The Formation of Travuals

I woke up on a not-so-distant-past Monday morning feeling as if I had just regained consciousness after months of being in a coma. This was because the previous weekend's activities took me on a magical thrill ride of awesomeness the likes of which have never been seen.

It all started with planning Whitney's bachelorette party. I love planning bachelorette parties. Actually, I love planning anything. I like making up lists, organizing and highlighting them, striking through certain things (neatly) and then editing the list until it's an unflawed thing of perfection. I totally had a list for this. Places to go, things to eat and etc. But as you may know, the very best vacations happen when the list goes out the window and you just go with it. This is precisely one of those vacations.

Something especially great about this desert trek through the sands of awesome was that I didn't even have to leave town. We stayed at the Hotel San Jose right smack in the middle of bustlin' South Congress. That means we were close to some of the town's best shopping and eateries. The Hotel San Jose is one of "those hotels." As in, when you tell people you're staying there they all do a wistful sigh. It's not that it's overly nice, it's just really Austin-y and in a fab location. Here are some pictures!


The front.


The pool.


The hotel beer and wine bar.


Our suites!


Jo's Coffee next door.

When I showed up at the hotel the gals had just arrived. Even though I had never met them, I felt like I had because of a string of email threads that had been going on for months prior to the event. If you know me at all, you know I often speak very oddly. I'm sure you can tell via this blog. So when I started seeing strange language all over our email threads by them, it excited me to no end. I love saying amaze-yewls. When I saw one of them say amazeuals (what?! an extra syllable!!!) on one of the emails I was like "YES! I LOVE these girls!" And then Bonnie, Karen and Jennifer waltzed into my life and ROCKED IT. Whitney and Aubrie, the other two, were already ROCKING IT. Since all of them are from Dallas, I'm beginning to wonder why I be hatin' on Dallas so much. Hmm.

Check-in. Super annoying. They told me that check-in began promptly at 3pm.. but they didn't have our room ready until 4pm. What?! Yes, this gave us a chance to sit by the pool and begin drinking, but there were kids cannon-balling at the tiny ass pool. Look at the pool! I posted a picture! Dude, don't let your kids cannonball in a pool that size. Very bad form. So a full hour later (hello at least offer us a free drink or something!) we were able to check in and begin the oh-so-familiar girl get-ready process. Then? On to Gueros!


It's a taco bar about a block or two away from the hotel.

Live music came ext, as it was easy to access being right next door to the restaurant. Now, Jennifer up until this moment had seemed like the quietest of the group. Yes, she participated and was fun, but I hadn't quite pegged her to be the "WOOHOOOOOO" one. But then when the live music came about... Jennifer sprang from the depths of herself and was dancing like there was no tomorrow. I believe the band addressed her specifically several times. GETTIT Jennn!!!!

Even though the beer was flowing like wine and the salmon were instinctively flocking like the salmon of Capistrano, it couldn't change the face that due to the live music, we couldn't even hear ourselves think. So we decided to take a quick jaunt back to the hotel before making up our minds where to go next. Confession. I immediately broke into a sake bottle being held captive in the mini bar in our room. Save the sake guys! It was all alone in there! Not really, but anything I can say to rationalize drinking it.



Finally we made up our minds to go with Ego's, a karaoke bar within walking distance. Despite the fact that it was well within walking distance, we got lost. Of course. And as soon as I got to the bar, I directly ordered a double gin and tonic. I sat down, and started people watching. All of a sudden I felt the need to scratch my scalp, and guess what I found when I did. A WORM. A GEE DEE EFFING SILK WORM. Do these guys stalk me? EVIDENCE = YES.



Jennifer signed up everyone for karaoke, and she signed herself up with Whitney first. Jen picked SHOOP by Salt n' Peppa and we were all really excited! So she and Whitney get up on stage, and start. Usually karaoke is two people falling all over themselves to get the words right, and Whitney was at-par with that. But I think this was basically due to Jen TOTALLY DOMINATING at karaoke!



She knew every word and said it in perfect timing! This naturally made the whole bar obsessed with her. Including a girl. It was truly bizarre - she made Jen give her a business card, and upon realizing the card did not include Jen's cell, she MADE her write it down on the card. Whitney to Jen "that girl wanted to wear your hair." I think Whitney was right.

