South of Market, West of Everything Else I Know: First Impressions of San Francisco

Well, I've been in my new apartment in SoMa for a week now. Everything is completely different from Houston. And Maryland. And anywhere else I've ever been, really. Let's discuss:

1) STORES/SHOPPING: Although there is a boutique for just about every designer I've ever heard of (including a pretty large Betsey Johnson store, so yay!), there is no such thing as Target or Wal-Mart here. The closest grocery store is Bristol Farms, which is actually inside a mall. I have to go through Bloomingdale's to get my toilet paper. And it's expensive. Basically just add a dollar to the price of anything you'd buy in Houston. There is a Whole Foods within walking distance, but we all know how Whole Paycheck works, so the best option is Safeway, which is over 2 miles, round trip, on foot, lugging groceries. Needless to say, I have not purchased more than a single Diet Coke at a time since we've been here.

2) Speaking of WALKING, that's how I get around now. I sold my car before I left. I am glad of this, since my driving phobia would have resulted in a quick aneurysm had I attempted to drive here. It's NUTS. There are pedestrians everywhere, tons of buses and taxis, and for some reason the cars drive as fast as they possibly can once their light turns green, even though they will ALWAYS have to stop at the next light. Still, they screech their tires and honk their horns at each other constantly. Maybe it relieves the stress of having to drive here. There are several modes of public transportation here, and I plan to learn how to use them at some point, but I don't want to do it by myself the first time and Doug works 12-hour days so there isn't anyone to show me yet.

The huge crowds of pedestrians and loud traffic noise have severely affected Jonas. He is used to having a quiet backyard in which to poop. Now he has to walk two blocks to the sole patch of grass in all of SoMa and do his business in front of God and everybody. He is terrified to cross intersections and has had to be carried back from said patch of grass on at least three occasions.

3) The huge crowds of people include countless HOMELESS FOLK. Sure, they have bums in Houston, but never on such grand a scale. They are everywhere, young and old, black white and brown, scary and pitiful, annoying and funny. All over the place. However, these bums are not like Houston bums. In Houston, if a bum talks to me, I talk to him back. I give him a cigarette. Sometimes I give him money. Then we have a conversation and go about our business. I don't like it when they ask me for money, because I always feel like there is a 1% chance that this particular homeless person could be one that sees I have some money and tries to hurt me and take it all. So I don't normally give them cash, but I am always free with cigarettes. So on Christmas Eve, I see a guy searching the ground for a cigarette butt that's smokeable and ask him if he wants one. He says yes and I walk away. He says "aren't you gonna smoke it with me?" And I think "okay, this is how it works here, too. Good." I smoke with him, then he gives me a hug - and doesn't let go. So now I'm thinking he's got a hand in his pants while he's hugging me (I don't know if this is true, I couldn't see) and I get really grossed out and push him away. The next bums I encountered were a man and woman arguing. I thought this was cute until I got close enough to hear that they were arguing over which one hated white people more. Yay.

Stay tuned for the next episode, including Smoking in San Francisco, Why I am Entirely Unfashionable in San Francisco, and The Best Breakfast Ever

LONG AWAITED BLOG UPDATE.

