LecciĂłn NĂşmero Dos...

All you need is love... La, la, la, la, la,,,


Just time left for a quick entry to continue with the spanish lessons started a few blogs ago...
I figure you'll pretty much find the way to say hello and get a coffe all over the world, so I'll upgrade these lessons just a bit and teach a couple of classical sentences that might come in handy when dealing with the opposite sex (wow!)...

1.Sentence for the Girls:
"Es esa una pistola en tu bolsillo... O es que te alegras de verme?."

2.Sentence for the Boys:
"Francamente querida, me importa un pepino!".

Translations:
1. "Is that a gun in your pocket... Or are you just happy to see me?"

2. "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn!"

I know with these sentences chances of scoring are way much higher for the girls, but... what the heck!... Life is not always fair.

Hasta mañana!
:)

Your faithful evil server...

ÂżHave you ever danced with the devil beneath a pale moonlight?


This little devil here is now going home and won't be back to work until thursday (yuhuuuu!!!)... I'm not sure if I'll have that much time to blog until then, so I'll leave you with this interesting TEST to find out the religion that best suits you and which I happened to run into at JustAGirl's site.

I came out 100% atheist and 96% satanist. My grandma would have a heart attack if she knew about it, so please keep this quiet.

:)

A tale of books & roses...

This is what Barcelona looks like on San Jordi's Day...


Pretty roses everywhere...


and loads of loads of books to browse or buy.


This is one day one would love it lasted forever!!!

A reader's paradise...

I haven't got that much time to write. But luckily I do have one nice thing to post about. Today, April 23th, San Jordi's Day is celebrated here in Catalonia. Catalonia is the region of Spain where Barcelona is located. And, in my modest opinion, this local festivity must be one of the nicest thing one could ever see.

Why is it so nice? Well, basically because San Jordi is a celebration halfway through between Lover's day and Book's day. And what does this mean? It means that today all the streets of Barcelona (ALMOST EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM!!!!) will be filled with stands for the sale of books and for the sales of roses. The tradition being that men will receive a book from the women who love them and that the women will receive a rose from the guys they love... Yeah, yeah, I can hear a lot ladies out there crying out what a shitty thing (the man gets the book, the woman just a rose, puff!!), but bear in mind that I said "tradition", this meaning the original concept, something that time has luckily taken to more modern stages, transforming San Jordi in a day where books and roses come and go from hand to hand, without really mattering who is a boy or who is a girl (or not even if you are in love with anyone).

To my knowledge, I have no reference of any other place where International Book Day is celebrated like this. Imagine a whole city of 3 million inhabitants completely taken by books and roses stands, with people happily and quietly strolling around them, beneath a superb mediterranean blue sky, in the search for their old time favorite books, new material or, most probably, something special they want to surprise someone with. It's truly a MUST SEE. And it's not even an official holiday (but people just walk out from their jobs and take a couple of hours to enjoy the wonder of all this).

It's not the day to take your car and go visit your friends. As the streets will be crowded to the extreme by legions and legions of enthusiastic lovers and readers.

Not a single bookstore or publishing company (Barcelona is the main publishing place for the spanish reading market in the whole world) will miss this celebration. Of course, they will be the ones supporting most of the stands. But what it most interesting to readers, they will make sure they can get a signature from their favorite authors, visiting one of the hundreds of book signing sessions that are held during the day almost in every corner of the city...

I'm off from work now and I'll get a chance to see how the city wakes up with the stands getting ready to face this beautiful day. It's gonna be nice walking home this morning. And I wish all of you were here to see it.

Happy Saint Jordi to all of you, readers and lovers, throughout the world.

:)

Could I see your ID, pleeeeease!!

We blog, therefore we are!...
But what the hell do we look like???.
Blogging around, seems like quite a lot of people are going into images and pictures sharing.
It’s interesting. It’s nice. And, of course, it’s comprehensible.

Here we are a bunch of people sharing life on a daily basis, but whose faces, on most cases, we can only imagine, I suppose many times influenced by the pictures on our profile. Something, by the way, which only goes to show how weird and erroneous our perceptions must be. Considering that those pics frames are rarely a portrait… And that most of us have this tendency to fill them out with crazy stuff.

