This Weekend. There are many, but here's a fun sampling.
Stupid Thing #1
We - and by "we," I mean Santa and his elves - are getting Wyatt a Little Tikes Step 2 Kitchen for Christmas. Read: Very large, sorta expensive, piece of plastic that will occupy my child for hours and take up all available space in my living room. Wyatt's always been a fan of "helping" me in the kitchen, but lately he'll get food out of the 'fridge and pots out of the cupboard and put them on the stove for me, then turn on the burner (!). Even when I'm not cooking. And I can't tear him away from the kitchen my neighbor has for her kids. So since I couldn't get him cast in Hell's Kitchen, we decided to buy him one for Christmas.
I fought the crowds at 1 Target and 2 WalMarts, and they had no kitchens. So I bought one online from Walmart and did Site to Store Shipping. I have ants in my pants about getting this kitchen so you can imagine how SUPER excited I was to get the email that it was here, so I dragged (drug?) Tommy to Walmart to pick it up, *patiently* waiting for someone to occupy the Site to Store Department.
After 15 minutes and 2 pages, a woman finally enters the pickup area, and I proudly announce that I am here for my kitchen, and hand her the confirmation email. She types in the number. BEEP! Item Not Found, displays the computer. Hmmm... try it again, please... BEEP! Item Not Found. Okay, it has to be here, can you look it up by name? BEEP! Item Not Found. AGH~! Where Is My Kitchen?!?! Ma'am, are you sure you shipped it to this store? Umm... I think so.... oh, crap. I don't remember telling it where to ship it! Then I read the email. Your item has been delivered to WalMart, Grand Ave., Ames, Iowa. CRAP~! My kitchen is in Ames!!!
Well, of course this is a problem. A large one. And 4 WalMart employees have no idea what to do about it because apparently in the HISTORY of Site to Store Shipping, no one - but me - has been stupid enough to do this. So I did what any mom would do for her kid for Christmas. I ordered another one online.
Stupid Thing #2:
So we're in Richmond for Thanksgiving, and one of my absolute favorite restaurants is Texas Roadhouse, of which the closest to us is in Richmond. I tried to go there 2 weeks ago when we were there for the ball, and there was a 1 hour, 45 minute wait, so we didn't go. I was SO disappointed. So this time I had a plan - order takeout!! So Friday night I made everyone hand me their orders and I called it in, then went to pick it up. It's just a few miles down the street from my MIL's (mother in law's), but it's in a busy mall area so I tried getting the GPS to help me out. No such luck. It couldn't find it. Not a big deal - I only made just 2 or 3 wrong turns - and finally found it. Unfortunately, on one of those wrong turns, a median jumped out at my car. Out of nowhere! Well, actually, it was because I was trying to avoid a wrong turn... and it didn't so much jump out as it did up - into my car. And now it's making this weird rattling noise.
I perservered, however, and succeeded in my mission to obtain Chicken Critters from Texas Roadhouse. I backed out of my spot and made a quick turn to the stop sign, and some guy in a sporty little sports car number swung out wide and missed hitting me by just a few feet. My heart was pounding and I was cursing the driver. What an idiot! Couldn't he see me? I turned out onto the main road and realized things were sort of dark. Must not be a moon tonight. Oh, wait... I don't have my headlights on!!! Apparently the driver couldn't see me. My bad...
Stupid Thing #3
We're in the Px (think department store) on base at their big after-Thanksgiving sale. We've been in the Px for one hour and 22 minutes, and I have once again picked the absolute slowest line possible. You know on the movie Office Space where the guy is in traffic and his lane isn't moving, so he switches lanes and that lane stops and the other one starts? That's how I am when it comes to checking out of stores.
Anyway, Tommy has taken Wyatt and all our crap out to the car and I have to re-enter the freakin' line because Tommy forgot to buy MoleSkin the first time around. One hour and 39 minutes later I am leaving the store with that and a roll of wrapping paper, walking to our car. I veer to the left at the last minute, realizing our car is one aisle over, and somehow trip over the median and bite it right in front of the store. And I mean BITE IT! As in, full on fall on the ground spread eagle, think-I-am-dying, laying on the ground unsure of whether to get up or not, BITE IT. A car that was backing out of its space stops to see if I'm okay. I ignore them (I have my pride, after all!) and FORCE myself to get up, trying (unsuccessfully) not to cry.