Well, then. I've been without internet or TV for the last few weeks and my Gphone has a Facebook app to update my status but that's about it. So I have commandeered a laptop from Husband's office to actually type something.
We are in Ocean City, Maryland right now, scheduled to move to Annapolis at the end of the month, where we will stay until approximately January before FINALLY moving to San Francisco as planned. Maryland is beautiful, the weather is perfect, and Ocean City means I can drive for five minutes and hit the most gorgeous beach I've ever seen in my life, where I've been spending a lot of time. This is a resort town, and we're in the "off season" now, so there aren't too many pesky children and obnoxious teenagers around and that makes me happy as we all know how I feel about having to interface with other human beings.
Another good thing about Maryland is that random strangers (most of whom are elderly) do not glare at me when I smoke cigarettes. In fact, lots of OTHER people smoke and don't seem to be judging me about it. I appreciate that, as I have the right to kill myself slowly if I so choose and I'm paying rather heavy taxes to do so and that ought to be punishment enough.
Bad things about Maryland include having to walk Jonas because we no longer have a backyard. Instead, we have woods, which are lovely and house squirrels (which Jonas seems to think he can catch) and snakes (which we've run across twice and neither time did Jonas notice them, even though I sure did!) Walking Jonas is not a big deal, he just has this nasty habit of pooping in the most embarrassing spot possible (the middle of a driveway, inside a carefully landscaped flower bed, etc.) and then standing there wagging his tail while I try to clean in up with one of his poopy bags as the resident of the home we're standing near undoubtedly looks on.
Mostly I'm just bored and lonely. Husband routinely works until midnight AND on weekends, and my roommates work with him, so everyone I know is usually busy. I am attempting to make friends with a white-haired old man who wanders around the nearby lake with a giant, feathered walking stick but progress is slow as he appears to be mental. I'll keep you posted. So besides that, I spend a lot of time at the beach and on the boardwalk and reading books and playing Nintendo DS games. Not a bad life at all, just not very intellectually stimulating. However, I just discovered a bar called the Steer Inn Tavern on Saturday night and they appear to have NTN trivia so I may start hanging out there until we get to Annapolis.
I know nothing ABOUT Annapolis, but I hear it's near DC so maybe I can spend time at the Smithsonian while I'm there. Until then, I've also got a 1500 piece puzzle that I'm working on like the huge nerd that I am. Speaking of huge, apparently the stress of moving around is good for your waistline, as all of my pants are now far too big. This necessitated a trip to the outlet mall to find some new jeans, where I discovered I now wear the same size I wore in high school. Sweet! Hooray for stress and smoking!

So there you go. I will report back when something interesting happens. It may be a while.

WHAT I WILL NOT MISS WHEN I LEAVE TEXAS

Friday was my last day of work and I've been sad about leaving my coworkers, students, family, and friends. However, in order to focus on the positive aspects of our move to San Francisco, I've compiled a list of what I will NOT miss.

Stupid Conservative Bigots
Not all conservatives are stupid bigots, of course, but there are plenty. I'm speaking of those who say things like*: "Obama's trying to indoctrinate our children," "I don't mind gays as long as they aren't, you know, into kids," and "Yes I know the President has a birth certificate from Hawaii, but did you know that Hawaii will issue you a birth certificate even if you weren't born there?"

Wildlife
Flying cockroaches
Nutria
Possums
Snakes
Wasps
Fire ants

Driving
I realize that I will have brand new highways to hate once I get to San Francisco, but in the meantime I am glad to leave the following:
Loop 610
Beltway 8
Hwy 59
Hwy 290
I-10
I-45
Hwy 99
Hwy 6
I-20

Suburban Cowboys (and girls)
These people consider the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo to be the social event of the year. They find it acceptable to wear cowboy boots with a suit and tie. They drive enormous, gas-guzzling pickup trucks with "save our troops" stickers plastered all over the tailgate and listen exclusively to country music.

Churches on Every Corner
I do not agree with the concept of Mega Churches like Second Baptist or Lakewood. I do not agree with your membership to a particular church being social status akin to belonging to a country club. I do not think you should go to church to network. It bugs me. It bugs me enough that even though I'm a Christian, I refuse to attend church. However, I do sorta like the fact that if I need to get anything done on the weekends, I can be assured that from 10AM to 11AM on Sunday, I will have Target all to myself.

Weather
Hurricanes
Tornadoes
Suffocating humidity
Sweltering heat
Flooded streets every time it rains
Hail
The fact that the weather changes every five minutes.
Did I mention the sweltering heat?


See, now I feel much better about moving. =)


*these are actual quotes from people I know.

SEQUELS, REMAKES, AND LAMENESS AT THE MOVIES.

