To be a Nerd, or not to be a Nerd, that is the question.

Last night over our splendid roast dinner, Marley and I were discussing the notion of my being a nerd.

I was at band practise on Tuesday night when I whipped out the book that I’ve been reading from my handbag.

The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson

This monstrosity is 400,000 words long and is over 1000 pages thick. So out comes the doorstop sized literary behemoth and several startled gasps come from the row behind me. I turn around and see Bullfrog (yes, I have a friend that I call Bullfrog) staring at me like I’d just sprouted a tuft of orange troll hair. She continues to look at me for a second and then blurts out, “Oh My God!! You’re a Nerd!!!”, like it was something that had never, until then, entered into her wildest imaginings.

Now this is not an occurrence that is completely new to me. With the occasional exception of Mumsy, the rest of my family are generally unread, uncivilised, uncultured buffoons who I love dearly. Sister Dear’s husband and I, who are still locked in epic battle for supremacy, have reached something of an understanding on this particular topic. He thinks I’m a freak of nature who needs to get a life that doesn’t exist inside the pages of a novel, and I think he is a jock with little between his ears but pudding and who couldn’t appreciate creative genius if it hit him over the head with a world atlas. I also believe that he is a closet nerd himself. Anyone who has heard him talking to another member of the ‘alliance’ about Knighthood would totally know what I’m talking about.

According to Wikipedia, Nerd is a term often bearing a derogatory connotation or stereotype, that refers to a person who passionately pursues intellectual activities, esoteric knowledge, or other obscure interests that are age-inappropriate rather than engaging in more social or popular activities. I think this is a pretty accurate description of the intellectual bad asses of our generation.

 

Stereotypical nerd of the female variety

 

 

Now the purpose of this post is not to argue my nerdness. I have come to terms with my secret inner nerd. I have embraced my inner nerd. Heck I’ve even named her. My gripe is not with that. I am just unsure as to why people are so struck when they realise this. Maybe I don’t look like a nerd…

 

ok bad example

ooh... tassels

 

Ok maybe I do look like a nerd, so why is it always a shock to people to discover that I have a dark nerdy side?

WHY?!?!?!

Oh… in other news, I need to dress up as someone from another country tomorrow night (procrastination strikes again) and I need ideas… anyone??

 

Laugh Kookaburra Laugh

I stayed at Mumsy’s house last night, which is always an adventure in itself. Last night I had music practice which is just around the corner from where I used to live with Sister Dear. Since Sister Dear decided to relocate to the beach, I have lost my place to crash and my guaranteed breakfast the next morning. Mumsy, who providentially lives just around the corner from Sister Dear’s old house, has offered me the use of her pull out sofa bed for whenever I have need.

Given how smashingly Mumsy and I get on, you would be surprised to find out that this arrangement, while handy, is rather lacking in certain desirable features.

The Pantry at Chattel de la Mumsy is a sad excuse for a celestial larder. Mumsy is convinced that she is lactose intolerant, and gluten intolerant which means her victual stores look a whole lot like some sick and twisted health food shop wherein people force feed you lentils, polenta and freaky things floating in  purple coloured goop. After numerous raids into the depths of her freezer I finally returned with a packet of frozen veggies and some meat I hope came from a cow. Huzzah!

Secondly, Conversation isn’t exactly one of my strong points. I can Facebook chat with the best of them and MSN until the cows come home. However the bitter truth of the matter is that I prefer my own company and with the exception of a few people, I find it a tad onerous to carry on a fully fledged conversation for any length of time. Sister Dear and I had a fabulous arrangement. If we wanted to spend some quality time together, we would put on a movie and watch it together. We talked if we wanted to and when we didn’t want to, we didn’t. Mumsy does not understand this. In a bid to force us into conversation she sold the television so we have no choice but to sit there and exchange niceties about the weather. Gah

Thirdly, I am all for getting out of bed nice and early but Mumsy is taking early bird to a whole new level. I was camping out on her couch, blissfully unaware that anything existed outside of the land of sweet dreams and cotton candy. I was in that limbo, post sleep / pre wake place where you’re sort of aware of what’s going on but still semi sleeping, when into the living room shuffles Mumsy in her noisy slippers. I squidge open one eye and look at my watch. 4:30am?! I close my eye hoping Mumsy will see her sleeping daughter and, having pity on her, will shuffle right back into her room, shut the door and stay there until a more reasonable hour. No. The shuffling continues into the bathroom, followed by the sounds of showering.

