Category Archives: Escapades with AE

One Less Hoe, No New Bitches

Today I was minding my own business just scrolling through my Facebook News Feed….

Then this popped up:

I blame men. The first cuisine a woman chooses, the guy always says no. We know that so we have to start out with a place we don’t want to go, but then argue a little so by the time we get to the 4th or 5th option the guy actually begs us to pick what he thinks is his idea.  Don’t men ever wonder how they started out protesting Outback Steakhouse like this…?

” No wonder Mel Gibson lost his damn Australian mind, that’s what happens when a man pays $15 for a deep fried onion served by a teenager dressed like she’s on Safari. And who’s that other crazy Aussie? The one that thought it was a good idea to marry Miley Cyrus?  That’s called effed up perception and poor decision making skills. This right there is what happens to a man who believes a 45 cent onion dipped in canola oil is worth $15. Nope. No way. Not gonna happen”.

And then end up demanding Ruth’s Chris like this…?

“Listen, I am not going into hypoglycemic shock just because you’re unwilling or unable to appreciate a $40 spear of Asparagus the size of small tree that took probably 3 years to grow, sorry it’s not instant gratification, sorry a blooming onion would have me coming in an emergency bathroom situation like a wrecking ball.  You know what?  I’m so low blood sugar I can’t even argue anymore.  I never meant to start a war, either we’re going to Ruth’s Chris to enjoy prime 30 day aged beef or we’re gonna peacefully sit here and starve like Ghandi.” #Fine

For the record, if I was in a hurry I would have just said to my husband, “Why can’t I eat a deep-fried onion, what are you trying to say? Are you calling me fat? End of discussion. 

A few minutes after I made a comment blaming men for indecisive dining, my friend Carlos bravely stood up against man bashing in the name of husbands everywhere.

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He wrote: “I’m sorry Emily, but we’re going to go all “Facebook political argument” on this topic and I have to defend my fellow brethren husbands.  First, your response just proves that men are more logical and not looking for an emotional debate in something as simple as “What do you want to eat?”  When a question is asked you should respond, and when you respond you should answer honestly. For men in this situation, we answer honestly. For example, if my wife asks. “What color should the curtains be in the guest room?”  And I answer, “I don’t care!” That means I. DON’T. CARE!  I have no interest in coordinating colors for a room so I let her decide.  “I DON’T CARE” doesn’t mean… “I prefer warmer/earthly colors but if she chooses something else I’m going to voice my opinion until she names my choice.” Now, doesn’t that sound ridiculous? Yea, that’s how you women sound. If you want something; say something. It’s simple, it doesn’t have to turn into a guessing game. Or at least say “I don’t care, just not Chinese.” Can a brother get an “Amen” from his bros?!”

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Hell  hath no fury like a woman with a blog. 

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Dear Everybody’s Husband, 

Let me explain something to you all, in a linear, logical, manly way.  I’ll just be completely honest, since it sounds like you’re into that….Sometimes I call my BFF Bex for no other reason than to talk shit about Jane Doe.  Now, if Jane Doe found out I would feel TERRIBLE because I don’t want to hurt her feelings.  All I want to do is state the facts and then bond over a shared view of what those facts do or do not mean.  For example, Jane Doe wore pasties to a pool party. Fact. Our shared opinion? All together now…JANE DOE IS A MOTHA FUGGIN HOE!!!

Another option (besides talking shit) is the passive aggressive statement about “People”.For example: “People who need to wear sunscreen on their areola should probably not be at a kid’s pool party”. The purpose of the passive aggressive status about the very specific “People” is to let Jane Doe know she’s being a hoe…I just don’t want to be the one to inform her.

Instead, I’ll just address the one specific “People”…Those Jane Doe’s trollin with a guilty conscience and invisible tan lines can just draw their own conclusions. I don’t want to tell Jane Doe that she specifically is a “MOTHA FUGGIN HOE” because that would make me a BITCH. I just want Jane to come to the realization by her own damn self so that we can make the world a better place…one less hoe, no new bitches.

Since men are supposedly rational and logical, you can obviously see that the Jane Doe Hoe method sounds familiar…It’s the EXACT same thing as baby wanted 12 lemons, or this popular reoccurring argument…

Wife: I don’t want you to do the dishes because I’ll nag you if you don’t do the dishes. I want you to do the dishes because you want to do the dishes.
Guys Everywhere:But I really just don’t like doing dishes

Geez guys, there’s no reason to get so emotional, no one said you had to like it. Okay so now is the part where I drop some science on you after saying things like mother fuggin hoes and  bitches.  Let’s talk about a few of my heroes…

Hedy Lamar She’s a female pioneer in the field of wireless communication from the 1940’s.  She manipulated radio frequencies at irregular intervals between transmission and reception to form a literally unbreakable code.  This is how secret messages were transmitted without the Nazi’s being able to intercept. A Code no man could make sense of…

Barbara Askins She was a NASA chemist and she  invented a way to use radioactive waves to enhance underexposed photographic negatives.  This made visible the invisible in photos  including getting data from underexposed space images—such as those peering deep into space as well as those highlighting the geology of other bodies in our solar system. Seeing invisible data, #nofilter…

Dr. Grace Murray Hopper She’s was an Ivy League mathematician and the inventor of an entire language for a business computers.  she is also credited with coming up with the word “de-bugging’ ‘and she invented the  first compiler which translates source code into programming language. Invented an brand new language out of Code…

Rachel Zimmerman She’s the inventor of the Blissymbol Printer.  This machine enables non-speaking people to point to symbols which are then translated into language and sent via email. A machine that reads the mind…

What do all of these amazing women, myself, your wife and the hoe and bitch from earlier have in common? The unique skills and ability to make connections and derive meaning from the innocuous or invisible. Women are effing amazing! We use facial expressions, intonation, body language, telepathy, foot stomping, pursed lips…limitless combinations of these actions are what make the word “Fine” mean anything ranging from “I care as much as I would if I had Amnesia” to “Fuck Off”.

If your wife asks you what color you prefer, she’s not asking you if you care or not.  She’s asking you to choose an effing color.  No one has “caring” feelings for a color anyway, who are you Buddy the Elf?  She’s asking because she values your opinion and she is taking your ideas into consideration before she makes a decision that you’ll both have to live with.