Husband and I have been going to the movies a lot lately. We like to go on Sunday mornings when everyone else is at church, because..... well, everyone else is at church. Plus it's only $5. So a week or so ago we went to see Observe and Report, which neither of us thought was very funny but admitted to being too distracted by Anna Faris's awful fish lips to be able to concentrate on the film itself. Anyway, the previews included one for Wolverine (the umpteenth X-Men movie), one for Star Trek (the umpteenth Star Trek movie), and then Transformers and Terminator 37 (I'm guessing on that last bit.)

Husband: "God, is there such a thing as an original screenplay anymore? Sequel, sequel, sequel, and then TWO sequels about the same thing."

Me: "Which ones?"

Husband: "Terminator and Transformers. It's the same thing. Robots taking over the universe."

Me: "No, no, they're different! Terminator is robots taking over the universe. Transformers are robots in disguise taking over the universe."

Husband: "Ah, yes. Of course."

Me: "So can we just make a pact right now that we'll just kill ourselves with carbon monoxide in the garage if that ever happens? I mean, at the point where there is just one band of renegade humans fighting to save the Earth, I think it's fair to say we've lost. Is that cool with you?"

Husband: "Fine."

So if any of you were planning on recruiting me for your post-apocalyptic army, I've now made other plans. Sorry.

GYM ETIQUETTE

The "urinal rules" have been explained to me by various men. If, upon entering the bathroom, there are five urinals, all empty, you are to take the one on the end. Either end is fine. The next guy to come in should take the urinal on the opposite end of the one you've chosen. The third man to enter should pee in the middle of the five. After this point ONLY is it acceptable to choose a urinal that is directly to the right or left of a urinal in use. (Hang with me, I'm going somewhere with this.) This rule should also apply to gym equipment. If I am on one of five treadmills and the other four are empty, you should NOT choose the treadmill directly next to me. In fact, doing so may result in an episode similar to one that occurred just now, in which I actually STOPPED running and left for a treadmill two machines down. I am talking to you, weird man in the yellow sweatband. DO. NOT. WANT.

Honestly.

I realized today that I have a real problem with strongly disliking people I don't even know. For instance, there is a woman who facilitates the training series I've attend over this year, and I've never actually spoken to her. However, I've heard her gossiping about various other people in our district and that coupled with her preference for loud-print blouses has made me intensely avoid having any contact with her at these functions.

There's a woman at the gym that I dislike for no reason as well. Well, I have a reason, but it's a worthless one. She wears her hair down when she "works out," and her "workout" is scarcely more than a tiptoe on the elliptical machine. She's there to be seen, not to sweat. And she vaguely reminds me of a girl named Dawn Marie, who I disliked in high school because she worked at Randall's with me and briefly competed with me for the attention of someone I was trying to date at the time. (I can't remember if it was Aaron or Luis at the time. Or possibly Scott Berchey.) Anyway, none of these reasons are acceptable ones for glaring at random patrons of the gym. I'm working on it. Admitting you have a problem is the first step.

In other news, this Swine Flu thing is working out for me. No traffic on the way home and NO ONE at the gym (creepy intrusive sweatband man aside.) Yippee!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU.

Where have all my friends gone?
They've all disappeared
Turned around maybe one day
You're all that was there
Stood by on believing
Stood by on my own
Always thought I was someone
Turned out I was wrong
But you brought me through
And you made me feel

So blue...

Why don't you stay behind?

So blue...

Why don't you stop and look at what's going down?

Lived by an old woman She'd never sell me a lie
It's hard to sing with someone
Who won't sing with you
Give all of my mercy
Give all of my heart

Never thought that I'd miss you
That I'd miss you so much

You brought me through
And you made me feel

So blue....

THIS IS NOT GOOD.

When I came home from work last night, our coffeepot was in pieces all over the kitchen counter. Curious, I asked Husband what was going on. He replied with "look what I found in our coffeepot!" and held the back bit that holds the water upside down for me to see. It looked like dirt. "What is it?" I asked. "MOLD!" He said.

ME: "Well can you clean it?"

HIM: "I've been trying, but I can't get all the way down there to scrub it and it's too big to fit in the dishwasher"

ME: "Well what are we going to do??! We have to have coffee!"