By this time I have the blanket pulled up over my head and am trying to burrow my way into the couch. Devil Birds who live in a cage on the patio wake up and start squawking away. Mumsy emerges from the bathroom and shuffles into the kitchen where she turns on the noisiest kettle in the history of kitchen appliances. Cups rattle, every piece of cutlery is emptied onto the bench, tossed around the room and then one spoon is selected to clatter against the side of the mug a few times. The patio door is opened and Devil Birds are let out, the door closes and Mumsy shuffles back in. By this time I am wide awake and glaring at a spot on the ceiling waiting for Mumsy to come around the corner before I let lose the full force of my crippling gaze.

“Morning Sweetie”, she says all cheerily
*Growl*
“Did you sleep well?”
*Another Growl*
“Would you like some breakfast?”

At this point I sit up, hair looking like I’ve stabbed a paper clip into the power socket and pillow imprints all over my face and say rather forcefully, “It’s not even 5 o’clock in the morning! I should be sleeping! And for the love of God could you please shuffle softly!”
*Stunned Silence* From Mumsy

After this I flop back down onto the couch and pull the blankets up over my head. I peak out and see Mumsy trying her hardest to shuffle quietly back into her bedroom, tea in hand.

Last but not least we come to Little Brother. The greasy haired cretin inhabits the back bedroom. Seeing as Monday night was his Formal and after formal party, I suspect that the boy was suffering from something akin to a hangover. *Rubs hands together gleefully*
Mumsy shuffled into his bedroom at 6am and calls out all sweet like that the time has come for him to get out of bed. There is nothing but silence and boy smell coming from the depths of his bedroom. Since I had been awake since 4:30am and was in something of an unpleasant mood I took it upon myself to extract said person from his bed. Anyone who hasn’t tried getting a seventeen year old boy out of bed when he is inclined to sleep until noon has no idea of the epic effort that this was.

On a brighter note, I was walking across the car park toward the office this morning when I saw a Kookaburra sitting on a lamp post teaching its baby how to laugh. It kind of made my morning.

Another one bites the dust

And so we come as we inevitably must to Little Brother’s graduation. Last night, Little Big Sister, Big Brother, Mumsy and I all got our formal freak on and journeyed down to the Gold Coast to watch the kick off of our youngest’s Grade 12 Formal.

Observation 1:
Invitations should not say hors d’oeuvre will be available if there are no hors d’oeuvre to be had. I did my hair and makeup, squished myself into a dress and heels and braved the throngs of glittered seventeen year olds under the impression that I would at least be treated to sub par finger food, and all that was to be had was orange juice with too many pips, apple juice, lemonade and Pepsi. Who even drinks Pepsi anymore?

Observation 2:
High Heels should not be worn if the wearer is unable to walk in them. During the 45 minutes I was there, I witnessed no less than 5 girls who were teetering about precariously in fickle footwear while negotiation the perils of hooped skirts in the confined of a cluttered dining hall. I had to restrain manic laughter every time I saw a girl grab at the nearest chair back/passer-by in an effort to remain upright when her shoes upset her motor skills.

Observation 3:
I don’t care how much Hollywood Tape you’re using. Dresses need more than an Iron Will to stay in place.  To the girl in the silver strap-less dress with the train that stretches a meter behind you. Someone is going to step on your dress and when that happens, I sincerely hope your dress stays where you put it.

Observation 4:
Teenage boys are hilarious. I was standing in line with Little Brother and various family members waiting for our photo to be taken and overheard the boys talking about their suits and exclaiming over the awesomeness of the inside pocket. Obviously for most of these young men, this was their first encounter with ‘The Suit’ and despite their best efforts to appear all nonchalant and sophisticated, they all looked rather a lot like kids playing with their cool new toy.

Observation 5:
Elevators are potential death traps. For some reason unknown to me, this particular formal committee felt the need to have their formal at the top of an 80 story hotel. Which meant that my family and I, along with 5 or 6 other formal going strangers, were stuck in a small box, hurtling up and down an elevator shaft at speeds previously not experienced in elevators during my lifetime. I’ve never been one to be afraid of heights, but it turns out that this particular elevator gives me the heebie jeebies something fierce.