If you don’t care about that then be prepared to stand down the next time The Home Run Derby airs at the same time as The Bachelorette.

You’re welk! -AE

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What’s it like to be someone’s mommy?

What’s it like being a mom?

I asked this question at least 100 times before I had my daughter and I got all types of responses (most cliché greeting card definitions of motherhood or daughters bonding). After actually having my baby I realized everyone really sucked at describing it and what it’s like to be her mom has changed as she’s changed! 

In their defense when I asked people what it felt like to become a mom I got a lot of graphic descriptions of labor and so I visualized ordering my phone number of the taco bell menu and giving birth in their ladies’ room. That is actually exactly what labor feels like so I can somewhat sympathize with women who have accidentally birthed a child instead of a poop in a taco bell bathroom, it’s an easy mistake to make if you’re completely oblivious to every other aspect of pregnancy but that’s a topic for another delusional day.  What I really wanted to know is what did it feel like to belong to someone who belongs to you too?   

Yesterday one of our friends’ daughter’s called me “Isla’s Mommy” and it was like the best thing ever to me that she identified me that way.  It was also a bit of a shock that made me feel 100 years old especially when she referred to our home as “Isla’s home”, I’ll pass out if she rings me up to schedule a playdate!  

I believe that I was Isla’s mom before I knew I was pregnant with her and we were chosen for each other and I also felt instantly like a mother the day Isla was born.  In that moment everything switched from a pregnancy where I took care of myself in order to provide for a healthy baby to providing everything for my baby over my own needs.  I also think that I’m becoming a mother every day in new ways and what it means to be a mother and how it feels changes as Isla grows and our relationship changes.  In the beginning it’s very one sided of course, a mother gives everything to care for the child but what’s happened recently is Isla has become aware and interactive, she’s learned her parents’ names and she can understand some things we say and she reciprocates affection.  It’s amazing to hold your first child for the first time but it’s life changing to have your child say mama, reach for you, hug you back, kiss your face and I wish I knew before how awesome it would-be, everyone was holding out on me!

If I were to ask myself today what it’s like to be someone’s mommy I would skip the greeting card bullshiz and try to explain how changed the world is when you see it through your daughter’s eyes but the world also changes through the eyes of any parent to a little girl.  And let me tell you what, it’s freaking terrifying.  So if you’re pregnant or planning on having a baby just be prepared for the most terrifying and euphoric day of your life, every single day, for the rest of your life.  Here’s what it’s REALLY like:

A Taylor Swift Album.  Exactly like that.   If you think a Taylor Swift album is the most emotionally diverse interpretation of true love and hormones ever squeezed into 48 minutes, then try being a mommy.  To simulate the emotional impact motherhood will have on a new mother just pick any Taylor Swift album and listen to it from start to finish.  48 minutes of dramatic continuous and conflicting emotions and extreme mood swings every three minutes is what you will experience the first time you try to get dressed in real clothes after having a baby.  Are you happy, are you sad, are you skinny are you fat, do you love skinny jeans or did you know they were trouble when you walked into the closet?  Another thing you could do is just watch Taylor Swift accept any award, pull one up on YouTube.  This woman is always 100% completely flabbergasted that she won; does she want us to think she thinks she sucks?  Regardless, you will look just like her the first time someone compliments you on your post baby figure.    You’ll screw up your whole face in shock and disbelief like, “WHAT? MEE?  Nooooo…. Me? Really? (Yes you bitch, you in the jeans you had to lie down and zip with a coat hanger, you who can’t bend
your knees, you the girl who would pop a stitch if she popped a squat.) After you study the fake shock acceptance facial expressions of Taylor Swift, watch Jennifer Lawrence at any award show and learn how to bite it publically and remain adorable because there may be some air you find yourself tripping over or other baby crap that is located approximately everywhere and the only thing you’ll be accepting is the defeat to an ass rip.  Be prepared.   

 

Movie Director.  A great way to experience what motherhood feels like is by shadowing a movie director for a day or two, specifically to learn how to imagine and play out different situations, scenes and how to bring the vision to life.   For the most realistic experience, shadow a horror film director who works with lots of blood and dead people especially people who die from like a paper clip cut or choking on a cheerio.  As a mother you will become an expert in envisioning every possible horrific scenario that could happen at any given time in any given setting with any given set of props and supporting cast of characters and you fly through all possibilities in 1-3 seconds before trying to act normal and grocery ship or whatever it is you do. Always refrain from calling 911 in advance just for precaution, you can think it, and speed dial is an option, just don’t do it.

Chilean Miners.  You know those Chilean miners who were stuck in a dark whole underground for weeks on end and couldn’t shower or eat?  Think about how awful it must have been to know that civilization is immediately outside of your reach and you are trapped in a manmade bunker.  This is what it feels like when you first have your child and are afraid to shower pee or leave the room to get a cheese stick because what if she wakes up? What if she breathes and a sound comes out?  What if she learns how to crawl and gets out of here and runs away?  The possibilities are endless, the risk? Not worth it.  Starve, smell funky and pee later, this is life or death.  Wear sunglasses. 

Have you ever played a new game and won the first time you tried? You must have thought something like, wow I must be a natural or something I’m just born to do this!  Being a mother is nothing like that.  Being a new mom is more like playing Candy Crush…you start out flying through levels like WTF is the big deal? This is easy peas unless you’re lazy and don’t pay attention,  then you get cocky and the level gets a little harder, maybe sleeping through the night doesn’t exist in your world.   Level 163 on Candy Crush?  That’s being a mom.  If you have no idea what you’re doing but it’s working so you keep doing it? That’s being a mom.  If you have no idea what you’re doing and it’s not working so you try something else?  That’s being a mom.    Do you think of all the ways your parents messed you up and make the choice to not do any of those things to your child?  That’s being a mom.  Do you change your mind a few minutes later because you realize you’re a mother fugging genius?  Mommying like mother Fugger.

Mom Moments.  Sometimes things happen that just slap you across the face with reality that says, I’m a mom now”, like you just found out in that moment. Getting peed in the face would be an example of something that just validates that special role.  Here are some other examples of events that only happen to mommies….

