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Song of the day: “The Way That He Sings” by My Morning Jacket
I’ve been working on a post off and on that is increasingly becoming quite large, and still remains unfinished at this point. I’m not sure if I plan on breaking it up into multiple parts, or just putting it all up at once, although I do seem to remember certain people prefer the shorter posts… (I’m looking in your direction, rr). Anyway, I rarely watch MTV these days, except on the weekends, while recuperating after a night of heavy drinking. I wouldn’t say that I watch any show on MTV “regularly”, but it seems like they keep rotating the same 5 shows over and over, so it’s not that hard to catch up with any of them while lying on the floor on a Sunday morning in a semi-comatose state.
Not too long ago, I happened to be watching MTV’s latest crime against humanity, My Super Sweet 16, because for some reason, I simply cannot stop watching this abomination. During one of the commercial breaks they had an MTV News brief, and it made me think: Where the hell is Kurt ‘Big’ Loder?? Seriously. I haven’t seen that guy in forever. I mean, I know he’s like 60 years old by now, and doesn’t exactly appeal to MTV’s target demo, but I feel like he represented their last lingering strand of credibility. Maybe Kurt’s still working behind the scenes at MTV news; pulling the strings on Gideon Yago like some wrinkly, old puppet master. My personal hope is that he’s been frozen and put in storage until some unspecified, momentous event in music occurs in the future. Perhaps they’ll thaw him out when the Michael Jackson verdict comes in, or maybe when Madonna dies. In any event, I hope you’re doing well Kurt Loder; wherever you are.
At least, I think I do.
Last night, I had a strange dream, which I dare not recount in public (but I need to tell Hasan). It was one of those dreams that I could sort of control, like I was half-asleep. After which, I stirred a bit and had a short [day?]dream about Malfoy criticizing some new Slytherin student for being an idiot to try any pill given to him.
And out of nowhere, it just popped into my head that Hagrid was a half-blood. He's not a muggle/wizard mix, as the term is commonly applied to, but still…
I think it made a ton of sense at the time, and it still does. How Hagrid is exactly a prince, I couldn't guess.
Ah well. We'll see in a few months.
1. Asma and I are awesome cake-makers. Saturday's Chocolate Mud Cake turned out to be delicious.
2. There were seven snow plows out on the highway last night, but not a flake of snow fell prior to – nor after – that moment.
3. The landlady means well, but her mentality is a bit fucked up, so it causes problems for us.
Right now, I'm pretty pissed off with some relatives (who will remain unnamed).
The idea of being a hypocrite in Islam when it comes to one's faith is truly a bad thing. The worst, if my understanding of the Qur'an thus far has made me slightly wiser.
I accept that I ‘sin’ and don't practice religiously. I do not consider myself a bad person, and, honestly, I don't consider myself a bad muslim, despite not giving proper worship to Allah as I believe Allah to be. I ask for forgiveness but don't expect anything in return. I want to be good for the sake of being good, because however short this life is, it's still hard to endure while we live it.
But to parade around in following ‘traditions’, to worship at the times set, to memorize surahs and plow through the Arabic of the Qur'an without gaining any sort of meaning, to fast because you're supposed to, and then to go act like a player and tell your parents' not to let your sister go to your university so she can't witness first-hand your hypocrisy…it just makes me want to twist time and space and make your soul bear the unbalance it brought.
But it's not just you. This is perpetuated throughout generations, in communities that lack common sense, and from parent to child. So everyone or no one is to blame, but you're all scared of your actions enough to flat out hurt others without trying to understand the consequences. Who are you hiding from when the universe knows your actions and thoughts?
I'm sure I've been a hypocrite at different points in my life, but never in anything so central. My faith is my own, as is everyone else's, but I hate seeing it twisted for selfishness.
And maybe I'll delete this in the morning, but I had to get it out now. This isn't out of arrogance, just frustration. I don't get why simple things become complicated. I'm guilty of it, I know. But I learn, however slowly, from my mistakes. It just doesn't appear to happen in others.
I miss my parents and brother. Sigh.
Song of the day: “Walking With a Ghost” by Tegan and Sara
Ever since I decided to start writing posts again, I’ve been planning to write one about good ways to slack off at work while looking busy. In fact, I had planned to write this post at work, where most of my posts originate, thanks to the large amounts of downtime I seem to always have. However, in a strange twist of irony, I found myself extremely busy at work this week. Too busy, in fact to write my post about how to slack off at work. Finally, after 4 days of actual work, it is now 10 am, Friday morning, and I once again have nothing to do. The ipod is on, and I’m ready to start writing.