Observation 6:
Strangeness runs in my family. I have realised that I am not the only odd ball in my gene pool.

Behold... Little Brother

Little Brother it appears either has some sort of repressed fetish for Kermit the Frog or he wanted to look like a Leprechaun on Acid. He pulled it off splendidly and turned more than a few heads. No-one even seemed to care that with the exception of one abominable dress, he had the brightest outfit there.

Friday is his official graduation ceremony *I am not crying… I have something in my eye* and then he’s initiated into the real world. He is going to be in for the shock of his life.

Lest We Forget

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them. Lest we forget.

How’s that for Spontaneity?

I am caught somewhere between euphoria and blind panic. Once again Clare has jumped out of the frying pan and straight into the fire. Lets just hope that this time I don’t get burnt.

I resigned yesterday. After working for this company for 28 months, I came back from my lunch break, took a look at my desk and decided that I didn’t want to sit there anymore. So I wrote my resignation letter, sent it to the business owner and went about my business.

I’m a planner by nature. I make lists, I consult these lists. I write out more lists of pros and cons and then ask everyone else what they think I should do. After that I call both my mothers asking them what they would do in my position and then I will make a decision, sweat about it for a month before following through.

Only once in my life have I made a life changing decision on the spur of the moment. June last year, I printed out 4 different hair styles, got the girls in the office to vote on their favorite and ended up with hair like this

oh yes... a bob with bangs...

which was fine until everyone I saw told me that they just mistook me for my mother. I look back on it as a life lesson, and it will live on forever as one of those crazy things I did in my youth. I will store it away with my other life lessons and bring it out only when I need to prove to my children that I was young and reckless once too.

This time thought I decided to take my life into my own hands and do something that I want to do, based solely on the fact that I really want to do it. I’m not going to be a receptionist for the rest of my life. I have no idea what exactly the rest of my life is going to look like, but sitting behind a desk being at the beck and call of every man and his dog is definitely not it.

So my genius plan for the future? Your guess is as good as mine. Something fabulous will come up and I will love it. I will wake up and want to go to work for once. Wouldn’t that be nice?

 

IDEAS!!! I NEED IDEAS!!!!

Righto Dear Readers, I am in need of your brains. I’ve been taking The Idiot’s advice and have gotten this procrastination thing down to an art form; which has left me in a bit of a pickle. This Thursday I have the corporate Christmas Party/Awards night and the theme for the evening is ‘H’. I need to come up with a fabulous costume idea before then and I am fresh out. I know that you’re all rather cleverish and would love your ideas:)

Curse on Book Theives

For him that Stealeth a Book from this Library, Let it change into a Serpent in his hand & rend him. Let him be struck with Palsy, & all his Members blasted. Let him languish in Pain crying aloud for Mercy, Let there be no Surcease to his Agony till he sink to Dissolution. Let Bookworms gnaw his Entrails in token of the Worm that dieth not, When at last he goeth to his final Punishment, Let the flames of hell consume him for ever & aye.

While I was reading this, my mind wandered downstairs to the bookshelf that currently has sitting on it a book belonging to a friend from work… Mayhaps I should ‘finish’ reading it and give it back…

So… you think you know Clare

After seeing this done over at The Idiot Speaketh I decided to Sally Forth with my own list to end all lists. Here goes nothing.

1. I was born in the Brisbane Mater Hospital on the 30th of July 1990
2. Mumsy forgot which day I was born on so I didn’t get an 8th birthday
3. My name was originally Melissa Joan but Mumsy didn’t like it so changed it when I was a few weeks old
4. Mumsy told me that she doesn’t remember giving birth to me. Her first memory is lying me on a pillow at home, and remarking on how dark I was. (Gee, I feel real special right now)
5. My older sister and I once dug a hole in the bush, covered it with tin and banana leaves and slept in it one night
6. I used to be able to write out my 2 – 12 times tables in under 2 minutes because I was given detention for not doing my homework so many times
7. I broke my wrist once because I was fighting over a banana

