A Collection of Semen-Based Recipes

www.lulu.com/product/paperback/natural-harvest---a-collection-of-semen-based-recipes/5198959

Oh yes, it really is an article about eating semen. 

Ships in 3–5 business days. Who ships this?!? And if there's some sort of all natural theme to this, don't order your semen from some unknown semen mill. Buy locally produced semen. Hell, make your own. It is semen after all; not plutonium. 

Semen is not only nutritious, but it also has a wonderful texture and amazing cooking properties. This sounds like a sex in the kitchen accident. Oh hell! I just got some semen in the casserole!! No one will notice. 

Like fine wine and cheeses (really cheeses? good word choice there semen eater), the taste of semen is complex and dynamic. Not to mention gross. Semen is inexpensive to produce and is commonly available (so is pee and so are germs but that does not mean it should be a food source) in many, if not most, homes and restaurants (oh look! the article took an icky turn!!).

Despite all of these positive qualities, semen remains neglected as a food. It's not a food! Who wrote this?! Dear friends, we don't eat semen. Maybe when you're first dating. Maybe as a special birthday or anniversary present but NEVER GODDAMN EVER as part of a meal.  

This book hopes to change that. Once you overcome any initial hesitation, you will be surprised to learn how wonderful semen is in the kitchen STOP!! Hahaha, just stop already! A better article about the wonderful, edible semen could not have been written. I've heard this speech before. Don't worry baby, just put it in your mouth. Don't be scared. Once you've done it a couple of times you'll see how much you love it. My high school boyfriend is now writing cook books apparently.

Semen is an exciting ingredient that can give every dish you make an interesting twist. Also interesting is how people vomit when you tell them that they just ate your husband's semen. 

If you are a passionate cook (fuck your food passionate) and are not afraid to experiment with new ingredients - you will love this cook book!

I'd like to also take this moment to apologize to my mom 

Terrible Scary Biblical Bedtime Stories

My friend tells me a Bible story about stupid people in the spirit of stupid people have been around forever, the people in charge are stupid since the beginning of time and really the only way you can get ahead in life is to get leprosy. Apparently in his house, this is a bedtime story.

First his story, my reaction and then my reaction to the actual story.

New Paul Version
There was a lady who was starving so she went to the King and said, “How about we eat your son tonight and my son tomorrow night? The King agreed. So they ate his son that night. The next night the King went to the lady’s house, knocked on the door all ready to eat her son but the lady had hidden the son so he could not be eaten. The King got all angry – rightfully so since he had just eaten his son – and tore at his clothes. Meanwhile, the lepers where outside the city because they weren’t allowed inside and they were all hungry and dying. So they decided to go to the enemy’s city to beg for food because they were dying anyway and it was worth the risk. But the enemy was scared of approaching horses and ran away and hid. So the lepers took all the food and jewelry from the enemy city and hid it in the desert.

WHAT?!? Is this seriously a Bible story?? How in the world did the eat your young conversation even come up? And if you’re the KING, why not eat the other son first? Why did the King have to go to the lady’s house? Why did he tear up his clothes? Eat the lady!!

I don’t even understand what the first part has to do with the second part. What do lepers need jewelry for? Look at how this sparkly bobble makes my arm fall off! And if the enemy is so stupid, why didn’t the King go eat their sons?

2 Kings, Chapters 7 & 8
So now that I’ve actually read it…it still makes ZERO sense. Ahab pissethed against the wall? Ok, so that’s Ch. 9 but I didn’t any of the story told to me above in Ch. 7 or Ch. 8. Well, the lepers are there but they are much craftier in the actual version than the summary but still…no children nuggets. There’s barley. There’s a shekel. Or numerous shekels – shekeli. But nobody ate nobody else and everyone stomped on the King. Unless you can actually eat with thine eyes. Maybe back then you could. IDK, I wear contacts.

Just Left of Fiction

Ego says PRAISE ME, PRAISE ME. But Humility says that I don't need it.

Ego says, "Speak up Humility!" To which Humility replies, "I don't need to." See Ego likes to showboat whereas Humility is more low key. So Ego asks for a round of applause while Humility just takes a small bow.

But then Ego pulled off Humility's face and revealed it to be just Self-Doubt in a mask. Ego doesn't like Self-Doubt and is quiet for a moment...