Before we get into any actual methods, there are a few underlying principles of professional slacking that must be established. Keep these principles in mind at all times, as they will serve you well on your journey toward the nirvana of laziness. To begin, the key to truly successful slacking is quite simple. You need to look busy even if you're not. It sounds simple enough, right? Yet the amount of workers that draw unnecessary attention to themselves by blatantly goofing off never ceases to amaze me. You MUST look busy. This is truly the key. For example, at this very moment, although I’m not doing any real work, I’m typing furiously at my desk, which is already more than enough to fool the casual observer. To help further the illusion of productivity, I have files and folders open and spread out across my desk. I also have numerous work-related programs open on my computer, any of which I can quickly Alt-Tab over to on a moments notice. Always keep in mind that you do not want to draw attention to yourself.
This brings me to another unbelievably important principle. Before you can enjoy the true freedom that slacking brings, you first have to do a little bit of research. I know, I know. You want to be lazy. Research doesn’t sound lazy; in fact it sounds a lot like work. But trust me; by doing a little research at first, you'll be ahead of the game later when it finally comes time to commence slacking. Think of this as the "wax on; wax off" portion of the training, Daniel-san. Now, this is what I mean by research: Obviously you know who your boss is, I hope. But do you know who your boss's boss is? A good general rule to follow is that you should never allow yourself to be seen as slacking by anyone who probably has the power to fire you. Even if they aren't directly your boss. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen. Now, you also need to know who the uptight rule followers in your department are. They might be your co-workers, but these bastards are quite likely to rat you out. So, should you decide to confide about your slacking skills with anyone, (which I strongly suggest not doing), make sure you trust the person. You never know who would like to use your downfall as a step up in the ladder of success [note: "ladder of success"??? really?].
Now, with the foundation for slacking set, let's get to some actual methods. Firstly, we have the method which I’m currently using, the faux-busy method. One look at my desk and you really would think I was a very busy person. I'm clearly typing, concentrating on the computer screen, and there are definitely files open on my desk. I’m not talking to anyone around me or just staring off into space. I look busy. But take a closer look. I’m typing an email, which is still ok; emails are a regular part of my job, so I’m covered there. How about that file right next to me? Well, its open, and I’m glancing over at it from time to time, and that's probably enough to look like I’m working on it in some fashion. Obviously though, I’m not. I’m writing this.
Now, let’s say I’ve been sitting at my desk for quite a while, and I really just need to get up and walk around. Of course, you can always go on a break, but why waste your break when you can walk around, while still looking busy, and then take your break on top of it. This is a method I particularly enjoy using in the afternoon. I basically refer to it as "taking a lap around the office". The key is to grab a file and then walk as far from you desk as you can get in the office. On your return trip to your desk, you simply stop off at as many friend's desks as you wish, open the file like you're discussing it with them, and then proceed to ask them about the Modest Mouse concert they recently attended, or whatever else you'd like. After a few conversations, just return to your desk and no one is the wiser [note: I was totally just busted right now. luckily it was by one of my friends, so I’m safe. it just goes to show you can never be too cautious].
During the course of writing this posting, I’ve just become swamped again with work. In the interests of getting a post up, I’m going to stop here for now. More to come…
Gmail has POP access now??? Why am I not in the loop?
Poop.
I just got a Gmail invite. From Gmail. This is when I signed up a year ago before anyone gave me an invite. Hah.
…whilst the sun is shining.
Today is yet another glorious day thrown into the cold of winter: mid 50s, luscius breeze, lightly cloudy. It's annoying to keep getting these false hopes that spring is on its way. Ah well.
I bought Asma Pokémon: Leaf Green for ‘Valentine's Day’/her birthday, but after some slight questioning I found out that it's hardly different from the Fire Red edition, which she already has. So, she decided to exchange it for
Harvest Moon: Friends of Mineral Town.
On Sunday, we went to bd's mongolian grill (awesome place to gorge oneself) with her siblings, then to the mall. Towards the end of our shopping, we stopped into Game Exchange and Asma saw a poster for Harvest Moon for GameCube. One thing led to another and we left the store with the game and a used GameCube.