8. In the crease of my right elbow I have one black hair… go figure
9. I once hid under my bed for hours and had my entire family scouting the neighborhood for me. (my brothers looked under the bed but still didn’t see me… beats me..)
10. There is a scar on the back of my right leg that I got from a labrador puppy and a plastic bucket (true story)
11. I once drew J’s all over the side of the car in marker pen and then blamed my little brother (he got blamed because his name starts with a J… genius no?)
12. I finished the grade 7 reading list when I was in grade 3 (I told you I love reading)
13. Ickle and I blew up an ant hill with sparklers, tin foil and a CO2 canister at our little sister’s birthday party
14. I love climbing hills
15. I don’t like sitting on the left side of the bus
16. My favorite colour is green
17. Toothpaste makes me gag
18. When I was younger I used to hide in the pantry and drink mint sauce straight out of the bottle
19. I still cry in The Lion King when Mufasa dies

20. When I go to a steakhouse for dinner, 9 times out of 10 I will order fish
21. When I buy breakfast at work, I go to the same place, order the same thing and sit at the same table
22. I am the tallest person in my family

23. Out of 5 children I am the only one who is currently employed
24. I can recite by heart all my times tables from 2’s to 12’s except for 7’s
25. I will look for any excuse to dress up, I once went to a Scarecrow festival dressed up as Glinda from Wicked
26. Up untill recently I used to make plans to see people and then cancel at the last minute so that they would stop trying to see me
27. I secretly find it really hard to make friends and am really shy until I get to know you
28. At work I’ve been given the nickname Oscar the Grouch


29. Sometimes when no-one is watching I pretend to be a ninja
30. I am scared that if I watch Doctor Who I will become too weird even for my own company
31. I’m trying to convince my Mother to go live in Africa
32. I play way too much solitaire
33. I’m scared to get a library membership because I still have an overdue library book from school days
34. When I was little people used to tell me I looked like the little girl who played Matilda in Matilda by Roald Dahl

35. I’ve had 7 teeth pulled, only 4 were adult teeth and I wore braces for 2 years
36. The 4 adult teeth I had pulled are still sitting in a box within a box in my wardrobe. (The tooth fairy will never find them there)
37. Once had to move house on Christmas eve. We didn’t want to take down the Christmas tree and then set it right back up again so we put the whole thing, tinsel and all on the back of a trailer and drove it to the new house as is
38. I managed to read every Harry Potter book without either of my Mothers ever find out. The last one I read a week before my final exams while I was home in bed with the chicken pox
39. When I was in grade 6, I wrote a short story. My eldest sister wouldn’t believe that I made it up and I haven’t written a story since
40. I keep the movie ticket from every movie I’ve ever seen in cinemas
41. My older sister and I once helped Dad kill a goose by breaking its neck with a metal pole… (We ate it… we weren’t just killing feathered fiends for no reason)
42. I get really peeved when I find split ends just after I’ve been to the hairdresser
43. When my family plays cards or a board game, I like to lose because I feel bad for the loser when I win
44. I once had a dead koala fall out of a tree and land right in front of me (see drop bears DO exist)

 45. I don’t like ebooks. Scrolling isn’t half as satisfying as turning a page
46. I have NEVER read the Terms of Use.
47. I forget books a few weeks after I’ve read them, which is good because when I re-read them, it’s all new and exciting
48. The first time I watched the Notebook, I was crying hysterically half an hour after the movie finished. The same thing happens every time I watch The Colour Purple
49. Vague people annoy me.
50. The only physical all in brawl that I have been in was with my older sister. She had age and cunning on her side and I had size and an iron will. We ended up inter-locked with a fistful of hair each
51. I was the lead in our school musical. Because we didn’t want to fork out a couple of hundred dollars for copyright, we wrote our own 🙂
52. I was a nerd in highschool. Who am I kidding? I’m still a nerd
53. Has learnt never to take antibiotics with copious amounts of wine while at a work function
54. I’ve also learnt that while being carried from said function room because you are too inebriated to walk, then is not the best time to ask the boss for a pay rise
55. I got 6 months into a Drama degree, decided it was a bad idea and quit
56. I have a fetish for pretty, high-heeled shoes

