Rack Em

Ok, so I went and bought myself a vintage Police tour T-shirt from 80's Tee's the other day (since I couldn't see them on tour *whine*), and it got here, I put it on, and the Synchronicty tour suddenly became the City tour. URGH! This crap happens all the time. This is not my lame attempt to show the internets my rack, but honest to god:

A couple questions arise from this scenario:

1. Why don't T-Shirt companies put the words a little higher on shirts?
2. In lieu of that, why don't they make the words smaller?
3. Why is there a Bratz doll on the shelf in the background sans feet?
4. Why haven't I painted over that puke wallpaper yet?
5. When did a Large T-Shirt become a medium?

So there ya go internets...you got a picture of the my rack and the Olices's City Tour '84.

You're welcome.

Dear Partner In Crime,

Remember all those times when we would talk, and you would tell me how purdy everything looked coated in the snow? And how you loved to play in it, and build snowmen and throw snowballs? And how winter is just not winter without your New Yawk snow? Remember all those times when I said I was jealous of your snow, and your snowmen, and snowballs...and white Christmases? After three and a half inches this morning alone...I've changed my mind.

Take it back. Please? It's been snowing since November, and it's lost all of it's awesome, and I've lost all the feeling in my toes. Seriously, the picture doesn't do it justice. Shit is coming down sideways out there. If this is your way of getting back at me for that whole Mahna Mahna thing a couple years ago...let's call it even.

Me.

P.S.
Kennedy is 10 today! Doesn't she look so much more mature?

Rules For Teenagers

I found these rules in a book by Charles Sykes called Dumbing Down Our Kids. Seriously, people, read it. Even if you don't agree with everything he says, it'll make you think. I may print these and put them on my fridge. Yanno, in case of emergency.

Rule No. 1: Life is not fair. Get used to it. The average teenager uses the phrase "It's not fair" 8.6 times a day. You got it from your parents, who said it so often you decided they must be the most idealistic generation ever. When they started hearing it from their own kids, they realized Rule No. 1.

Rule No. 2: The real world won't care as much about your self-esteem as much as your school does. It'll expect you to accomplish something before you feel good about yourself. This may come as a shock. Usually, when inflated self-esteem meets reality, kids complain that it's not fair. (See Rule No. 1)

Rule No. 3: Sorry, you won't make $40,000 a year right out of high school. And you won't be a vice president or have a car phone either. You may even have to wear a uniform that doesn't have a Gap label.

Rule No. 4: If you think your teacher is tough, wait 'til you get a boss. He doesn't have tenure, so he tends to be a bit edgier. When you screw up, he's not going to ask you how you feel about it.

Rule No. 5: Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your grandparents had a different word for burger flipping. They called it opportunity. They weren't embarrassed making minimum wage either. They would have been embarrassed to sit around talking about rock stars all weekend.

Rule No. 6: It's not your parents' fault. If you screw up, you are responsible. This is the flip side of "It's my life," and "You're not the boss of me," and other eloquent proclamations of your generation. When you turn 18, it's on your dime. Don't whine about it, or you'll sound like a baby boomer.

Rule No. 7: Before you were born your parents weren't as boring as they are now. They got that way paying your bills, cleaning up your room and listening to you tell them how idealistic you are. And by the way, before you save the rain forest from the blood-sucking parasites of your parents' generation, try delousing the closet in your bedroom.

Rule No. 8: Your school may have done away with winners and losers. Life hasn't. In some schools, they'll give you as many times as you want to get the right answer. Failing grades have been abolished and class valedictorians scrapped, lest anyone's feelings be hurt. Effort is as important as results. This, of course, bears not the slightest resemblance to anything in real life. (See Rule No. 1, Rule No. 2 and Rule No. 4.)

Rule No. 9: Life is not divided into semesters, and you don't get summers off. Not even Easter break. They expect you to show up every day. For eight hours. And you don't get a new life every 10 weeks. It just goes on and on. While we're at it, very few jobs are interested in fostering your self-expression or helping you find yourself. Fewer still lead to self-realization. (See Rule No. 1 and Rule No. 2.)