Thing is, I didn't want the used console halfway through the transaction: I wanted the Metroid Prime bundle; but I didn't want to be rude, so we thought we'll come back sometime this week to return it.
Well, we decided to go to Best Buy to find the new system (last one in-stock with the bundle), also leaving with a new controller, Animal Crossing, a memory pack, and a Sonic the Hedgehog game bundle (free with all GameCubes).
We're currently in possession of two GameCubes. Crazy.
I played Animal Crossing last night, and it's not quite as exciting as I'd been expecting all these years. Cute, yes. I'm guessing I'll have to get into it more for things to pick up.
My body and mind are stubborn if they won't let me sleep eight solid hours after weeks of restless nights. Ugh. But the walk to the metro, and this ‘light’ mocha are making me feel better.
And I hope my moosh feels better, because her headaches and joint aches have culminated into her throwing up this morning. The doctor says that maybe she has the flu, but that her body has been working in overdrive to prevent it from developing into fevers and such.
And again, I go on without as much as a cough.
Yesterday was my mom's birthday. She told Asma she misses Shirin. Aww…
Though I'm not as productive as I'd like to be, I think I've made some respectable gains in the last few months. I still feel like there's a lot to work towards.
Here's to a potentially satisfying day.
Song of the day: “Lost in the Plot� by The Dears
As humans, when some object becomes useless to us, we throw it away. If you were to dig through any average person's trash you'd probably find countless discarded items that once served a useful purpose: old batteries, empty bottles, home enema kits, etc. the list could go on and on, [note: by the way, why don't you recycle those bottles, ass?]. But what happens when humans themselves become useless, tired or worn out? Where do they go? Oh sure, there's all the typical places, like nursing homes, Florida, and Arizona. But I’m here today to offer up another final destination for those members of our society that have been tossed into the metaphorical scrap heap of life…the California DMV. Yes, much like a street sweeper picking up those long-forgotten burger wrappers tossed to the side of the road, the DMV is filled with the worthless, discarded members of our society.
Although I have yet to visit a hospital emergency room in a major city, or a welfare office, I’m willing to declare that the DMV office in Winnetka, CA may be one of the most depressing places that I have ever visited. Upon entering this cursed facility, I quickly found that there are only two, possibly three kinds of people in the DMV: 1) The elderly. They're slow, confused and frightened by just about everything. The chances of a weird smell coming from them are about 60%. And they like to argue. If they are in front of you in line, a lengthy wait is ensured. 2) Non-English speaking people. They are also slow and confused, although this is due to the language barrier. Arguing, albeit in broken English, is also a possibility. Chances of a weird smell about 50%. The time it will take for the person behind the counter to repeat themselves and speak very slowly will also ensure a long wait time if there is one in front of you. Finally, we have the absolute worst possible person to have in front of you: 3) The elderly non-English speaking person (aka: ENESP). Although their exact origins are unknown, scientists believe years of cross pollinating and genetic manipulation have created a lethal combination of the worst traits of the previous two, resulting in the ultimate line-staller known to mankind. Not only can the ENESP not hear what you're saying, they couldn't understand you even if they did. The ENESP is not so much frightened of their surroundings as they are seemingly oblivious. This catatonic state is usually brought on by the unbearable strain of growing old in a strange country, surrounded by people who don't speak the same language as you. For the ENESP, the only way to cope with this situation is to simply shut down 90% of all brain functions and retreat inside of their own mind. The ENESP can often be found staring off into space and mumbling/singing quietly to themselves while rocking back and forth. In case you're wondering, chances of a weird smell are 100%. I mention all this because I recently had a run-in with a real life ENESP and have lived to tell the tale. The following is a detailed recount of the event…
An elderly Middle Eastern woman approaches my seat as I’m waiting for my number to be called. She hovers over me until I look up.
Woman: (Shoving a DMV form in my face),"Where I write driver's license and social number?
I look at the form, and realize it's the driver’s license application, the very same form I just filled out. Obviously this woman is here to obtain or renew a driver’s license.
Me: (pointing at the two boxes on the form) "You put them here and here
"Woman: "Oh. Boxes too small. I don’t bring my glasses."
At this point, keep in mind that she is applying for a driver’s license. A legal authorization to operate a moving vehicle. And she CAN'T SEE. Also, she probably drove here.
