If I were a niche man......

How's your day?....  I'm biased........  Me thinks this is a really, really fine time of year.

 We here in the Midwest.. and, friends, loved ones in the Upper halfa the US, it's the time of year where ya ain't gotta stand by the front door... open it pensively, asking, "Is it safe? Am I free from frostbite? Do I gotta spend fitty minutes scraping the snow, ice offa the ole' Buick?

Victor... we live in (Houston, Florida, SoCal, Mehico) we ain't gotta worry about all that, all the time. Well goodie for you...I will try not to cuss too loud or, send, not-so-kind hand signals in Nov-Feb...... 

Baseball Ray.."Play Ball" abounds.. Boys, girls alike, dig the glove outta the box in the garage - go have 'a game of catch', what better? Victor, I'm not really a fan, boring game.

Eh, ok.  But... it's still "BASKETBALL JONES" (March Madness.) Bragging rights, making fun of, wearing duds representing one's favorite team.  Victor, not much into basketball either.... Victor?...  Victor?...  ALVIN??

OK!!!  Still, I kinda think, universally, cause for pep in ones step, smiles ahead...even if yain't into The Mick, or, Kareem, there's gardening, indoor plants, 'feeshin', people wear less, I'M FREE, smiles ain't covered up by masks, thus, more frequent.

You mighta caught the word NICHE up there. My brain, upon awakening, worked (that's always a good thing) but, it also went back to 19fitty-something, sixty-something... and "What do I wanna be when I grow up" (for me there was but one answer.. Baseball Ray.)

Very well aware, the playing field is broader than that. I consulted my buddy AI and learned we twerps dreamed of being Doctors, Teachers, musicians, scientists, athletes... and, the "I wanna's" were painted by events of the times...  "Cowboys" on TV, and, the Great Space Race that took over the US (I remember having stickers allover my notebook, drawing pics of spacecrafts... ) so, Astronaut was anudder answer.

Sure........ then the brain goes to today.. whadda snotnoses of the day wanna be?  To my surprise, alotta the same stuff on the list.. teachers, doctors, lawyers, athletes, musicians...and additionally, painted by the day, "YouTuber", "Streamer", "Video Game Designer", yada.

 It's been mentioned (repeatedly) I ain't one to give advice on:  relationships, smoking cessation, Dave Ramsey-like tip$, and, employment.

It's also been mentioned, I gotta big mouth (keyboard), I kinda hear "Victor don't" which, of course is followed by "watch me."

Do as I say, not as I do.  I'd find something I enjoy the heck out of. Your niche. Your like.  You ain't bad at it. Sure, remuneration matters (to most, not as much to some)...

Tunnel.  Huh?  Uh huh, as in 'light at the end"...  a plan (to which Victor might say "what's that?")... knowing all the goodies about SS at age 62, 65, 70, whadever the age is today...  HEALTHCARE, ifn's u fortunate enough to get the hell outta Dodge before Medicare kicks in. (Scroll to Dave Ramsey, or, Edward D Jones, somebody, all that crap is foreign to me)...

So.. the thought of "Get in, get out" lends to it (work) ain't, can't be fun. Not so.  Enjoyable has a place in there, and anyone can for sure have that. Some, never wanna quit. Some, continue to work part-time in retirement, like maybe, working a couple days a week at a golf course so you can play golf for free and hit golf balls into the trees.

I could be a nightmare for managers, I admit. (Not a fan of bulldozers, over-the-shoulder-lookers, rude, arrogant, ok, I'll stop but there's more!) But too, I tried to do good work.  No matta' what  you choose... flippin' burgs, selling insurance, training, teaching, yada... make it a goal to help, and a goal to hear compliments along the way.  We all, I think, like compliments.  And, when you're Johnny Paycheck done, I am sure you too distinctly remember the compliments from above, from coworkers, customers, yada. That's a niche as well.

Are you done Joel Olsteen?  No, sorry, ain't. Be that person that wings comps too... that's dang near as gooda feel good.  Sure, it's gotta be genuine.. but man.. do compliments help unruffle the hustle bustle of a working career.

Now I'm done. 

Your welcome.

Ahm, Victor?  Uh huh?  That's you're welcome. Eh I dunno. Mr. Miagi always said "welcome", so, me thinks 'your welcome' works too.