Ego's is a crappy looking bar. But it's fun. I had a lot of fun, and a lot of gin and tonics. And it was good that I did, because I needed a lot of the hard stuff to get me through the experience that was the bathroom. The bathroom looked like it was fresh out of the Rwandan genocide. Like someone had recently been there with a machete, slinging it all over the place. I'm pretty sure there was a blood-like substance on the ceiling. I actually cautioned some entering girls that it WAS Rwanda in there. God knows what they thought I meant.

Whitney basically carried Jennifer home, and that was the end of the night.

DAY 2

Since this post is getting awfully long, I'm going to give you the abridged version.

Girls go to get massages at AZIZ downtown. DO NOT GO TO AZIZ. They told Bonnie that her arms were strangely long and chastised Aubrie for having short nails. It looked like rural Mexico. They were all kept apart the whole time and they treated Whitney like CRAP even though she's the bride. They also charged them for a member of our party that didn't show up even though they were running behind on their appointments... if anything our extra party member being absent helped. They are ridiculous fools... but I can't say they didn't make things interesting.



Complete filth. But whatever.

The rest of the day went as follows.

Breakfast = Jo's Coffee
Lunch = Place that serves meat in a cone
Shopping = Hot as EFF on South Congress...like 90+ degrees. Miserable.
Next = Hotel.
Next = Getting ready, piling up into Bonnie's car.
Dinner = Sushi at Imperia. Wine and sake consumption.



We = Without question the loudest and most inappropriate table in the restaurant.
Weirdness = Encounter our second of 3 people with lisps on the trip - the second being our waiter. And our waiter tells us after eating some delicious escolar that it will give us diarrhea.

WAITERS. NEVER TELL PEOPLE THAT AFTER THE FACT. IT WILL NOT DO ANY GOOD. AND IT'S DISGUSTING TO SAY DIARRHEA AT ANY ESTABLISHMENT THAT OFFERS FOOD.

Then, the hand of God came out and touched our table. Collectively we decided to form a travel group called TRAVUALS! First we're going to Cabo San Lucas for Whitney's wedding, then we're going to have a birthday blowout for Bonnie at the Belmont. Future travuals ideas include Napa Valley, somewhere on the east coast for oyster tour awesomeness, Santa Fe/Taos, the Big Bend area and more. It's going to be so badass. What's better than a traveling group of inappropriate and debaucherous girls?! Nothing I tell you. Nothing.

Next = adult shop of questionable repute. I'm very shy about talking about this stuff, so I'm going to be cryptic. A lot of money was spent by the ladies. Let's just say that. But in the midst of this, we had to deal with the traffic associated with the Texas Relays. Relays is a gangster spectator sport, apparently. Everyone thinks it's just track and field. It's not. Because this is what we saw everywhere we went when we were out Saturday.


Do you SEE the crazy line of cars with RIMS? Like 60,000 people were in the downtown alone causing ruckus.


It was seriously scary! Poleetz cars everywhere!

Then? Back to the hotel beer and wine bar for wine, beer and sangria. Penis tiara in all the pictures. At some point I decided to do the whole 'hold the camera up' thing to get pictures of the group in action. Basically I got a bunch of weird photos of the tops of peoples heads.

Back to the room. Whitney and Aubrie walk to Home Slice Pizza and get like 45 pieces of pizza to go. We eat them. All. With ranch. We basically motor boated the ranch and pizza.

Sunday morning = packing.

Go to Snack Bar for brunch, where we drink mimosas.

Order delicious breakfastuals.

Again, the loudest most obnoxious table in the establishment. We relive the night and embarrass the hell out of Aubrie's boyfriend who came to pick her up. He was so pleasant considering the content of our discussions.

So sad to see these gals leave. TRAVUALS IS THE FABUALS!!!!!!!



Also, this is a bachelorette party which warrants lewd behavior. So if you have a wayward eyebrow? As Bonnie would say, "judge and get over it."

Today's Happenings

Walking to work is getting progressively more interesting. Here's what happened today:

I walked by the gas station near my house, and there was a guy standing by his car filling up his tank.

Guy: Hey sugar! What's shaking?

Me: Don't talk to me you vagrant filth. (he wasn't a vagrant)

Guy: Wuh...wha?

Me: You are ugly. (he wasn't)

Guy: Whuhf?