Rule No. 10: Television is not real life. Your life is not a sitcom. Your problems will not all be solved in 30 minutes, minus time for commercials. In real life, people actually have to leave the coffee shop to go to jobs. Your friends will not be as perky or pliable as Jennifer Aniston.

Rule No. 11: Be nice to nerds. You may end up working for them. We all could.

Rule No. 12: Smoking does not make you look cool. It makes you look moronic. Next time you're out cruising, watch an 11-year-old with a butt in his mouth. That's what you look like to anyone over 20. Ditto for "expressing yourself" with purple hair and/or pierced body parts.

Rule No. 13: You are not immortal. (See Rule No. 12.) If you are under the impression that living fast, dying young and leaving a beautiful corpse is romantic, you obviously haven't seen one of your peers at room temperature lately.

Rule No. 14: Enjoy this while you can. Sure parents are a pain, school's a bother, and life is depressing. But someday you'll realize how wonderful it was to be a kid. Maybe you should start now. You're welcome.

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Now playing: Level 42 - Running In The Family
via FoxyTunes

Quitting You

Seriously? Heath Ledger died?

Ugh. I'm sad now.

RoxieKennedyGizzyLizzy!

I might be loosing my damn mind. Like fer real this time. I'm a mother (of a teenage girl and a "in-6-days-I'm-gonna-be-10" 10 years old)...we all know that. And as a mother one of my duties is to yell. Like a lot. Not in a mean, Ms. Hannigan kind of way. But in the, nobody in this damn house can hear my voice unless it's the same octave as an air raid siren...kind of way. What is that? I can say something very clearly and in a normal tone of voice to the child and she will look at me like she doesn't have a damn clue what language I'm talking in. It may as well be a series of clicks and grunts. My husband can say the same thing in a normal tone and the kids jump up like their asses were on fire. I have to get to the point where I'm huffing and puffing and pulling my hair out before these little people will respond.

The same phenom applies to my dogs. I say something, the animals hear Charlie Brown's Teacher. My husband says something, and he sounds like a little Doggy Chaucer. The hell? As of late, I've been realizing more and more how completely futile my attempts are. I decided this morning that I'm going to save breath. Instead of talking to each of these little runts individually, I'm just going to start calling out:

"ROXIEKENNEDYGIZZYLIZZY!"

Whoever responds is who I'll talk to. Enough of this crap. I'm a smoker people. I don't have enough air to be blowing in waste everyday. Although I have a feeling, I'll be talking to the dogs more than my children. Cest La Vie. Until I learn the Swahili language, I probably won't be getting through to those little people anyway.

I have a teenager! Me! A Teenager!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Scary iddn't it?

Out Of Pocket

Three times today I've heard people misuse that phrase. It's not a phrase I hear very often. I'm thinking Hunting & Fishing weekly must have used it in last months issue, because it's rare to hear anyone around these here parts use a phrase that contains more than a few grunts and the holding up of a Haams beer. I'm not saying people here are Simpletons, they're just Simpletons. And I'm an elitist bitch, so whatever.

So the phrase "Out Of Pocket". I thought this was kind of a "duh" thing. It means, you're out money, or you've gotta pay for something. For instance, you might say "Damn! My tab at Jiggles is no longer an acceptable business expense. I'm gonna miss those girls. Guess I'll be out of pocket on that one." That would be the correct usage.

But saying, "I'm going to be at the doctors office all day, so I'll be out of pocket." WRONG! STOP IT!

Who gave the permission for that? I would like to introduce your ass to my foot.

Ass meet foot. Foot. Ass.

Short Attention Span Theater

CadaverForSale.com - How much is your body worth?

I don't think I've ever had my body appraised. Seems like kind of a low estimate though....And how exactly are we pricing things? It asked me if I had my appendix out, I haven't. So are we going by the organ here? Weight? Height? What about if I'm donating my organs...does that drop my value? What about if I cut my hair? It asked me how long my hair was...it's down to my butt. Are we adding that to my total weight, or are they gonna sell that separately for rich people's weaves? What about all the caffeine I drink on a daily basis? Surely all the Diet Coke has pickled something in there by now...so I spose that brought down my value. And I still haven't quit smoking, so I'm sure that did me in right there. So many questions.