In my case, identity is a curious issue. I can recognize to all of you that I still haven’t got the guts to post my pic. But that’s not all there is to it. It is also due to the fact that I can hardly keep the same look for over six months. And nope, I’m not a fugitive and much less a famous star…

Reason for look changes is plain self image boredom. Which, anyway, doesn’t mean that the changes have got to be radical (no crazy haircuts, dyied hair or staff like that). Just basic stuff: mustache on, mustache off; beard on, beard off; hair long, hair trimmed to zero; tailed hair, loose hair; colourfoul clothes; dark clothes… Simply things which added to a curious capacity to loose or put on weight (a lot less or a lot more!) can give you numerous combinations…

To give you an idea, I can tell you that at different points of my life I’ve been told I look like all the guys depicted above. The “Chewy” years were mainly back in school days (I was big and heavy for my age at that time), but the rest of them, and other looks too, have been pretty much coming and going at different stages of my life.

Of all of them, maybe the Lennon look is the one I feel more attached to (though it’s not the one I’ve got now). The funny thing about this resemblance is that my girlfriend has also got a Yoko likeness, so whenever I’ve decided to grow my hair long (and stay thin) it is not unusual that even unknown people address us like the famous couple. We are talking here about different cities and different countries. And the most memorable moment being, of course, at Central Park, New York… A day in which I almost dropped a tear out of the emotion, being the Beatles nut I am.

On the negative side, I can tell you that whenever I have the Lennon look people also seem to think I’m some sort of drug-dealing hippie or something like that. I have nothing against the personal decision of using soft drugs, but it does get a bit annoying when I cannot have long hair and walk into the party scene without someone approaching me and asking if I’ve got “stuff to sell”. It’s happened to me zillions of times. Bars, parks, private parties, public parties, walking on the street, travelling by bus, music concerts (of course) … You name it. Even once in the middle of a huge lake, where I was rowing Tom Sayer style with a couple of friends, when another boat suddenly appeared from nowhere and the guys on it came straight to me asking me if I “had some stuff”. My friends, knowing my previous experiences of this kind just laughed their asses off. As for me, I can’t still figure out how these guys got there and why.

In relation to Uncle Fester above, occasionally I have also been told to bear a resemblance to Cousin It and little Pugsley Adams. I guess this makes the Adams family home a place where I would probably fit in very well. Funny, isn’t?

Last but not least - so that you really believe how serious this identity issue can sometimes be-, I’ll let you know that I was once retained in an international airport because of the way I looked. The guy at the customs check point just didn’t want to believe I was the guy on my passport picture. To some extent, he was right. Due to the fact that I haven’t got a single ID card (of any kind) in which I look exactly the same and I don’t usually look very much like the one I should need at any given moment. Luckily on this occasion, they understood my situation. I ended up showing his supervisor all the documents I had at hand, at that moment, with my name and different pictures of me, and they finally let me through.

A few months ago I published this quick Paint made self portrait below on my blog…

Right now, just add a mustache and chin beard, trim the hair a bit… and there you’ve got me…
In a few months… Who knows?

Holy pollution

Nothing new on the Vatican, except for the first clouds of black smoke, polluting a bit more the Roman skies and announcing yesterday's first voting disagreement of the conclave reunited for the election of a new Pope. I know a lot of people just don't give a damn about what's now taking place in the Vatican, but let me tell you that, even if I try no to turn my eyes that way, I cannot help being worried about what the outcome of this process will be. If what most analysts comment becomes true, the new leader of the church might stick to former Pope's conservative hard line and, maybe, even take it farther. I pray the God I don't believe in that this does not turn real. The Church, in my opinion has long lost its credibility as a pilestone for the search of common sense and understanding; and even more if we consider that what is done by the higher spheres of the institution, for the improvement of this world, is hardly proportional to its real economic potential and political power. Plenty of dogma there if you like it, but a return to truly christian principles would be something better appreciated and most beneficial to common street people. Sorry if a spoiled you a moment with my groaning, but I just had to get this off my head... Hope you have a good day!

Against the clock....