You may be saying "geez, why were you so rude?" I'll tell you why. Because cat calling women is disgusting and tactless. Men - do not cat call women. DON'T DO IT. Plus, any woman who responds positively to cat calling isn't worth having. I taught him a lesson, and I feel pretty proud of myself.

Second happening:

I was walking past an empty lot between two houses, and I saw a rogue quail! Usually quail wander around together, but this was a solitary. I had two reactions to seeing the quail.


And...


You see, quail are very tasty. It's also very rare to run into one in the city, so... should I take the opportunity to pounce? If he decides to run out into the middle of the street he will get smooshed, and then a lot of tasty quail meat will go to waste. But alas, I could not make myself attack the quail. Plus, I'd just eaten cereal.

And at last, we come to the final happening:

I'd like to say I remembered to bring a blow torch with me today for the silk worms, but I didn't. It's okay though, because I didn't have any run-ins with them today. Well.... sort of. I did see a silk worm, but he was dead and didn't end up in my hair.



All in all a pretty good morning!

My Nemesis, the Silk Worm

I walk to work most days because it's close to my house. Might as well, especially keeping in mind the desire for fast and severe weight loss (I'm a bridesmaid at a beach wedding in May). Though I doubt walking 3 miles will contribute much to that.

Anyway, if you know me, you know that my not-so-secret dream profession would be to become an Entomologist. What's that you say? Why, it is one who studies insects. My whole life I've been obsessed with bugs of all kinds. When I was little, I used to go to my back yard and collect them. My favorite insect to collect was the cicada.


This is a cicada in the nymph stage. They do not fly, they just toodle around with a hard exoskeleton until one day they decide to climb up a tree and hatch, much like a butterfly. Then they'll sit there on top of their shells waiting for their wings to dry, and then they look like this.



You don't have to tell me how amazing that is. I already know. I loved to watch this process growing up - it was absolutely fascinating to me. But one day, I was shocked out of my reverie when I witnessed something despicable.

A BIRD SWOOPED OUT OF THE SKY AND ATE A CICADA FRIEND OF MINE BEFORE HE WAS EVEN DONE DRYING HIS WINGS!!!



Abhorrent filth! At least give the cicada a fighting chance..... BAD FORM! As a child I was stricken at the thought of these cicadas, whose life span was so very short, being picked off before they even had a chance to explore the wondrous skies. So, in my lil brain, I formed a plan to ensure the proliferation of my insect friends.

The next morning I woke up with a start. I reached under my bed, and grabbed my caboodle. Yes. My caboodle. Remember those?



In an attempt to beat the birds, I ran around my back yard and then, once that was done, the neighborhood like the Tasmanian devil collecting hatching cicadas and putting them my caboodle, proclaiming "they will be safe, by GOD!"



Now...erm....all the cicadas in my caboodle died because I forgot about them. But hey, I tried.

Anyway, now you know of my love for bugs. But to get back on task about walking to work and such...

Naturally when one takes the time to walk, they tend to pay more close attention to their surroundings. But traffic is also a factor to contend with, and thus distraction by said surroundings must be kept to a moderate level. So every time I walk, I look around to make sure I'm not going to be squashed by cars... because that's what you should do when walking. But lately, I've been having run-ins with something else entirely. Worms.

Every time I look another way, while walking, they come out of nowhere and slap me right in the face. Let me illustrate how:



Tree worms. With their little silk lines, decide to just hang in mid air. And when your attention is captured by something else, there they are. Right in your face going "oh heyyyyy, y'all ran into my silk!"

Every five seconds. I swear. I'm looking at the ground...



"Oh heyyyyy! Y'all need to watch out cuz yew ruinin' my silk!!"

Looking at a car that just slammed on its breaks...



"Oh heyyyy, y'all really need to look where yew walk!"

Looking at some trees in bloom...



"Oh heyyyyy, I guess y'all didn't see me! Here I am in your hair now!"

Now as much as I love bugs, even worms, I'm about to take these little em-effers out. I swear, I'm one step away from bringing a blow torch with me. So if you live in Austin, or anywhere where these guys reside....watch out.....



"Ima getchuuu y'all!"

The Sheen OptiCorn

A few days ago, or a week perhaps, I posted "Pondering what Charlie Sheen and I are going to call our band" on facebook. I loved the responses I got on it, and they kept me entertained all day. But it didn't stop there - I actually had a dream about my band with Charlie Sheen, which I will elaborate on soon.

