Twenty. That’s at least how many families have been paraded through my bedroom over the weekend. I’ve lived in this house for a year and a half; my roommate has been here much longer than that. The landlord has just filed bankruptcy, however, which puts my living situation in jeopardy. A trustee takes over the property and hires a real estate agent, who then proceeds to book appointments at her leisure, unconcerned by the fact that at least one person actually works out of this house.
And that’s unfortunate for her. I wouldn’t even give the real estate agent in question a name if I didn’t plan on including dialogue. It’s hard to write a conversation without a character having a name though, so I’ll settle for saying it rhymes with Janet Webster.
See, I am not in any way the beneficiary of a quick sale of this house. I like it here and, unless the new owners are simply buying it as a rental, I will have to leave once the transaction is complete. I’ve never tried to sell property – I’ve never tried to sell anything really – but I would imagine that like most sales people, realtors are heartless sacks of no-soul that are pretty much just after their six percent as quickly as they can get to it.
However do you need to sell your house fast? A good services like Cash for Houses can buy your house fast and give you a full cash offer on your home within 24 hours or they can buy your house when the time is right for you. They can also give you many real estate solutions!
This one is anyway.
* * *
I came home on Friday to find the front door unlocked, the curtains over my bed slung haphazardly to the side, my shower door open, and my sandals kicked under my bed. Apparently the house was shown to a family of drunken ogres. I kind of wish I’d been there to see it. Instead, I got to come home and clean up after them. I called Janet to express my unease at having people go through my things and to see if we could somehow work out a showing schedule that allowed me to be there when strangers were wandering through my house.
“I do not have to ask your permission to do anything,” she said.
“Excuse me?” I replied. “I live here.”
“For now. I’m in charge of selling the house though, and you can’t stop me from showing it.”
“I’m not trying to stop you. I’m trying to work out a better arrangement.”
“I don’t think you understand,” she said. “I can show the house anytime I want to until eight o’clock at night and you’re going to have to deal with it. And when it sells? You and your roommate are going to have to move, most likely on very, very short notice.”
“Ma’am, I wasn’t starting a fight. What if I slow it down for you? I just… don’t want people… here… unless I am.”
“I am not going to be talked to like a child –“
“Then stop acting like one.”
“- and I will not be dictated to by some, some, arrogant tenant who–“
“You’re acting like a child again, Janet.”
“I am showing that house whether you’re there or not.”
“Well, now I don’t think you understand. I live here. I can be here all day if I need to be, and now it looks like I need to be. I was trying to work this out, but I can be a difficult motherfucker to try to show a house around if I’m not in the mood to play nice. So here’s what I suggest. I suggest you take your wittle bitty sign and you wittle wock box wit the key in it, and stop acting like an uppity bitch.”
“I am not going to be talked to like that!”
“Yes you will.Look, see?I’m doing it right now.”
Then I immediately dialed her boss.
“I have never been so insulted in all of my life,” I said. “She told me that I couldn’t stop her, and if I tried to call someone and complain she would say that I said all kinds of horrible things. I’m not like that! This really, really hurt my feelings.”
“I’m sorry sir. She can be brash sometimes, but that is totally unacceptable. I apologize on behalf of our company for her –“
“It’s not your fault. I look forward to an apology from her. Thank you so much for your time.”
* * *
The doorbell started ringing at noon yesterday, as I expected it would. I ignored it. If they’re going to come in anyway, I might as well not do anymore than I have to. I sat with my feet up on my desk, a cup of coffee in front of me, and Rage Against the Machine cranked as loud as my stereo could manage. My bedroom was going to be an uncomfortable place to hang out.
From over my shoulder I heard a voice yell. “Can we see this room!?!?”
I glanced backward to see an Asian couple and what must have been two or three of their friends following the real estate agent. I immediately changed songs as I waved them in. As they crossed my room to the bathroom, Blue Oyster Cult erupted from the speakers.
Oh no, there goes Tokyo!
The agent snapped her head at me and I took another swig of coffee.
The pattern continued through the afternoon, the doorbell ringing and me causing what havoc I could. One couple was cautioned not to open the pantry door because I didn’t want the rat to get out before I could set a trap. Why couldn’t I turn down the music? Because I was making an old school mix tape, that’s why. Later in the day a middle aged woman walked in with another agent. “Is that the hooker?’ I asked. “You know I don’t like them that old. Take her to the back though, I suppose. I’ll get to her in a minute.”
A half hour later my phone rang. “What do you think you’re doing?” Janet yelled through the phone.
“Exactly what I said I would do.”
“You don’t have the right –“
“I do have the right. Until it sells I maintain all the rights that my lease provides me, including the right to the ‘quiet enjoyment’ of my property, and just so you’re aware Janet, I’m enjoying this very much.”
“Can we talk about this?”
“Nope. We could have talked about this yesterday, but someone didn’t want to have a conversation. Remember? So I am going to spend my day the way I want to, and that way doesn’t include a bathroom full of Japanese people.”
* * *
There are more appointments today and I’m not feeling too thrilled about it. My days are meant to be spent with caffeine and music in perfect solitude. These are my days. And while I inevitably can’t do much to stop the sale if it happens, I can take whatever lemons life gives me and throw them at this Realtor’s car.
I think I just heard the doorbell…
Porn. Lots and lots of very loud porn. Looped.
Already cued, actually. It’s taken a while to find and download some of the more disturbing stuff.
Actually thinking porn …staring you. That should make them uncomfortable. And then you could walk around in your underwear and scratch yourself…I have the same problem trying to get work done on the computer with telemarketers. You gotta have fun with them…but that’s another subject.
That’s the spirit. I’ll even shoot it with night vision. Paris style. Just kidding. No Slade porn for the Realtors… Not yet anyway.
I ALWAYS want you on MY side!
Please keep notes.
I want to hear every single conversation between you two!
I’m certain there will be a Part 2.
And no worries, Irene. I am on your side.
It might take her a really long time to sell the place, I get the feeling.
(Good to have the Slade Pit Bull on your side, oh, yeah.)
I wish I knew how to spell a dog barking. Grrrrr…..
Part of me wants to drag it out, and the other part of me wants to just find a new place and be done. I do, however, have to continue to write from here until then. It is hard to explain the rhythms we fall into and how horribly distracting it is to have to stop every hour to answer the door and then wait for strange people to leave before starting again.
NEVER …piss off a comedian.