Me: "You can't see?"
Woman: "No glasses. I leave them at home. You write for me." (At this point she hands me the form as well as her social security card and old driver's license)
Since I’m trapped, and slightly disoriented by her strange smell, I oblige, and fill out the two boxes and then hand the form back to her. She then hands it right back to me.
Woman: "I finished? I sign it. (Points at her signature), I finished?"
I look at her form again, and she has indeed signed it. Right under the words "Sign here only if you DO NOT have a social security card", which of course, she clearly has.
Me: "Um…I don't think you were supposed to sign there
"Woman: "I finished?"
Me: "No…you weren't supposed to sign it there; you might need a new form."
Woman: "I finished?"
Me: "No…you made a mistake here" (Pointing at the spot where she wasn't supposed to sign)
Woman: "I finished?"
Me: "Yes, you're finished." I nod approvingly and hand her the form back.
She smiles, then leaves and finds a seat a few rows away, and waits for her number to be called. Two teenaged boys behind me laugh uncontrollably.
Later, as I’m waiting in line to have my photo taken for my new license, I see her at one of the windows. The person behind the counter is telling her, "No ma'am. Your number hasn't been called yet. You have to wait for your number. Wait for your number. WAIT FOR YOUR NUMBER!!"
In case you were wondering, I passed my written exam and my new license will be here in 2-3 weeks. In California it comes by mail. In Illinois they just take your picture and give you the license 10 min later. Whatever.
If you haven't discovered the joys of BitTorrent technology then you're missing out on some awesome file sharing.
Unfortunately, assholes are cracking down on the internets and have seized Lokitorrent.com. Which means other Torrent sites are bound to fall.
I won't go on a rant about it, because I don't know what exactly to say. Except, ‘The illegal downloading of motion pictures robs thousands of honest, hard-working people of their livelihood’ never involves the CEO and other executives.
I just let Papaya out for about 15 minutes, feeling sorry for her since she hasn't been out in a few days. I thought I'd sit and read near the barrier while she ran around all cute-like. For some reason, though, most of her activity was centered around circling me, squeezing herself between my right leg and the barrier, sniffing my back and arms, occasionally raising her front paws to my knees, then repeating (with the occasional direction switch).
I petted her a few times and managed to feel tiny electrostatic shocks, which she didn't shy away from. Which leads me to believe that not only does she like electrostatic shocks, but she realized that, by doing whatever she kept doing, she'd continuously keep getting shocked when she made contact with my skin.
That's either really cute or really demented.
She also needs to be litter-trained. Her piss smells.
Song of the day: "Nowhere Again" by The Secret Machines
After an aborted attempt on Friday night, Toby and I finally met up in Long Beach on Saturday night, with drunken antics ensuing not long after my arrival. I should probably start by saying that after living in the Los Angeles area for over a year now, I’ve become decently familiar with the LA nightlife and bar scene, and I’ve grown accustomed to seeing/experiencing certain things when I go out. For example, just about wherever you go, it will be crowded. Also, regardless of your personal sense of fashion, most of the people you'll see could be classified as being "well dressed" or at least look somewhat fashionable. Finally, since LA is filled with people who either are already in the entertainment industry, or people who want to be, you tend to see more attractive people per capita then you would in say, Nebraska or Arizona. I mention all of this as a precursor to the rest of my story, because as I learned this past weekend, Long Beach is not LA. That's not to say that I didn't have a fun time in Long Beach, it just didn’t have the LA-feel that I’m used to. As I drunkenly mentioned to Toby on several occasions, to me, Long Beach felt like Arizona.
After fielding some advice on where to go from the bartender at Toby's hotel, [note: the same bartender also asked us if we were looking for hookers] we headed off see the best of what Long Beach had to offer. After a 3 mile cab ride, we ended up at 2nd street, an area of 4 or 5 bars in a 3 block area. Before I give the highlights (lowlights?) of the night, keep in mind two things: 1) We drank from 9:45 pm until 2 am. 2) Bacardi and coke is like candy. Beautiful, inebriating candy. And now, on to the highlights: [note: if these highlights were actual footage, "Wave of Mutilation" by the Pixies would be playing over them]
- Entering an extremely crowded bar, and being able to count the number of people under the age of 30 on one hand.
- Middle aged cover band playing "All the Small Things" by Blink 182.
- Middle aged people dancing to said song.