In five minutes I'll be finishing my day (night, really) at work, and I'll be off for a couple days of well deserved rest...
Well, actually my girl's got thought out a million things for me to do at home, so I'm not sure I will get any rest at all... (change that shelf, fix that plug, wash the cat, cook me something cool, take your clothes off and get in here... You know, usual house stuff)...
My worry, though, is what can I say in five minutes that can be significant about my life and that will satisfy the quality standards my thousand of readers have gotten used to... (Besides I just blew the definitions of my template while changing the color, and I've lost quite a few worthy minutes adding back all the links I had again - (if anybody who was there is missing, please let me know!!!)...
The thing to say must be brief, precise and concise.
So here it goes:

Last summer I received a phone message that went something like this:

"MrG, I just spend a couple of hours in Barcelona and I tried to reach you, but I couldn't. My train is now leaving, so I know it's not gonna be possible now. Well, I just wanted to see if we could meet and, well, anyway, I just wanted to thank you for everyhting you did for me". End of the call.

It was a girl, speaking in english, with an american accent.
And I had no idea who could it be.
She addressed me by my name in the message and she sure knew I lived in Barcelona.
I almost never forget the face or the voice of anyone I've met. Much less if I did something so "helpful" for them.
I never got another message from this girl, so I never found out the solution of this mistery.

Spooky?
Strange?
Coincidence? (a guy with my name in the same city)

The truth is out there...

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

Sorry Guys. Blood stopped flowing to my brain after injuring myself yesterday, so I'm not feeling very inspired today. I'll leave you with the following...

TOP TEN LIES OF EVERYDAY LIFE...
WE EITHER USE, HAVE USED OR FACED CONSTANTLY AT ONE POINT OF OUR LIFE.

First Suggestions:

1. Sorry I didn't answer. I was in the shower.

2. Whatcha mean you didn't get it???. I sent you a mail!!! - (mobile messages and Xmas cards are also valid)

3. Oh, boy!!! That traffic was really something today.

4. Yeah, Mom/Pop. Don't worry. I've got money.

5. Nooooo!!! I'm telling you. We did not have a fight. WE ARE JUST FINE!!!.

5. I didn't do it - (your fingers pointing at your brother/sister/husband/wife, etc...)

6. Of course I know where we are!!! - (usually said 20 minutes before opening that stupid map)

7. Oh, yeah, sure. I'll call you.

8. Don't worry, I'll bring condoms.

9. Uuuauuu!! You look FAN-TAS-TIC in that outfit!!!!

10. Well, we really appreciate a lot what you are doing here... (but we'll fire you anyway, so get lost!!!)

Injured blogger...

I JUDD CUDD MY DDONGUE CLODDING AN ENVELOPE... AND IDD HURDD LIKE CRADDZY...
COULD ANYONE DIAL EMEDDGENDDCIES...
DDANK YOU!!!

Childhood innocence...

Reading today about The Peanuts Queen hilarious story on evil marshmallows, I took a detour toward Steve's Nude Memphis Blog and found another great story, this latter about a broken old rotary phone and man who still hangs on to a weird childhood fear.... Well, you can visit their sites and see all the details... The thing is that Steve's memory brought also a similar memory to my mind and I thought I'd tell you about it...

LOOOONG, LOOONG time ago, when I was probably less than 10 years old, I was playing with my older brother at home and in one of our ordinary "thrash around the house" and "wreck the hell" out the place routines we happened to be chasing each other and ended crashing against this huge cupboard, coronated on top with a horrible and old ceramic jar which had been up there forever. Or at least, for as long as we could remember...

Aside from being ugly, the jar had also a considerable size and was baroquely decorated to the extent of wondering who, on earth, would put such an ormanent in his/her house. The answer, in this case, was my grandma (it was a gift from her younger days). And since we all knew she had been the one to place it there, the jar pretty much stayed on top of the cupboard more or less like a picture in a museum. That is respected, unmovable and overlooking the scene.

My brother and I, being kids, had never liked the damned jar. Kids sort of have a talent to know what antique things just ruin the whole aesthetics of a place, and probably the reason why we really crashed against the cupboard, it was because that jar was meant to fall and we were meant to fullfill such a destiny. Of course, as you can imagine, the ugly jar fell from the heights and smashed when hitting the floor. My brother and I suddenly growing pale and exchanging desperate glances of fear...

Just a few seconds after the tragedy ocurred, we started to think about what the hell we were going to do, all the points scored to a WELL DESERVED AND LONG LASTING punishment. Time seemed to freeze. My brother yelled at me: "It's your fault, ASSWHOLE!!!!". Something completely untrue, but that he felt that he could say, with that stupid sense of authority he usually threw at me, because he was a year older. Then, he yelled again: "Do something, ASSWHOLE!!!!" And my lights went on...