HA! ha. HA. heh. HA! God, I wish I was more like you.
No. Never say that. Hahaha, trust me. Good to see ya swing by here, Derek.
There’s always one particular line in your articles that really, really stand out. In your camping article, your line about the phoenix still ranks as a favorite TNB sentence in 2010. In this contribution, it’s this:
>>Why couldn’t I turn down the music? Because I was making an old school mix tape, that’s why.<<
The only thing bigger than the absence of logic in these two sentences is the bravado with which they are delivered.
For revenge enthusiasts like myself (and obviously you [and undoubtedly scores of other TNB readers]), it is particularly satisfying to exact revenge on someone who, thinking they had the upper hand, acted like an arrogant d-bag. It’s like the old Bugs Bunny cartoons, when you actually see their head morph into a jackass.
Btw- cranking the heat and cooking a haggis would probably go a long way in your campaign.
Thank you for recognizing the absolute lack of logic in that response. I smile when I say things like that because I know I’m operating filterless. It just comes out regardless of how much sense it makes, hahaha.
And I should really be soliciting revenge ideas here. I don’t think I could handle the haggis. The trick is to be as offensive as possible, yet remain comfortable myself… Hmmm.
>>And I should really be soliciting revenge ideas here. I don’t think I could handle the haggis. The trick is to be as offensive as possible, yet remain comfortable myself… Hmmm.<<
Good point- you DO have to continue to live there for the time being.
Well, you could always make sure you’re on the phone with the police, complaining about the burglaries and narcotic trafficking when the prospective tenants walk into your room.
“No detective, I’m not calling about the burglary last month, when they stole my stereo- I’m just following up on last week’s burglary. Do you have any leads on who might have assaulted my roommate and me and stole our laptops?”
I like it. A lot.
There’s another one due here in four minutes, if they’re on time. I fake a reeeeally good phone call.
Do you like curry, Slade?
I’ve known realtors who talked about how a house had been “curried.” Yeah, thinly-veiled racism — but an accurate statement of how invasive cooking with curry can be.
Not a good idea if you don’t like curry. But if you do ….
Very thinly-veiled, hahaha. I do like curry actually. The question is, do I like it THAT much…
I may need something more temporary.
When I was a kid, you could buy rubber piles of dogshit. Gotta be that they’re still available, and maybe better-designed.
A half-dozen of those and a loud “watcherstep” might cause some trouble.
Something that would mimic short-circuits would be useful.
Lemme unplug this for ya. Yow! Fake sparks fly. House mechanics integrity compromised!
I need a friend that’s into special effects. I think piles of dogshit would be glorious. Way more than twelve, and possibly on the kitchen counter…
Yanno, few things tarnish the appeal of a room like a bunch of pentagrams and a black candle. You could complete the portrait with some really Satanic Mexican death metal, like Brujeria.
Amazon Prime, dude. Could be at your place tomorrow.
In stock, and the price is right.
Stand by for even worse (one link per comment).
Anything I could say would be superfluous.
@ Joe – I’ve seriously considered painting a huge one on my bedroom wall. It’s living with a massive pentagram the other 18 hours of the day that concerns me. Still, I think it may have to happen. I just have to figure out exactly what color paint looks like human blood.
@ Don – Dear god, man. That is amazing. A few glasses of whiskey and a credit card is going to get me in a lot of trouble on Amazon tonight.
After I stopped laughing I did read the reviews. Apparently they aren’t as realistic as you might hope. But — this was only the first attempt. Maybe there’s a $9.99 version that’s better.
I like how everyone here is suddenly as mischievous as me 🙂 They’ll be realistic enough I’m certain.
I was also thinking about a short bit for you . . . you know, about what kind of person spends time thinking about how many stars to give to fake shit, and tell you why? Three! Three, no four. Damn.
Hahahaha, that’s hilarious! And most likely now going to get discussed on stage. I have an open mic that I host on Tuesdays… That’s gonna get riffed on in just a few hours.
it is particularly satisfying to exact revenge on someone who, thinking they had the upper hand, acted like an arrogant d-bag…
If only I’d had Slade on my team during my divorce.
Any time. I do freelance.
Wow, I don’t know what the laws are in Texas, but I’m pretty certain that in Nevada if the home is occupied by tenants the agents have to comply with the Tenants terms. I’m sure you’ve already done your homework since you quote your right to private enjoyment.
Oh no, there goes Tokyo!
hahaha. I shouldn’t laugh, really. All of my In-laws are real estate agents, but I just can’t help it!
Yes, I’ve done my research. It’s a combination of one person trying to take the path of least resistance, and my tendency to take the path of most resistance. I’m a resistor.
And laugh on. They can’t stop ya.
I never understand why certain people immediately resort to bitchiness, especially when there are plenty of other, easier options. Nice work giving it back to her.
And I agree with Joe. The mix tape line rocks.
That was the thing… I was willing to deal with it before she went all bitchy. Once she did though, it was all over.
Release the Kraken!
I really need more to do in my life.
This is quite the SSSHRCE comment. I had a friend in town from KC last night and we released the Kraken last night. A little too enthusiastically, I might add. Blargh.
Oh wow. It’s fresh in my mind because I was just wrote this joke about what whiskey does to me, hahaha.
That looks delicious. For rum anyway…
It’s okay. It’s 94 proof. Which you can tell from the way I repeated myself in the above comment.
You repeated yourself up there where you repeated yourself?
It’s a spiced rum? Those always scare me…
This is the best blog I’ve read in quite sometime. Loving it.
This is the best comment I’ve read in quite sometime. Loving it.
Priceless. Never cross the great Slade Ham. You will pay and pay dearly.
Thanks, Jimmy. It is in me I suppose. I hate having to be like this though. I really do.
Seems like you’ve already got the music angle locked down tight, but it may be worth mentioning from experience (downstairs neighbors, constant Van Halen II at midnight) that The Birthday Party’s “Prayers on Fire” at the right volume can sterilize frogs in a 50-meter radius. It’s like bringing Donald Rumsfeld and a sock monkey to a bar fight. Just demented enough to guarantee the other party will back down.
Now I have to go find the song. I am – rare for me musically – unaware of it. This is like Christmas.
It’s an album. Check your inbox. Leave a carrot for the reindeer.
Niiiiice. I owe your reindeer way more than a carrot. They’re gonna HATE this.