- Being sexually assaulted by 35 year old obese woman.
- Quinn's Irish Pub being closed due to apparent health code violations as listed on notice taped to window.
- Middle aged cover band playing "Yeah!" by Usher.
- Drunkenly bobbing my head along to said song.
- The Acapulco Inn. According a native Long Beach-ian: "if you're looking to hook up or get laid, that's the place to go". We went. We did not get laid.
- The jukebox at Acapulco Inn having a surprisingly good selection of music, (i.e. Pixies, Ramones, "So Lonely" by the Police, etc).
- Peeing next to someone 4 feet tall, with a waxed handle-bar mustache, a funny hat, and who won't stop talking to you.
The next morning, Toby had to attend his business convention, and I returned home to Burbank, where the following exchange took place with my roommate Lance…
Me: Ugh, I’m kinda hung over…
Lance: Want some "Super Bowl Jell-O"?
Me: Sure..? (after eating about 10 spoonfuls), Is there alcohol in this??
Lance: (Laughter)
Me: Dude, its 10 am!
Lance: (Maniacal Laughter)
Me: Oh well. (continue eating alcoholic Jell-O)
[Note: I decided shorten "sidenote" to just "note". It's my non-journal, I’m allowed to do this]
I tried Googling my phone number and came across a classified ad in the local Springfield newspaper from Tuesday.
1989 Honda Accord SEI, 4dr, auto,lthr AC, sunrf, CD, 178K mi, $2100obo 5xx-xxxx
My dad has apparently decided to sell the old Honda. Sad.
No name ever given, I've now named him Hondy, and I will miss driving him.
Cries.
You'll no longer be faced with your links turning into http://http://…. It was an easy fix, but I was just really lazy to get to it until now.
My bad.
At this moment, I literally have nothing to do at AARP. Any outstanding projects and assignments are wrapped up, unless someone tells me some changes need to be made. I'm awaiting an email from Laura about whether she has something for me to do.
I've been having this problem at AARP for a while now where my hands (mainly around the knucles) would get too dry; it always bothered me to some extent. I found out, after four months, that there's hand moisturizer in the bathroom. And the oddest thing was that I was reaching for soap, which I normally knew was next to the faucet. But for whatever reason, the moisturizer dispenser caught my attention for once and I mistook it as soap. Laura was proud of me, at least in a jokingly sarcastic manner.
Anyway, I'm going to re-read Lord of the Rings, even though Asma has started The Fellowship. So if you want the book back, moosh, just let me know. Kay Jewelers?
I also now have a contract job from my old supervisor in Illinois to redesign a site for one of his clients. Yay for that.
Lastly, Quicken makes paying and tracking bills fun – it's an amazing piece of software. All it needs is a more flexible reporting system.
I had a few dreams last night about Moogles.
They weren't videogame Moogles, though. They were a species of penguin that I was apparently fascinated with. They only had eyelashes on the bottom eyelid and long, colorful orange-yellow-black tufts on the sides of their head.
In one segment, I'd won a contest to see Moogles in their natural habitat in Antarctica. They would take me deep-sea diving to watch the Moogles hunt and stuff (much of their life was spent underwater). I was excited about this but nervous, having to swim or dive into the ocean. It's so big and dark and you're vulnerable to large predators. Ick.
Asma was even more nervous at the idea of diving, so she flatly refused to do it if she came with me.
There was another segment where a little boy (maybe me) was playing around or fighting with a Moogle near the beach and he stole its hat, possibly by pushing it off a cliff. He felt sad about doing this. His grandma picked up him and they went home.
In their home (an apartment in a high rise) later that night, candy boxes in a showcase in their living room began to enlarge and shrink, and the scene kept cutting to the Moogle, alive and on the beach, singing some enchanted song. The boy kept laughing when he saw this but the grandma didn't understand.
I think that was it as far as Moogles.
There was also something about me walking around on the frames of a high rise being constructed. And something else about these tornadoes that formed in my backyard, with what looked like flames up in the sky. And once the tornadoes hit the side of my house they disappeared.
I've been having horrible sleep the past two weeks, though it's starting to get a little better. I've had two nights recently with strange dreams, which is a good sign to me. But my eyes have felt so heavy and I've felt generally fatigued. If I curled up under the desk I think I could fall asleep.