I told him we could fix the jar. He looked at me like "yeah, sure" and I just told him back: "Let's get some office tape"...

At this point, I'll just make a short stop and let you know that I sort of knew what I was doing. For my short age, I had always had abilities with my hands (painting, clay sculptures, even fake signatures...) and was usually NÂş1 in my Art classes at school.

With extreme patience (that sort of trance you experience when involved in artistic creativity) I put back all the pieces of the jar and managed to tape them from the inside. It wasn't that firm if you pressed it when I finished, but it had so much tape inside that it would hardly fall apart again easily. The "masterpiece" done, we climbed again the cupboard (yeap, little boys don't use folding stairs) and place the ugly jar back on its majestic place. Luckily enough not much light got on top of that piece of furniture, so we figured it would take a few days before anyone noticed the jar was cracked. At least, a few more precious days of freedom before submitting to punishment... Or that's what we thought.

Fortune smiled on us with more kindness than deserved. The days went by and nobody did seem to notice anything strange about the jar. My brother and I had always known the jar was a piece of shit unworthy to even set your eyes upon. But we weren't quite sure if our parents felt the same... Days continued to pass. Then weeks. Later months. And finally years... The jar being alone as high on the cupboard that nobody even cared to reach a chair and dust up there.

Three years later, approximately, a big earthquake shook our city. Our house was undamaged, but most of the things on high places ended up down on the floor. The ugly jar, of course, was no exception. Our father started cleaning the mess and suddenly he came across these broken pieces of ceramic all sticky with office tape. He was puzzled, but a father is a father and he smelled we had something to do with it.

There was no denial from our part and we explained him the whole thing...

He had a great laugh.

Those kids!!!!

Baby dunking... New addition to the olympic games???


It's not usual that my girl and I go out with couples with kids. Not because we don't want to, but basically because the only thing we have to take care of is our cat (not much different from nasty kids I know, anyway) and, second of all, because most of the couples we know have not yet decided to make that BIG MOVE (us, included, of course)...

On the other hand, here in Spain nightlife, bar hitting and free time is sort of like a religion for lots of people and, things being that way, it's not really unusual either that the "Baby" talk arises way past your thirtieth birthday (yeah, guys, face it, it's not that you are old at thirty+, but hangovers grow worse with years and many people start getting these funny pains from their liver and, sadly, discover that it's not indestructible... And I would also add that you don't enjoy TV cartoons by the morning, as much as you did before)...

Anyway, yesterday afternoon, it was different. We have this friend who teamed up together with a divorced guy with a 7 years old boy last year and, being so long since the last time we had met, we decided to get all together to share a few happy beers and update with the latest of our lives....

The kid was allright. Very intelligent and mature. There was no need to watch out on what you said, as he already knew things like what a transsexual and a travesty were, and believe me that once you hear words like these coming from an kid's mouth, you feel somehow relieved... Well, to sum it up, the afternoon was very pleasant and my girlfriend decided to give the kid a "cerbatana" as a gift (for those who don't know a cerbatana is a blowgun and, considering that we are not in the jungle here, I'll just clarify that my girlfriend got it from a "souvenirs from the world" kind of shop)...

The things is, once she gave him the blowgun, there were three kids instead of just one. The original one. His father. And I. And this is were I really wanted to get. Because whenever some toy of this kind is involved, most men behave just the same, no matter what age they are. You see the big tube. You see the darts. You can almost hear that whistling sound of the blow calling on your primitive nature... YES. IT'S FUN!!!! AND WE WANT SOMETHING MOVING TO BLOW THOSE DAMNED DARTS AT!!!!!

Later at night I decided to get serious (we can all do this, if we wish with all of our heart!) and reflected a bit on human behaviour when related to men interaction with little boys playing (not girls, I clarify). Not that many minutes past, I rounded out my thesis to the following: Unless a feminine presence is dominating the scene, when it comes to kids, men usually act just as mature as their little boy fellas or they simply treat them like a pet (a loved pet, nevertheless)...