OOOH! Heart's on my Sirius. What happened to the Wilson sisters? We need another good rockin girl group. The last kick ass girl group was in the Riot Grrl movement in the 90's. And if anyone mentions Hole to me, I swear to cheese I will throw heavy things at your head. Courtney Love makes my colon seize. Anyone besides me listen to L7 or Frightwig? Seriously people...get with it.

Did you guys hear that Brad Renfro died? He was only 25. So sad.

I want brownies.

Yup, I'm bored.

This Song Is Not Jumpin. Jumpin.

Beyonce annoys me. Like a lot. Destiny's Child annoyed me even more...because there were four three of them. And apparently, Sirius really loves them today, because every other station is playing them. Today alone I have heard this one song three times, and it makes me want to send their whiney asses back to Melmac, or whatever ALF like planet they came from? Jumpin Jumpin. In case you're unfamiliar, the lyrics go a little something like this:

Ladies leave your man at home
The club is full of ballers and they pockets full grown
And all you fellas leave your girl with her friends
Cuz it's eleven thirty and the club is jumpin jumpin

Let's analyze shall we? Good:

Most of that song, I ain't touchin with a 38 1/2 foot pole, because it's redundantly ignorant...that being said, the chorus in this brings to light so many questions. Boggle me this...if all the mens are at home cuz the ladies done left their asses there, and the fellas left all their girls with their friends...whose gonna be there to enjoy all the jumpin pocket bulging ballers...at eleven thirty.

See?! Stupid.

Beyonce makes me dumb.

You've Got Ball Licking

Three times now, while watching some bad movie on TV, the guy on the screen get's AOL mail, and I think it's my own damn email. What the fuck is that about? I haven't had AOL in 7 or 8 years. Oi Vey.

Anyway, on to what my post was really about. My dog's balls. Stop laughing. It's serious.

Gizmo does this really obnoxious licking thing. Sounds something like this:

SLURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPSLURPSLURPSLURPSLUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRP

And it's driving me insane. Imagine for a second, you're sitting comfortably on the couch with your husband/wife/kids, watching something very interesting on the tube. Along comes cute, sweet little doggy and sits at your feet. Awwwwww. Now, cute sweet doggy starts in with the licking. Lick lick slurp slurp snort lick slurp snort....etc. You start looking around the room all shifty eyed, trying to ignore the incessant ball sounds coming from your feet. You give the dog a little nudge hoping this will fix the issue, to no avail. Cute, sweet little doggy goes back to his junk. And this time, if only to teach me a lesson, he's not only licking he's gnawing. A couple minutes pass, and you start to pray for someone to say something tactful to make the dog stop, because at this point, all you hear in your head is the slurp/chaw/gnarled sounds of balls (akin to what I imagine runs through Tracy Lords' mind at any given moment) and if you say anything it's going to be something like "GIZMO STOP BEING AN ASSDRONE" Which really won't get your point across very well, and causes the people around you to look at you like you had a big bowl of stupid for lunch.

I tolerate a LOT from this dog and I love him more than words. But I do tolerate a LOT. The begging under feet. The constant crackish pacing he does. The diving head first into the Kleenex box and scattering them all over the house. The ice cream addiction. But this, ball licking...something I can not tolerate for much longer. I've asked the vet about it...he doesn't have an allergy. The vet asked if he gets enough exercise because he could be doing it out of boredom. Um sure. The dog never sits still...he rarely ever even goes all the way to sleep...he's like Chuck Norris...he doesn't sleep, he waits.

I almost feel sorry for him if/when I do get him to stop...it's almost like he goes through ball withdrawls. He'll start pacing, and doing that up and down thing, and going in circles. Then he'll disappear for a couple minutes, off somewhere licking himself in secret, I'm sure, and he'll come back with his ball fix, hop up on my lap and try to lick my face. Like THAT'S gonna happen. I know where that tongue has been.

I need to make this stop. I wonder if I got in touch with Ceasar Milan, and told him that my dog has a Ball Addiction and the sound makes me want to lock my cute, sweet doggy woggy in a closet woset, if he would come whisper to him. I bet Ceasar could bring the tact that I so desperately lack in the ball licking department.