No nudity? That usually sends the normals running. Maybe this will be a life lesson for her to quit acting like a complete bitch but there are those who never learn. You might want to play some old school punk to shake things up too. Violent Femmes, Circle Jerks, Suicidal Tendencies usually make the normals look nervous.
Not yet. There’s always tomorrow though… It might just have to be laundry day. That’s why I have no clothes, ma’am.
And I’m all over the punk music. It’s been a beautiful, endless cycle of Music That Scares Old People.
Maybe not completely nude, do you have a jester’s hat? That way you’re not completely naked.
No jesters hat… but I do have a camouflaged bandanna and a bow and arrow…
Okay, I have consulted a few other twisted people in my life (and had them read the blog) and the suggestion changed from the jesters hat to a sombrero , big cheezy moustache, and a bottle of tequilla, while naked of course. And if you know where to borrow a donkey, that would be the cherry on the sundae.
I’m sure given enough time with the people I know, we can come up with other twisted shit.
Okay came up with another one, with help from the husband. Move all the funiture to one side of the living room and lay out Twister. Then have a big gallon jug of cooking oil and a blow up doll. When you answer the door you can invite them in for a game of naked Twister, but they’re not allowed to oil up themselves. You have to do it because you’re the host. If they look horrified, hold up a bottle of tequilla and say “How many shots do you want to loosen up? This is my third bottle today and I’ve got plenty more, of tequilla and oil!”
Strangely, i already have a sombrero, Twister, and lots of oil. The blow up doll is a maybe, but I haven’t been through my closet in a while.
Substitute whiskey for tequila and we have a game plan…
Say thanks to the hubby for me.
I love a good revenge story. Especially where realtors and landlords are concerned!
It’s hard to write a conversation without a character having a name though, so I’ll settle for saying it rhymes with Janet Webster. *snort*
I have agree with Michelle: I’d probably go for the nudity right off the bat. And not just naked, but the full Howard Hughs: towels, Kleenex boxes on the feet, etc. Keep a large bottle of hand-santizer close by and tell them they must cleanse themselves before they can enter.
Or obtain a proliferation of bondage-themed sex toys and leave them conspicuously lying about.
Fill up some mason jars with odd-looking fluids and objects, and when people ask, just say “That’s my collection. Don’t touch!” Then follow them around with an empty jar and an expectant expression.
I’ll brainstorm a bit, see if I can come up with more.
Nudity seems like the easy response to me, though doing ti the way you suggest is a pretty interesting prospect. I’m gonna send someone to therapy, hahaha.
Mason jars full of… fluids… sounds PERFECT! They can go on the kitchen counter with Don’s dogshit. And maybe a jar or two on the night stand, as a punctuation mark.
These ideas are going to bring me so much happiness tomorrow…
Fill them with clear corn syrup, add the food dye coloring of your choice, and drop in whatever object you want to float around in there, organic or otherwise.
Corn syrup with a deep red dye is a cheap way of making stage blood. Artificial human turd floating around in what looks like a jar of fresh blood would probably do it for me.
Oh, and apple juice is a perfect substitute for urine. You can get urine specimen containers at a lot of drugstores in the U.S.; fill them with apple juice and leave lying around. Open, of course.
See, THIS is the sickness I’ve been lacking. There are endless uses for fake blood in this situation.
When I start a production company and make huge movies, any chance you wanna be the guy that makes the bloody pee jars?
As long as I get to be on the writing/production staff (and maybe some stunt work here and there) I’m in.
It’s too bad my ex and I aren’t together anymore. Her brother was waaaaaaayy into horror movie special effects; I’m sure he could have provided plenty of do-it-yourself effects solutions.
Of course. Writing staff first, bloody pee maker second. Guess which one I’m putting on your business card though? 🙂
As long as it says something like “Chief Technician in charge of Sanguinal Urine Development” I have no problem with that.
How about “micturation wrangler?”
I still think the brashness of Bloody Pee Maker has a ring to it, though yours and Don’s suggestions should keep them confused longer. I was going to offer up one of my own, but I am faced with the sudden realization that i only know one or two synonyms for urine.
I learn something new about myself every day.
If you set up the jars or specimen cups with apple juice (clearly marked as urine), you could grab one, take a big swig of it and ask “Does this taste funny to you?” Hand them the jar, grab another one, take another big drink and say, “Here. Compare it to this one.”
I laughed out loud at least three times, Slade and I work for a property management firm! If you’re allowed to have pets, and don’t have a personal aversion – how about a snake or pet rat?
Although…for your own sanity you might want to have this chapter over and done with sooner rather than later. Revenge may be a lot of fun, but I’m not sure it’s so healthy.
I agree with you that it may not be healthy. On a good note, my attention span will probably only let me stay at this for a few days at most. For the time being though, I am highly entertained.
I’m already looking for a new place and have pretty much resigned myself to the inevitable, but Janet-as-my-cat-toy for the rest of the week can’t be THAT bad for me 🙂
What the hell is with people?
The middle-management power play has got to be the most pathetic behavior in all of human existence.
Don’t go flashing around your authority unless you’ve got enough to win. That’s what I’m thinking.
Don’t go to Vegas with a shitty bluff like that, Lady, or you’re going to lose your ass.
Middle-management=my least favorite group of people on the planet. I like being unassuming when I’m dealing with the type… Makes it so much sweeter when you drop the hammer of god on them. she picked a poor time to push her chips “all in”.
I should turn you loose on her.
I am surprisingly mellow in situations like that. My TCB side takes over, and I’m just looking, politically, to get what I want without too much hassle, even if that includes maintaining my composure.
But you know, if things really get absurd, I will pull the “DO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME…” which, in person, is usually accompanied by a bony finger-pointing but on the phone is still pretty nasty.
Yeah, not me. I take the “Choo wanna go to war? We take you to war, ok?” approach.
I’m gonna get a chainsaw.
Well, to be honest, it depends on my mood.
But 2.5-3 weeks of the month, they’ll get the terse–but essentially diplomatic–version of me.
Ah, that mood… I like Becky with the claws, regardless.
I really don’t like this making friends business.
I feel pressure to be nice to people. Except Richard.
No one is nice to Richard.
And if it helps, I only kind of like you. It will pass.
Oh thank God.
Then I don’t feel bad calling you a half-assed douchebag. PHEW!
SO much more comfortable now.
You should be. Half-assed is polite. In the real world, I have no ass at all.
Really? I imagined you as a bubble-butt.