Just long enough for Perseverance to come eat everyone up. And that ladies and gentlemen is how the self-help section of a bookstore was created.

Pop Quiz!

This is Darryl, how can I help you?
I need to make an appointment. Your office called yesterday about setting it up.
Are you a new patient? Or a referral?
Referral.
What's the visit for?
I don't know. My doctor referred me.
For what?
I have no idea. She referred me to you. You called me. I'm calling back.
But you don't know what for?
No I don't know what for. I assume it's for what Dr. Jolly does - hematology. Blood testing probably.
Do you know what tests are needed?
No Darryl, I don't know that either. Sorry, I didn't come prepared for this quiz.
No problem. Let me pull up the details of the referral.

I both loathe and like this Darryl.

Dr. Specialist

Today I went to the internal medicine specialist. Their office reminds me of an 80’s pop art gallery – primary colors painted on the wall and stupid looking. I wrote down my questions/concerns (thanks Bethany) so I wouldn’t forget. Actually, it turned out to be a really good thing I wrote them down because I just boohooed the second she said, “Tell me what’s going on.” Like a rock I know.



First – I should not still need to be using the injections. Those are really supposed to be pretty instantaneous until the pill form of blood thinners kicks in. Riddle me this…why aren’t the injections working?


Because in very rare cases, people can be resistant to blood thinners. How rare? Perhaps rare like getting DVT in a 28 yr old otherwise perfectly healthy person. I really need to learn how to harness this power for good.



I have to go to a hematologist. They’ll better explain the blood things. Ok.


But I am afraid of having a stroke. So tell me Doctor, what about the stroke risk?


Here’s where things went all bojangled…


If I was having a major stroke, I would know. With out a doubt, I would know or someone around would know just like we all know Dick Clark needs to stay at home. But my symptoms are such, occurred in this special order and lasted for a specific amount of time which leads this doctor to believe I have had at least one Transient Ischemic Attack (TIA).


What’s TIA? I’m glad you asked…


A TIA is a "warning stroke" or "mini-stroke" that produces stroke-like symptoms but no lasting damage. Aww look! A mini-stroke!! How cute!! It’s so tiny!


Wow huh? I’m so sad clown about this…I should start wearing velvet.


At least TIA has no lasting damage. It’s not a major stroke. And they only last for a little bit. Except that it’s still an effing stroke. Which I’ll put right up to “at least it’s only AIDS” in suckage.



BUT WAIT…THERE’S MORE…

Most strokes aren't preceded by TIAs. However, of the people who've had one or more TIAs, more than a third will later have a stroke. TIAs are important in predicting if a stroke will occur rather than when one will happen. They can occur days, weeks or even months before a major stroke. In about half the cases, the stroke occurs within one year of the TIA.

Are you kidding me?? I want out of this. DO OVER. This cute little stroke thing just put me on the path of sipping soup through straws. Who wants to remake Awakenings with me?

Only they can’t confirm a TIA without a scan. So yes I’ve maybe had one but maybe not and maybe it is/isn’t warning me about the maybe risk of a major stroke. If it’s even real at all. Maybe. Suddenly I feel like medical science is all a bunch of voodoo and snake oil.

I’m right back where I was that night in radiology…the ER doctor will know, the on-call internist will know, the regular doctor will know, the new specialist will know, now the hematologist will know. Everyone who knows seems to never be the person I’m with.

1-800-Freaknic

Can my black friends please explain to me what is going on with Freaknic?

The news last night did like a 5 minute story on the hotline Mayor Reed set up so that people can call in suspected Freaknic activities. Fox 5 News...if you spot any happy black people this weekend, you are urged to call this hotline. That seems unfairly ambigious doesn't it?

Thank you for calling the Freaknic Spotting Hotline, what's the nature of your emergency? Yes, I just saw a woman driving on North Avenue and she was black.

Are you effing serious?!? Georgia has set up a hotline for reporting on black people! Does anyone else see the strange undertone of this??

What are these dangerous Freaknic activities I should be vigilantly on the lookout for? Look, there's three black people together! They must be Freaknic-ing! Hide your children!

Be alert for the forewarning baselines of a Jay-Z song. Actually, that last song is so damn awful, there should be a hotline to report poor taste. But that has nothing to do with color.

Maybe all the black people should dress up in white face. Then maybe they can avoid all of the suburban yuppies from OTP armed with the hotline number.