57. I’m currently listening to Isn’t She Lovely by Stevie Wonder
58. Today’s quote on my Collin’s Desk Calendar is from William Feather and it says An invitation to a wedding involves more than a summons to a police court
59. I love the theatre even though I have only been a couple of times
60. I think Justin Beiber is ridiculous and needs to be whacked a few times with something very solid
61. I now have 27 days to write a 50,000 word novel and I still haven’t started… gah
62. I just closed my hand in my desk draw. Vair painful
63. I have no uncles, aunts, cousins or living grandparents, but have 2 mothers, a dad, 2 sisters, 2 brothers, 5 step sisters and 2 step brothers
64. Everytime I go to KFC or Red Rooster I grab handfuls of wet wipes and hoard them in my bag
65. The only birds that are okay in my books are paper cranes

66. I’ve never been out of the country, but am planning on going to Japan at the end of next year
67.Secretly I love the Ballet. I took my friend from school to see Giselle a couple of years ago and LOVED it
68. I always have to have at least a sheet when I go to sleep. For some reason it makes me feel safer (like a sheet is going to stop an ax murderer)
69. I’m currently reading Ink Heart by Cornelia Funke
70. I am a huge history nerd. I took out dux of modern history and narrowly missed ancient history in both grade 11 and 12
71. The problem with life is there is no background music
72. I’m one of those hopeless romantic types
73. I’ve played the violin, flute and have dabbled in piano but still can’t actually play an instrument
74. Sad is Happy for Deep People
75. Before I die I want to play on one of those huge velcro walls that you stick yourself to

76. Sometimes I go into the city and catch a City Cat and just go up and down the Brisbane River all day 
77. AGMF forever Easterfest NEVER!!
78. I own a pair of bedazzled gumboots
79. My Mum took me to get my hearing checked when I was little because she thought I was deaf. Turns out I have selective hearing. If I am reading a book or looking out a window you are going to have to whack me to get my attention. I will not hear you
80. The greener grass on the other side is probably artificial turf
81. When I am upset I like to draw
82. In High School I was in the Commedia Del Arte Troupe and played Scaramouche

83. The beatings will continue until morale improves
84. I broke my pinky finger chasing my little brother down a hill in platform shoes. I was told the best way to find out whether it was broken was to try pressing down hard with it and listening for a crack (not even kidding, like I was going to try that)
85. Subconsciously I narrate my life in my head in third person (maybe a little crazy)
86. Calvin and Hobbes = Amazing

87. Even though I’m ‘all grown up’ now, I still love climbing trees
88. I tend towards the melodramatic
89. I get crazy excited when I see that I have a Facebook notification
90. I sometimes make forts out of furniture and pretend I’m in the Battle of Helms Deep
91. I used to really want a tatoo, except I don’t want it to get wrinkly when I’m old, plus I’m a little scared of needles
92. A few years ago while on youth camp I had to jump out a window from the boys dorms while my best friend hid under the bed.
93. Maroons supporter all the way. (QUEENSLANDER!!!!!!)

94. I’ve lived in Brisbane all my life and I still get asked where I get my accent
95. I’m always being told I’m a female version of my step brother (for the record we are a kick ass at charades team and are unbeaten in the three-legged race)

96.  Have never been in hospital which is good because they terrify me
97. My wake up alarm is currently Dont Worry by Bob Marley. It’s a very mellow way to start the day
98. I cannot understand how people can confuse the Kiwi accent with the Aussie accent. We sound completely different.
99. I am determined to have a good Christmas this year.

100. I can’t believe how long it took me to do this. I’m not interesting enough to pull these things off.

Dr Who?

Marley who is will now and forever more be known as Housemate (because I can) is something of a fan of Dr Who.

Any who, along with Housemate, I am acquainted with a fair number of people who have joined the ranks of Dr Who fans. Some are more manic than others, but all of them are rather more bonkers than your average person. These acquaintances of mine have, for the last few years, been trying to get me to watch the shows and join with them in manic fandom. I have been resisting, and continue to resist due to the reasons which I am about to list:-

1. I am already strange enough as it is. I am constantly being called ‘quirky’, ‘weird’, ‘odd’, ‘eccentric’ and ‘flipping crazy’ by co-workers, family and strangers on the bus. Dr Who is another of those twist-your-perception type shows and I fear that if I start watching it I will become too weird even for my own company… and I like my own company.

2. Now that Housemate and I are Housemates, I fear that the close quarters that we are sharing may cause us to spontaneously combust. We already share a large fistful of similar interests and hobbies and this would be yet another mutual interest/craze/obsession… I want to be special and unique in my psychotic behaviours.

