The Unfinished Galaxy. Mars: The No God Zone (Also: Lonely Woman’s Easy repair of the day; and a yummy give-away)

Mars is our next door neighbor . . . .

It is the forgotten playground of a god, or God. Almost there. Almost Just Right. Almost Earth-like . . . more on that later.

marsSmaller than Earth, it does have two moons so that in itself makes it nice to visit in my Lil Loghouse Spaceship. Though, it’s often difficult to see the moons, because of the dust storms kicking up. The wind howls, and you can hear it if you click on this video—as well as see a sunset tinge the sky blue. You can hear the sounds of Mars from space on this video.

From space, Mars is beautiful in its own way—if you like red, and I do. There’s so much iron in the soil. And it’s cold. 80 degrees below zero. And I forgot my coat on Pluto. Oh well! When you are a Lonely Woman, you don’t have anyone to remind you to grab your coat, or to make sure your shirt isn’t on inside out, or fix the tag that’s sticking up in the back, or acknowledge your existence when you return to Earth from Mars. There’s not even a Jesus to wipe off your Mars-dusty feet, either. But I digress . . . .

On Mars, there’s canyons, volcanoes, craters. Clouds, fog, wind. Tornados. There’s gravity—though one-third less than Earth has. If you dropped a cup of coffee on Mars, it would fall slower than if you dropped that cup of coffee on Earth—maybe you have time to grab it, but then I suppose everything would move slower. Just like with Pluto, which I wrote about below, you’d weigh less: if you weighed 100 pounds on Earth, you’d only weigh 37 on Mars. You could also jump higher on Mars. Wheeee! Though after a while, jumping higher means nothing if there’s nothing to jump for, or no one to show how high you are jumping and laughing while you scream “Isn’t this cool?” We must have witness to coolness or it just doesn’t feel as cool.

It takes a little less than twice as long for a year to pass on Mars than it does on Earth—plenty more time to fail at your New Year’s resolutions; am I right? One day on Mars is only 20 minutes longer than on Earth. What to do with those twenty minutes? What to do. Waste it? Make it count? Scientists think that at one time the planet could have had liquid water, or at least could support oceans. They think that something may have struck Mars and flung out a lot of its atmosphere into space—

That happened to me. I was metaphorically struck by something, or if I’m being honest, by someone, and parts of me flung out into space so that I am left altered. I am Mars—all howling winds and dust storms and I am next to all this Life and Abundance and I am not Goldilocks—Not Just Right—and . . . more on that in a second.

Mars is the closest thing there is to Earth, and scientists think it could support life. As long as we don’t think of it as Life as We Know it On Earth.

I don’t believe in God. Not any longer. And not for quite some time.

Okay, that came out of the blue, right?

Doesn't that "mass" look a little like our continent?

Doesn’t that “mass” look a little like our continent?

As I travel our Galaxy in the lil spaceship, I see our beautiful Earth among all the other planets so inhospitable. I know that Earth is in the “Goldilocks Zone,” meaning Earth is situated in the “just right” place in our solar system not only to support life, but life so lush and varied that it boggles the mind how we became who we are and what we are—Random Acts of Nature. Because, I randomly think, if there were this Higher Being creating, why not Mars? Why would a god so magnificent and awesomely and powerful stop with one planet? Why make Mars “almost there” but not go there? Would a god realize his limitations? Did he/she/it want us to be the Lonely Planet? Did he/she/it feel abandoned so abandoned the entire project? Would a god or God be the loneliest being in not only this galaxy, but in all the galaxies? Maybe God or gods created just what he/she/it felt—a world full of lonely-hearted people looking for a way not to be lonely; a world full of the Always Searching for Something that isn’t there until it is and then it isn’t.

If you are the Lonely Woman traveling the galaxy looking down at the busy earth, and the desolate planets all around it, you feel the absence of God not the presence. You don’t see this Miracle—instead you see Beautiful Acts of Random. You see how a planet right next door just because it is not in The Perfect Spot, but almost is, is not able to sustain the life as Earth does.