The past few days have been beautiful, with clear skies and temperatures peaking in the 50s. So I'm going to keep thinking that winter is over, and hopefully it'll be so.
4036 pieces of spam from January 16 until now.
Speaking of which, Derek has something to say.
Asma has enriched my life in many ways, the most prominent of which are through knitting and tea and West Wing.
I was an avid tea and coffee drinker for some time now, though my choices always remained small. (Case-in-point: the 300-pack box of Lipton before she and I met.) So, sometime in the fall of 2003, she was getting rid of her tea stash and I offered to take it off her hand, now having around twenty choices. Hello Stash's Licorice! Howdy, Twining's Earl G[r]ay.
In this way, I've become a bit more fanatical with variety, though black teas remain my favorite.
Individually, I drink roughly four times more than Asma. Together, though, we rule:
Drink up.
Song of the day: “Honest Mistake� by The Bravery
Finally, my first post in almost 11 months. I’d like to say that it was never my intention to have such a lengthy absence from posting, but work, life and countless television programs kind of got in the way. In any event, because no one demanded it, I decided to make a return to the internet. Actually, because I have the desperate (and apparently not that uncommon) compulsion to live vicariously through the online postings of others, I was particularly distressed recently when Kaiser’s postings became slightly sporadic. [Side note: once again, congrats to Kaiser on his engagement. and for a 100% true recount of how exactly he proposed, click here]. Feeling the need to fill the void in my blogging life, I decided to dust off my clever wit and biting sarcasm and re-enter the online arena.
As for the past 11 months, I feel as though they can be summed up in one sentence: I now have a 401(k). I'm fairly certain anyone who's ever worked in a large corporate environment has felt like they're living in a version of Office Space, Dilbert or perhaps even My New Filing Technique... and I’m certainly no different, so let's just leave it at that for now, but I will definitely be writing about the alarming amounts of idiocy and general buffoonery that I encounter on a daily basis. [Side note: I’m totally writing this at work, so I’m continually looking over my shoulder to make sure my bosses don’t notice. yes, I’ve mastered the time honored art that is professional slackery...oops here comes the boss]. Further motivation for my return was provided when I decided that I couldn't quite justify an extravagant purchase I’ve been wanting to make, and decided that if I post "consistently" for at least 60 days, then I could allow myself to make the purchase. [Side note: "consistently" to be defined at a later date]. Welcome to my life, where I have to blackmail myself.
Well, I’m going to wrap things up for now, but hopefully my long absence hasn't completely alienated my former readers, (all two of you), because as we all know, the comments are half of the fun. Also, this is still not a journal.
Due to two requests for my proper email (shahid@uiuc.edu still works, though it only acts as a forwarding address now until it totally dies sometime in October, so update your address books before then), I will obscurely post my new email address.
It's my first and last name (no space or any sort of punctuations, i.e. – joeblack) at yahoo dot com.
So, write and send me things, you two!
Dota?
(Side story. I went to Starbucks with my supervisor and we were on the subject of college experiences and whatnot, and I told her just how bad I did my last semester. To which she laughed and replied, ‘You must be a long-lost brother’. Hee.)
I've dropped the longer version of this, which has unsuccessfully and incompletely been pieced together over the last three weeks. I think it's more appropriate for another time.
Without further ado.
Asma and I are engaged. Wedding to be expected in August of 2006. And yes, all of you will most likely get invites.
express kaiser: i took her out to dinner at red lobster
express kaiser: and everything was going perfectly for the most part
express kaiser: the snow had fallen earlier in the day and we had a nice view of the parking lot
tiffers565: :-[
express kaiser: so by the time the dinner wrapped up, we were both pretty stuffed with cheddar biscuits
express kaiser: but i told her we should get a dessert
express kaiser: and of course the waiter knew ahead of time
express kaiser: so he brought out a huge piece of cake
express kaiser: and i told her to have the first bit
express kaiser: as she got her fork through it, she hit something hard and was confused
tiffers565: awww
express kaiser: after scraping a lot of the cake away, she saw a ring box and started to cry
tiffers565: :'(
express kaiser: and so i asked her
express kaiser: and she said yes
express kaiser: and everyone in our area started laughing
express kaiser: err
express kaiser: clapping
express kaiser: sorry
express kaiser: and then i said
express kaiser: JK mofo
express kaiser: it didn't actually happen like that :-[
tiffers565: you jerk