What would a normal person do if a 4 month old is so engrossed in the TV across the room that she won’t turn her head to look at you?  Probably nothing.  What does a mom do?  Call the pediatrician and schedule an appointment for the next day because you suspect you child has come down with a case of BEING BLIND.  Yup.  Seriously. This really happened. 

If you’re a young new mother, here are some random thoughts that might pop into your head at one time or another.  These phrases are additional validation that you are in fact a first time mommy.  

“I can’t believe I dropped the paci in the airport, oh well…now we have to burn it.”

“I’d love to go to the mall but I read this article about human trafficking and I don’t think I’m in good enough shape yet to fend off a Russian Liam Neeson in  bathroom stall to save by baby’ from being kidnapped.”

“I bought ahead for next season at the clearance sale”

“Those footed one piece things are pajamas; I can’t dress her in that for the daytime.”

“Wegman would be in kindergarten this year…I don’t even know where I’m sending Isla to preschool and I have to think about Wegman should be in kindergarten? If her were human obviously, but still…time is going by too quickly, Isla doesn’t fit in any of her baby clothes anymore, she’s moved on to toddler, she’s crawling and talking… it’s probably time to have another baby” (for the record, Dave telepathically calls me crazy as I type this, I can literally hear him saying “Are you fucking crazy?”…whaevs.

My thoughts on my child’s diet at months 5, 6 and 7 respectively….motherhood changes you.

I’m going to make my own baby food.
I’m only buying organic baby food.
Feed the baby.

Mommy Roller Coasters.  Highs! Lows! A lost shoe! Safety harnesses! OMG Someone’s gonna die! Someone’s screaming, someone’s kid is screaming, a grown man is screaming, the ride to the top is beautiful and you’re enjoying the peaceful view, well ✌️that’s the perfect time to drop your happy ass to the lowest peak without warning and it’ll take all the positive momentum you can muster to get you back to coasting…by then you’ve got whiplash, jacked up hair and streaky mascara running down your face….and that’s always the moment someone will take your picture. (What is it with the timing of that, by the way?  Every picture my husband took of me during the first three months of my daughter’s life makes me look like I’m a windblown homeless person on the verge of death or coma.)

 

As a new mom you’ll be crying one minute and punching things the next and laughing hysterically the minute after that. You will be consumed with the deepest love you’ve ever felt and a constant looming terror like you’ve never experienced but all at the same time.  If you thought you were a moody pm-sing crazy biatch at any point before child birth you can go ahead and just add a level of psychotic and it’s safe to say that’s on a good day.  I am just grateful that Lamaze is taught in pre-parenting classes because although it doesn’t do shit for labor pains, if it helped Dion and Cher survive the Freeway, I think it can help any new mom survive the crazy train in the cul-de-sac.

Seriously, mother to be, you and your husband created a baby and somehow that baby was given it’s very own soul and it has been entrusted it to you to grow, teach and protect.  When was the last time you were in charge of a soul?! Exactly, it’s a big fucking deal and so is being a mommy.  Hee hee Hoooo.

 

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Re: Gigantic Flag Pole – Antique Gang Sign

Hi Ken!

I hope this email finds you well. I apologize in advance for my tone, I’m under duress.

It has come to my attention that a resident of Rachel’s Place has erected a flag pole of significant size in the middle of their front lawn amongst an array of colorful and diverse lawn gnomes resembling decorative rodents and small dogs. Unless the right hand corner lot of Loblolly and Sweetspire happens to be it’s own municipality, township or the location of a Rutherford County elementary school, then there is no logical reason that such a large metal pole would be necessary or aesthetically desirable.

You may be further unimpressed to learn that a 30 foot tall architectural focal point is surpassed in distaste only by the giant Confederate flag billowing in the wind on top of it. The fact that this antique gang sign was erected immediately after a young black family moved in directly across the street elevates the obnoxious decor to a level of provocation that I find intolerable.

Within our HOA documents in Article 8, under Usage Restrictions, numbers 3 and 6 prohibit offensive, noxious activity that may be perceived as a nuisance or annoying to our neighborhood as well as specify no signage shall be permitted for use other that for the purposes of advertising a home for sale. This house is not for sale and I find the flag annoying and the pole a nuisance. I’m withholding judgement regarding the flamboyant ceramic sculptures as a negotiation tactic should we disagree on an acceptable level of tolerance for offensive lawn ornaments.

In the same section number 8 prohibits immoral or otherwise unlawful or unacceptable conduct and several items throughout the HOA agreement specify there are to be no structures erected or modified on any property without written permission and review. If this enormous Southern Cross on a steel stick was in fact not pre-approved for super sized display by a blind architect, then could you please advise as to the earliest possible date it will be removed?

The HOA is in place to protect the value of my home and my ability to enjoy our neighborhood as well as to protect the safety and enjoyment of my family of any family in the neighborhood. I do not find this enjoyable.

Seriously, can you get the guy to take the flag down or should I plan on a half mast observation on Memorial Day?

Please advise.

Sent from my iPhone

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I used to SAAAANGGG and now I *SING*

Things that I Do Now That I’m a Mommy!!
(that would otherwise qualify me for a 5150 psychiatric hold in the state of California)

This might have to be a series…for real.

So this morning I realized that I sing to my child.  This came as a complete surprise to me.  One moment I was talking to my 2 ½ month old baby and then all of the sudden I was having a conversation with myself…in my mind.  For the record if you hear your own voice then it’s called THINKING and you are not crazy…and if you think that’s weird then don’t even bother reading the rest of this.  You’re welk.

(I’m wearing a bath robe with a homeless messy bun on the top of my head and only one slipper.  I’m not sure if it came off or if it was never on in the first place but regardless, I think that visual can accurately depict the state of affairs in my home during a 4 am feeding.)