Hey, btw, what tips, guidance, suggestion would you give to a friend or loved one entering the world of work today?

If I were a niche man, ya ba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dibba dum..

Love, Victurd
 

 

 

Anybody here.... seen my old friend......... Elsie?

Elsie, the cow?  Uh huh, subject today, until the cows come home.  Victor? You mean kinda like 'when pigs fly'?  No, that's impossible... unless Smithfield comes up with some heavy duty drone contraption to snatch Ms. Piggy from the trough and fetch her to the slaughter house.

 

Cows, under no time constraints, I guess eventually do come home. Until the cows come home is an idiom, meaning for a very long, indefinite, or nearly endless amount of time...

 

You know, like a good ole political argument, you can argue with him until the cows come home, but he'll never admit he's wrong.  Healthy, underemployed 20-somethings, sit in mom, dad's basement and play Roblox and Minecraft until the cows come home.

 

A day in the cow's life cud include....... 12-14 hours lying down. Ya gotta beef about that?  3-5 hours eating roughly a hunnerd pounds of food, 7 - 10 hours ruminating... 30 minutes drinking up to 60 gallons of water....  and, don't forget - they socialize too... yeah, MyPasture.com. Good gosh Victor, next thing ya know  you'll be giving us pee and poop stats.

 

3.5 gallons a day, and around 65 pounds of manure a day.  There is a LOT to do, until the cows come home.

 

So........ Victor?  Uh huh? Is there a point to all this? Is there an antonym to 'until the cows come home'?

 

YES!  My ex girlfriend.  VICTOR YOU ARE SOOOOOO TOAST!  I'm telling her...  comparing her to a cow..........    NO!!!! WAIT!!!

 

I was comparing until the cows come home (indefinate, very slow, a long time) to SOMEONE YOU CAN HARDLY KEEP UP WITH.  Twas, is, a compliment - not to mention, she's beautiful, so, THERE!

 

We'd be in the A Terminal at an airport...she's marching at gate 33, whilst, I'm just passing gate 5 on my way to 6...  eventually, I got to 33 and hells bells she was already in B Terminal.  I tried, but I couldn't do it.

 

So are you talking like Type A personality?  Eh, I dunno about that, just, no wasted effort.  A purpose to everything.  Busy, but not frantic.  On edge for accomplishment, but not stressy.  Always kinda thinking "what can I do next."  (I was the Uncle Joe, movin' kinda slow, at the Junction, Pettycoat Junction.)

 

She's quite impressive, really.  So when I use the 'which way did she go', I kinda sorta mean it!

 

I am addicted to psychology, and types.  Until the cows come home, like me, Uncle Joe, Maynard G. Crebs, with maybe a touch of Otis thrown in.

 

And them there ones you stand back (I prolly would sit down) and admire, WOW... you know like my ex gf... Lady Gaga (songwriter, singer, producer, actress). Jamie Foxx.. actor, musician, stand-up artist.. J Lo, Clint Eastwood,  Steve Martin, Ms. 9 to 5 herself...  busy, they's busy. 

 

Just two different types, and, room in life, on the farm, acreage, for both types.

 

One, ya sit back and observe, admire... and go "Wowzer"......

 

And the other type... they don't Dilly Dilly...  they Dilly Dally.. "You need a purpose!  Hey! Wait!  I done organized cow patty bingo, then, we're gonna have a herd mentality board game... all topped of by cow patty toss for distance, accuracy, yes........ all, on purpose.  Then, after, we may all sit around and have a few Spotted Cows.

 

There's no real wrong or right types in life........... just different. 

 

Victor?

 

Uh huh?

 

You're really different.

 

Bite me.

 

Love, Victurd 

ET homophone.....

Xplain Lucy.

 

Victor, you're old, but, some'a them may have ZERO idea whointhehell Ricky Ricardo is.

 

Ok then, I'll explain.

 

War time, 1943.  Milton Drake's young daughter Barbara, came home, and sang "Cowzywheet and sowsywheet and liddlsharks edoysters... or something like that.

 

It was wartime.  A horrible time.  A wonderful time, in that, UNITED, meant just that. Gents marching off, Rosey's riviting, everyone pitched in.