OK, OK, OK... I can hear some fathers out there claiming they are good caring parents and that sort of stuff... Take it easy, pals. I'm not saying you are not... I just believe that, whenever wives/girlfriends/women (yep, mothers count too) are there, we just don't behave the same... We usually just jump into the fun more restless and careless or we use the boys to get a good laugh or a good time (not much different of what you do with your dog when throwing sticks in a park and nothing to regret, if you ask me)...

I'm not a parent, but I've got a brother who was born 15 years after me, so I know what interaction with a little boy can be like... My older brother and I did everything with the little guy from disguising him, making him cry for stupid stuff, convincing him two run 40 times up and down the stairs, or sending him on weird errands (when he was a bit older), just to show a few examples... We had a great time out of him and, curiously enough, he still loves us a lot...

LecciĂłn NĂşmero Uno...

1.- Siéntese delante del ordenador y proceda a desvestirse.

ha, ha, ha....
Don't freak out.
Just pulling your leg... In case you read blog headings only...
I haven't decided to move to spanish yet...

Those curious enough can check the meaning of instruction NĂşmero Uno with a Free Translator...

Hope you are ready for instruction NĂşmero Dos tomorrow... ;)

Hola a todos!!!!

If your spanish is worse than basic, let me just tell you this means HELLO EVERYBODY... Why do I post this... Well, a small, but annoying reason really...

I've been blog-surfing last night (my index finger numb of "next-blog" clicking) and I've come to realize than blogs written in spanish are scarce and, when you happen to run into one of them, they are usually just terrible...

OK, maybe I shouldn't complain that much, since I'm not writing this blog in spanish either. But spanish is one the five most widely spoken languages of the world and I believe that, one blogger less or more, the spanish blogging community should still be proportional to the amount of people who speak it daily. Maybe it was just bad luck. Maybe not. Still, the whole thing is a bit sad and dissapointing...

I guess could try writing this blog in spanish and just force you to learn the language (after all, knowing languages is cool and it's always good to improve one's personal education)... I'll see what I do... Until I decide anything,
HASTA LA VISTA (see you later)

*start checking prices for dictionaries, just in case*

Real house warmth...

Nope. It's not my birthday yet... And come to think of it, if it were my birthday, I would go for the traditional cake and candles stuff when celebrating it. Reason for the pic above is simple and down to earth. I have bought myself a new toilet lid. Incredible, right??? I knew you would understand it.

OK,OK, I'm not as stupid as this post might seem so far (well, maybe we could discuss about my stupidity, but this post is serious, I swear...). Let's do a bit of background
info, first...

For YEEEEEARS and YEEEEEARS, I had this toilet with a PLASTIC TOP. Big deal, you say. And you are right. Probably a majority of this planet shares the same bathroom experience. But I had a reason to change. And that makes this a WHOOOOOLE different story.

If you have read my profile, you must know already that I live in Barcelona, Spain. Barcelona is a great city. Lots of things to see, great cultural activities, an amazing nightlife, close to wonderful mediterranean beaches, tasty food, a cosmopolitan environment, etc, etc... But despite all this, like any other modern european polis, when winter times hits the calendar, YOU FREEZE YOUR BUTT. Hold on to this last statement, and explanation for this post will become clearer than water in just a few lines...

As I said, I live in Barcelona. And more precisely, I live in Barcelona Old Quartier. A colorful, mixed and attractive neighborhood where OLD really means OLD and the building you inhabit might well have a few centuries when it comes to determine the moment someone decided to lift it up. As a result, you have got plenty of small flats where the bathroom is in the house, but your toilet is separated from the main estructure of the place, by a small private corridor (because the toilet was probably added decades after the original construction). I live in the Old Quartier. And this is my case.

For YEEEEEEARS and YEEEEEARS, comes winter, my potty attached on the outside of my flat, I had been freezing my butt whenever I felt the call of my human needs. It was horrible. And at nighttime, it was even worse than a nightmare. Until providence crossed my road and enlightened my brain just a few days ago...

I was browsing by IKEA, searching for some bookshielves, when I came into the bathroom section and I my eyes, suddenly, diverted toward a WOODEN toilet lid. I felt puzzled and I wasn't really sure why. But my thoughts quickly reorganized and showed me why and the vision I should have had YEEEEEEARS and YEEEEEARS ago:

PLASTIC LIDS absorb the cold and FREEZE YOUR BUTT!!!!
WOODEN LIDS reject the cold and SHOULD NOT FREEZE YOUR BUTT!!!!
AND I HAVE BEEN LIVING ALMOST A DECADE WITHOUT EVEN THINKING ABOUT THIS!!!!!!!! (I remind you, once again, that debate over my stupidity remains open...)