My thoughts were some variation of the following…
*Begin Scene*

 

“Hmmmmm….uhmm….well, okay this is a little creepy.   Something is happening here…yeaaah, I’m not really sure what is going on but… it appears…at least I think…I’m pretty sure…yep, it’s happening.  I am talking to an infant about a fish.  Full  blown monologue because 4 am is a great time to tell the life story of the little blue fish that rattles.  The thing is…I hear some sort of weird sound as I’m explaining where fish come from.  Caviar is to fishies and omelets are to chickies… I wonder how long I’ve been rhyming.   Yep, definitely just asked a fishy for a kissy.  I hardly even know this guy and here I am making out with him.  That sound though…wtf is wrong with my VOICE?  Baby girl, never kiss a fish unless you wish to get sick, with laryngitis¸ well that can’t be it.   What would Dr. Seuss do?  He would count…I wonder if he’s a real doctor.   Whatever okay so something is definitely happening here… what is the opposite of laryngitis?  I think I have that.  If that was a thing it should be called MilliVanilli-it is.  Alright my baby thinks this is funny and I’m pretty sure I just went up an octave.  If I was a pre-teen boy and got kicked in the nuts this would make sense.  I’m not.  OMG, I seem to have come down with a case of the Mariahs! Definitely just called my child DARLING.  Definitely a case of the Mariah’s.   I’m probably hurting my dog’s ears.  The baby seems to like it…she’s smiling. WOAH. Okay.  I get it…so every time she smiles my voice goes up an octave and gets a tiny bit more shirll.  I can honestly say I have never wondered what it would sound like if a carbon monoxide alarm said, “YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY”!  Now I know.  Seriously, if this is what happens when she smiles….and I’m pretty sure we’re on the cusp of a giggle. I will definitely get mistaken for a little tea pot short full of boiling water.  OMG STOPPPPPP! I didn’t mean to say that out loud…maybe it’s not such a good idea to yell STOP at myself when I sound like a rape whistle.   Whelp…I guess its official.  I am singing to my baby”…

*End Scene*

Okay so I don’t know how long I’ve been doing this and I’m not sure I want to know but I just became aware of it today.  It’s horrendous.  Why couldn’t I be that mom that sounds like Mary Poppins and her spoon full of sugar?  I sound like Mary Pop Drop it Lock it and a spoon full of crack cocaine.  I’m not entirely disappointed because who doesn’t appreciate a Mariah moment?  I really respect a bitch that can incorporate her favorite body wash into a love song.  Her Calgone is my orange tangerine scrub by Softsoap.  It smells amazing.

So I was totally surprised to learn that I sing like a helium addict to my child.  I’ve been singing to my husband for years so I know that occasionally the spirit will move me to song but I didn’t know that the spirit can get me a hit of helium every time my baby smiles! I called a fish a whore in a voice that is 10 octaves above a Soprano and also caught in a wood chipper.  Acoustically my mommy voice is a cross between, “someone lost a limb, now react” and “Golden Retrievers, it’s time for dinner!”  Like, I could do a voice dub for either Alvin, Simon OR Theordore should one of them get a little fresh with a fish and come down with a little manili, know what I’m saying?

As I said before, I sing to my husband all the time…and by sing, I mean I SAAAAANG but only because I’m a pain in the ass and it’s embarrassing to others and funny to me.

Prior to having a child, the extent of my singing was purposeful, rare and would never be appropriate in front of a small child.  I am blessed physically with the ability to manipulate my vocal cords and diaphragm in such a way that produces a deep bass-y bravado that resembles a burp at first but evolves into what it would sound like if a Baptist church choir was evacuating a building that happened to have been set on fire.  On accident, but they were taken by surprise.  It’s a vocal gift from the Lord so I don’t question it.  I mean come on, would Adele run around asking Theresa Caputo or Billy Graham why she was given the gift of song?  No.  She just has an epic hormonal broken heart breakdown with the accompaniment of some porcelain keys and a full orchestra and then moves on.  Who am I to have the audacity to ask Our Heavenly Father why he would choose ME  to have the ability to summon a sound from the depths of my soul that is not necessarily auto-tuned Opera but is also not a sound I’ve ever heard in the natural world.  Some say heavenly, others say demonic.  Potato Poe-tot-toe!

Anyway, so I hope you have a clear depiction of my  REGULAR singing voice.  My non-mommy singing voice.  I make Kim Zolciak look like Celine Dion.  I can’t “sing” necessarily… but I can  SAAAAAAAAAANNNGGG!

It’s completely horrific and there is only one occasion in which I would ever do such a thing.  To annoy my husband for fun.  In pursuant of that goal I have SANNGED in the grocery store, at an NFL football game, at my In-Laws house, at family gatherings and other various non-specific locations.  I just always choose a time and setting that is completely inappropriate.  I’m not saying that there is necessarily EVER an appropriate time to impersonate Ruben Studdard with acid reflux after a root beer chugging contest but I like to be predictably unpredictable.  I like my husband to live in fear of when and where my next performance will strike.

Something else you should know about how I SANG to my hubby is that there are only two songs that I SANG and I only do one verse from each during a given performance.  You never know what you’re going to get.  When I feel moved in my spirit to express myself this is what happens…

EITHER THIS:

MOTOWN PHILLY’S BACK AGAIN. (pause)  NA NA NA NA NA NA DOIN’ A LITTLE EAST COAST SWAAANG

(For this song I like to jiggle my jangle for the “nan a nan a nan a na” part, not like Shakira but just enough to clear up any misunderstandings about whether or not I do squats. )

OR THIS:

IF YOU WANNA BE MY LOVAAAAAAAAAAA, YA GOTTA GET WITH MY FRANNNZZZ

And with this selection I have the capability of sounding EXACTLY like (If you thought I was going to say Ginger Spice you are obviously not paying attention) I sound EXACTLY like a big fat guy with a 5 o’clock shadow who happens to have sleep apnea and he’s in a church choir too but he may or may not be nursing a hang-over from drinking Keystone light in a smoke filled bar during the day.   As you can imagine, it’s LEGIT.

It would be fair to say that my SANGing voice is not exactly cochlear-ly pleasing.  My husband has tried to insinuate that I could potentially make his ears bleed but I’m pretty sure if he can listen to Hatebreed through his Dr Dre Beatz headphones loud enough for me to hear the pain in Jamey Jasta’s voice and THAT doesn’t cause inner ear trauma then there is no way my vocal gift from Jesus would cause damage.  At least nothing permanent.