You know what I miss most about believing in a god and Jesus and all that? Not the fire and brimstone—I mean, face it, the God(s) man created are abusive and mean and incredibly cruel and why would I pray to that? This God throws you in a lake of fire and watches you burn—how sick is that? And though Jesus would want to kiss your blistered feet, even he has to turn his back on you once you do whatever it is that is not pardonable. And there you are screaming out their name, begging for mercy where there is none. That sounds  like a really interesting novel that I’d read once and be so disturbed I’d never read again. I have done much thinking on this. I find science comforting. Very comforting. I find a god or Gods unsettling and more like a fairytale told to misbehaving children to get them to Act Right.

But what I miss about Jesus, you see, is that as a Lonely Woman, you lie in bed at night and there is DSC09985no one to listen. You speak aloud to hear your voice, and you “pray” to the Universe but you know no one or no thing hears you. The dark is darker. The night is nightyer. The loneliness lonelier. You think that if it were your last night on Earth, who would be there to witness your death? Who would cry and scream and shake their fist to the sky? It would only be after no one had heard from you that they’d begin to worry and then make their grisly discovery. You try not to think about these things. But you do. So you reach out to neighbors and friends and family and find ways to make sure you are Seen and Heard and Discoverable very quickly.

Earth may be the God Zone, but Mars is the No God Zone, and that is where I am hovering right now, right above Mars, looking down at a dust storm fierce and howling. When I land, I’ll walk its dusty soil and know that no Big Being in the Sky would leave Mars so desolate—so close to Earth yet so far. Here’s a Rover on mars.

It’s as if the God Story is unfinished. As if this Being started a project in a petri dish, the Great Scientist in the Sky, and then grew bored. Or gave up. Or perhaps thought, “This is enough for me. This is just right.” Or, as I lie in bed at night looking out the window at the stars and as the moon shines on my right foot, I know just how random I am. There is some comfort in that. I can absolve myself from so much responsibility.

But there is no one to say that to. No one to talk to and say, “Guess what? I just had an epiphany!” And there’s no Jesus there to nod his sage head and say, “Good work, my daughter.” There’s no God up there smiting me, either, which is a relief. Who wants to be smit’ed?

For Lonely Woman in this strange Unfinished Galaxy, there is You in the night. You. You. Just You. You. Just You. Unfinished. Almost but Not Quite Just Right.


Easy Repair of the Day: Is your ceiling fan making noise and driving you nuts? Did you know that sometimes all you need to do is clean it? That there may be some dust on it, or on the top of the blades where you can’t see it, and that is causing it to be out of balance. Turn the fan off, take a rag and clean the blades top and bottom. Turn the fan back on and be amazed that it fixed the clickity sound or the clackity sound or the click-clack sound. If this does not work, or only partially works, you may have to go to your local hardware store (or big hardware store) and purchase a ceiling fan weight balance thing to try that. But the easier fix without even leaving your spaceship is first to try cleaning the blades. I cleaned the dust from mine and it worked!


Links: Daniel Wallace Guest Author at R&T, Firefly Dance, RAP, etctgIf you love Appalachian/Southern Fiction, I hope you will head over to Kat Magendie Amazon Page and pick out a book. I will have book give aways (mine and other authors’) from time-to-time, but today–chocolate. TG & Sweetie are two of my best sellers. But there are more to choose from.


Give away of the week: Chocolate! Since we talked about Mars today, I am going to give away some Mars chocolates. I don’t like the “first commenters” thing.  So, at the end of the week (Saturday), I will randomly draw a number out of a box and whomever is the *that number* commenter is the one who receives the give away. If I receive only 1 commenter, then, well, I’ll have to pull from the box until I get number 1 *laugh*

“Anti-” aging, my ass . . .

Who is driving your “car” . . . ? You should be, with your strong capable hands and able mind . . .

an·ti/ˈanˌtī/  / Opposed to; against. A person opposed to a particular policy, activity, or idea.

Ad on Facebook sidebar: “Woman is 53 But Looks 27!”

So, “Madison Avenue” couldn’t come up with a better word than Anti-Aging? What the hell, y’all! I’m tired of the idea that age is something we have to cure. As if it’s a disease, something so horrible we must fight it within every inch of our wrinkles, fear it. Forget the Zombie Apocalypse, we have Night of the Living Old where everyone runs around screaming in terror.

Folkses, we all are going to age until and unless we die. That’s about it. You can practice every kind of “anti-aging” in your arsenal but you are still going to age your ass off. So how’s about we drive our own aging cars where we want them to go, and that’s to Kicking Ass Land.