My wrapping paper is smushed. My vision is blurry. My hip is bleeding and bruised. My wrist and shoulder are throbbing. I have a 6-inch scrape on my opposite forearm, and practically a hole in the knee of my favorite jeans. I open the car door and throw myself into the seat. Tommy just looks at me, and wants to know what happened? I told him I tripped, and he asked on what, the ground? And started laughing. MEN!
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
Note to Self:
Do not shop at the commissary the weekend prior to a major holiday. Ever.
I ventured out to the commissary (that’s “grocery store” to you civilians) on Saturday to grab some necessary items. Mind you, the commissary is generally packed to the gills any day, any time of the week. But this was different. This was madness. Think Black Friday madness. Which, after having done only once several years ago with my sisters-in-law, I vowed to never do again.
Had those items not been so extremely necessary, I would have turned around the minute I saw the parking lot, which sported rows of vehicles who had essentially “made up” their own parking spots in an effort to buy their birds. And had my son not been at home sleeping after spending the last 4 hours puking his guts out, I would have just went off base, but I was in a hurry.
So I buck up, brace myself, and head into the store. Problem #1: There are no grocery carts. Okay, no big deal… I go outside to check the reserve spots. None to be found. Yet there are people entering the store who have carts. ??? Then I realize… there is actually a line to receive a grocery cart. Well, not so much a line as… people standing around snatching carts from those checking out. After 5 minutes, I am unsuccessful at snatching. What is going on?? The bagger tells me they are now out of secondary carts (the carts the baggers put the bagged goods in to take to the car). So they are using the regular carts for that purpose. Thus, no carts at the cashier line.
Baffled, I return outside and spy a lonely cart off in the distance about 20 yards out and make a mad dash to it, beating out several other would-be cart snatchers. Successful in my feat, I go into the grocery store, thanking heaven that Wyatt is not with me as I notice the kid strap is broken, the wheel is falling off, and the mass of people inside.
I get in line to go down the produce aisle. Yes, I said get in line. I snag my grapes and wait patiently for people to get out of my way. Problem #2: People will not get out of my way. There is no way around them. So I stand... and wait.... patiently, of course...
Problem #3: There is no food. The shelves have large bare spots where food sat mere hours ago, but alas, I was too late for many items on my list. The staff is doing its best to re-stock, but it’s impossible with their big carts to get through the volume of people.
After waiting *patiently* through several aisles, I have written half this blog in my head and am wondering who to contact to let the commissary know that it should implement the following simple set of rules for its patrons on weekends before major holidays.
Commissary Rules for Keeping the Peace:
Dear Patrons,
1. Read the coupons booklets outside the store. How ‘bout clipping them in the car? You know, the one that’s parked in that nice little parking spot you made up for yourself because you think you are more special than me?
2. U-turns in grocery aisles are not allowed. There are two lines of traffic – one per side of the aisle. If you missed an item, back that a** up and go get it sans grocery cart.
3. Shoppers are limited to one per family. If it is essential that you bring your spouse, 4 children, and parents who are in town for said major holiday, at least keep ‘em in the car.
4. As previously stated in rule #2, there are two lines of traffic. Parking your kiddie cart in the middle of an aisle is grounds for removal and subjects you to loss of future commissary priveleges.
5. GET. OUT. OF. MY. WAY. Seriously.
As I wade my way through the last aisle at a speed equivalent to rush hour traffic on I-95, I enter the Wall O’ Items (a display of various food items that creates a “wall,” and therefore, a line to get to the cashiers). I count no fewer than 36 patrons in line, but an hour and ten minutes after entering the store, I was checking out at last! I swiped my credit card just as I realized that I had no cash to tip the baggers. Baggers at the commissary work for tips only, so of course I felt like a complete jerk and told them I would take the cart myself. Which scored me evil looks from all three baggers and several pedestrians.
Good thing I had my Starbucks.
I ventured out to the commissary (that’s “grocery store” to you civilians) on Saturday to grab some necessary items. Mind you, the commissary is generally packed to the gills any day, any time of the week. But this was different. This was madness. Think Black Friday madness. Which, after having done only once several years ago with my sisters-in-law, I vowed to never do again.