My whole love affair with Charlie Sheen just recently started. I periodically go through bouts of not wanting to look at or hear anything in the way of news. Let's face it, the news is depressing. The only reason we ever hear positive things in the media, in my opinion, is because they simply need fillers between the horrific and depressing stories. Fear sells. They just give us the filler stories so we all just don't put down our remotes and jump out of a window. Thus, every now and then I need to disconnect and a month ago I did just that. But that can only last so long you see. If you have facebook, you're bound to catch some bits of news even if you aren't looking to.

So about 2 weeks ago I see this "winning" thing trending. "What? What's going on here with this winning?" I said to myself. Finally after seeing eleventy billion posts of it, curiosity got the better of me. So I googled, and I came into the most amazing set of quotes ever. I wish my brain was exactly like Charlie's, because my blog would be SO much more interesting. Take this particular gem...


"I'm tired of pretending like I'm not bitching, a total fricking rock star from Mars, and people can't figure me out; they can't process me. I don't expect them to. You can't process me with a normal brain."

Freakin' YES Charlie Sheen!!!!!! I've been waking up every day for the past 27 years scratching my head thinking "why can't people just accept the fact that I'm a bitching rock star from Mars?" Thank you for finally speaking out against the oppression.

Here's where we get to the dream part. After posting that on facebook and going to sleep at night, all of the colors of the rainbow...even indigo...came together to form a magical awesomefest of music in my sleeping brain. In the dream, there were three key elements:

First - Charlie Sheen and I were a metal band called Charlie Cheen. Or at least, that's what we were announced as. But definitely not Sheen. It was Cheen.

Second - We only had one song that was comprised of one word.

You've heard metal bands, right? You can't ever tell what they're saying. They could be saying one word or multiple words, but it's impossible to tell. They could be saying "I love to take tea and eat biscuits and mini cucumber sandwiches on non-consecutive Tuesdays" and you'd never know. You'd just be sitting there thinking, "Mannnnn, that's some badass noise dewwwwwd." That is, if you like metal. I think it's horrid because of precisely what I just said in that quoted sentence back there. Only...take out badass. It's just noise. So...

Third - The one word in the song was, of course, WINNING.

Like I said though, you can't tell. Because we're a metal band. So we just say winning over and over again like this -

WINNINGGGGGGGGGGUH. Winningwinningwinningwinningwinningggggggggggggguh.

Really it just depends on the music and how erratic it is. So, it's a judgement call as to whether or not you say WINNING as one word just really drawn out, or you say WINNING many times in succession. I guess as the singer one can feel free to exercise some creative control.

Now, for my part in this band I - well - to be quite honest I have no idea what my part was. All I know is that I was on stage. Maybe I was like, pyrotechnics specialist or something. Charlie was, of course, the entire purpose of the band. The odd thing was, I knew it was Charlie Sheen but he, erm, didn't quite look like himself. Let me try and explain with some pictures...

Charlie Sheen was a combination of as follows...


Charlie Sheen head


Optimus Prime


A magicalll unicorrrrrn!

Here's how he was assembled: Actual head plus unicorn horn. Optimus Prime torso. Unicorn legs and tail.

Basically, he was like the most awesome centaur ever.


This guy ain't got nothin' on my Sheen OptiCorn!

In closing, not only am I irreparably strange, but my dreams are too.


Here's some of the best Charlie quotes, free of charge!

"Winning, anyone? Rhymes with winning. Anyone? Yeah, that would be us. Sorry, man, didn’t make the rules."

"I am battle-tested bayonets, bro."

"Look what I’m dealing with, man, I’m dealing with fools and trolls."

"It’s just strafing runs in my underwear before my first cup of coffee, because I don’t have time for these clowns."

"You have the right to kill me, but you do not have the right to judge me. Boom. That’s the whole movie. That’s life.”

“I’m sorry man, I got magic and I’ve got poetry in my fingertips, you know, most of the time, and this includes naps. I’m an F-18, bro.”

“Oh wait, can’t process it. Losers. Winning. Buh bye.”

“There are parts of me that are Dennis Hopper.”

“I don’t live in the middle anymore. That’s where you get slaughtered. That’s where you get embarrassed. From the prom queen.”

“The only thing I’m addicted to right now is winning.”