Instead of being “Anti” aging, why not think of it in more positive terms? There’s nothing wrong with a desire to look good for our age—the mistake people make is when they want to remain forever in their twenties and thirties or whatever that magic number is where one thought one looked and felt ones best or one thought one was at the top of one’s game and now that one isn’t at that age the panic button is feverishly pounded and WAH WAH WAH SOB WAH. *Yawn* I’m bored.

Instead of the negative “anti,” consider instead the “pro” and how you can Kick Ass and be AWESOME where you are in your life Right Now.

Other than normal “wear and tear and aging” in my body, I’m in the best shape of my life. I still can strut me some skinny jeans if’n I want to. I can run and jump and skip and

our bodies are wonderlands . . .

do high-energy plyometrics on the treadmill for an hour and still have enough energy to hit the mat for another thirty or so, and then waltz out the gym ready to take on the day. I’m writing novels. I’m hiking mountains.

And I have sex (Mom, Brothers, Son—don’t read this part:) and it’s more fun and more intense than at any time in my life—that’s right, y’allses, the KABOOM is KABOOMIER. Who says menopause and aging is the end to good explosive sex?—yup, youngermiesters, some of your moms and dads and even your grandmothers and granddads are still YIPPIE YAI KAI YO KAI YAYING in the bedroom, ha! Yeah—picture that all day, wontcha? Haw! You’re welcome.

And what do I do to feel so great? I don’t sit on my ass and moan about how old I’m becoming. I don’t rely on Magic Pills or Magic Surgery or Magic Injections to alter my outward appearance while my inward appearance flails around in Panic Land that I’m growing older. And please, y’all, believe me I’m not being critical of those who decide to go the surgery/injection route, as long as they are realistic about it. Go google “plastic surgeries gone wrong” and there you go. There has to be some realistic acceptance of some aspects of aging, just say’n.

Tips to Pro-Aging:

Eat healthfully. Stuffing our faces with fast food, processed food, added sugar, and bad-for-our body fats, isn’t the way to go out and kick ass at any time of our life, but as we age, we must take stock of our health even more so. Live that way and your body and brain will be sluggish and shitty, and as you further age, the sluggish shitties will worsen—oh, and you may die sooner, and that would suck, wouldn’t it? Does this mean I never have candy or cake or ice-cream? Hell no! But when I do, I enjoy it more because it’s a treat, and it tastes so much better. I also splurge on The Good Stuff because I don’t eat it often.

Women: I wrote a post before about the benefits of testosterone compound cream. When we go through menopause we can lose testosterone, affecting our moods, our “brain clarity,” energy, and our libido. The compound has changed my life—but I feel like myself, not some super-duper-weird altered version of myself. Consult your doctor, always. It’s the only hormone I take into my body and it works for me without any side effects, but everyone is different.

Get your ass off the couch or out of the chair and move. The stronger you feel, the more powerful you are. Being fit and strong means you are able to care for

A walk costs nothing and is easy on the joints if you have tender areas. Walk, it’s a good start.

yourself. Work on strength, aerobic fitness, balance—all these mean that as we age, barring anything that is not in our control (and there is always something that can happen that we cannot control), we should be able to kick-ass and be strong well into our Very Old Agedom. Shame on you if you sit on your ass eating crappy food, smoking, drinking too much, not going for check-ups, ignoring your health, and then possibly “saddle” your spouse/partner/kids/grandkids with your care. Again, I emphasize how this does not apply to those who had something happen that is not under their control. Sometimes sucky things happen to us no matter how much we take care of ourselves. That’s just life. But when we have a CHOICE, how will we choose for ourselves and for our spouses/partner/children/grandchildren?

You know those pesky annoying negative soul-sucking people in your life? The ones who have been hanging on your back and hollering in your ear for years? Well, kick their ass to the curb. See ya! What? Sound mean? Well, if you are around someone(s) who sucks every ounce of joy or energy out of you, constantly whining and crying on your shoulder, constantly a big Pain in the Ass, then why allow that to continue into your Agedom? What’s in it for you? There must be something in it for you or else you’d finally kick them to the curb, right? Riiiigghht. If this PITA is someone you simply can’t walk away from, then find a way to short circuit the Negative Whiny Woe Is Me talk. Take your power back. Take control of the time you have left on this earth. You are an adult now, yeah, it’s true! And adults have choices. This next phase is time to sort through all the people who’ve come into your life and see who makes you happy and content and who tires the unholy hell out of you and needs a wake-up slap upside their pea-heads—you are in charge now. Believe that.