So that’s it.  That’s what I do.  I belt out a single verse with every ounce of Patti LaBell I can muster and then I pretend like nothing happened.  I *could* be accused of having a rare form of boy band girl group vocal Tourettes’…I mean it *has* been suggested once or a couple of times but make no mistake, I do this shit on purpose.  It’s just one of my things like putting a love note on the coffee maker or sneaking a lovetap on the booty. I refer to these small acts of emotion as “marriage enhancers”.  It’s just a little way to get a little attention.   You have to be careful though, this particular modus horrendous opera operandis happens to be more of a wild card type of move.  It’s the kind of thing you do when you want a little bit of attention but not so much attention that you have to wax.  It’s just a little you know, “HEY LOOK AT ME HUSBAND I’M BEING ANNOYING AS F*CK BUT ONLY FOR 5 SECONDS SO IT’S CUTE!”

I will take this opportunity to warn any newlyweds out there…if any of you are contemplating trying to come down with a touch of the Andrea Boccelli meets Baby Spice, it’s a little offensive.  Once I was at the mall with my husband and my BFF and between floor 1 and 2 I said IF YOU WANNA BE MY LOVAAAAAAA YOU GOTTA GET WITH MY FRANNNNZ.  It’s not like I meant HER but I can see how that could be misinterpreted so she made a really strange face. I would say that the look she gave me was comparable to what I imagine she would have done if I had just licked the banister while riding on the escalator.  Like everything is fine, the stairs are moving, we’re holding hands just in case so we don’t have a near death experience over the ledge like Tai after Cher fixed her from being toe up… and then I sing and my BFF is all like “WOAH WOAH WOAH WTF was that… that was too weird to have an actual conversation about but not weird enough to talk on three way with our other sort of BFF so I’m just gonna give you this look so that you know that I know that you know you’re singing in public  but let’s forget this ever happened and try not to trip on the way off”.   I don’t know what to say.  It’s a burden being a one woman vocal flash mob.  One minute I’m elevating up a mobile staircase and then when the clock strikes WTF thirty…..I perform.  If I’m” being perfectly honest with myself I would have to say that on the offensiveness scale of zero to the time I saw Miley Cyrus’s cervix on MTV….my SANG-ing is a solid studded nipple wardrobe malfunction.

So there you have it. I’ve been a barratone of love for the past five years and then I wake up one day and I’m suddenly Charlotte Church in a wind tunnel.

Until next time….You’re welk!

WTF #Staples, I thought this was supposed to be EASY? #Lies

Today I found myself needing to fax a signed contract.  Typically, this would be no big deal.  I would simply turn 45 degrees to my right in my office, put the pages in the machine, type my email address and 5 seconds later I would have a PDF attachment in my email that I could send it anywhere my little heart desires.  Unfortunately, I am on maternity leave and do not have access to my office.  So, I had to find an alternative.  Turns out Staples offers business services including the ability to fax.  Their motto is the “EASY” button, right? So, I packed up my newborn baby and high tailed it over to the nearest Staples to do exactly what I would normally do from my office…email a signed document to myself (and then forward it to its final destination).  Some variation of the following is what happened when I got there…

*Begin Scene*

Me: Hi, I have some documents I need to fax to email please.

Cashier: Oh, sure! We would love to help you.  Silvia over at the scan & copy station can help you with that, have a great day!

Me: Thanks! (I walked over to fax & scan station to find Silvia)

Me: Hi, Silvia.  I need to fax some documents to an email address, can you help me with that?

Silvia: No, we do not do faxing to an email…

Me: Okay…what do to you do as far as faxing? I have a contract I need to send out today.

Silvia: Well, we can send a fax to a fax machine. (Points to an antique grey thing with a dial pad and a phone receiver with a curly cord like Sue Ellen Crandall used in Don’t Tell Mom the Baby Sitter’s Dead, “I’m right on top of that Rose!”…wow, how vintage.  

Me: Okay, I guess I could do that…and the fax will just print it out in the office I’m sending it to and I suppose the recipient could then re-scan it and email it back to me so I also have an electronic copy for myself…uhm, do I just pay you when I’m done, or…?

 Silvia: Yes, it’s $2.00 for the first page and $1.50 for every page after that for long-distance and you pay after you receive a confirmation print out that the fax was sent.

Me: Ok, well it’s not long distance I just have to fax it to Tennessee (Where does she think I’m sending this? China?)

Silvia: Tennessee *IS* long distance, if you’re not faxing within the Charlotte metro area, it’s considered long distance….

Me: Well why would someone drive to Staples just to send a fax in Charlotte? Wouldn’t it be easier to just drive the document to its destination if it’s local?

Silvia: *BLINK…*BLINK.*

Me: Okay…uhmm…well, I have 60 pages here…so, it’s going to cost $90.50 to send these documents via fax…uhm….via wireline fax?

Silvia: Well, no, it would be $90.50 plus tax so actually that comes to $97.06. 

Me:  (Laughing) Wow, okay…and you offer no other more cost-effective way to do this?

Silvia: Well, I guess I could scan the documents for you into this computer here and then you could email them?

Me: *phew* YES! Yes, exactly! That’ll work! Let’s do that. (Why didn’t she say that in the FIRST place?)

Silvia: Okay, it’ll be 25 cents per page for me to scan these for you onto my computer here and then you can go rent a computer over there for 45 cents a minute and send yourself the email. Do you have a rewards card?

Me: …What?

Silvia: A rewards card…it’s…

Me: No, wait…what USB card?

Silvia: It costs 25 cents for me to scan the documents for you here and I will put them on my USB drive (holds up USB on a lanyard around her neck) and then you have to go over there to use the computer…you can rent the computer…it’s $0.45 per minute…

Me: Wait, okay…so you want to put my private documents onto YOUR USB drive…with one computer and then send me to a different computer to upload the file and send it via email? That doesn’t sound very efficient or secure. 

Silvia: Well, I will delete the document from the USB when you are done.

Me: Do I get confirmation of that?

Silvia: No¸ but it’s my policy and I will delete it.