Had those items not been so extremely necessary, I would have turned around the minute I saw the parking lot, which sported rows of vehicles who had essentially “made up” their own parking spots in an effort to buy their birds. And had my son not been at home sleeping after spending the last 4 hours puking his guts out, I would have just went off base, but I was in a hurry.
So I buck up, brace myself, and head into the store. Problem #1: There are no grocery carts. Okay, no big deal… I go outside to check the reserve spots. None to be found. Yet there are people entering the store who have carts. ??? Then I realize… there is actually a line to receive a grocery cart. Well, not so much a line as… people standing around snatching carts from those checking out. After 5 minutes, I am unsuccessful at snatching. What is going on?? The bagger tells me they are now out of secondary carts (the carts the baggers put the bagged goods in to take to the car). So they are using the regular carts for that purpose. Thus, no carts at the cashier line.
Baffled, I return outside and spy a lonely cart off in the distance about 20 yards out and make a mad dash to it, beating out several other would-be cart snatchers. Successful in my feat, I go into the grocery store, thanking heaven that Wyatt is not with me as I notice the kid strap is broken, the wheel is falling off, and the mass of people inside.
I get in line to go down the produce aisle. Yes, I said get in line. I snag my grapes and wait patiently for people to get out of my way. Problem #2: People will not get out of my way. There is no way around them. So I stand... and wait.... patiently, of course...
Problem #3: There is no food. The shelves have large bare spots where food sat mere hours ago, but alas, I was too late for many items on my list. The staff is doing its best to re-stock, but it’s impossible with their big carts to get through the volume of people.
After waiting *patiently* through several aisles, I have written half this blog in my head and am wondering who to contact to let the commissary know that it should implement the following simple set of rules for its patrons on weekends before major holidays.
Commissary Rules for Keeping the Peace:
Dear Patrons,
1. Read the coupons booklets outside the store. How ‘bout clipping them in the car? You know, the one that’s parked in that nice little parking spot you made up for yourself because you think you are more special than me?
2. U-turns in grocery aisles are not allowed. There are two lines of traffic – one per side of the aisle. If you missed an item, back that a** up and go get it sans grocery cart.
3. Shoppers are limited to one per family. If it is essential that you bring your spouse, 4 children, and parents who are in town for said major holiday, at least keep ‘em in the car.
4. As previously stated in rule #2, there are two lines of traffic. Parking your kiddie cart in the middle of an aisle is grounds for removal and subjects you to loss of future commissary priveleges.
5. GET. OUT. OF. MY. WAY. Seriously.
As I wade my way through the last aisle at a speed equivalent to rush hour traffic on I-95, I enter the Wall O’ Items (a display of various food items that creates a “wall,” and therefore, a line to get to the cashiers). I count no fewer than 36 patrons in line, but an hour and ten minutes after entering the store, I was checking out at last! I swiped my credit card just as I realized that I had no cash to tip the baggers. Baggers at the commissary work for tips only, so of course I felt like a complete jerk and told them I would take the cart myself. Which scored me evil looks from all three baggers and several pedestrians.
Good thing I had my Starbucks.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
This Sucks.
I absolutely hate leaving Wyatt at daycare. The first day he whined a little but was okay when I left. The second day he was really clingy to me and didn't want me to go, and had a minor meltdown when I left. Today as soon as we stepped in the classroom, the big pouty lip came out and he started crying. And I'm talking full-on crying with tears, clutching to me, "ma ma".... of course I started bawling which did not help the situation. The teachers tried really hard to help but he wasn't having it. Once I eventually left (with meltdown still in progress) I watched him on the monitor for awhile. He seemed better, but I cried halfway to work....
They told me it would probably be like this for about two weeks. Two freakin' weeks?!? I can't take that. He is also doing things at home that he didn't do before, like full on hitting me in the face. I think he's mad at me for leaving him. Tommy thinks it's a phase and that I just feel guilty. Which would be an understatement.
This sucks.
They told me it would probably be like this for about two weeks. Two freakin' weeks?!? I can't take that. He is also doing things at home that he didn't do before, like full on hitting me in the face. I think he's mad at me for leaving him. Tommy thinks it's a phase and that I just feel guilty. Which would be an understatement.