Wait. I hate that guy. Maybe I could just lock him in a closet.

Woset.

Soooo....how's your day goin?

Miaology

I so totally stole this from her....and I'm finding any excuse I can right now not to finish cleaning my room.

MOUTHOLOGY

Q. What is your salad dressing of choice?
A. Ranch.

Q. What is your favorite fast food restaurant?
A. Taco Time or Sonic

Q. What is your favorite sit down restaurant?
A. Olive Garden or Red Robin

Q. On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant?
A. I'm a horrible tipper. I usually leave something, but it's never all that impressive. Sue me.

Q. What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of?
A. Skittles & pasta

Q. What are your pizza toppings of choice?
A. Supreme with NO sauce....ew.

Q. What do you like to put on your toast?
A. Real butter...none of that margarine crap. Sometimes strawberry jelly...OoooH! Cinnamon toast!

TECHNOLOGY

Q. What is your wallpaper on your computer?
A. From Strongbad:

Q. How many televisions are in your house?
A. Four. Living room, bedroom, and each of my girls have one.

BIOLOGY

Q. Are you right-handed or left-handed?
A. Righty

Q. Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
A. Just my children.

Q. When was the last time you had a cavity?
A. I had a couple filled about two years ago...I think I may have one now, but I don't wanna go to the dentist until I'm ready to shove a screwdriver into my head.

Q. What is the last heavy item you lifted?
A. Heavy item? Ummmm, I guess that would be the the TV's when we moved. Who knows, I don't even think about that stuff....that's the last one I can really remember thinking "dayum! this shit be heavy!" about

Q. Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
A. Not that I remember..

BULLCRAPOLOGY

Q. If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
A. Hmmmm. I think I would like a ballpark estimate...like, you're going to croak in March. At least then I could sort of prepare...knowing it down to the day, naw. I have a hard enough time gathering together enough patience for the washer to finish the spin cycle...can you imagine the pacing I'd be doing waiting for the grim reaper.

Q. If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
A. I used to want to be Samantha, because I thought Alyssa Milano on Who's The Boss was The Shiznit.

Q. What color do you think looks best on you?
A. Reds, white and greens.

Q. Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake?
A. I swallowed a fly last summer when we were camping, does that count?

Q. Have you ever saved someone’s life?
A. Yup. I had a friend in college who was a severe brittle diabetic...long story short, she called me sounding drunk, I knew the signs of shock from being with her almost 24/7 for two years, rushed over to her house and got her to the hospital. They told me she probably would have slipped into a coma and possibly died, if I hadn't gotten there in time.

Q. Has someone ever saved yours?
A. My husband.

DAREOLOGY

Q. Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
A. Sure, why not.

Q. Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?
A. This reminds me of that 4 Rooms skit with my Quentin....um, sure, it could be sewn back on.

Q. Would you never blog again for $50,000?
A. I've been blogging for four years...and I barely blog as it is (lately anyway)...I've moved my blog eleventy million times so I've lost anyone who may have read this thing to begin with, and I'm a horrible commenter. So yeah, I would absolutely give it up for $50,000.

Q. Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000?
A. I have issues with nudity. Mainly just my own...so no. I'll leave that to people have lost all that baby weight. It's only been 13 years...I'm still holding out hope that those last 20 pounds will just fall off.

Q. Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
A. I love me some hot sauce, but uh no. What's that old Rocky quote, if you eat lightening be prepared to crap thunder...something like that. That painted a nice visual.

Q. Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000?
A. I'm assuming this is excluding all those scenarios where I would protect my children, so I guess this depends on whose life we're talking about. There is probably only one person in this world where the though has crossed my mind. Without fear of punishment, ...you bet your ass I could.

DUMBOLOGY

Q. What is in your left pocket?
A. Nothing

Q. Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
A. "how was school today?! The worst day of my life, what do you think!" Yeah, It's good enough that I have lines memorized.

Q. Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
A. carpeting.

Q. Do you sit or stand in the shower?
A. Baths..preferably with a Lush Bath Bomb. Heaven.

Q. Would you live with roommates?
A. Blah....There is maybe three people in this world who are not already living in my house that I would ever share living space with. I don't like people enough. The human race disappoints me on a regular basis.