 

Levity, nonsense was needed, very badly.  Drake + two then wrote, Mairzy Doats. As in, Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey.. a kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?

 

They continued, "If the words sound queer, and funny to your ear, a littlle bit jumbled and jivey, Sing, "Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy. A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?"

 

ET phoned home, but, Mairzy doats is a homophone,  a word that sounds like another but has a different meaning, origin or spelling.

 

Which, brings us to Lucy, Ricky, Rorschach tests, and life.

 

Victor, you might include lunatics, as I think you are just that.

 

OK, Lucy, Ricky, Rorschach tests, life, and lunatics.  I watched a little bit of a youtube Rorschach test and it was pretty interesting.  Wiki says (do I needta Snopes wiki?) they actually still use Rorschach (you know, the ink blot test where folks tell a shrink what he/she says, then they 'figure 'em out.  Supposedly.  

 

Victor, nowadays, not only do you gotta check the accuracy, validity of Wiki, but, ya also might do the same with Snopes.  Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, thanks, you just helped make my point.

 

We see, hear things, differently.  Bing Crosby on a USO Tour singing Mairzy Doats may be just what the doctor ordered for some, but too, there's the feller(s) that might respond, "Please leave me alone just to be able to sit here, grab a smoke from the pack'a Lucky's tucked up in my TShirt sleeve."

 

Diversity.  HUGE. Life.  Take a pack'a family members out in a Pontoon, have 'em look at the clouds... "Whadda ya see?"  The answers, diversity, is amazing.  Arrange a buncha folks on a site like, say, Facebook... ask 'em about the Iowa Hawkeyes, Missouri Tigers, KU Jayhawks, Donald Trump, Bernie Sanders, Eminem, Billy Graham, Howard Stern, Beyonce, Lionel Richie, sisk, boom, ba.

 

Damnit Victor, gimme levity, sing Mairzy Doats again.  Right?

 

Things, things that make one person smile....happy (puppies, raindrops on roses, rainbows, all inclusive Cabo condos... might bring the Big Air brake of the train (or, the Jake Brake of a semi, thanks Terry) to others......... as in, NO, leave me alone.. cabin in the woods, a good book (or two), my 22 rifle for target practice, and no other people,  

 

We hear athletes all the time, say, "I just figured out, I'll never figure it out."  THAT, be life.

 

I see two dragons. (I'm thinkin' paranoia, you?)  LOOK!  A kitty cat!  (NOT management material.)  I see a bat, with blood runnin' down his mouth. (Charlie, did you lock the door? Can we outrun this basta?)

 

Differnt. Homophone. Lucy, Ricky, turn the channel, I'd rather watch The Honeymooners. Still lookin' for that blue jean baby queen, prettiest girl I ever seen.. see her shake on the movie screen... Jimmy Dean (James Dean.)

 

And where do we go from here?  Which is the way that's clear?

 

Exactly, we're a chocolate mess...  our ducks are all in a row..   TDS... Bernie's crazy..  Mairzy Doats because they taste great, LESS FILLING.  

 

Let's go to the movie... pizza shop... Bar Mitzvah...  Winslow Arizona...  Tattoo Convention.. Grand Canyon..   Four dead guys in granite...   The County lake is fine by me.  We agree to disagree, or not, and we do it again, s'more.. no we don't..  yes we do...You're an idiot..  Takes one to call one.

 

OH BABY WHADDA PLAY! When will this game be over, I'm gonna miss American Idol.

 

I LOVE ME SOME LIFE.

 

And you.

 

Love, Victurd. 

I need one'a them semi runoff thingys.......

You seen 'em, I've seen 'em.. Terry lives by 'em.

 

Huh?  Yain't?  The hills (mountains) are alive (steep, very) with the sound of music (usually them truckers listen to Hank Williams I think... but the other sound(s) are jake brakes... I-70 for example, thru the Rockies.. After the ascent, ya got the descent... the brakes can get too hot, fail, most/some of the above......... so..............

 

On the right side'a the Interstate, there's an emergency ramp built specially to stop (my little) runaway trucks (a run run run run, runaway.)  They got like an uphill ramp, filled with like 36' deep of gravel.. You stop. You no go, anymore.  Then say whew.