This sucks.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Identity Confusion
What a whirlwind this past week has been. Thursday was the spouse orientation for Tommy's company. I have good stories but will refrain from publishing them here ;) Friday I drove to Mason to sign paperwork and took Wyatt to the daycare in Fairfax while I did that. On my way back, I got a call from the Child Development Center on base (1/4 mile from our house!) that we were off the wait list and they had an opening for Wyatt!! I was SUPER excited because it is a WONDERFUL center. I love, love, love the teachers there and the facility, and as a BONUS it is almost $700 a month less than the other center. So - I had to do MORE paperwork, get health records, get a notary to witness, and arrange for childcare on Monday (the opening started today, Tuesday). All before our Marine Corps Ball that night. A BIG thanks to my neighbor Holly for watching him yesterday!
Yesterday was my first day at work. Whew! It's really hard to work out, get ready, get Wyatt ready, coordinate breakfast, take him to daycare, AND commute to work in this traffic all before 8:30 a.m. In fact, I am not sure it is actually possible. I have been late to work both days so far. Yeesh. Luckily, they are very understanding but it drives me nuts.
What else. Oh, I know. Apparently people here are confused by what I am doing here. I think it is due to the fact that I am a former employee, but that was a contract employee because my old department is privatized. Also, my weird "temporary" assignment was pushed through in a rush and the paperwork hasn't all caught up. Regardless, I have had the same conversation with the ID Card office, the Parking office, and Human Resources & Payroll, which goes something like this:
Me: Hi, I am a new staff member and need to __________(get parking, get an ID card, etc.)
Them: What is your G Number?
Me: [Give it to them]
Them: Do you have your student ID Card?
Me: [Confused... Long pause...] Um... no.
Them: Were you a student here?
Me: No.
Them: Are you sure?
Me: Yes. I used to work here though.
Them: It says you were a student.
Me: Um... no.... unless you want to award me a Ph.D, which is fine.
Them: [Ignoring my comment] Are you faculty or staff?
Me: I don't really know. I am staff, but I think I am classified as a temporary administrative
Faculty appointment.
Them: [Blank look. Staring...long pause] I'm sorry, but you're not in the system.
ARGH!!!! So annoying. I know it's not their fault, but it would be nice to know that I do, in fact, exist? Not to mention to not have to pay $10 to park in the parking garage every day.
On a brighter note, they reactivated my old email. Apparently you don't have to be "in the system" to do that. So I spent 45 minutes deleting the OVER 2,000 emails that had been accumulating there since the last time I used it in 2004! Then I deleted all my old folders, subfolders, sent items, and deleted items. LOL. I'm sad though, because I missed out on tons of great offers - discounts on Viagra, ways to make my man's @#$# bigger, and TONS of work at home opportunities! Crud.
Anyway, it's fun to be back and to see people I haven't seen in a few years. Yesterday we had several meetings and I recognized several members of the GMU Police that I knew from back in the day. Somehow, I'm not sure that is a good thing. :)
Yesterday was my first day at work. Whew! It's really hard to work out, get ready, get Wyatt ready, coordinate breakfast, take him to daycare, AND commute to work in this traffic all before 8:30 a.m. In fact, I am not sure it is actually possible. I have been late to work both days so far. Yeesh. Luckily, they are very understanding but it drives me nuts.
What else. Oh, I know. Apparently people here are confused by what I am doing here. I think it is due to the fact that I am a former employee, but that was a contract employee because my old department is privatized. Also, my weird "temporary" assignment was pushed through in a rush and the paperwork hasn't all caught up. Regardless, I have had the same conversation with the ID Card office, the Parking office, and Human Resources & Payroll, which goes something like this:
Me: Hi, I am a new staff member and need to __________(get parking, get an ID card, etc.)
Them: What is your G Number?
Me: [Give it to them]
Them: Do you have your student ID Card?
Me: [Confused... Long pause...] Um... no.
Them: Were you a student here?
Me: No.
Them: Are you sure?
Me: Yes. I used to work here though.
Them: It says you were a student.
Me: Um... no.... unless you want to award me a Ph.D, which is fine.
Them: [Ignoring my comment] Are you faculty or staff?
Me: I don't really know. I am staff, but I think I am classified as a temporary administrative
Faculty appointment.
Them: [Blank look. Staring...long pause] I'm sorry, but you're not in the system.
ARGH!!!! So annoying. I know it's not their fault, but it would be nice to know that I do, in fact, exist? Not to mention to not have to pay $10 to park in the parking garage every day.