Right? You would think the high heels would give me some definition.
You have to look out for the placement of the pockets on the jeans. I have the same problem.
That’s why I wear a skirt.
I keep trying to give you an out, but you’re determined to be a drag queen, Slade.
I know. The idea of it matches my lipstick.
Run that shit into the GROUND.
I don’t know any other way…
I’m a typical woman.
Good thing you’ve got a macho bitch like me around to set you straight.
And to drive me to Lilith Fair.
Fine. But if your fat friend farts, I’m kicking you all out. Tell that fucking cow not to eat any cheese.
What? Too far?
You two are retarded.
This is why no one likes you, Richard. You’re not PC.
I thought they didn’t like me because I use a PC.
How many more of your faults do you want to admit?
You have a wooden leg, too?
This is what I love about TNB. The rich intellectual culture.
Isn’t it amazing? Bringing all these wonderful writers (and you) to a site like this and these are the conversations we (you) have?
Bite me, banker. I think there’s some grey poupon on your Izod.
You mean my CBGB T-shirt?
I think I see some Groupons on yours.
I’m half drunk and mesmerized by the banter. I’m only sad that my drag queen discussion got squashed before I had a chance to continue it.
Everyone is in bed now though, and I’m left to argue with myself…
@ Becky – The comment was far from too far. In the midst of pee and poop suggestions, it was much tamer than the median on this thread. You should know though, I don’t bring a fat friend. I am the ugly one.
CBGB, eh. So you’re a poseur now, too?
I had to look up groupons. Congratulations. You’re on the cutting edge of cheap ass.
Slade, of course! How presumptuous of me.
WTF is a “groupon”?
>>WTF is a “groupon”?<<
Sometimes when you’re on the main page, and you see the most recent comments, one just catches your eye. You don’t know what piece the commenter is in, or the context of the comment, but you just need to see what the hell is going on.
This was one such comment.
See, Slade. We don’t know. Only Richard knows.
Richard has experience, I guess, with these so-called “groupons.”
Rich’s ratemypoo.com comment was up there too. I clicked it and saw that it was my post, hahaha. Surprise.
If there is a quota on shit jokes, we’ve passed it. Kinda makes me smile 🙂
Now seriously… WTF is a groupon?
You have interwebs. I’m not doing research for you unless you pay me.
I don’t trust you guys. Anything suggested by this conversation will likely shut down my computer with the AIDS virus.
It sounds like a mix between a grouper and tampon, the end result I imagine to be quite bizarre.
Groupon ads always show up on Facebook for me. I don’t know why FB thinks I’m a cheap bastard. Maybe because I never click on any ads?
I dunno exactly what it is. Some dude told me a business idea he had for something similar (I forget what it was exactly) and he referenced Groupon. It sounded vaguely like Grey Poupon and I was looking for a good comeback.
Slade, how could you not realize “ratemypoo” was for you after the piss thread? And what is this so-called “quota?” Ha.
Don’t be stupid, Slade. In this day & age, your computer could live a near-normal life expectancy with the AIDS virus.
I am Googling it now. I give in. If there is a girl with a fish in her vagina though, I’m going to be mad.
And yes, I knew… I just privately had my fingers crossed that I was wrong. I imagine it is how family members feel when a cop shows up at their door looking solemn and quiet.
@ Becky – I want a Magic Johnson computer.
You really do have to be careful when googling things this crew recommends. I clicked a link to a picture on a myspace post in the comments of what I assume was a Listi post that I STILL haven’t recovered from. Vile!
Groupons were a bit of a disappointment.
@Dana – was that the naked Bea Arthur link?
Wow, I hate that you are being forced to go through such a horrible experience and with the bitch of all Realtors. I hope she will think twice about treating people with such disregard next time if the occasion presents itself. You are a hero in my eyes sir. The speed at which you covered yourself by calling her boss before she had a chance to do so and the how quickly your wit makes each appointment be as awkward as possible (go, go Godzilla while the Asians are touring!) is pure genius.
“Your acting like a child again, Janet.” I smiled very much at this point. Here’s hoping the situation improves as far as housing is concerned at least. Good luck Slade, and take no prisoners.
It hasn’t proven too difficult to outwit this woman, really. She’s a dolt. The upside to all of this is that every time some speed bump pops up in my life, I usually end up somewhere better. This will probably be no exception… just an inconvenience that I intend to milk for as much laughter as I can muster.
The Godzilla part? Reeeeally hard to keep from laughing while I was doing it.
I hate walking into a house and seeing boxes of rat bait. Rats eat it then die in the walls and no one likes to think of dead rats in the walls.
Got any bratty assed neighbor kids you can bribe with icecream to hang around outside and put on a show, you could walk around muttering how unattended children have really taken over the neighborhood.
Rat poison is a definite. There is actually a thing of it in my garage that is getting shifted to the living room. As for the kids, they’re far too scared of me to ever help, hahaha. Though with the right incentive…
Rip a ten spot in half offer it to the bratty neighbor kids. Tell them they get the other half when the shows over.
Better yet: Print out a registard sex offenders list for your neighborhood and post it on the door.
Right? These kids are pretty dumb though. Almost dumb enough to run off with it thinking that half of a ten is worth five bucks…
RE: Sex offender
The apple juice as urine in sealed mason jars is a nice touch, but why not get a few dozen of them – you could stack them in a window one on top of another to bathe the room in a nice amber glow.
Be sure a place labels on them with dates and times to have a complete catalog of your urinary output.
Labels are a must. Megan DiLullo wrote a story about that actually. I’d have to find the link to it, but it’s here somewhere.
Oh yes she did indeed…
THERE it is!
If you have the grapes to actually do it, try stopping up every toilet in the house. And for god’s sake man, do NOT use any air freshener.
Grapes aside… I do still have to LIVE here.
Then go Caddyshack-style and throw some Baby Ruths in there. You could even get creative with texture and placement.
I’m thinking you and Matt (however many comments above) should go into business together.
OK. This goes here. I have a good friend, an anthropologist, who studies rural French communities. There’s a ritual for newlyweds that involves a chamber pot, champagne, and I think not Baby Ruths, but something resembling them. The newlyweds must drink and eat.
Seriously? I was going to look it up but I don’t even know how to begin Googling that.
I wouldn’t google that with a ten foot pole!
Things Slade Won’t Google.