Me: Wow, okay well I guess paying you $15 to put my documents on a USB card is better than paying almost $100 to use that relic over there…

*END SCENE*

…..This is ridiculous but whatever I NEEDED to get these documents sent and I didn’t have any more time to waste so I decided to pay the $15 for Silvia’s expert scanning services and then head on over to the pay-per-minute-PC.  I fired it up, gave it my credit card and logged on to icloud.com to access my email and to my *shock* I got an error message that said, “This browser is outdated”…you would think that at $0.45 cents per MINUTE these bitches could keep their shit up to date but then again my other option is a fax machine straight out of Dr.Huxtable’s home office.  The clock is ticking (literally…there’s a little clock ticking away up in the cents it’s charging me) so I shout out to Silvia just to make sure, “How much per minute to send a telegraph?”…and she ACTUALLY says, “We don’t offer those services here”.  How surprising.  I used my Gmail account instead of iCloud and $6.00 later was able to attach my document.  When I went to the removable drive to retrieve it, what did I find?  About 15 other attachments from previous customers stored to the USB drive that my confidential document was ALSO stored on.  WTF Silvia, I thought you said you deleted personal shit post use?  Obv not.  Clearly protecting customer information is not a concern around here.  I sent my document and then accessed the USB drive again and deleted my document permanently.  I contemplated deleting all the other customer files that were saved but instead decided to just let Silvia know that they were there…

Me: Silvia, just so you know there are other customer files still saved to this USB.  Honestly I could have sent them anywhere…or read them…or used Mr.Wilson’s W2 that you have stored on here and stolen his identity…

Silvia: (Smiles smugly)

Me: You might want to delete them per your personal privacy policy?

Silvia: *Blink*…*Blink*

…….Okay, WTF?  I just spent over $21 to send a FAX in the most inefficient way possible that not only compromises my security but also that of at least 15 prior customers. To illustrate just how ABSOLUTELY MOTHER EFFING RIDICULOUS this is, I would like to share several alternatives that I thought up during the 10 minute road rage drive back to my house (I was a passenger but I bitched a brain storm while my husband drove). 

10 ways to send a signed document in either a more cost-effective, time efficient or secure manner that Staples “Business Services” offered me today. Staples, you’re welk.

  1. You know those three big huge copy machines Staples has in their store for customers to use?  Those have the function to scan and email a document.  It’s that easy.  Hook them up to the internet just like your out of date PCs.  Charge me per minute if you want…it takes like 1…ONE MINUTE.  The machine does not save or store the information thus not inadvertently compromising my security by giving customers and employees access to my personal documents
  2. I could have BOUGHT a printer/copier/fax machine FROM Staples for around $80 and sent the documents myself from my home…or ordered it from Amazon for $20 less with free shipping thus eliminating the entire need to use Staples service center or retail store (as if the terrible experience wasn’t enough to never return, ever)
  3. I could have driven to Nashville in a fuel efficient vehicle and signed the documents in person and spent less money in gas than Staples wanted to charge me to send a friggen fax
  4. I could probably find a plane ticket and fly there for less than Staples wanted to charge me to send a friggen fax
  5. I could have hired a COURIER service to deliver the documents for less than Staples wanted to charge me to send a friggen fax
  6. I could have bought an e-signature software application and signed the documents electronically and sent them via email for less than Staples wanted to charge me to send a MOTHER EFFING FAX
  7. I could have taken a photo of each signed document individually and saved them all to my iPhone and then attached them to an email and sent them to myself one by one (time-consuming, but FREE)
  8. I could have taken a picture of my signature and used an app on my phone to paste it to each document and then saved & emailed the signed contract
  9. I could have unlocked the original PDF contract and inserted a signature to sign the document and then locked it back up and emailed it as a PDF
  10. I could have emailed a letter of power of attorney to a friend in Nashville and had THEM sign the documents in person!

I realize only AFTER seeing red in Staples how many alternatives there are to having to ever step foot in that store again.  Pardon me for thinking it would be easier than all of the above to just pop over to Staples and scan and email a document to myself.   

“Easy”, my ass.

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Happy Halloween! Scarier than a mythological taco bell birth, boo bitches!

Halloween is a time of year where people get a kick out of scaring the ever-living shit out of loved ones and strangers alike.  Some women use this as an opportunity to dress like a slutty something or other but looking like a walking herpes infestation is super scary in itself so I’d say they’re on trend.  Other people get all gory and bloody and scream to startle, etc.   When it came time to think up the scariest thing EVER for a Halloween costume, what comes to mind?  Sally Mae.  What’s on deck for seconds? GIVING FREAKING BIRTH. So, I went with that…here’s what happened…

I haven’t really taken the time to explain my birth story to many people because first of all, no one cares and secondly, it wasn’t that interesting.  I didn’t give birth on an airplane or the side of the road, the whole thing was pretty text-book like the rest of my pregnancy.  In fact, I would have probably written more blogs during my pregnancy if lots of weird shit happened but it didn’t.  I just spent 9 months gaining weight and organizing things.  It was a snooze fest (literally).

Anyway, although my birth story was boring, there are still some critical plot points that are crucial to you understanding the Halloween costume I devised so here’s what’s important…. I was in labor…WITHOUT DRUGS…for 36 mother effing hours. That’s right friends, a day and a half of freaking the eff out every 5-8 minutes in agony.  It was a great time for my husband I have to say, he was right next to me the entire time.  Poor guy.  If you’ve never given birth, a contraction means little to nothing to you.  You can’t really fully appreciate what it feels like. 

I also heard and read that after labor you get a case of the good old college blackout where you remember nothing from last night except the happy parts and you forget all the pain and humiliation and you can’t remember if you shit or peed somewhere weird or if you showed anyone your vajajay.  I can tell you that is absolutely 100% true.  That’s exactly what it’s like the day after having a baby.  I cannot for the life of me remember the pain of labor or much of what was going on below my waist after the baby came out.  Since I knew this amnesia was going to happen,  I prepared in advance.  I didn’t want to be tricked into doing that shit again without proper knowledge of what I was getting myself into so I made SURE to describe in great detail what labor actually felt like, while it was happening, so I could remind myself later in case my baby needed to be an only child. The good news is, it’s not THAT bad…and I will probably have another 3-4 babies in the future.  The even better news is, I wrote down all the gory Halloween details of what it feels like in my daughter’s baby book.   I might need to use this as leverage one day when she’s a teenager and I will have this memory FOREVERRRRRRR.  Also, *bonus* I can share it with you all right now!

Here’s what I wrote:

Question:
What does a contraction feel like?

Answer:
A contraction feels like you’re drunk and ordered your phone number off the Taco Bell drive thru menu, ate it all in under 10 minutes giving yourself a case of severe beer shits bubble guts and THEN someone smacked you in the back with Thor’s hammer.

