was nothing of those monuments, it was just a city, like NY…..with a few noticeable differences. Less people, but more suits. Everything was REALLY clean, that was a pleasant change, but there seemed also to be nothing for me to do while killing time. Of interesting note, there was a sign in the cab that said, “No Tips. Thank you.” I asked the cabbie about this, “Hey, No tips huh?” he replied, “I don’t know.” To which I continued, “that sign says ‘no tips’ is that common here in D.C?” to which he replied, “I don’t know.” We drove the rest of the way to the embassy in complete silence, no radio. In NY there are cabbies that you couldn’t tip enough for them to stop talking. I thought it was weird. It was also weird that the cab fee’s are in Zones, so it doesn’t matter how long it takes, you just pay a set fee depending on which zone you go to.
The women, although rarely spotted, were generally cute. They had kind of a “sophisticated” cute. I don’t know if it’s just the air over there, but everything FEELS like politics. Even the ladies.
So I get to the Embassy, and of COURSE, I need to fill out some forms that they never told me about, and I needed a single passport for every crew member, and the money order was the wrong amount and they don’t accept cash…and oh yeah, you can pick them up tomorrow!
Not to my liking. So I had to stomp and huff and puff and breathe fire out my nose for five minutes so they realized that I was serious when I said all of this was not possible, and I had been told this by this person etc., it’s all pre-arranged etc., here’s the approval code, the secret handshake, the special smoke signal and a box of cookies. They eventually submitted to my charm and or my composed, firm but nonetheless hissy fit.
So I’m on the train sitting next to a nice fellow, who was reading his Spanish newspaper, but then he fell asleep and his sleeves are really large and they are encroaching on my space. I keep hitting his sleeves with my elbow when typing.
I must end the madness of the sleeve rubbing!
P.S. Do you like my new links? Courtesy of some friends of mine who did the work and copied and pasted it to me. Check out Lisa’s blog, I happen to be linked on her site as a “possible future crush”……..SWEET!
I have been to D.C. before, a few times in fact. The first time I was a sophomore in high school. I was in concert choir since 8th grade and our school had been invited to sing at some anniversary celebration for Lincoln or something rather. I remember just a few things from that trip.
One: It was during the two-week period that I “dated” THE hottest girl in school, while she was on the fritz with her jock boyfriend, John Dennis. Who if I’m not mistaken became a model of some type. Good for him, I wonder if he’s still an asshole?
Two: I got really drunk. I wasn’t even 16 I don’t think. We had smuggled Long Island Ice teas in Lipton Ice tea bottles ( It wasn’t MY idea, that’s for sure). I remember drinking until 5 in the am and then having to be at our ACTUAL nation’s Capital building for a tour before we left to go back to CT. I believe in fact that a good friend Matt Bishop actually had to put me in the shower and dress me…and support me up for a good part of the morning. I remember as a joke, someone put an air freshener can in my coat. Yeah….really funny joke when your hung-over / still drunk in the Capital building. Someone probably told me one day, I’d look back at that and laugh. What do you know, they were right.
The other time I went it had something to do with an online date. The results were not pleasing, and not of worthy mention here in these pages.
So anyway, I remember liking D.C., in general. It’s beautiful in the spring with all the cherry blossoms. However, many years later, I was much less impressed. First of all, it was hotter than NY I’m sure, very sticky. Their Union Station was nice, much prettier than Grand Central. But from the train station to the Embassy was nothing of those monuments, it was just a city, like NY…..with a few noticeable differences. Less people, but more suits. Everything was REALLY clean, that was a pleasant change, but there seemed also to be nothing for me to do while killing time. Of interesting note, there was a sign in the cab that said, “No Tips. Thank you.” I asked the cabbie about this, “Hey, No tips huh?” he replied, “I don’t know.” To which I continued, “that sign says ‘no tips’ is that common here in D.C?” to which he replied, “I don’t know.” We drove the rest of the way to the embassy in complete silence, no radio. In NY there are cabbies that you couldn’t tip enough for them to stop talking. I thought it was weird. It was also weird that the cab fee’s are in Zones, so it doesn’t matter how long it takes, you just pay a set fee depending on which zone you go to.
The women, although rarely spotted, were generally cute. They had kind of a “sophisticated” cute. I don’t know if it’s just the air over there, but everything FEELS like politics. Even the ladies.
So I get to the Embassy, and of COURSE, I need to fill out some forms that they never told me about, and I needed a single passport for every crew member, and the money order was the wrong amount and they don’t accept cash…and oh yeah, you can pick them up tomorrow!
Not to my liking. So I had to stomp and huff and puff and breathe fire out my nose for five minutes so they realized that I was serious when I said all of this was not possible, and I had been told this by this person etc., it’s all pre-arranged etc., here’s the approval code, the secret handshake, the special smoke signal and a box of cookies. They eventually submitted to my charm and or my composed, firm but nonetheless hissy fit.
So I’m on the train sitting next to a nice fellow, who was reading his Spanish newspaper, but then he fell asleep and his sleeves are really large and they are encroaching on my space. I keep hitting his sleeves with my elbow when typing.
I must end the madness of the sleeve rubbing!
P.S. Do you like my new links? Courtesy of some friends of mine who did the work and copied and pasted it to me. Check out Lisa’s blog, I happen to be linked on her site as a “possible future crush”……..SWEET!
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
The Far East is a pain
Scheduling a crew of 7 people with over 350lbs of equipment, with the airfare, hotels and meals all for free in Singapore, Vietnam, and Thailand has proved to be...a big pain in my ass. Actually Singapore hasn't been that bad, the tourism board is extremely supportive. It's Vietnam that's the trouble. First of all, they have the gaul to be 12 hours ahead, which means if I want to talk to someone, my day starts at 9pm and ends (if I'm lucky) at 1am. I was in the office until 2am last night and didn't get into bed until 4am.