On a brighter note, they reactivated my old email. Apparently you don't have to be "in the system" to do that. So I spent 45 minutes deleting the OVER 2,000 emails that had been accumulating there since the last time I used it in 2004! Then I deleted all my old folders, subfolders, sent items, and deleted items. LOL. I'm sad though, because I missed out on tons of great offers - discounts on Viagra, ways to make my man's @#$# bigger, and TONS of work at home opportunities! Crud.
Anyway, it's fun to be back and to see people I haven't seen in a few years. Yesterday we had several meetings and I recognized several members of the GMU Police that I knew from back in the day. Somehow, I'm not sure that is a good thing. :)
Saturday, November 8, 2008
This Just In
On Friday I was offered a position as the Interim Associate Director for Judicial Affairs at George Mason University! This has been in the works for awhile now, but I wanted to keep it under wraps until I had an official offer. It is a temporary position until June 2009 (at which time they will do a proper search), which is perfect for me since Tommy graduates from TBS in May. I start on Monday, November 17.
I am excited for a few reasons, which include returning to Mason (I worked there from 2002-2004 in residence life as a hall director) and continuing my professional career at a great school. Mason is a large public university with a very diverse mix of 30,000+ students. This is a step up for me and gives me valuable experience in an area that could potentially prepare me for a higher level administrative role like Assistant Dean or Dean of Students. And, they offered me a sweet deal, which never hurts ;).
So it was surprising to me, then, that I was more than a little sad yesterday when I realized that this coming week will be my last week home with Wyatt. I have really come to enjoy my time with him. He is a great kid and we have so much fun together. At first staying home was a hard transition for me. The first day I called my friend Michelle and asked her what I was supposed to be doing. Was I supposed to be teaching him stuff? I had no clue. But I did. I taught him lots of things, like how to Jump, new words (about one per day), and how to eat with a spoon. And he'll use those skills for the rest of his life!
A few weeks ago, before Tommy started class, we went up to Fairfax and checked out the different daycares there, so we have a spot reserved for him in a daycare just 10 minutes from Mason. It's a great center, and he'll learn new things there, too, I'm sure. And I'm thankful that I had these past 6 weeks to get to know my son better. He is funny, smart, silly, and caring. And I love him so much.
So, we'll see what this next chapter holds for us as I start my new position and he starts school, and we enjoy the 45-minute commute together. Let the Rat Race begin!
I am excited for a few reasons, which include returning to Mason (I worked there from 2002-2004 in residence life as a hall director) and continuing my professional career at a great school. Mason is a large public university with a very diverse mix of 30,000+ students. This is a step up for me and gives me valuable experience in an area that could potentially prepare me for a higher level administrative role like Assistant Dean or Dean of Students. And, they offered me a sweet deal, which never hurts ;).
So it was surprising to me, then, that I was more than a little sad yesterday when I realized that this coming week will be my last week home with Wyatt. I have really come to enjoy my time with him. He is a great kid and we have so much fun together. At first staying home was a hard transition for me. The first day I called my friend Michelle and asked her what I was supposed to be doing. Was I supposed to be teaching him stuff? I had no clue. But I did. I taught him lots of things, like how to Jump, new words (about one per day), and how to eat with a spoon. And he'll use those skills for the rest of his life!
A few weeks ago, before Tommy started class, we went up to Fairfax and checked out the different daycares there, so we have a spot reserved for him in a daycare just 10 minutes from Mason. It's a great center, and he'll learn new things there, too, I'm sure. And I'm thankful that I had these past 6 weeks to get to know my son better. He is funny, smart, silly, and caring. And I love him so much.
So, we'll see what this next chapter holds for us as I start my new position and he starts school, and we enjoy the 45-minute commute together. Let the Rat Race begin!
Thursday, November 6, 2008
The Playground
The Playground is an interesting phenomenon to me. I say "phenomenon" because it is so strange. The Playground, theoretically, should be grounds for play for children, not adults. However, over the past month or so I've become very aware that the Playground seems to be used more for adult benefit than for the kids. And I've summed up the women who go there into 4 categories:
Nancy Drews: These are the women who want to know everything about everyone's business, and can't stop talking about it. They stand there snooping around for clues, watching to see who's home and who's not, and who is hanging out with who. Or is it whom? I forget. Some journalism major I was.