True Story.
During the actual contraction I imagined giving birth to a baby Taco that was just weed whacking the shit out of my spine and internal organs with a mythological sledge-hammer.  I described this to my husband and this was yet again one of the many times during our marriage where he’s asked me if I have been smoking crack. You’d think after 5 years together you’d really know a person but nope, he has to ask…”Are you on crack?” For the record, the answer is no.  I’m on caffeine and very little sleep.  Anyway…
So that’s what labor feels like. 

Fast forward a month and I’m picking out my child’s Halloween costume using the craft catalog otherwise known as Pinterest.  Most costumes for infants are cuddly and snuggly because babies this little don’t really move much and you need a costume that can be incorporated into their most often catatonic state.  One costume caught my eye…a subway sub.  I thought this was hilarious. You basically cut a bunch of felt to look like veggies, somehow you affix this to the infant and then you wrap it up in a Subway wrapper like a swaddle. Genius!  And this is what my ADD mind did when I saw this…

“OMG so CUTE! A baby subway sandwich! Wrapped like a burrito!  A BABY burrito! That reminds me of the time my baby was a taco beating the shit out of my uterus…OMG HOW FUNNY WOULD IT BE IF SHE WAS DRESSED LIKE A TACO ! HHHAHAHAHAHHHAHA…wait, not just a taco…I will dress her up as a CONTRACTION! Where can I buy Thor’s hammer? I wonder if that’s on Amazon…”

And that is how this costume was BORN.

All I needed to do was make a life size taco for my baby to wear and when I Googled “Taco Bell taco” for pinspiration, this image that came up was a taco served in a Dorito’s bag. 

Done, I can make that and just put my baby inside of it…but if she’s laying in a taco, she’s obviously the ground beef.  Hmmm….how do I make my baby look like ground beef you say?  

 

GroundBeefBaby

Boom.  Leopard Print.

Now for the accessories…we need a Taco Bell sign and a hammer.  I made the sign out of construction paper because that’s easy but I did have to order the mythological hammer…check it out:

Props

That sign was done free hand, someone give me a high five for accuracy!

 

So in case you haven’t figured it out, what is my daughter dressed as this Halloween? 
A CONTRACTION!!

 

TacoBell Baby 2

At this time I would like to state that I am not and nor have I ever been on crack. I simply find it hysterical to dress my child as I imagined her on the day of her birth for Halloween. Because for one thing, nothing is scarier and I think she’s cute as a weapon wielding Mexican snack.

Nom Nom!

You’re welk!

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Uh Uh,I work out.

Who do I hate more than people who brag about running at 5 am? People who bitch about other people going to “their gym” the first week of the New Year.

1. Just bc you read Men’s Fitness on a stationary bike for 30 mins 3x a week does not make it “your gym”.

2. Maybe if someone gave you some encouragement instead of being rude when you first started working out, you’d actually
look like you work out. You just look like you sit on your ass and read Men’s Fitness on a stationary bike for 30 mins 3x a week.
3.The only reason the typical New Year’s resolution lasts 2-3 weeks is because no one wants to come back to a place where there’s likely to be a judgemental asshole *wait for it* reading men’s fitness on a stationary bike for 30 mins 3x a week.

If you don’t like it, buy a kettlebell and go home…actually, run home. Let’s see that Nike+ app!

 
You’re welk.
 
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Football Catchphrase

“This is JUST like the cowboys vs. the indians!
OMG they should play each other on Thanksgiving day!”
Yours Truly

Yes. I said that.  The Cowboys are my brother’s team and they’re playing the Redskins and that is what I said.  No one knows anything until they find out so now I know that as fate would have it they do play on Thanksgiving…every year.  This kinda feels like the time I didn’t know what WOP meant until after I wopped all over the nation’s capital.  My brother called me an idiot and told me to “fucking pay attention”…uhm, that’s my specialty asshole.  I have observed the whole first half of this football game and I’ve been paying attention.  I’ve noted 5 phrases that I’ve paid attention to…that make no effing sense what so ever.  You’re welk.

1. Are you shitting me right now? 

What? If someone was shitting me, I would effing know it I can tell you that much.  If I was being forcefully expelled from someone’s ass…I think a better question might be “why are you shitting me right now? Or…when will the shrooms wear off?  This is not an approporiate question to just scream at the TV because Tony Romo didn’t do something you telepathically told him to do.

2. WE are winning/losing/sucking/….insert any verb here.

Who is we? There are like 85 guys on the football team and you are not one of them.  Stop using inclusive plural pronouns to refer to the team you’re rooting for.  It makes you sound psychotic. 

3. Go fuck yourself!

Really?  That’s what you say when you’re mad at someone?  You want them to go pleasure themselves. Immediately?  That is fun.  Do you know what happens when guys figure out how to go fuck themselves?  They stay in their room from like 2nd grade until they leave for college.

4. You’re so fucking gay, fucking HOLD HIM! HOLD HIM!

If he was gay, he’d hold him willingly.  He also wouldn’t be married to a Victoria’s Secret model or sopranos actress.  By the way, are you married to a supermodel? Pop star? Actress? Socialite? No? Single? Living at home? Further proof that you are not on the team.

5. FUN BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nothing about this looks fun.  I don’t like to be rushed, ambushed, sacked, pummeled, chased, trampled by 350 lb. black guys or yelled at by old men.  I’ve learned that it’s actually “fumble” but I don’t care.  My point remains.

* Bonus #6: What the fuck just happened?

Just kidding, this is a legit statement.

Do not bring me to a dept. store

My girlfriends and I are going to NYC for Elana’s 30th Bday right before Christmas.  We thought it would be cute to get a group photo of us sexually harassing visiting Santa Claus at Macy’s.  After careful thought and consideration I’ve decided that it’s best I just sit this one out.  I thought I would just write a quick note explaining exactly why it is that no one, especially my best friends who love me, should ever bring me to a department store unless I have something very specific to get and I’m already late for something important…like my own parole hearing or something that is like super urgent.  Otherwise, nothing good will come of such an excursion.  Below is the letter….you’re welk.