Now trending at TNB…
Yes, seriously. If you can find a way to access the journal American Anthropologist, v. 98 no. 4 (1996) you can find the article “Champagne and Chocolate, ‘Taste’ and Inversion in a French Wedding Ritual,” by my friend the excellent anthropologist Deborah Reed-Danahay.
Here’s the abstract:
A version of “reverse orientalism” is at work in the anthropological silences surrounding a French wedding ritual that relies upon scatlogical and sexual metaphors and the symbolism of bodily fluids. This essay describes the ritual of la rôtie as it takes place in the Auvergne region, where a mixture of champagne and chocolate in a chamber pot is served to a newly married couple on their wedding night. Concepts of “taste” come into play both in the explicit mocking of bourgeois sensibilities that this practice evokes among participants and in ethnographic choices of appropriate objects of study.
So your keywords would best be “Auvergne,” and “la rôtie,” I’d say. But most likely the abstract tells you everything you’d like to know.
I have to point out that Deborah now lives in the nun’s house I describe in my TNB piece “Transit of Venus,” has been known to visit TNB, and has visited “The Dump,” described in another TNB piece. Done pimping my own pieces.
This particular post of Slade’s is a great place to pimp a piece called “The Dump,” Don.
You’re pieces are worthy of pimpage. All productivity has been lost today, so I might as well start my Google search of weird French behavior.
A special hello to Deborah, who has single-handedly – and without even being here – derailed my day, hahaha.
@ Rich – The Dump. Hahahaha. These just never get old.
I didn’t think of that. Thanks for destroying the illusion that I am at least moderately clever, Richard.
Au contraire, Don. I assumed you were above such crappy humor, so I thought I would step in and flush that one out for you.
This isn’t my favorite joke of yours, but it has to be #2.
I welcome humbly any compliment about humor when it comes from a guy who makes his living at it.
It was a compliment, but it was also another cleverly worded poop joke…
I need more wasabi peas to clear my head. After that, I’ve got a loose stool to fix.
Ah, shit, Slade. I hate it when obvious jokes slide past me like that. What a gas.
Ok, now that was a bit corny.
Get bent. All of you.
That’s peas, not corn.
Scat! Jessica, Scat!
Jessica’s mad. I feel like such an ass now.
Butt out, Cox!
Oh, please. Stop being so anal!
No, he’s just piling on — it’s roid rage.
What the deuce?! You guys are assholes.
If you guys expect me to keep playing, you’re shit out of luck.
Oh, blow it out your ass, Slade.
That’s like five in a row. I’m pretty sure that’s a straight flush.
I think you should re-create the scene from ‘Silence of the Lambs’. When they walk in the door you can hit ‘Goodbye Horses’ on the stereo and dance around with a feathered boa, all tucked in. I guaran-damn-tee that she won’t be back. Just be sure to yell for Precious…and keep a bucket and some lotion nearby.
p.s. And why aren’t you running this via live webcam??
Your suggestion above is exactly why there is no webcam, hahahaha. Seriously though, I wish I’d had the foresight to wecast this or at least tape it as it’s happened…
You could have really cashed in. You would have been viral in hours!
I’m somehow not that desperate for fame…. I’d end up like the crying Britney Spears guy.
I’m afraid me tucking and dancing to Q Lazzarus is totally out of the question…
It’s too late…you already are in my head. You’re so pretty. mwahahahahahaHA.
You should reeeeally talk to a therapist.
Nah! Lighten up precious. 🙂
How about having a priest or shaman type person over smudging or blessing the house to rid it of the spirit of the man who killed his wife and himself out of the apartment. You know they died in the bedroom LOL!!
Now I have to Craigslist “shamans”. Scarily, I bet there are a few.
On a separate note, I once performed a pseudo-exorcism on a friend’s house. I don’t know if it worked, but I yelled a lot and threw Bit-o-Honey wrappers around the living room.
Ahaha! By far the funniest story/comments I’ve read, ever!
Way to make my day good sir!
My pain is your pleasure.
You’re quite welcome.
Bahahahahahahahahahahaha! Poor, Poor people…
There’s a lot of collateral damage. Poor people indeed.
A really inexpensive thing that will not get in your way is a big roll of duct tape. Tape it all around the pipes and faucets. Appliances if they come with the house. Along the floors to cover up any “cracks” that may or may not be there. You can make the house look like it is falling apart easily with duct tape. Make sure you get a dirty rag or something to rub on it and make it look worn. People might buy the house from the lady since they know you don’t come with it. I doubt they will buy it if it looks like it is falling apart though.
Damn. You’re right. And this totally perpetuates the “duct tape fixes everything” myth.
You’re the MacGyver of home sabotage.
Did you hear about the guy that lobbed off his own arm after being stuck in his furnace for 18 hours? He kept thinking to himself, “What would MacGyver do?” After almost throwing up hearing him talk about the smell of his own rotting flesh, that seriously cracked me laugh.
And there you have it Slade, yet another way to revolt Ms. Webster — just lob off your arm. 😉
I can think of no cause I believe in enough to lose a limb. Then again, I’ve never been stuck in a furnace.
Make sure you let them in next time then tape the door back shut after them…hahaha
Hahaha. I will become the maniacal little duct tape man. I could get their cars while they’re in the driveway too…. tape up all the seams.
I was on a plane right after I did my first movie, and another actor, who was pissed about something (I forget what), deliberately antagonized a tightly-wrapped stewardess until she stormed up to him and said with bulging eyes in a rapid-fire voice: “I am not a dog. If you want to talk to someone like a dog, I’ll take you below, where the dogs are kept.” The actor listened with a smirk throughout, and after the stewardess walked away, I said, “You happy now?”
“I am,” he said, “and so is she. She was ready to go off on somebody, and I gave her the chance.”
I think, somewhere, JWeb must be secretly happy that you’re winding her up. I mean, the poor thing must have an awful lot of tension, job-related and not, and you’re altruistically providing her with multiple emotional orgasms. Meanwhile, I can assist in coming up with a truly offensive playlist, should you find yourself lacking in that way, which I seriously doubt.
First of all, congratulations on Subversia. I may have said it previously elsewhere but I don’t think I did, and for that I apologize. Good for you.
As for the stewardess, she was most likely waiting for the chance. Here’s the rub… ss it Mrs. Webster or myself that was looking for a reason? I’ve had a bit of an itchy trigger finger the last few months, and to be honest, was a bit happy to have her push back.