Is it that the city is afraid everything will get out of control, laws will be broken and people will get hurt? Well we already have a hotline for that. It's 911.

While we're at it, let me also point out that the hotline closes at 10 pm each night. Good call City of Atlanta. Because nothing bad has ever been known to occur after 10 pm. We like to party but everyone is so respectful of a reasonable bedtime.

The Medium is MINE

I feel blah today. Just gross all over with a side of flat hair, ill fitting clothes and greasy makeup. Something hormonal I'm sure since I use root volumizer, regularly wear this size and buy expensive makeup guaranteed to work with my unique complextion.

So I decide to take my grumpy butt over to Old Navy and perhaps buy myself a new...something...to feel better. Now, I don't looooooove Old Navy. It's more of a like-like relationship. But since it's far too expensive to boost my hormonal woes with something from Nordstrom, Old Navy is a reasonable solution.

But they never have my size, everything is a mess and I end up cursing myself for going again. I don't know why I do it. Why did you stay with that loser boyfriend in high school? Exactly.

In an effort not to totally waste my time there, I decide to get some tank tops. I got something mysterious on my navy blue one so I'm in the market for a new one. Off to the 2 for $10 tank top buffet.

Remember Old Navy almost never has my size. I get to the tank top table and there is ONE navy blue tank top. But holy crap, the little dickens is in medium! SCORE! So I head around the table to pick it up from the opposite side when...La Chubracabra snatches it first. Well crackers!

But she's holding it not like she's going to buy it but like she's pondering its navy blueness. So I wait. Fake look at some ugly shirts, mosey back around the table, wait, wait, wait. But she doesn't put it down. She just holds it arms' length from herself; looking at it. Wait, wait, wait...

I'll try a slightly more aggressive approach...Oh, is that all of the medium navy blue tank tops?

Swear, this woman says...It's mine and you can just back the fuck off.

Perhaps its my grumpy that took over. Or my sense of duty to the Mexican people to rid them of this plague-like monster. Whatever the reason, I lost my mind on this woman.

You are the one holding it. Rub it on your butt and mark your scent on it.

Yeah, I said that. And she got angry. Rightfully so.

Just who in the hell do you think you are?

If you're not going to buy that tank top, I'd like to have it. But if you are going to buy it for someone, no problem.

What makes you think that this tank top isn't for me?

It's a medium.

And I'm not a medium??

Uhhh, not in American sizes.

Excuse me? American? I wear only American.

Old Navy is made in China patriot.

Do you want me to kick your ass?

Lady, I could out run you. All I want is the tank top.

I could beat the hell outta you.

The worst you could do is sumo bounce me and we both know it. I don't know what kind of habits you have but I'm not one to get into a fight with someone else over a cheap tank top at Old Navy. Take that bs back to the Dollar Store.

You're a racist.

Let me take a moment to point out that neither of us are of any visbly distinguishable ethnicity.

You too lady. Enjoy that tank top.

Turn Down the Volume

I don’t know if you know this…but other people can hear you. See, I’ve got these ears…actually, they’re pretty common on people nowadays, these ear things. Not that I even need to be of sound hearing in order to hear you. You’re like a rock concert. I can feel your loudness.




I can feel it grating into my psyche.



Maybe the concept on inside voice wasn’t around in your generation. Dinosaurs probably didn’t make very good teachers by way of manners. You probably crawled right out of the ocean onto land and got all loud about it.



I think you’ve got the loudness to constitute as noise pollution. I bet you could be ticketed for talking outside after 10 pm.



Ooo, maybe I should call OSHA! So that my office will be forced to give me those headphones that those guys who directly the planes to the gates wear. Or I could erect a complex system of white noise speakers. Maybe get some of that egg crate insulation stuff to pad the walls of your office. Switch to the nightshift so you’re not here when I am.

OR YOU COULD LOWER YOUR DAMN VOICE!

Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT) and You (Well, Me)

What is it?

Thrombosis occurs when the blood changes from a liquid to a solid state thereby producing a clot. A solid state? It's not solid...just thicker. Like when you whip eggs. Is it so wrong to want medical websites to sound smarter...



If the blood clot occurs within a major vein, the condition is known as deep vein thrombosis (DVT). Also known as Pain In My Ass (PIMA).