Also, Vietnamese is not the easiest language barrier to cross. The act of getting a simple e-mail address proves challenging. Multiply that challenge by 100 if the connection is bad. I wish I was going, but alas, The Barista has finally gotten into a film festival, The Woods Hole Film Festival, so I will be in Cape Cod for like 8 days. I am excited to attend my first film festival and even more excited for a quiet New England vacation. Small town, right on the beach. Sounds familiar. Oh wait, that's right, I grew up in a town like that.
Speaking of which, I have recently thought a lot about good ol East Lyme, CT. I've thought about going back there for a bit, kind of a break from big city life. Just a thought though, not sure how feasible it would be to do such a thing.
I've also given more serious thought to going to school in San Francisco for Visual FX. I've also thought about running a Bed and Breakfast in the Carribbean, or even moving to Bermuda or Mexico for a possible job opportunity in the New Year.
The jist of all this is.....I'm looking for a change of scenery. Been in New York too long. Anyone else feel like they need to do something new with their life at 27? Let's discuss.
Also, Vietnamese is not the easiest language barrier to cross. The act of getting a simple e-mail address proves challenging. Multiply that challenge by 100 if the connection is bad. I wish I was going, but alas, The Barista has finally gotten into a film festival, The Woods Hole Film Festival, so I will be in Cape Cod for like 8 days. I am excited to attend my first film festival and even more excited for a quiet New England vacation. Small town, right on the beach. Sounds familiar. Oh wait, that's right, I grew up in a town like that.
Speaking of which, I have recently thought a lot about good ol East Lyme, CT. I've thought about going back there for a bit, kind of a break from big city life. Just a thought though, not sure how feasible it would be to do such a thing.
I've also given more serious thought to going to school in San Francisco for Visual FX. I've also thought about running a Bed and Breakfast in the Carribbean, or even moving to Bermuda or Mexico for a possible job opportunity in the New Year.
The jist of all this is.....I'm looking for a change of scenery. Been in New York too long. Anyone else feel like they need to do something new with their life at 27? Let's discuss.
Monday, July 11, 2005
I'm BAAACCK in the saddle again!
I'm getting back on the blogging horse, and I'm gonna try to ride her every day. Maybe it won't always be at a full gallop, but a Trot or Canter is better than nothin.
"Minimum Waaaaaaagggggeee HEYAH!
"Minimum Waaaaaaagggggeee HEYAH!
Friday, July 08, 2005
Some Pics of Iceland and Belize
Now that Blogger has a new Image uploader, I am able to post photo's from the mac laptop. It's wicked easy, I'm glad they did it JUST for me. So nice of them.
Sweating my ass off in Belize. We are on an island about 1/3 of an acre, an hour from the shore of Placencia. For only $300 US a night, you too can stay on this island and do nothing but eat, drink, sleep, snorkel, drink some more then take a nap.
I am making a funny pose at the Blue Lagoon, a spa created from the excess heat generated from my ass...I mean the geothermal plant behind me.
Cinematographer Jeff Fisher and Sound Man Extraordinaire Mike Ryan, on the top of Vatanjokul Glacier in Iceland
This guy was great. Just off a main road in Dangriga, Belize. He has been weaving that Ottoman for over a year. He was probably the happiest guy I have ever seen. Very proud, friendly, and kind enough to bless us all.
Sweating my ass off in Belize. We are on an island about 1/3 of an acre, an hour from the shore of Placencia. For only $300 US a night, you too can stay on this island and do nothing but eat, drink, sleep, snorkel, drink some more then take a nap.
I am making a funny pose at the Blue Lagoon, a spa created from the excess heat generated from my ass...I mean the geothermal plant behind me.
Cinematographer Jeff Fisher and Sound Man Extraordinaire Mike Ryan, on the top of Vatanjokul Glacier in Iceland
This guy was great. Just off a main road in Dangriga, Belize. He has been weaving that Ottoman for over a year. He was probably the happiest guy I have ever seen. Very proud, friendly, and kind enough to bless us all.
Been a while
I am alive and still here. I have been busy trying to pull myself together with all my endeavors, trying to hammer down some more concrete direction in my life. I have taken up painting, and I have started a regular excersize routine to shed some unwanted flab in the belly. I Dance Dance Revolution everyday, or try to anyway. I do work up a sweat and it's easy to stick to cause it's in my living room. I'm eating less sweets and more good for you stuff. Sushi everyday for lunch has been nice.
I went to Belize and Guatemala a while back. It was wonderful there. I took some horseriding lessons upon my return. I bought a hammock in Guatemala. Hammocks are the bomb. The Barista has been accepted into the Woods Hole Film festival. That's good, so I look forward to taking a little time out in Cape Cod at the end of the month for that. Go up there and meet some people, network, build sandcastles.
I went to a traditional Indian wedding over the July 4th weekend, in Chicago, Illinois. It was a beautiful ceremony, sincere and abound with symbolic rituals. So much better than the Catholic snoozefest.
How's everyone else doing?
I went to Belize and Guatemala a while back. It was wonderful there. I took some horseriding lessons upon my return. I bought a hammock in Guatemala. Hammocks are the bomb. The Barista has been accepted into the Woods Hole Film festival. That's good, so I look forward to taking a little time out in Cape Cod at the end of the month for that. Go up there and meet some people, network, build sandcastles.
I went to a traditional Indian wedding over the July 4th weekend, in Chicago, Illinois. It was a beautiful ceremony, sincere and abound with symbolic rituals. So much better than the Catholic snoozefest.
How's everyone else doing?
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