Of course, this sort of living exhausts one in the end…
And I would never turn down a Duke Haney playlist. Whether to offend them or appease me, I’d dig your worst list and your best I’m sure.
I do so need to come out to L.A. to hang for a bit.
Well, as you know, there’s a window of opportunity with certain Down Unders in the very near future. I’ll buy a few ski masks beforehand, as the book trailer has convinced me I need to do.
Oh, and thanks for the congrats, and no apologies needed.
Now, let’s see, playlists. On the least offensive note, we could begin with “Cum Stains on my Pillow.” I won’t even hint at what comes to mind after that.
I am looking at the possibility of a trip out there in conjunction with their return to L.A., but my June/July/ August schedule has recently become insane. It would take a small act of a major god to make that happen.
You’ve no need for a ski mask. Our actions will take all of the attention off of our faces.
I predict you’re only a week from sleeping with her.
Wait… Me with the real estate lady? I have a strict 7 or above rule, and she violates that not just by looks, but by decade of birth.
Possibly century of birth…
Okay. I retract that. I was picturing a vapid blonde who graduated from her sorority and now sells houses while she waits for some guy in The Woodlands to make her a mommy.
What happened to your competitive side, Slade? Aren’t you supposed to win? If she sells the house then you’ve lost. You’re gonna have to step it up a notch.
Spread newspaper across every floor in the house, some of them wet. Just do the rooms you spend the most time in if the whole house would require too much effort and newspaper. Put the wet ones in doorways. I don’t have a sense of smell so I’d use real urine since the smell won’t bother me, but you use whatever fluid you feel is necessary… Just be sure to make them think it’s urine. A comment like, “I got tired of walking all the over to the toilet so I just go wherever I want to go now” should get the message across. Every paper-crinkling step they take will make them cringe in disgust.
Hang an extension-cord noose from a ceiling fan or light fixture and mention that it was, “Failed attempt #7.” You could just hang a sticky note from it that says that. In between paper-crinkling steps, they’ll be trying to figure out what the other six failed attempts were and how many there have been after the seventh.
It’s really hard to come up with this stuff without knowing what your place looks like or what resources you have.
My competitive nature is subject to my tendency to rationalize. The war I can lose, as long as I am content that certain battles were worth it.
I really like your suggestions. I can get you a floor plan if necessary.
I’ll also need a list of liabilities and assets.
Florida is like Texas, but with less pollution and more humidity… And I live in a neighborhood where Pizza Hut doesn’t deliver after 6pm.
That’s hardly a fair description… Three Mile Island is like Texas with less pollution. Are you close to Tampa? Have I asked? Will I see you when I’m there in August?
Honestly, haven’t been out much. Still waitin’ on a check from ex-work which is my car-buyin’ money. Can’t get much of anywhere to check things out. I’m roughly four hours south of Tampa. Can’t make any promises right now, but I’m gonna try to head up that way.
I didn’t realize you were that far from Tampa. Don’t even sweat it. You have to get out and get some stage time though. There must be something close to you…
Lisa has a room in Lake Worth called the Rum Shack. Done it twice, hosted the second time. She’s got me in the list to do two shows this weekend for Supercon. There are a ton of rooms, big and small, all over the place around here. I’ll get to more once I get a car.
Good, good. Keep me posted. I hope I get to bump into Lisa when I’m there. It doesn’t look good though.
The first thing people hate when they see a house is a perpetual bad smell from somewhere close. Find something rotting along the road and leave it in the bushes outside the door. Everyone that come through mention the sewage plant around corner. If the rotting thing you find can’t possibly be a sewage stench say it’s a tannery. Tanning leather reeks. Also be sure to mention how Dec. through March it’s not so bad.
Wash any tile floors with dish detergent to take away all shine. Mop and glow will fix the dullness if you ever want to.
Take the screw out of every unused electrical socket and let them hang.
Leave a deuce in every toilet.
Make sure a well walked part of the place has the carpet soaked with “urine”
If you are going to play music scare people a little more. Morbid Angel, Cradle of Filth, or some profanity laden gangster rap.
Have a friend over to make a drug deal.
Buy a chicken and kill it in the yard when they get there.
Leave it 130 degrees ad bitch about how much it cost to fix the A/C.
Have someone bang on the pipes and complain about the plumbing.
A couple dead roaches always go a long way.
OK enough for now. Have fun.
Have you done this before? you have too many solid suggestions.
Your Honor, I wish to introduce my Creative Council, Phuqt. I’m pretty sure a trip to the NE is justified by the suggestions in this post alone. I have a war to wage tomorrow though, and your input is noted. With a star,
Nope, never done this before. Just a quick riff. Thinking about it and some drinking probably would of had me looking for an engineer to help me design some mousetrap game like contraptions.
If only there was enough time. How much fun would it be to build a human mousetrap game? I want trap them under a basket.
Maybe you should take the realtors approach… Become the realtor but instead of pointing out the “spacious” standing room between the toilet and the sink, point out the cracks in the slab, mold under the sink, maybe put a coffee stain on the ceiling and point out the leaky roof. Ect.
Whatever you do keep posting updates! I need a daily dose of funny stuff!!!
I have plenty of negatives to point out, trust me.
Speaking of trust, I trust you’ll be at the July show in Austin? With an army?
Greetings from Myspace aka the Land of the Lost. I thought you said you needed traffic! I had to scroll forever to get here, and only just to say YOU CRACK ME UP! Like you haven’t heard that a million times. Seriously though, you gave me a much needed giggle. Thanks. 🙂
Ah, the wonderful compliment aside, thank you for stopping by my latest home online. MySpace is very dead indeed, sadly. I used to love posting there.
But back to your compliment, I cannot thank you enough. The giggle is happily given.
That’s it, I’m throwing away my bracelet and getting a new one. From now on it’s WWSD. You’re like a ghost who hasn’t died yet. Hey, I just had an idea. Get “The Puppet” to do a live comedy show from your living room. Or better yet, out of his frickin’ Geo parked in front of the house. They’ll be searching your bathroom drawers for razor blades before they find their way out.
I read this comment initially on my phone when I got the email notification. I read this phrase…
“You’re like a ghost who hasn’t died yet.”
…and I smiled ridiculously.
Me and the puppet. Live, my house, noon tomorrow. Only to the first knuckle though. I’m leaving the razors on the coffee table.