The most common veins affected by DVT are those of the legs or within the pelvis (lower abdomen). I am a commoner.



Why is it dangerous?

First of all, DVT is not always dangerous - it is perfectly possible to have a small DVT without even being aware of it. Note the words "perfectly possible." Yes it is perfectly possible but the people who aren't aware DON'T DIE.



The condition only becomes dangerous, or even fatal, if the blood clot becomes big enough to cause obstruction within the most important of the body's large veins - particularly those that take blood from the heart to the lungs. Good thing I decided to get mine in...oh, wait...my body's large vein that takes the blood to my heart and then lungs. FAIL.



The deep veins of the legs and pelvis are large, so clots forming within these veins can be of a considerable size, making them potentially hazardous if they move. BTW, the radiologist used the word "massive clot" when describing the one she found in my body's large veins that carry blood to the heart and lungs.



What happens in a danger situation? Umm, D A N G E R

A blood clot will form in the veins of an individual's thigh or calf muscles during long periods of inactivity. How active can one be with their abdomen?



When the person suddenly stands up it increases blood flow within the vein, and the clot (or part of it) can break off and head up towards the heart, from which it can be pumped into the lungs, becoming a pulmonary embolism. Now I'm afraid of standing!



This may obstruct the flow of blood through the lungs so much that death follows very quickly. Well that might be a relief compared to this never-ending creepy anxiety.



Why is DVT at greater risk of occurring on long-haul flights? Good thing I don't travel for work...oh, wait...

For two main reasons: firstly, it is very dry in planes and there is a likelihood of passengers becoming dehydrated. With dehydration, the blood becomes thicker than usual and, therefore, more prone to clotting. Yes, I'd like 2 tiny bags of salty peanuts please. Take your time with that beverage cart. I'll just be increasing the likelihood of DYING. Haha, I'm parched. I hope Mr. Window Seat knows CPR.



Alcoholic drinks are readily available on planes, but they make you go to the toilet more. Unless you drink enough non-alcoholic drinks to compensate, this will increase the tendency to dehydration. Going to the airplane toilet more is scarier than a pulmonary embolism.



Secondly, because there are limited opportunities to move around on planes, circulation becomes sluggish. Cramped seating may cause pressure points on the legs that slow blood flow locally, and this can increase the tendency for a clot to form. Think the air marshals will take a "gotta keep my blood thin" as a good excuse for not minding the fasten seatbelt sign?



There appear to be other factors involved, which are not yet fully understood, because DVT has also been observed among Business Class and First Class passengers, who have more leg room. DVT is also observed in other types of long journeys, not just with air travel. Well those assholes get their lifesaving drinks of hydration before I do. Just take that Breezeway Boarding right to your death!



What are the risks of it happening to me? Vegas odds.

Factors that may contribute to a higher chance of DVT are:



being a smoker The way I hear it, DVT might be the least worrisome thing that happens to smokers

being over 40 I always was old for my age

taking the Pill Why can't they say birth control? The Pill is something my Granny would say.

being overweight You really don't have to call me fat on top of everything else.

having had the condition before I think I was in the perfectly possible category before, if at all.

having undergone major surgery recently. No but I heard I could have a major surgery if I don't get this cleared up.

There are also some medical and inherited conditions that are associated with an increased tendency of the blood to clot, but these are rare. Round One of tests says I'm cool on this one. But my paternal family history is...a mystery...so...I mean really, how rare is rare? Like getting a blood clot in the not so common abdomen area as a non-smoking 28 year old who isn't overweight and never had the condition before nor any major surgeries? Rarer than that?



What are the symptoms? Manic annoyance?

Swollen ankles, particularly if one ankle is far more swollen than the other. However, swollen ankles are very common on long flights, because of the lack of 'muscle pumping' that helps drain away tissue fluid normally. This is not due to DVT. Do these shoes make my ankles look risky?



Localised pain or tenderness within a calf or thigh muscle is a possible symptom of DVT, and more serious symptoms are the onset of a cough, increased heart rate, breathlessness, chest pain or palpitations. I have a cough (probably from pollen), my heart rate increases when I read this, I get breathless and perhaps the chest pain or palpitations have to do with the FEAR! Symptoms like this make me appreciate the "purple toes syndrome" listed in my DVT pamphlet. At least I can easily identify purple.