“I’m not Thomas Jefferson. He was a pussy.”

“I have a disease? Bullshit. I cured it with my brain.”

“People are mystified by this odyssey that refuses to quit calling itself Charlie Sheen."


Well said, sir!

Fear and Loathing in Victoria

When I was in college, my best college buddy was Brittany. In fact, Brittany is still my best college buddy. We shared in the tribulation that was shoe-box sized dorm living, we ate the obligatory cases of ramen noodles together, we went through rush together and of course had many fabulously horrific drunken misadventures together. You've met college, right? Yeah.

So basically during the first few years after my mom passed away, I was in a rotation of spending holidays with friends. Once, when we had a break from school - Fall break I believe? I went to Victoria to see the place from which Brittany originated.

What I can say about Victoria: Hi...I'm in Victoria...

Though I imagine those that visit Amarillo harbor somewhat similar feelings. Nonetheless, I toured the outskirts just barely outside of Victoria and arrived in the small municipality of Raisin - where Brittany's family resides. Raisin' Texas, y'all!

Brittany's house is on a rather sizable chunk of land, and out behind it is a two story barn. Or at least, it WAS a barn. It had since been remodeled to a sort of back house that had couches, a pool table and a refrigerator filled with a veritable smorgasbord of alcohol. I was twenty, and to me this was a thing of unadulterated majesty. However, Brittany's brother Cody had completely decimated the stash. The only things that were left were as follows: Hot Damn and Jager.


Now if you know anything about alcohol, you know that those two drinks are, well, rough. And even more rough? A combination of the two. At this point in my life, I was equally unacquainted with what both of those drinks were. So I, as well as Brittany, thought...."hey, why not combine the two?" The evening started with one shot of each and as far as I can recollect, ended in a mixed drink of the two.

All I know, is at one point I was talking to Cody about politics and totally smashing the Bush administration. Then? Nothing.

The next thing I knew, I was in the hot tub. I didn't realize what was going on, or how I ended up there. All I knew is that I was alone, until I heard someone calling me. I looked around, and there was Cody standing outside of the hot tub. He said "Mary, are you okay? You're not going to fall asleep in there...are you?" "How did I get here?" I say. "I have no idea, I just came outside and here you were" said Cody. I look down, to my horror, and see what I'm wearing. Here's a hint: it's not a bathing suit. Don't worry! I wasn't naked or anything! What I WAS wearing was my pink bra and a pair of Brittany's mom's spandex bicycle shorts.

What?!

I think I know, in retrospect, where I got the bicycle shorts. Earlier that day, I was hanging out with Brittany and Debbie, her mom, in Debbie's room. Upon entry into her quarters, I saw that she had a gazelle! Woooohooo!


Please tell me this doesn't look fun guys. If you tell me it doesn't look fun you are being a filth monster. It's like gliding along on poofy clouds at a superhuman SPEED! Like...Pocahontas painting with the colors of the damn wind!

I got overly excited about the gazelle, which may be apparent at this point. So I happily pounced on it and started wailing away doin' mah thang. Then I started being goofy and overly exaggerating my leg movements. The next thing I knew, my center of gravity was compromised - and the NEXT thing I knew was that I was laid out on the floor, my feet having just flown out from under me, on my back, with my legs sticking straight up and the wind completely knocked out of me.

This is something Brittany and her mom STILL give me hell about. There's even footage of Brittany's mom telling this story on Brittany's wedding video. Awesome.

So anyway, I have a sneaking suspicion that drunk giggly hot tubbin' Mary decided to sneak into Debbie's room and abscond with a pair of schexy bicycle shorts to use as a swimsuit.

The next day, after a rather large mexican food lunch and too many tylenol gel caps, Brittany and I headed aft back to San Marcos. Mostly in silence. I turned to her and said "Brit? I'm never doing that again." "Never EVER hot damn and jager again - it erases our memories and renders us lunatics" said Brittany. "Yes" I agreed, head hung in humiliation. "Yes it does."

February: A Month From the Bowels of Hell

My family (me, Kevin, Amelia) has been sick for the ENTIRE MONTH of February. As many of you may or may not know, I absolutely loathe going to the doctor and will be at death's front door before I finally relent and allow myself to be taken. Usually Kevin or my best friend Laine will have to say something that affronts my delicate (uh...ha!) nature in order to convince me I'm being ridiculous and might meet my end if I don't go.