 

That's how I feel. I was gonna do the Hooked On A Feeling lyrics (no, not BJ Thomas, the Björn Skifs and Blue Swede version with the Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga because I REALLY enjoy that... 

 

It's a love song... I was gonna do the lyrics, then, equate it to life as it goes by... this stage, that stage.. the golden, or back nine stage... then, the book/movie Death of a Salesman entered my mind, cause who am I kidding, I ain't been married in a long time.

 

So........ as I creeped up Vail Pass (in ma' brain)... my thoughts turned to happiness... because holy guacamole, I dunno if you've looked out, but, it's kinda turbulent out there....the thought was........ How do you measure pleasure......  simple (I thought) question. I would think pleasure, happiness, is a goal of us all.

 

Katy bar the door.  Then locked it, thru away the key, my goodness... the first thing that popped up was The Hedonic Calculus (Bentham)...  that's like a hunnerd times more (X-rated) "Close ur eyes and ur ears Sonny" than Professor Harold Hill's "Oh we got trouble" about kids and a cue ball.

 

Next. No run off to be seen, brakes ain't squeekin', making noise.

 

So, my brain turned to the song "My boomerang won't come back" cause I dunno about you, but, sometimes in life everything don't go exactly as it's supposed to. Katy barred that door too. The BBC wouldn't play the song, demeaning, racially motivated... geez Louise.. that's hella worse than real life where a simple Titliest won't come back, or, at least lemme find it.

 

No Del Shannon, no Runaway (or,  Runoff) yet.  While we're still kinda on the Boomerang subject, I thought "Weird", the producer if the 1961 song was a dude named George Martin (he even played the piano and keyboards in the song) ya mighta heard of him because he was extensively involved in the Beatles original albums, and yes, commonly referred to as "the 5th Beatle".

 

So, I'm standin' on the corner in Winslow Arizona............no, wait, that ain't it.

 

Remember Victurd? You're in Colorado.  OH YEAH, thanks!  Driving a semi... I have NO IDEA how to shift gears... no idea what/where the Jake brake is... even moreso, why they don't call it a Jill brake, I'd listen to her! (No misogynist comments about how loud, nope, I didn't)

 

So, I keep on truckin'.  Turn off Hank (a little goes a long ways), found my John Denver tape... "Almost Heaven, West Virginia"..  Victor, you're in Colorado.......... ah hell, mountains is mountains...  the beauty of the pines, firs, spruces and, ah, the aspens...   

 

Such beauty, makes ya forget life's woes, boomerangs that won't come back.. 'which way did she go' ladies that run-off.. scratchin' on the eight ball...... so, it's that beauty, pleasure of it all, which is exactly the intent of this blog.  right Jake?   Jake?

 

JAKE? Oh hell. I shoulda put in Del Shannon. My little runaway, a run, run, run, run, runaway...........faster and faster (sweat, blood pressure, no idea what pedal to press, which handle does what - kinda like life sometime)..and faster and faster, and finally, see  a runoff... more smoke, noise, CRUNCCHNNNN.. which, seemed to take fitty heartbeats.... there I was.

 

Ah, "Breaker 1 9?"  They still do that? ........ apparently not... John Denver still goin in the background... disc almost done. FINALLY, a Smokey. A BEAR?  No, the CSP.  "Hi Officer!"  You're stuck.  Yessir, I am.  Well.. there's a tow outfit in Eagle but he don't work Mondays.. I can get him up here tomorrow, round noonish.  Thank you sir.  There's worse places to be stuck.

 

Thought about playing me some Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga Ooga-Chaka,,, nah.. the Beatles? No thanks. My Boomerang? STOP.  Del Shannon, shut your mouth. AC DC? Nah, my nerves are shot. Ah, here.. this one........ yep., Elton. 

 

So, I'm not sure what all that was, is.  Kinda like life.  Up, down, happy, sad. Sometimes lost, no GPS.  Sometimes no brakes (I warned ya!  Shoulda listened! Like I said...)

 

A little diddy, about (life, and) Jake...  brakes. 

 

Love, Victurd 

 

 

  

Aye yai yai

 WORDLE

Ifs ands or buts

 It's only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away.