HIM: "I guess we'll just have to buy another one. "

Cue instrumental horror movie-sounding music

This morning, I woke up and stumbled out to the kitchen in that sleepy state of ignorance you get when you first wake up. I'd forgotten about the coffeepot by the time I went to sleep last night because 1) I have a TERRIBLE memory and 2) Other, more important discussions about whether or not to move to Katy were happening. As I turned the corner, I was met by the dismembered coffeepot and the horror flooded back: NO COFFEE.

And here I am. 5:24 in the morning and NO COFFEE. I will have to stop somewhere on the way to work. I have a very active job AND today is a workout day. No coffee does not factor in here. Moldy coffee doesn't sound so bad right now. It can't taste worse than Starbuck's....

I HEART SOUTH PARK.

I remember the first time I really paid attention to South Park. It was quite surreal, watching it in the living room with my 18-year-old dream guy and his mom.. This was when I learned that not all moms were like mine, some had a sense of humor. But I digress. I fell in love with South Park and it is one of the few things from my 18-year-old life that remains in my 31-year-old life. I will always love The Simpsons, but let's face it: the crap episodes now far outweigh the good ones. South Park has yet to get to that point and I hope it never does.

Season 12 came out yesterday and we bought it immediately. New episode tonight. I'm excited. This was a completely pointless blog entry. That is all.

ANOTHER YEAR OLDER AND CLOSER TO DEATH.

Yeah, I'm not too fond of birthdays these past few years. Today marks 31. I am aware that 31 is edging toward Pretty Old, but I don't feel any different than I did when I was 17. I even have dreams about people I knew when I was 17, some of whom are dead and many others who are far away. All around me, other people are popping out babies and furthering their careers, and I feel like an observer. Even Husband has started to talk about wanting to have a kid. Perhaps my biological clock is broken, but to me the whole process still seems horrifying. I love children, but I don't have any desire to acquire one by having it ripped out of my body. Sorry. I kinda goofed career-wise, too. It took me until this year to actually begin teaching, which is the career path I'd always wanted, even though I allowed myself to get derailed (thanks, Dad!) for approximately twelve years, doing things I hated. Oh well.

I'm not depressed about any of this, mind you. Mostly just bewildered. Very Talking Heads "how did I get here?" mostly. Somehow along the way, I stopped going out and being wild all the time, I picked up a husband who loves me fiercely even though I imagine I am very difficult to love, I have my dream job after trying for years to get in. This is the part where I'm supposed to be enjoying all of this, but I still feel a lot like I'm watching my life rather than participating in it. I wonder how to fix that.

And where is my cake?

HOW TRITE, OPRAH.

I am just about sick of this Rhianna crap. It's all over magazines and news stories and I don't really even care, but I had to make this one comment about Oprah telling her "love doesn't hurt." Bull. Love is the most painful thing there is. Maybe your millions of dollars, years of success, and bizarre relationship with your "boyfriend" has you too far removed to remember that, but it's true. My guess is that if love weren't painful, it would be worthless. Obviously, I don't mean physically painful. But good lord, if the girl is dumb enough to get back together with a 19 year old meathead who wants to hit her, let her. She'll learn.

I LIKE APPLE PIZZA, PLEASE...

Quick promotional plug: I've been using sign language more and more often with my class, but it's been rather piecemeal. Functional signs first, like "more," "drink," "sit" "yes" "no" "stop" "good" etc, then colors and a few foods (like "popcorn" and "cookie," which seem to be everyone's favorite snacks.) I have been looking for a formal sign language program to use, and ran across Signing Time. I ordered the first three DVDs and the CD that goes along, and we started implementing them yesterday. They are GREAT. (In a Tony the Tiger voice) My kids liked them, there are awesome songs, and each episode is packed with a bunch of signs. There is a song called "Silly Pizza Song" where you sign all these toppings for your pizza (apples, crackers, cookies, ice cream, cereal, bananas, etc.) and we did that song at the end of the day and my little guys signed right along. And laughed at me because I was trying to sign the entire song and not just "apple" or "cracker" and I couldn't keep up. Complete sentences are harder.

Okay. It's Friday. Two weeks to Spring Break. Awesome!