I would see him though, because he's hot. Yes I said it, Hugh Laurie is hot. He has an attitude problem, he's British and he dresses in those print tshirts with a courduroy jacket. Swoon!

Onward. Yesterday I met with the ridicule of Kevin and Laine. Plus, I was scaring people at work. So I went to the doctor, and she essentially had an aneurysm at me. "Jesus, you sound awful" she says. "I sound like a 500 lb smoking man" I say, to which she gave a nod of affirmation. I left with an antibiotic, an inhaler and medicated nasal spray. I was offered steroids and hydrocodone, which I respectfully declined. As previously discussed, I already sound like a man so I don't need steroids, thank you. I declined the narcotics because I'd be all... "aw?" when it ran out.

So now I'm medicated and feel a little better, though I still sound like a corpulent smoker, and am still voming from excessive coughing. Just to reiterate the hellishness of this month, allow me to disclose to you the disgusting diseases that have befallen my house recently: flu, pink eye, bronchial infections, respiratory infections, small pox, jungle monkey virus, plague, dysentery, snake bite...basically all the diseases in Oregon Trail.



Okay, only the first four were true...but still how awful is that? Here's hoping March treats us a little better!

2011: Off to a Ridiculous Start

Okay, where do I begin? 2011 started with an almost immediate launch into tax season. I work within a tax center that offers free preparation for low income families along with free financial coaching and free financial aid assistance for college. Sounds awesome, right? Well that's because it is! But the problem is, like any tax preparation agency right now, it's super busy. When it's super busy and people have to wait for extended periods of time....what do they do? They complain.

But dude, seriously? It's a free service. Don't complain!



Naturally, because I'm a weirdo magnet, a lot of complaints find themselves in my lap. And daily I feel like I'm being leveled with an assault rifle. Or a bazooka. Some sort of super intense weapon. Still, I put on meh happy face at work, but when I get home I collapse and go to bed at like 7pm because it's exhausting.

Second, the dreaded half marathon. I finished - but when I arrived at the finish line I looked like a dead wildebeest. I also lost my left toenail and bled clean through one of my shoes.


Before the race, happy but scared. And I look fugly.


After. Totally jank.

Third, I'm turning over the program I run for the National Alliance on Mental Illness called In Our Own Voice over to a new coordinator because unfortunately, I'm just too busy to coordinate it AND work AND have a two year old while maintaining the integrity of the program. So I go up to the Austin State Hospital, which is a mental hospital, to hand over the reins. Saying 'mental hospital' may or may not be derogatory...so sorry if it is!

Anyway, while I respect both those who are in it and those who are employees of it, it's super freaking creepy. The walls are this icky green color, and it always smells both sterile and sickly. OH! And the numbers on the doors never correspond with the doors next to them. SO strange. One time I got lost in there, and I couldn't open any of the exit doors. It felt like a bizarre and terrifying nightmare...luckily I found an employee who believed that I wasn't a patient that let me out.

I digress on the strangeness. You get the idea. So I go up to the Austin State Hospital to hand off my well organized, top notch, squeaky clean, freaking perfect, awesome work on the program to the office staff. When I get to the 4th floor, I discover they haven't yet arrived, so I take the opportunity to go to the restroom...which is a tiny one-person stall.

After that was attended to, I washed my hands and proceeded to have the automatic paper towel dispenser unload its entire contents on me. So I struggle in this tiny little cubicle to stop the paper towels, and don't succeed. I stuff everything in the trashcan, feeling sullen at the tragic waste of the paper. I put my jacket on, and reach to unlock the door. Nothing. The knob doesn't move. WHAT? What is going on here? What do I do?


Oh. My. God. I'm going to die in here!

I start banging loudly on the door every couple of minutes to alert any passers-by.

Finally, after twenty minutes of banging, I get a response. It's the office staff. "WE WILL GO GET A KEY!" they say. They do. The key doesn't work. So we sit there in a state of pushing and pulling and turning and more banging. This goes on for 30 minutes before we finally get a maintenance man up there and manage to unlock the thing.

Like the place doesn't freak me out enough? And I lock myself in a bathroom? Only me. I swear...why does it ALWAYS have to be me?!

So needless to say my year is off to a ridiculous start, but then again that's par for the course. Naturally I will keep you posted on any further interesting events that take place.