W-o-W very interesting! I have a few ideas myself but I’m not sure they are legal…(things that make you go hmm…)
Note to Realtor’s with bad attitudes: when the opportunity to make nice comes and you pass it up as quoted by the great Bruce Lee
“If you make an ass out of yourself, there will always be someone to ride you”
She can blame no one but herself…
She should have read the Tao of JKD. The Lee is a genius, and could have saved her some trouble indeed.
Illegal suggestions are welcome, btw. I have no reputation to keep intact, so it really doesn’t matter.
Unapologetic and awesome. My life is so much better because you are who you are.
May I suggest webcams to fully document the living hell that this woman has created for herself?
Hi Megs! Sorry, drunk Slade talking. The webcam has been discussed, and shot down because of the presence and nudity and the lack of preparation.
We were talking about your pee jars up there somewhere, btw.
Drunk Slade works!
Bummer on the webcam. And thanks for bringing up The Piss Museum.
I hope you keep us posted on the situation. I have a feeling that this is only the beginning.
I read that piece yesterday when I saw Slade’s link, btw. Funny post, but also really interesting the way he labeled the jars based on what he had consumed, and how different they were.
Although…did you have to shake them to get the true color? Seems like there would be some settling after a while. Hahahaha.
Oddly enough, Richard. You don’t. I actually have in my possession, a photograph of The Piss Museum. And you can see the variations in color very clearly.
It’s kind of disturbing in a way that makes me very happy.
I would be pleased if you emailed that picture to me.
I am so deeply disturbed by how quickly this comment thread turned to human waste collection. In two or three separate places.
Piss Jars. To shake, or not to shake? Next week on TNB…
Did you ever check out ratemypoo.com? I just looked and it’s not up anymore. It was the same format as Hot or Not except you voted on user-uploaded shit pics. Awesomely horrifying.
Richard, I’m so sorry I didn’t reply to you. I’m having a notification failure kind of day. If I sent you Piss Museum photo’s what would you do with them?
I have to protect people’s confidentiality.
Whatever, Megan. I’m used to you ignoring me.
Regarding the photos, of course I would share them with no one without your express consent. I’m just curious. I would be tempted to try it myself if I had thought of the idea first. I’m all science-y like that.
Confidentiality? Are people posing in the pictures?
This has been immensely enjoyable… waking up this afternoon to read what I wrote last night. I’m apparently quite the polite, eloquent drunk…
It may come to a rather sudden end. I got an email today that they had an offer. Probably the people that kicked my sandals; one of the few I didn’t get a chance to scare.
Scary btw, how many times that piss museum could come up in conversation, no?
I have to say, I was very impressed with your drunken eloquence, grammar and mad typing skillz.
This is not good news about the house. With your slammed schedule when are you going to have time to find a place and move? Well, on the bright side, there is still the inspection…
Yes, The Piss Museum is leaving quite the legacy.
Dave will be very proud when I tell him.
Thanks everyone for caring so much about a complete strangers urine.
I honestly don’t know. After June 23rd, I am literally non-stop until mid-August. I’m not certain how this will play out yet.
How hard is it to crack a slab?
Viva la Dave!
Let’s rent a jackhammer and find out.
SLAB CRACKING PARTY AT MY HOUSE!
You are fun with a capital U!
Oh… it is soooo on.
I will be there! I’m working on rounding up what Army I can find now, do you have ticket info, ?time?
I know very little yet actually. I know it’s at the Alamo Drafthouse on July 30. I’m not sure which one yet or ticket info, etc. I should probably find this stuff out…
I love the Alamo Drafthouse. The downtown one.
I am so there.
It may be rescheduling. Austin is my arch enemy when it comes to comedy… I’ve managed to play there once ion a decade. They called last night, apparently something on the Alamo’s end. New details as soon as I have them.
Aluminum foil… its cheap and when used with your creative abilities can be interesting. Such as… exchange it for your blankets, a pymarid hat, wrist band’s, ect… all the while accusing the realtor of hiding your remote from you and insisting on help finding it. A little olive oil the forehead with a stressed expression could leave quite a. Expression. Another thought is to insist that the Realtors customers buy the place because its driving you crazy and don’t know how much more you can take. For effect lay out razor blades in the most unsual of places. Hope this helps some. 1-luv
I want an aluminum foil blanket. Period. And a suit of armor.
Also you could possibly hang duck tape from the ceiling creating a. Sticky maze through your bedroom. Of course nothing that would interfere with your usual path.
This is to much fun… okay this is the last one… 2 live crew has some great tunes…
How could I ever forget about the Crew? I’m on it.
Face Down, Ass Up
I see others beat me to the punch, cementing the fact that great minds think alike . . . so if I’m immature then so are they and that’s quite okay. But I say drop a monster deuce in every toilet in your house and leave the top up so the first thing they see when they walk in the bathroom is a chocolate submarine.
I just thought of something else. You should take snapshots of the monster turds in the toilet and frame pictures of them in the kitchen.
You and Jessica (above) would make fine roommates, I think. Great minds indeed, hahahaha.
I really adore my TNB friends, and I am so glad that we’re all on the same team.
I was just thinking of a fairly simple little trick —
How about the serial killers alter? You know the one that’s always in a closet? Photos of your victims and newspaper clippings along with a little jar of fingernail clippings and hair. Or just grab some scissors and old magazines and start working on your ransom note…
Also, Don and Slade – LOL re: rating the fake poop on Amazon!
Ooooh, I like that. I need a picture of the real estate agent to go in the collage though, perhaps with a date a few months in the future scrawled next to it…
And yes, I may have to hire Don as a permanent premise writer. His part got more than a few laughs last night as I told this story.
I was considered a dynamite intro teacher. Kept ’em laughing often enough to slip in the important bits.
I’ll be happy to feed premises to you, my man.
It really did work well. Our senses of humor gel well.
Slade, please tell me that every single word of this post is true? Please? Every word?
Also, I’m pretty sure I love you. Call me?
Actually, I have to confess… I might have stretched the truth a bit.
I think it was closer to 18 families instead of twenty.
Everything else though is pretty much verbatim.
in grad school, the realtors for my apartment had the keys and would come right in without knocking. what the fuck? it was so bad, everyone up and down my hallway put up signs saying, “PLEASE KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING. SOMEONE STILL LIVES HERE.” that didn’t really stop them.
It is the worst feeling in the world. I wish I’d been in your building. I would have led a Braveheart style charge against them.
“They may take our lives, but they’ll never take our PRIVACY!!!”