Bitter Bees: These ladies want to tell you how bad everything is in their world. I have had one woman tell me (repeatedly) that she's moved 3 times in 3 years, can't wait for her husband to retire, and has made no friends during this time. Well, guess what lady? You just made me run screaming away from you as fast as possible. Yesterday a lady told me she hates it so much here after 2 months that she told her husband she wanted to move back to their house in North Carolina, and he told her to pack the truck. I almost burst out laughing!
The Social Bees: These are the women who go to The Playground under the guise of doing it for the children, when in reality, they just want to get out of the house and have some adult conversation. Admittedly, I fall into this category. I am not proud of it, but chasing Wyatt off the street, steering him away from the woods, and trying to prevent him from falling off the jungle gym is not my idea of a good time. He does get to burn off some steam, which is good, but this is a fringe benefit to the two reasons listed above. One day two women told me I'd have to forgive them, because they'd just drank an entire pot of coffee. With Bailey's. And it was 2 p.m. Hey, whatever floats your boat, I said.
The Model SAHMs: These moms are the Model Moms who do everything right. They go to the playground right after nap time (when they made fresh-baked cookies) but well before dinner so they still have time to prepare the 5-course meal and get it on the table by the time their spouse arrives home. Their houses are spic-and-span and their kids use perfect playground etiquette, while mine shoves them out of the way to get down the slide. One of the Model SAHMs told me she had to cancel our plans the day before Halloween because she had a costume "emergency." By all means - stop the press!!
I realize most of these categories have some sort of negative connotation, and by all means there are many very nice women that I've met at The Playground who are starting to become my friends. And when you think about it, we're all just trying to survive, and we seem to do it in one of these crazy ways. So no harm meant to anyone, I'm just trying to put people in a box :) For you dog lovers out there, I've likened the moms at The Playground to a pack of dogs trying to figure out their pecking order: Some of them growl, some of them shy away, some fight back, and some of them just plain roll over and play dead. And in the end, it's just survival of the fittest. See you at The Playground.
Nancy Drews: These are the women who want to know everything about everyone's business, and can't stop talking about it. They stand there snooping around for clues, watching to see who's home and who's not, and who is hanging out with who. Or is it whom? I forget. Some journalism major I was.
Bitter Bees: These ladies want to tell you how bad everything is in their world. I have had one woman tell me (repeatedly) that she's moved 3 times in 3 years, can't wait for her husband to retire, and has made no friends during this time. Well, guess what lady? You just made me run screaming away from you as fast as possible. Yesterday a lady told me she hates it so much here after 2 months that she told her husband she wanted to move back to their house in North Carolina, and he told her to pack the truck. I almost burst out laughing!
The Social Bees: These are the women who go to The Playground under the guise of doing it for the children, when in reality, they just want to get out of the house and have some adult conversation. Admittedly, I fall into this category. I am not proud of it, but chasing Wyatt off the street, steering him away from the woods, and trying to prevent him from falling off the jungle gym is not my idea of a good time. He does get to burn off some steam, which is good, but this is a fringe benefit to the two reasons listed above. One day two women told me I'd have to forgive them, because they'd just drank an entire pot of coffee. With Bailey's. And it was 2 p.m. Hey, whatever floats your boat, I said.
The Model SAHMs: These moms are the Model Moms who do everything right. They go to the playground right after nap time (when they made fresh-baked cookies) but well before dinner so they still have time to prepare the 5-course meal and get it on the table by the time their spouse arrives home. Their houses are spic-and-span and their kids use perfect playground etiquette, while mine shoves them out of the way to get down the slide. One of the Model SAHMs told me she had to cancel our plans the day before Halloween because she had a costume "emergency." By all means - stop the press!!
I realize most of these categories have some sort of negative connotation, and by all means there are many very nice women that I've met at The Playground who are starting to become my friends. And when you think about it, we're all just trying to survive, and we seem to do it in one of these crazy ways. So no harm meant to anyone, I'm just trying to put people in a box :) For you dog lovers out there, I've likened the moms at The Playground to a pack of dogs trying to figure out their pecking order: Some of them growl, some of them shy away, some fight back, and some of them just plain roll over and play dead. And in the end, it's just survival of the fittest. See you at The Playground.
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