Take The Blood and No One Will Get Hurt

Obviously, I have gone totally bonkers. I had forgotten that I was supposed to skip a week in my blood tests to see if the double-dose of Coumadin helped stabilize my blood. Personally, I think that if my blood is unstable, it should be checked weekly. Hell, let’s go for daily.


The phrases, “not in a therapeutic range” and “not yet stabilized” translate into “tick, tick, tick” as far as I’m concerned.


TAKE MY BLOOD! TAKE IT! TAKE IT! TAKE IT!


I practically squirt it out at the slightest of a poke! Here, gimme a safety pin. I’ll do it if you won’t. Don’t make me go all stigmata on you. I will. Don’t tempt me. TAKE MY BLOOD!


Think I could trick the Red Cross into taking my blood and then snatching that little baggie? I’ll send it off to the lab mydamnself.


I would rather them take all my blood until I’m as deflated as a blow up doll (I know that’s a weird reference) than keep this tick-tick blood. There seems to be little sympathy for people who have to give themselves shots in the abdomen. How about if the abdomen is so bruised that it feels like a little golf ball under the purple skin on both sides? HUH? Yeah. Oooo, AND THEN…the little purple golf ball shoots out blood? And you have to apply pressure to the TENDEREST bruised golf ball on your maimed tummy? Where’s the Hallmark card for that?!?


I’m like a science fiction movie!


This whole thing has made me manic. One minute I’m fine, the next minute I’m Captain Hook and the crocodile. Tick, tick, tick and Peter Pan RN and the Lab Boys won’t take my blood.


WHY IS IT SO HARD TO GIVE A QUALIFIED MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL YOUR BLOOD?? Hello, isn’t that what we passed health care reform for? So that I can get my blood checked whenever I want it checked! TAKE IT TAKE IT TAKE IT!!

Awesomeness Appreciation

I would like to thank the awesome people.


Thank you to the people who make me laugh, who say things like “funerals for dead people,” who listen to me woe, who inspire me to keep learning, elicit snorts, forgive that I don’t share food, send me cards in the mail just because.

I’d like to thank those who think I’m smart, those that just say they do and those who really know how silly I can be. Thanks to people who let me talk out loud in their offices until I work through a problem, to the ones that let me be and the ones that pester me into being better.

Thank you to those who nicknamed me, the ones that moved away but still call, the people that come sit by me while I cry and the ones who never expect that I’ll shed a tear. The people who love me anyway, forgive and forget and those that pick right back up as if we never left off.

Thanks to the awesome people who have been my examples. Thanks to the people that believed in me when I thought that there was no reason to believe anymore. Thank you to those that surprise me with their faith in me, the ones make fun, indulge and are muses.

Thank you who kept me grounded. The people that reminded me that there is a forest, not just trees. Thanks to those that said the right thing at the right time, who strengthened my faith and shared in my insanity without suggesting lobotomy. Thanks to those who suggested Xanax.

Thank you to the ones that made me feel beautiful, to those that forgave my ignorance, fed my ego and proofread my essays. Thank you to the people I talked too much with, sided with me and were the first to have my back. To those that held my hand, pointed out the positive, made amends, let me borrow their clothes, cooked me dinner and helped me decide.

Thank you to the awesome people who allow me to be manic in seriousness and immature from one moment to the next. Thanks for not letting me wallow in my own complexities but for allowing me to be complex. Thank you to the people who don’t discount even the mundane, who recognize how quickly the trivial becomes important and how quickly it fades. Thank you to those who’ve promised to wait, to those that have and those that actually will.

Thank you for loving me. Thank you for letting me love you back.

Please Help Me Carry Nermal

So I have something important that I’m trying to handle. It is with me every day. It follows me; it waits while I’m sleeping. It isn’t ashamed to just sit there and stare at me until I’m almost insane.



I can’t get rid of it. Work, school, Lillian, cleaning, rock gardening (why not) and not one flipping thing works. The second my mind gets quiet again, here comes the problem, looking well rested and ready to get down to business. Seriously, every time I vacuum, that little bastard comes around looking like it just finished a sugar scrub at the spa.


If you can’t ignore it, you try to share. Kind of like, “Carry this with me.” Though, I am tempted at times to be like, “Here, you fucking take it!” and then run away. Maybe I’ll name it Nermal and mail it off to Timbuctoo.