3. I like my Facebook… and Dr Who has convinced Housemate that Facebook will one day take over the world and so she is boycotting it. I.WILL.NOT.RISK. FACEBOOK.

4. I am a big chicken… and I don’t want to live in fear of small children wearing gas masks, knocking on my door during a air-raid asking me through the mail slot if I am their Mummy. Call me crazy but that is not my idea of a good time.

5. Because I will not conform

Now, Housemate has an annoying gift that can only be described as an uncanny ability to get people to do what she wants them to do. She can Cunning Plan the heck out of just about anything, and as she wants me to watch Dr Who and love it, I suspect that I will cave very shortly… So this may be the last time you hear sense come out of my finger tips… and for that I am very sorry.

It was nice pretending to be normal with you all, save yourselves, stick to The Code.

 

Furnishing Fury

If all my career aspirations come to naught, I can rest easy in the knowledge that I would make a jim dandy furniture removalist.

see my bulging biceps

Sister Dear’s Husband is about to start a new chapter in his career, which involves them relocating in Noosa in a few weeks time. They are planning on renting out their HUGE 5 bedroom house and rent a smaller 3 or 4 bedroom place up closer to his new job. This is all well and good, except now they face the predicament of too much furniture to cram into an itty-bitty house.

When I was living with them up until a few weeks ago, I was using their old bedroom suite which I love, and which I have been missing fiercely since I moved out 2 weeks ago. So when I got a call asking if I wanted to take it off their hands, I was only too happy to agree. Saturday morning saw Housemate toddle off to work and me, armed with a screw driver and an allen key taking apart the futon that I’d been sleeping on. I was doing spiffingly until I got to the actual taking apart when I realised that the tools that I had access to were un suited to doing the job that I was faced with.

harbinger of doom

Not to be foiled by lack of tools, I took apart what I could and then proceeded to try to wriggle the monstrous contraption out of my bedroom, into the bathroom, back into my bedroom, around into Housemate’s bedroom, halfway over the balustrade, back into the bathroom, then finally up on its end, over the balustrade, down the stairs and out the front door all by myself. FUN!

Cue Little Brother and Sister Dear’s Husband arriving with the bedroom suite. Now I don’t brag at having an over abundance of muscle mass. While on the slightly taller side of average and in no way willowy, I am still sadly lacking in anything that can be seen as brawn. So Brother in law who has shoulders like an ox and Little Brother who cycles around the country in his spare time were lovely enough to carry my queen size mattress and the bed base up the stairs and into my room for me. I waited for them to continue with the rest of the furniture until I realised that chivalry was dead and buried and my strapping relations had no intention of taking the rest of the furniture any further than the entryway.

Any sane, muscle lacking female would wait for someone else to get home to help with the carting of heavy furniture upstairs. Not me. If there is something that I want done now, I can’t sit about watching Saturday daytime television while it needs doing. I cart the rest of the bed upstairs, take up my trusty allen key and 45 minutes later, a bedraggled, sweaty and unhappy Clare sits looking at a bed. Phase 1 of bedroom set up is complete.

Clare post-bed building

Next on the agenda is the chest of drawers and the dressing table. I carry the empty drawers up the stairs and pile them haphazardly in the bathtub, then go back for the rest of it. I must say it was not one of my finer moments and I am so thankful that no-one was there to witness my efforts. I grab hold of the end of the bloomin’ thing, shinny it around to the base of the stair case and then sitting on the step above, haul it up a step. Then I shuffle up another step and haul again, and again and again and again, untill I reach the top, over the balustrade and into the bedroom.

The dressing table was not so big as the drawers but sports a whopping big mirror. I managed to wrangle the darn thing off with a screwdriver and a hatchet and then repeated the sit and haul technique untill the dresser was in place as well. Screw what was left of the mirror back on and she’s apples.

After that it was only 20 more trips with odds and ends and bed side tables and I was done. All of this done all on me onesie without leaving any structural damage to either myself, the house or the furniture (excluding the hatchet mirror). I am in a world of hurt at the moment. I can’t move my arms or feel my legs but the next time I see my good for nothing brother and brother-in-law I am going to give them several prickly pieces of my mind. Consider yourselves warned boys.