 

That's all well and good there Barry Gibb but what-the-hey does it have to do with ifs, ands and buts?

 

Jane, you igno.......... ahm, just that. Words are all I got to work with.

 

No ifs ands or buts.  YES, ifs ands or buts because without em, I wouldn't have a blog today.  You will not hurt my feelings IF you no likey, go right ahead and exit stage left, AND, don't let the door hitya in the BUT(T).

 

IF I could turn back time, me and Cher would look 30. Victor, she does. Bite me. If I were a rich man, I'd butcher it.  If I had a hammer, I'd bend a helluva lotta nails, but, .mebbe I'd be a better shuffleboard player. 

 

If you leave me now.. I'd be OK. Cinnamon Toast Crunch, sliced bananas, milk, mo' coffee, cigs, finish blog, then, Basketball Jones. 

 

AND. Peace and quiet, pick and choose, knife and fork, pros and cons, salt and pepper, give and take, life and death, rough and tumble....  Bonnie and Clyde, Batman and Robin, Romeo and Juliet, Delaney and Bonnie, Meghan and Harry, Travis and Taylor, Ellen and Portia, John and Yoko.

 

BUT...  yeah but... last but not least.. Chip Wilson..  close but no cigar..  slow but sure.. (My grandpa would fetch us across town to our Aunt's house, bouta mile and a half.. granny, in front seat, monitoring speed. 25mph zone.. he'd get up to 27, sometimes 28, "MAN!!! MAN!!  YOU'RE GONNA KILL THESE CHILDREN!".. not about but, but, thought I'd include). .everything but the kitchen sink..  the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth..  Chip Wilson..  

 

BUT the dog ate my homework.. I'll gladly pay you Tuesday.. .Chip Wilson.. I haveta sleep in your bed mom, dad, there's monsters in mine.. but I haven't missed a day of school this week, and, I've got an itchy itchy rash.. I cannot help but wonder... but he is nothing but a fool...   Chip Wilson.. I am but a common man.. (Drive a common van, but, my dog is a Miniature Schnauzer.) 

 

If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, we'd all have a Merry Christmas.   If frogs had wings they wouldn't bump their butts.  

 

Life, me thinks, is all about ifs ands or buts.  Woulda coulda shoulda. Right Chip?

 

VICTOR?  Huh?  Whothehell is Chip.. Chip Wilson?

 

Duh. He invented yoga pants in 1998.

 

IF I wouldn't have clicked this damn link, AND chosen to do something else, I'd have three more minutes of my life to do something worthwhile, you BUTThead Victor.

 

Ifs ands or buts.  Three things tell the truth.. Small children, drunk people, and yoga pants.  

 

Sorry, kinda.. Love, Victurd

Now what?

OK, that's it, life in a nutshell.............  The end.

 

Kidding, kinda.  Whenya thinka 'Now what?', er, at least, when I thinka 'Now what?' it's usually accompanied by a furrowed eyebrow, frustration, exasperation (Victor, ain't they the same thing?) such as, the same annoying question after question, like, maybe someone who continually sneaks into your blog... or, a little kid, said lovingly, tugging your shirt, followed by "Mom?" Ain't it the moms that garner mosta the questions? "Go blow your nose and get ready for dinner."

 

An annoying coworker. Or, perhaps, someone that stumbles by here pretty frequently and observes "Wow, what's eatin' him (again) today?"

 

Really - nothing, honest.  Sure., sure... "Now what" reminds us of caller ID, extended warranties, endless old people junk mail (hearing aid ads, funeral planning, that crap).. Car trouble, checkenginelights, money, "Honey? Piggly declined my card again... the hell you been buying?"

 

But.................. you can't begin a sentence with 'But.' To that I say 'then whyinthehell do they allow you to CAPITALIZE B?  Huh huh huh?

 

But......... Now what is a thing of beauty along the way.

 

Baby born. Baby don't do much. Blankie on floor. "Stay Rover". They do, for quite awhile. Then, ruh roh. The hell'd he go?  Hershal? You seen Junior?  I tease, some.

 

Walking for the first time is "Now what?", with excitement, smile, hurry, why - we dunno, but hurry.  Fall, tears, s'more now what.