BFF Bitches,

You might walk through the front door of Macy’s, gangbag get a pic with Santa and be out and that’s fine but I am going to need specialized handicapped accommodations if you guys think I’m coming to this photo op.  If not, I will be faced with the impossible physical challenge called “that bitch has ADD”.  As a courtesy and precaution, I thought I would give you a little preview of what I can only assume would be a typical one sided conversation that at least one of you and probably a security guard would experience should you actually decide to bring me perusing through the Macy’s on 34th street in NYC.  You’re welk.  You bitches have been warned.  

 (Approximately 4 seconds after stepping foot inside Macy’s)

OMG Yummyyyyyyyy! Okay, I’ll meet you guys at the Santa line in a few minutes, I’m going to go sample 63 designer perfume sprays whilst politely declining whatever the tiny cardboard free things those women give away because WHAAAAAAT!  The Martha Stewart home baking collection has all utensils on sale?!  Are Jessica Simpson holiday collection shoes in stock here? I love babies.  Don’t you just love babies? I just want to get a couple of tutus just in case because I have a coupon and it’s one day only with 15% off semi-precious stones.  The tutus are soooooooo precious, especially the ones with the rhinestones.  Well, maybe I’ll also get one with the glitter, that’s semi-precious and jewelry-ish.  Is there a manager here? Who can I talk to about this?  Plus what about costume jewelry?!  Do you think a card of 80 earrings in every diameter would qualify as a precious stone?! Is a pearl a stone?  Who is in charge of determining what is and is not precious?  You know what, nevermind.   I’m sweating.  I think instead I’ll just pick  some new underwear for my husband and the tube socks and undershirts match so I need the whole set.  Did you know that Coach sells computer accessories? Is that an iPad case or steno book holder?  Not everyone likes technology but everyone loves Kate Spade ballerina flats and I can keep my wallet organized in case I need something in a hurry.  That Lennox pattern looks exactly like a basket weave. I  hope they make a designer basket case. I think I need one because the iPad case was the last one in stock.  That sign says 75% off 7 jeans.  What’s 75% off  of 7? Like 2?   What if all size 2 jeans could be on sale!!  That’s such a good deal and if I have a daughter some day she could wear them to 1st grade as vintage.   It’s like I used a back to the future coupon but more extreme than all those free canned and boxed groceries on TLC.  How many K cups can I fit in those cute lazy susans?   I need to display the whole box so are their two holders because otherwise I would have half still in the box.  What’s the point if half are on the counter out of the box?  Have you seen what Smashbox does that with their weird packaging which is really just plain cardboard trying to be cute.  It’s like homeless makeup.  I like candy canes when it’s cold outside.  Do you think there is a huge shelf here for the elves here at the Santa station?  Because kids will probably notice that their elf is so much shorter than Santa’s real elves.  I hate elf ears but I wish that elf at the door had her ears pierced she looks like she’s about to get scrappy.  If she took out her hoops I’d know shit was about to get real.  Isn’t that santa suit so formal?  Loves it.  It’s is like a three piece formal sweat suit with fur accents. I love Pink.  If Santa had Pinterest I could just tell him to check out my board instead of sitting on his lap because I think I’m too old for that.  Are these for sale?  These small candies?  Why are they by the register like they’re complimentary if they’re really $1.99? Ferarra Roche tastes just like miniature puffs of melted chocolate that accidentally fell in some gravel but still tastes good. Didn’t you love the vanilla and citrus notes from the third spritz on the way in?  I think it’s 3.5 oz.   By the way did you see that cardboard cutout?  Justin Beiber is not really that tall.  Speaking of Justins, Jessica Biel wore a pink wedding dress and all of the other girls wore neutral.  Bitch.  Does she have her own perfume?    Anyway, as I was saying, I need the Michael Kors watch and these earrings would look so cute on that Elf, remember the one with the weird ears?  It’s the season of giving peace and putting your hoops in like a professional seasonal employee.  Is there wi-fi here? I need to check my email before it rains so let’s go to Tiffany’s.  I think it’s time for breakfast.   I love the smell of coffee.   

(4 seconds after leaving Macy’s)

What did I come here for again? Shit..where’s the Santa?

……….I rest me case.

With Love & Holiday Cheer,

AE

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The token “intellectual feminist feature”, wtf?

Vogue. Fall. Wtf?

Women buy the September issue of Vogue magazine because they want to read a 400 page memo from Anna Wintour reporting what body image issues are on trend for fall seasonal depression.   Women look forward to the experience of digesting 395 pages of celebrity-inspired emotional abuse.  After a cover to cover marathon of self-indulgent self-esteem, the average American woman realizes they have more issues than the Vogue archives.  The only semi-intellectual, semi-controversial international scandal Vogue readers are interested in reading about is the heel and hem in Paris versus the neckline and accessories in Milan.  The September Vogue is an escape from the summer cork wedged sandal and a transformative out of body experience through the deep into the throes of exotic textiles of tomorrow’s trend.

The highlight of the September 2012 Vogue issue is different for every woman depending on her personal style and body type. For me I found no greater joy then upon learning that the fall 2012 “body part exposed during the daytime normally for whores only that is suddenly mainstream” is officially no longer the crop top.  Instead, the vintage style called “growing out my sun-in hair mistake” came back rebranded as “ombre” in the “whore-hair ready to wear” fall collection.  It was euphoric to realize that every single “Rachel Zoe crochet headpiece” is now back to being called “disgusting raggity ass beanie”…so major. 

With no warning except stabbing pain, I found myself emotionally stepping on a thumb tack reading that latest must have in designer footwear is “men’s style boot, distressed leather via trash compactor method” and it’s nicknamed “The Miley Cyrus pitch-a-fit-stomp-stomp-white-trash-eco-friendly BOOTIE”, obviously these boots are on backorder until the next occupy eviction but to complete the look you HAVE to have the Gucci couture argyle socks which are priced just a tad above budget at $17,000.

While in the final pages of Anna Wintor’s magnum-miranda-opus-priestly I realize I’m halfway through an international investigation into the war crimes against Somalian women…wait, what? Wtf?  What runway were these bitches on? She’s not even wearing argyle socks. *BAM* The bitch slap heard round the world.

Why the eff are there intellectual articles about women’s rights in a fashion magazine?  This is reverse sexism.  Can’t a bitch read a magazine to find out what’s we hate about each other without having to actually read words or feel compassionate toward one another?

Anna, get serious.  You’re welk.

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