But alas…this problem is entirely my own, or I’m told.


Sometimes I’ve carried around issues so that I could be right. Like if I just ponder over it long enough, then I’ll figure it out in a way that solves it AND I’ll be right at the same time. Boy is that satisfying! Whew, like a big steak dinner.


But I’m so over this problem and its absurd logic that I don’t even want to be right. End the whole thing right now. I’ll forfeit. Everyone can just think I’m not right. Let’s make up some plaque or monument saying “Jessica Is Not Right.” Ribbon cutting, kissin’ babies, the whole nine yards. Touchdown dance. You bring the sharpie in your shoes.


I made peace with whether or not I was right. Now it’s just irrelevant to the problem. Right or wrong, this is just what the problem is. So should I abandon it on the doorstep or try to see it through?


The worst thing about this problem is that I am in it alone. The worst thing this problem has done to me is show me that I can’t expect differently. It ties my shoe laces together, laughs at me when I fall and then mocks my optimism about getting back up again and believing in a different outcome at the next step.


My own damn problem wants to be right! God, it’s like when the machines gained self-awareness. I’m going to have to melt my problem in lava? I don’t live in LA, nor do I drive a motorcycle! I am that lady in the institution, continuously explaining myself to non-believers. Same old, same old. No one is listening. Maybe it is really all craziness…


Except the problem with that is that the problem is still here. You can’t explain away what doesn’t, you know…away. You can’t rationalize it to be not important. It would probably be expensive to ship it to Timbuctoo. It weighs a lot. It crushes me.


You know…I don’t want to be right. I don’t need to know the problem will be solved. I just want someone to help me carry it.

Project Trumpification

Please be assured, I have this person's blessing to post this.

School project with partner - to discuss our commonly used self-defense mechanisms regarding a specific, consistent issue in our lives. Be very open-minded and don't be afraid to be vulnerable.

I have several issues with this project. It's a class, not a controlled environment with a licensed professional. Nor am I so sure about exposing my vulnerabilities for a grade. And I think the interpretation of how vulnerable I am in my discussions with my partner is pretty subjective. Who's to say his issues are greater than mine? How can you judge that?

As it turns out, pretty easily.

It's Week 1. We're still getting to know one another. I don't feel like throwing my long-simmering, deep seeded emotional issues out there to Mr. Stranger. So I say that I commonly use displacement and projection as my self-defense mechanisms. I take work stress out on family and friends. Visa versa. Give me an A.

My partner says (and I quote), "I used reaction formation as my self-defense mechanism. I was very vocal about being anti-gay and even joined a hate group because I was so uncomfortable with my own homosexuality."

Week 1.

Well, ok...give that guy an A too.

We have to discuss how we recognized when/if we were using these self-defense mechanisms and what we've done to combat them. He says, "I've learned to love myself, joined a support group and am letting go of the shame." Me? I mumble something like, "Umm...nothing."

I don't have a new lease on life, love thy self, shameless freedom from being a grumpy work bitch response.

He's going to mentor youth struggling with their sexuality. I might bring donuts to my coworkers.

OF COURSE I don't want some similarly painful issue in my life so that I can be a good project partner. At the same time, I've been reduced to simple sentences with him because I don't know how to respond. I want to be supportive. I want an A. In that order.

I'd Like To Take This Moment and Make It REALLY Uncomfortable

Sometimes people say shocking things for the sake of being shocking. And then sometimes, people say shocking things because they just have no sense. Personally, the latter is my favorite. Here's why...

We're chit chatting about the office, the new building, where we used to have departments, etc. Remember this? Remember that? Much more space. Remember the construction workers who hit my car? Eww, that one electrician!

And then someone says...

"Remember when I had sex with that one guy in the unfinished part of X floor?"

You know what............................................no. No, actually don't remember that. Not even a little. Anybody? Nope. No, sorry. We, the group, don't remember that.

"Couple of times. I think maybe even where your office is now."

So we're all looking with our mouths...agape. First of all, gross. Secondly, gross. Seriously, again - gross. And eww dude, sorry about your office. Let's up the ick factor by saying something along the lines of, "Hope you don't get flashes of nakey while trying to work." I'm helpful.

You know what this story is not appropriate for? TELLING. But I'm really glad you're sharing. Who wants to bring something inappropriate next week?