Do something you love.I know that not everyone has the luxury of quitting their jobs to do what they love full time, but, until that day comes, why not go for the here

I’m an author; I love photography; I love fitness – all things I’m passionate about and pursue with joy

and there moments to find your passion and pursue it. To say, “This is time for Me. Go Away.” Your friends and family will only respect the idea of you finding your passion and pursuing it if you respect it within yourself. If someone says, “You’re too old,” or “You can’t,” then sweetly and gently say, “Go fuck yourself.”

Excuses suck. “I’m too old” is an excuse. “I will look silly doing that because I’m old” is an excuse. “I am tired because I’m old” –excuse. If you have a Real Reason for why you aren’t doing what you love, or why you aren’t out there kicking ass, then don’t beat yourself up about it, for we must also respect the tender parts of ourselves, the parts that have served us well but something just went wrong. But if you know good and damned well you are opening that mouth and vomiting out excuse after excuse, then Stop It, goddammit!

Alternatively, we don’t have to live the commercials on TV. What I see on ads/commercials is that Boomers are out there Taking On The World—jumping out of planes, sitting in bathtubs with their significant other while watching the sunset after they’ve just had WHOOP! sex (though, huhn, read above *laugh*), they are faster than a speeding bullet and leaping over tall buildings at a single bound—Super Boomers! Well, part of being kick-ass is recognizing what you are doing because it’s good for you and you are passionate about it versus what you think you ought to be doing because “everyone else is doing it.” Huhn. Naw, we aren’t all doing it all. Who is, really, no matter their age?

I hate to use the old cliché, but it’s so true. When you are lying there dying your ass off, you may just think, “How’d it go so fast? And why didn’t I . . . .”  So, see what you want to fill in the blanks for that . . . and then start finding ways to enjoy or do or be that . . .

Maw Maw – I’m not my grandmothers kind of grandmother . . .

I go by the: Just cause I can wear it, doesn’t mean I should, and, the I’m not wearing Maw Maw clothes even if I am a Granny. You won’t see me in mini-skirts, or jeggings (lawd, those need to go away), or a bikini, or trying to wear clothes a twenty year old (or worse, teenager) would wear. However, if I can rawk out some skinny jeans and boots or stilettos and a form-fitting top, then I am. You also won’t see me in sweat pants or elastic-waist polyester pants suits, either, or sloppy-ass ill-fitting clothes that I am hiding in because I’ve given up—because I haven’t given up and you shouldn’t either.

Take care of your hair and skin. By eating well, and if you like, with “products.” Though I hate the term “anti-aging” what I am happy about is that finally there are products geared towards people over thirty. Some are better than others, but you can be the judge of what works for you, and how far you want to take the producting of your hair and skin—some people wash their face and are done with it, and nothing wrong with that if you Own It, and simply like things, well, simple. Personally, I enjoy pampering my skin and hair because it makes me feel good about myself and I like the results. Men aren’t pressured as much as women are to be “youthful,” but that’s fast a-changing, oh yes it is, if commercials and ads are any indication.

Finally, surround yourself with as much beauty and love and light and positives as you are able to. And as for the crappier stuff, well, learn how to put all of that into perspective—take back your power, do your best, work with what you have, make choices based on what is best for you and for your loved ones. You can be a loving, giving person without letting people walk over you. The two things—being a giving person and being taken from—are not equal.

Now, let’s  take the term “anti-aging” and stomp over it while on the way to kicking ass and feeling our best. Pro-Aging. Yeah. Goddammit, I like that.

Scenes from a Marriage: Morning

Eyes open. Heave out of bed. Feet in slippers. Coffee pot turned on to grind beans and start brewing process. Me makes up bed while GMR puts seed out for birds/squirrels. Wash face . . . etc.

There is a dance and rhythm to the morning.
Me and GMR want to get to that pot of coffee as soon as it finishes brewing, pour a cup (black for me; cream and sugar for GMR).

Me trudge trudges to coffee pot; hair askew, face dragging the ground.

Chipper Dipper GMR is between coffee and Me.

Me: “Urghhhherrrghhhhhh . . .” *Imagine Frankenstein asking for coffee*

GMR: “What?”