Q. How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
A. Ick, none. I can't stand that little piece of stuff between my toes...double ick. I'm a Birkenstocks kind of gal. I wear mine every friggin day.

Q. Last time you had a run-in with the cops?
A. The last time I can remember was about 12 years ago, when I was dating this guy who had a long history of getting into trouble...we got pulled over one night and he got hauled off to jail for something or other, and I got let go with a warning that I should "Be more selective of the people I fraternize with". Heh.

Q. Who is number 1 on your Top 8?
A. Huh? Myspace? I'm such a dweeb...lemme go check. It's my partner in crime.

LASTOLOGY

Q: Last Friend (person) you talked to?
A: My stepfather when he came over to help me fix my toilet. My ballcock was broken. That word makes me giggle like a pothead.

Q: Last person who called you?
A: My mother.

Q: Last person you hugged?
A: Kennedy...this morning before she left for school.

Q: Last person to stick their foot in your face?
A: Ew.

FAVORITOLOGY

Q: Number?
A: 2

Q: Season?
A: Fall

CURRENTOLOGY

Q: Missing someone?
A: A few people.

Q: Mood?
A: Getty sleepy, but pretty peachy keen, jellybean.

Q: Listening to?
A: Tone Loc's Wild Thing on my Sirius.

Q: Watching?
A: The computer screen.

Q: Worrying about?
A: Monday's appointment with the lawyer.

RANDOMOLOGY

Q: First place you went this morning?
A: Bathroom

Q: What can you not wait to do?
A: Sit on my ass all weekend...ugh, this week hurt my brain.

Q: What's the last movie you saw in theater?
A: Alvin & The Chipmunks.

Q: Do you smile often?
A: I hate my smile, so no. $8000 in orthodontia in Junior High, and I still hate my smile.

Q: Are you a friendly person?
A: Who wants to know?

"Why don't we just pretend he didn't die?"

I just read this on the NY Times website:

Even for the once-notorious Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood, it may have been a first: Two men were arrested on Tuesday after pushing a corpse, seated in an office chair, along the sidewalk to a check-cashing store to cash the dead man’s Social Security check, the police said. When Virgilio Cintron, 66, died at his apartment at 436 West 52nd Street recently, his roommate and a friend saw an opportunity to cash his $355 check, the police said. There was no sign of foul play in Mr. Cintron’s death, he added.

The roommate, James P. O’Hare, and his friend, David J. Dalaia, both 65 and unemployed, placed Mr. Cintron’s body in the chair and wheeled it around the corner, south along Ninth Avenue on Tuesday afternoon, the police said. The men parked the chair with the corpse in front of Pay-O-Matic at 763 Ninth Avenue, a check-cashing business that Mr. Cintron had patronized. They went inside to present the check, but a clerk said Mr. Cintron would have to cash it himself, and asked where he was, the police said.

“He is outside,” Mr. O’Hare said, indicating the body in the chair, according to Mr. Browne.

The two men started to bring the chair inside, but it was too late.

Their sidewalk procession had already attracted the stares of passers-by who were startled by the sight of the body flopping from side to side as the two men tried to prop it up, the police said. The late Mr. Cintron was dressed in a faded black T-shirt and blue-and-white sneakers. Police officers and an ambulance arrived as the two men were trying to maneuver the corpse and chair into the check-cashing office.

The two men were taken into custody and questioned. The police said they were considering charging them with check-cashing fraud. Mr. Cintron’s body was taken to a hospital morgue. The medical examiner’s office said its preliminary assessment was that he had died of natural causes within the past 24 hours.

I can't decide if I should cry because this story is really a very sad, tragic thing. Two elderly men trying to cash their elderly friends social security check, they probably did need the money. However, I'm sitting here having a REALLY hard time not laughing because:

A: The dead guy was in an OFFICE CHAIR being wheeled down the street.
B: I keep imagining the two old men pushing him down the street yelling at each other Grumpy Old Men style...One guy to the other "You hold him up, Dickhead!"...Other guy says, "No it's your turn, Moron!"
C: I immediately got this vision in my head:

Seriously people...I should not be laughing.