 

Yellow bus.  Backpack. New duds. The Barnyard bus.  Twerp hops on.....WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE? NOW WHAT?  Oh honey, lemme tellya, it's a lifetime thing figuring out folks.  Just whenya think you gotta handle on 'em, tney fool ya, so, of course you ask "Now what?" 

 

Tee ball.  After six swings whereya knock the tee over 3 times, the bat slips outta your hands twice, you accidentally hit the catcher "sorry!".. you hit it.  Mom, dad, gramma, grampa, the Coach, your big brother command RUN!  So, ya do. To third base. NO!!! NO!!! NO!!! "TO FIRST" (where the heck is that?") Coaches pointing redfacedly getya there.. "Now what?".. we learn.

 

We go from duck, duck, goose.. to TeeBall.. to Red Rover Red Rover... to kickball, getting cooties from being on the same team as Earl.. to middle school. to Junior high.. to....."WAIT? What the heck was that feeling?"  NOW WHAT?  I HATE GIRLS? How come allofasudden I wanna grab one and kiss one? Protude. DON'T ASK ME WHY, it' just happens.  To boys and girls.

 

Fast forward.  16. Vroom vroom. "Honey, I'm going to Piggly to get us a couple steaks for Saturday night."  "NO, no you're not. Cousin Eddie, our 'discounted' insurance agent, just sent the bill for Susie's car... you're going to Wally World, fried chicken is on sale."

 

18. "But, I DON'T WANNA go to Junior College... all my friends are going to State U' to join frats (or sororities), it's only a 3 hour longer drive. I know Juco is cheap, but State is only $14,895 a semester."  Ahm, honey, swing by the Dollar Tree and get a thinga bologna would ya?

 

21.  Wings. We fly. We be big people. NOW WHAT?  I just worked yesterday. I gotta go again today?  Dad, can I borrow fitty? My gf wanted lasagna, I spent my last forty on that.  The car's on "E" too, but, it's all good, I can just sleep here tonight."NO WAIT, here ya go."

 

Love and marriage.  The saying, back in the Father Knows Best era, was, "Marriage is the most expensive way to get your laundry done free."  Well, then them ladies, back in '66, had the NOW Movement... (before you shoot me, I agree with it!).. so........... after Herbert washes, dries, folds, puts away the clothes, he addresses Ms. Fitty-One Percent of the Stock with, "Now what Honey?" Has nothing to do with those little protrusions that started happenin' back in Junior High. OK, maybe a tad.

 

So, ya have kids.  They move from the blanket to Tee ball. You Tase 'em if they run the wrong way. JK. Yellow bus, Big Chief. Ya buy a beater, liability only. ACT scores, tassles and hassles. "You're taking online courses, Junior College is WAY too expensive." All your lives you've teased them.. and you continue after you hang the lights, put up the tree.. "We wish you weren't here at Christmas.. we wish you weren't here at Christmas."

 

They fly.  "Honey, let's start our Social Security at 62, have a great retirement.  Our IRA is doing perty darn good."  OK.  So, you buy a lake house, take out a Second, boat, big one.. New F One Fitty to pull it.  Work until 70.

 

Now what?  Wanna fool around?  No..  Let's go see my brother and his wife. No.  Let's go look at ranch homes, particularly those ones with maintenance included.  We sold the lake house.  We'll sell the Pontoon. (It's got one step. Everything with steps, "Nope")

 

Honey?  We got all this stuff in the garage. Now what?

 

20 Cube dumpster. Freecycle. Yard sale. "I don't care if it's NOT a flatscreen, my beautiful grandson can play video games on it, get it outta here."

 

Each, every 'now what' turn in life is fulla wonder. Good, bad, ugly.  Let's change that to good, great, ugly, cause mosta life is yummy.  There's little left to ask, figure out. You cook, she does the dishes, whilst you give her a shoulder rub. She cooks,  you do the dishes, and serenade her what whadever your favorite song to sing is.

 

Now what, in retirement is, THE BEST.  There's "have to's" in blankets, busses, tee ball, learner permits, college, work, asset attainment, stack-a-dolla. 

 

Now what in retirement lends crickets.  Nuttin. Not one damn thing, as in, whadever in the heck we wanna.

 

Wanna? NO.  Damnit darnit!

 

Love, Victurd