Me: “Ugrreehhrhhrhrhrgrhhhhhgrrrr . . .” points to coffee cup. *translation: Me want coffee now, move outta way. Me want coffee NOW!”

GMR: “Well, Good Morning to you, too!” (said a bit snippity high horse if Me asks me). Pours Me a cup and hands it over.

Me: “Ugrhh . . .” then, “I couldn’t sleep . . . I’m discombobulated. Coffee. Need.”

GMR: Said uber concerninglingly and innocentinglyly: “Did your back pain keep you up, hmmmmmmmm?”

Me: Gives him That Look. “Um, noooo. Your noises kept me up.” *AGAIN is implied here*

GMR: “Noises? I made noises?”

Me: My inside voice: *OMG! How many times do we have to go through this? How many times I have to tell him?* “Yes, your noises.”

GMR: “Me or the (cpap) machine?”

Me: *how . . . many . . . times . . . must . . . we . . . go . . . et cetera . . . * “Both! I was awakened about fifty-galleven million times …ughrhhhgrrrr.” (Just want coffee).

GMR: “I made noise?”

Me: Gives That Look again. “I can’t remember when I’ve had a full good night’s sleep. I mean . . . it’s like this:” *Me mimics the sound of gale force wind gusting through a narrow lead pipe.*

GMR: Says nothing. But his inside voice is saying, *Boy is she cranky! Oh well, doop doop, beep beep blorp blick flickering inner television screen….. She’ll get over it. Do do do do do la la la..images from Law & Order, Food Network, Jeopardy … blip blorp… ….Well, I’ll just be the best ole husband I can be the rest of the day and she’ll forget about all this can’t sleep because of some noise that’s probably nothing at all and she’s making a big deal of out of what’s nothing at all business. *** white noise white noise white noise white noise****

Me: Takes coffee and sludgers away to her laptop. *I swear! I can’t sleep! I’m sooooo tired! I’m soooo sick of whooooosh whoooooosh WOOOO WOWOO WOOOOOwhooooshhh, and another thing, while I’m at it . . . hey, SHINY THING SHINY THING SHIINNNNNYYY THINNNNNGGGG IS DISTRACTING ME — and . . . that . . .who what where when how why . . . did I do those edits? Hey, here’s some email, oh wait, there’s a facebook message, oh, twitter . . . ***music music earworm music ….* and boy he makes me mad when . . . where did I put my . . . I’m hungry** *

GMR: GMR has his cup and goes to his computer. **white noise white noise white noise white noise white noise . . . online crossword puzzle white noise puzzle white noise**

How it Could Go, and Perhaps A Version of How It Has Gone:

Me: “Good Morning! That coffee sure smells good!”

GMR: “Well, here’s a nice fresh cup!”

Me: “Thank you! *sip* hmmm doggies! That’s some good coffee!” Big Fat Morning Smile.

GMR: “Uh huh.” Fiddle dee dee with his cream and sugar.

Me: *takes a sip of good ole coffee* “Hey, by the waysies, GMR ole buddy, ole pal: I had a hard time sleeping last night. Maybe it’s time to have that ole zippity do dah day cpap machine fixed, or something, tootle lee doo? Might be a good idea to look into it!” *Big Arse Happy Go Lucky Ain’t Life Grand Smile*

GMR: “Huhn . . .uh huh. Maybe so. I’ll look into it. Yessirree indeedy do!” GMR’s inside voice says, *I don’t want to deal with that; so I’ll just be the best ole husband I can be the rest of the day and she’ll just forget about all this can’t sleep stuff, fix the whatever ***Flickering TV Screen, crossword puzzle, blip blorp . . . White noise white noise white noise white noise*** . . .

Me: Walks away with coffee. Inside voice: *I am SOOOOO tired. Unghhhh. I’m so . . .. SHINY THING SHINY THING . . . *

*sighhhhhhhhhhh*

In the Car: Scene from a Marriage

Me: OMG! Watch out! You’ll hit that squirrel!

GMR: It’ll move out of the way.

Me: but what if it doesn’t? You didn’t even slow down! What if it isn’t paying attention and you run it over . . .

GMR: It didn’t; look, it’s running off.