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Now playing: The Black Crowes - She Talks to Angels
via FoxyTunes

Tantrum

Nobody would mind if I just throw a minor fit for a minute would they?

Good.

(*^&$#%&^^*(&*)(*()&*(&*^^$%DAMNIT$$%@##$@%$#%^%
&**)(*()*)((__(**()&&*(^^%$$%#$%BITCH@##@#$@$%%*^*(&)*(&*()
&)*&)(*()*()*(*^&^$%$#FUCK#@#$@#$@$%$&%&*&*()()%#$%SHIT@
#$@#$%^&*^*(&*()*()^&%^$!!

Thanks.

Nothing to see here, carry on.

She Makes Snow Piles...

And then jumps in face first. Thus proving my theory that these children have the brain damage.



I tell Liz to say hi at the end...the child says "Hi Lizzy"

Everybody's a comedian.

Pennywise

I never have my camera when I need it.

I just saw a guy dressed entirely as Pennywise the clown from that movie IT, walking down my street carrying one of those leashes without a dog in it, and singing a Bay City Rollers song.

Lawd, how I've missed small towns. Back in Portland, if I had seen that same guy he would have been carrying something sharp, beating his invisible dog, and rapping some song by NWA.

Bay City Rollers, people! If that damn clown had been on roller skates...heaven.

Female Hysteria

As noted yesterday, I'm spending the last couple of days of my vacation from work doing as little as possible...which usually involves a ton of googling weird stuff. Such was the case today when I wandered onto a site devoted to Victorian women and their "ailments". One such ailment, was Female Hysteria. I love how that sounds, I may decide to use it as often as I can in the future. For instance, when asked what's for dinner, I can scream "Dinner?! Dinner?! You insensitive pig! I've got a raging case of Female Hysteria over here!" Or something like that.

The symptoms of female hysteria includes the following:

Faintness, nervousness, insomnia, fluid retention, heaviness in abdomen, muscle spasm, shortness of breath, irritability, loss of appetite for food or sex, and a "tendency to cause trouble"

Us women and our mood swings. The list of "symptoms" for Female Hysteria was so long, that pretty much anything or anyone could fit into the catagory. So, how you might ask would you cure this "deadly ailment" which was almost exclusively diagnosed to women who dared disobeyed their Victorian husbands? The answer was simple. A hefty prescription for a "mid-quarters" massage until the womens reached "hysterical paroxysm.". Yup. The cure to Victorian Female Hysteria was, shall we say, "Renouncing The Queen".

There was this guy named Dr. Swift. And Dr. Swift liked to stick his hand up the womens skirts, and touch their girlie bits. And Lo! We have our cure! No more female hysteria, gents! And to protect the privacy of these torrid women, the doctor would come to your home and perform your little bits massage in the comfort of your own sleeping quarters. How chivalrous of him. Don't believe me? The slick willy advertised:

Apparently, Dr. Swift was getting so many patients requesting house calls from him, that he couldn't keep up with the clientele. And really, what man could....he was basically offering himself up as a medical Disneyland for women. So, he created a device to do his bidding for him.

Alright ladies...all together now:

Thank you, Dr. Swift.

My only question, is why does it show that lady at the top right using the thing on her head? Those silly Victorians.

Now don't say I never taught you anything.

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Now playing: Heatwave - The Groove Line
via FoxyTunes

Double Duty

I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned before that I hold down two jobs. I am a freelance designer...most of you know that. However not many of you know that I moonlight as a Self Employed Slacker. I do. And I'm the best in the field. Nobody knows this business like I do. Seriously. I've won medals in this shit. They were going to do a reality show based on this career, but A&E quickly realized that drinking Diet Coke and playing around on Pogo don't make for very captivating television. Psssssht. What the hell do they know anyway? They cancelled Dog The Bounty Hunter (my feelings on that issue is a totally different post).

For the past 48 hours (since New Years Eve) I've completed a grand total of 22 1/2 hours of slacking while drinking ONLY coffee and Diet Coke. Not everybody can achieve this level of slack. It takes YEARS of practice and skill. I'm a dedicated employee. Just look at all I've accomplished:

*yawn*

I think I deserve a nap.

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Now playing: George Michael w/ Elton John- Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me
via FoxyTunes