I would have insisted on the face paint, too.
haha, that would have been awesome. then we could have said, “how do you like THEM apples?” cuz it was in Boston, see, and. . .
Great movie. My favorite quote?
“I will fucking end you.”
Also worthy of being yelled at unwanted visitors….
I love that you used the word “haphazardly”…LOL. Obviously Janet has never really met you or she would have known that this is one of those times she should carefully pick her battles!
Unfortunately, that was our first encounter. She had no warning really. And I love the word “haphazardly”.
you’ve blown TNB
off the hinges
You’re a completely likable guy
& you write posts that are fun to
read as well as comment on
& that’s why we all
I have never been so happy to be hated then.
The rest will certainly come. Stories have a way of finding me I suppose. and for that I am grateful. My part is easy. All I have to do is write them down.
Ok, first of all, as fun as it all is, you have to NOT DO STUFF THAT WOULD NORMALLY BREAK YOUR LEASE.
here’s a bit of texas law:
if the property is foreclosed on by a bank or some other entity, the new owner is not obligated to honor your lease (or other agreement), but they must allow you to stay at least 30 days from the date of the foreclosure sale as long as you do not violate any other portion of the lease and you are current on your rent.
Also, I don’t know if it’s Texas law, but most everywhere, you have to receive at least 24 hours’ notice of any intent to enter your leasehold by the owner or owner’s agent. You can, of course, let them in if you want.
The thing about this situation, is that the buyers don’t want to live there, they don’t care how crazy you are or how bad the neighborhood is. SO trying to mindfuck them won’t work. What you have to do is MINDFUCK THEIR WALLETS.
Talk about the lead paint and whether the state plans to condemn the property.
Talk about the roof leaks.
Ask whether the insurance company ever settled on the fire damage.
Ask whether they ever figured out how to get around the bad title problem.
ASK WHETHER THE REALTOR TOLD THEM ABOUT THE GUY WHO OFFED HIMSELF WITH A SHOTGUN UP ON THE THIRD FLOOR. Suicides on premises are always black marks to a buyer. Talk about your cat, and how he keeps following something invisible back and forth across the room.
But they DO want to live here. Live here, or tear it down. If they just wanted a property to lease out, I could stay, and would be wooing them instead.
That aside, listening to punk rock naked is in no way a lease violation, hahaha. I am toeing the line closely though, while looking for a new place. I like the suicide angle. It allows me to invent a ghost. That sounds much more creative than some of my tactics.
30 days seems like such shitty notice. And Realtors are still horrible people. I hate that I have begun to stereotype them in just under week. That’s unfortunate and somewhat reactionary of me. I need to center myself and rethink things… while still making that one agent’s life hell 🙂
I have to rebut your characterization of Realtors.
My own experience with them is that they manage to effectively refute your very core essence of being every time they open their mouth. their sole purpose seems to be to subjugate both buyer and seller needs and desires, to their own.
I think that makes them soulless and spirit-killing, which is different than horrible, in some vague way that I’m still trying to work out.
I agree with that. Soulless equals horrible, but horrible doesn’t necessarily equal soulless. Regardless, we both agree that they should be slain with a magic sword, yes?
I love the idea of the Realtress bringing in her marks, to be met with a high-volume blast of “Bulls on Parade.” That just makes my morning.
There is something about Rage, that, if you are not a familiar with them, is instantly offensive. I can’t peg it, but Morello has a way of making his guitar say “Fuck you” even when Zack isn’t.
Amen to that. Morello is my favorite guitarist since Hendrix (sorry, Page). If de la Rocha was the obvious star on most Rage albums, I think Morello edged him for the limelight on “Evil Empire.”
Picking a favorite guitarist (Hendrix aside obviously) is something I’ve never been able to definitively do. Morello is on the short list for sure. He’s by far the most innovative. Anyone can play scales, Tom does it with an Allen wrench.
I’d absolutely agree with that. Just thinking about that song gets me amped up.
Also “Realtress” = condescending AND very funny. Nice.
I’m going to call her a Realtress today now. Watch me.
You got it, Dana. That bit of condescension was very particularly directed at the bitch (oops I did it again) on the phone.
You’re my hero, Slade!!
You can also mention how sad it was that they tore up that lovely pet cemetery to build the house, and that’s why it’s imperative they sleep with the lights on every night.
Also, sitting around naked is a good one.
I hope you find some peaceful moments during your day.
Peaceful. Funny, hahaha. I’m replying to this a dumbfounded realtor and his client stand on my front porch. This time I just opened the door, said “No”, and shit it again.
This month is paid for already, and until that money is given back and I get a written apology, I fear this only going to get worse.
Off with my clothes I suppose..
I’m so late to the party, Slade. I apologise!
Real estate agents can be such assholes. It sounds like you got the Queen of Assholes with Janet Webster.
I love your strategy though -maybe you could play some Creed? That will scare anybody off, right?
To play Creed I would have to own Creed. Ugh. The though…
And no apologies necessary, Z. You’re a bit busy, no? I can’t wait to see you guys this week.
Slade, remember that Simon wants to go skinny-dipping.
Maybe Janet Webster’s pool?
I don’t know if she has a pool or not, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t end up drunk and naked in her backyard anyway.
Speaking of pet cemeteries… put a lot of (un)marked graves in the back yard. poor fluffy, max, coconut; Oh and dead flowers in front… And maybe you can politely ask prospective buyers to please not dig them up or else… Or maybe you can talk about the ghost that frequently keep you up at night… Faded Chalk outlines that you make a point to step over…
How did I not think of the chalk outline? I’m slipping in my old age.
You, Sir, are an evil genius. I love it. That is what your business cards should say – Sir Slade Ham, Evil Genius.
Along with the jars and the pee and the poo and the porn and the whatnot, you could always dip a few tampons in that fake blood concoction of Matt’s and leave them in various random places.
Maybe as a housewarming gift to the new owners? Well, they are mostly innocent in this.
Or anonymously mail them to the realtress whose name starts with “J” and ends with “anetwebster”? Once a week, starting three months from now, just to throw her off?
You guys are officially much sicker than I am. Every week, on a Tuesday. Nobody expects things on a Tuesday.
Evil Genius. I like that a lot. I must go tie someone to a railroad track now.
Slade- Too many comments. Can’t keep up… Update?!?
“and just so you’re aware Janet, I’m enjoying this very much.”
HA ha ha ha ha….