Me: But you COULD have run over it is what I’m saying. You didn’t even slow down is what I’m saying. It could have happened because you don’t slow down but instead just barrell on ahead, oblivious to things in your way.

GMR: *his inside head: – but it didn’t happen, so there!* His outside mouth saying: *sigghhhhhh*

Later:

Me: OMG! You hit that bird. Omg omg! Poor little bird! You didn’t slow down and see see seeeee! You hit it! I TOLD you this would happen.

GMR: I hit it? Did I? Are you sure?

Me: Yes! I saw it… oh oh ugh – ohhh, poor little bird. I told you and told you to slow down when you see critters! *unnghhh unngghhh* poor bird. I can’t stand it.

GMR: I’m sorry! *said in a not really THAT sorry voice; the bird shouldn’t have been that stupid, and in fact it wasn’t, for that bird got out of the way, so there*

Me: When we drive back this way, I hope I don’t see that bird with its guts hanging out. Ohhh ughhnnnnn.

Later:

No dead bird is seen.

GMR: *doesn’t say anything on the outside, but on the inside is going nya nya nya – no bird with guts hanging out – so it flew off nya nya*

Me: I bet it dragged its little self off in the grass somewhere. I bet it’s cheeping out its last breaths out of its bloody beak as I speak. Ugnnggghhh. Poor little bird. I told you to slow down!

GMR: sighhhhhhh.

Later:

Me: Why do you always back into the parking spaces?

GMR: because it’s faster when I pull out.

Me: But, it takes longer to back in, so doesn’t that make it a wash? I mean, if you spend extra time backing in, it nullifies the pulling out quickly, doesn’t it?

GMR: Sighhhhhhhhhhh. Okay, I won’t back in next time.

Me: No, don’t just agree with me. I’m asking because I am curious. What I’m saying is: I’m asking you: Is it really faster? I’m curious. If you back in to get out faster, is it really faster in the Long Run . . . you know, if the time is added up ToGether. Not just pulling out, but the action of backing in AND the action of pulling out added together. Is that faster or is that a wash, thereby nullifying your theory of it being faster?

GMR: Huhn?

Later:

Me: OMG! You almost killed us! You need to pay attention! That truck is three times our size! SPLAT KABLAM, we could be dead right now! I haven’t finished the edits on my novel – I’ll be dead and with an unfinished work – oh no! Unngghhhhh. I wonder if my friends or family will know to look in my hard drive . . . If we’d burst into flames, that saves my cremation cost, right? Oh, but maybe not… OH! I don’t want to think about that! Gross! Stop my brain from thinking about it! This is what happens when you almost get hit by a big truck thrice your size! Be careful, okay? That’s all I’m saying, just be careful. We could be dead Right Now!

GMR: But I didn’t kill us. Um . . .

Me: But you COULD have!

GMR: sighhhhhh.

Later:

GMR: #*#*$& MOVE!!! #*#@*$#! *races up to the bumper of other car, angrily flicks his blinker, careens around it, then as he passes, he gives them the look, aggressively unflicks his blinker, and then races in front of them to haul ass away with a “that’ll show em attitude”*

Me: OMG! Are we running a race? I mean really? Are we? Running a race? this is a small town; we don’t have to go ninety to nothing down Highway 19, okay?

GMR: They were (out of towners from a certain state that NCers have a rivalry with) and they pulled right out in front of me and then go slow and it drives me crazy! I hate that—they could have more courtesy; they don’t own the roads here! – actually GMR doesn’t SAY all this aloud, actually, he just gets THAT LOOK and says, “O’KAY, All RIGHT…” *sighhhhhhhhhhh*

Me: Still. Huhn.

Later:

Me: OMG! Do you have to race up then slow down, race up then slow down, race up then slow down? Drives me insane!

GMR: I’m not doing that.

Me: Yes you are, too! Stop it . . . drives me in-SANE.

GMR: okay okay *inside voice says I am SO not doing that* sighhhh.

Me: Well, I dreamed we got into an accident so you have to be more careful.

GMR: *inside voice: not those dreams again . . . * outside voice, “Okay.”

Me: You SAY okay, but are you really listening?

GMR: I’m listening. I said okay.

Me: But I mean LISTENING. Not just hearing words come out my mouth and hearing those words, but actually HEARING them and then PROCESSING them so that you UNDERSTAND them!

GMR: uh huh

Me: Sigghhhhhhh.