Needless to say, I opened my wallet, took out the 19,90 euros and bought that glorious toilet covering. As soon as I got home, I proceeded to install it right away. What followed after that, you can imagine... And let me tell you... THE LID IS A GODDAMN PLEASURE!!!! (And contrary to the pic above, a lot safer when it comes to warm our delicate behinds).


By the way, I run into this strabge TOILET MUSEUM site when writing this post. Check it out, if you'd like...

those daily mysteries

Hard day at work today... which sadly means (in my case) not much time for blogging... However I'll just post a quick entry, reflecting on one of those of things which always happen and only gods know why...

As I said above, I was quite busy all day... And what does this mean??? It means that for a strange reason this is the sort of day most of your friends choose to call you up and see what's going with your life... Plus the addition that this will also be the day your girlfriend (wife, couple, etc...) suffers this sudden urge to be constantly communicated with you to ask you even about the most insignificant stuff...

Of course, all this social interaction is not something to regret at all... But I work mainly face to the public and sometimes you just feel a bit weird when you have a bunch of people looking at you and you keep answering the phone to answer your mates (many of whom, also realize you are up to your neck with work, and decide it's just the perfect time to joke a bit and pull your leg for a little while)...

Now when a girlfriend call comes in, things can be sometimes harder... That might go from the "why are you being so cold to me (the "honey I got crowds of people here" message not getting across)" or that classic "c'mon, say you love me" thing that you cannot avoid responding and which, I must confess, will always make me blush in front of someone with a funny smirk on his/her face...

Now, don't get me wrong... I'm a extremely sociable guy and have this diplomatic touch that usually helps me to deal very well with these situations... And what really surprises me it's not the considerable amount of calls, but just the strange fact that this things will always take place on "work your ass out" days... Is it just me???

Not to say he didn't try...

And then you wonder why he couldn't find anything...


It's hard to go through the news and not to take a moment to talk about results just turned in by the US Congress Comission about Massive Destruction Weapons in Irak...

If you have heard about it, you must know by now than after a year of investigation all evidence leading to believe that Irak had enough of these weapon to wreck the Middle East has shattered to zero (or very close to that, at least).

Conclusions say that intelligence information provided by official US agencies was either wrong or not properly certified. They make it clear, though, that it was the spies fault and that the Bush administration could not help that. Whether you want to believe this or not -especially after all this time and what this war has meant to the international community-, it's up to you.

Regardless of where you stood when all this war craziness started, I cannot help but wonder how will american people will face this.

It is not about being pro-war or against-war anymore. The thing is it has taken a full year for a official comission to state what 90% percent of the world population, plus all UN and independant inspectors were almost desperately shouting, before the bombs began to fall. Take this and sum it with fiasco of the most advanced intelligence services in the world, supposedly, providing such crappy data on such a crucial situation and you cannot stop your head from nodding out of consternation.

Can the people in the world really rely on what their governments tell them?
If I were in the US, I would start thinking seriously about it.

Are the threats from places like Iran or North Korea something that should really be taking into account?
A couple of years ago, the international community could have discussed or disagreed about
it. Now, nobody will know what to believe or what to attain to.

On a more local american ground, can anybody really overlook all that people's tax money so foolishly spent on lousy spying services and useless investigatios comissions (not to count war propaganda) ?

A few years ahead, however, looking from a strict chronological analysis, George W. Bush thesis might be quoted as real and coherent: He invaded Irak to destroy massive destruction weapons. A year later, there were no weapons of this kind in Irak... Forget about the fact that they were not there before... And there is no contradiction in all that.


(believe or not, pic from above is from a real archive)

Want to shake the established media??? Follow the example

Just checking on the news I run into this little piece I thought you, fellow bloggers, might find interesting...
I do not consider CNN the standard for deep alternative news treatment, but yet I think this note about korean Citizen Reporters - blogging/reporting live from wherever they are- is still worth taking a look at, if not by its form, definitely by its content.

TIME HAS COME FOR US TO HOLD UP THE MIC... AND SPEAK UP!!!!
(Don't you guys feel a little bit like this, whenever you start one of this blogging sessions?)