YOU CAN NEVER BE TOO THIN OR TOO CATTY.

There's always some secret sort of joy when the thinnest person you know (I don't care how thin you are, you know someone thinner) gets pregnant. Because she will get fat soon, if only temporarily and through no fault of her own. At some point eight months from now, my stomach will be flatter than ______'s. But I bet she'll still have a size zero rear end....

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, AN EVENT YEARS IN THE MAKING...

I present to you....

STRAIGHT HAIR!




Seriously. Only once before have I ever known what it was like not to have a Hermione/Medusa ball of hair big enough to choke an elephant. Salon Gity is my new favorite place.

A ROMANTIC QUOTE IN HONOR OF VALENTINE'S DAY

If somebody says, ''I love you,'' to me, I feel as though I had a pistol pointed at my head. What can anybody reply under such conditions but that which the pistol-holder requires? ''I love you, too."



-Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

25 RANDOM THINGS ABOUT ME: FINALLY.

1) I am a procrastinator. Obviously. I'm the last one to do the 25 things, I have no desire to breed yet, and it took me six years to finish college.

2) I am left-handed.

3) I have only four tattoos and I need more.

4) I am a card-carrying member of MENSA. This means my genius is validated. And that I get happy hour prices at Catbird's on Tuesday nights.

5) When I was three, I electrocuted myself at day care by sticking a bobby pin in a light socket. I remember distinctly that I was motivated by a desire to see my bones through my skin like in cartoons when someone got struck by lightning.

6) My favorite John Hughes movie is Some Kind of Wonderful.

7) I put Tabasco sauce on everything but dessert.

8) I prefer yellow cake to chocolate.

9) I am a retired Rock Star.

10) I have a penchant for plastic bracelets and glittery things.

11) I like Betsey Johnson and Steve Madden.

12) I seem to have several pockets of friends who don't know each other, so I can never hang out with them all at once. And now that I think on it, I've been that way since high school.

13) I am the only person I know who actually LIKED high school.

14) I would like to go to art school.

15) My degrees have nothing to do with my job.

16) I have a lava lamp collection. I don't know how that happened.

17) I once had a pet rat named Trillian and a pet snake named Sam. The snake was named Sam with the intent of getting a second snake named Ella, so it would be "Sam'n'ella," because I thought it would remind people to wash their hands after handling the snakes. But we never got the second snake.

18) I really hate living in Texas and desire desperately to move somewhere with seasons.

19) I am deathly, deathly afraid of jumbo Texas-sized cockroaches but I'll pick up a spider or a lizard without a thought.

20) I do not own an iron.

21) I love sushi and smear wasabi all over it. Mmmmmmm.....

22) I once attended two funerals on the same day.

23) I have had multiple concussions. Three at last count.

24) My roller derby name was Penny Dreadful, but if I ever went back I'd change it to Joy Division.

25) Inspired by South Park, my dog responds to the command "red rocket" by rolling onto his back. For a belly rub, though. I'm not sick.

I AM A PAIN ON VALENTINES DAY.

I've always hated Valentine's Day. It's as though every television and store display in the world is telling you that if no one gives you chocolate, flowers, or -the motherlode- jewelry on a particular day of the year, you are unloved and pathetic. And the poor boys over the years who have presented me with something that was traditionally Valentine's-y have been met with scorn. Secret scorn, I'm not rude enough to chew out someone who's bought me a present, but scorn nonetheless.

The problem is that Valentine's Day sends a mixed message. It's supposed to be romantic, but there is nothing romantic about going to the store and purchasing a pre-approved, designated heart-shaped/red/pink gift. A romantic gift comes from knowing someone well enough to give them something meaningful. And even then, it loses a heck of a lot of the romance when you're buying it for someone because the TV tells you to. However, the TV has done a good enough job that I feel like a loser if I don't get ANYTHING. Ugh. I feel like a loser for admitting that.

PUZZLE CRACK

I spent something like six hours parked in front of the TV playing Puzzle Quest yesterday. It's some sort of combination of an RPG and a traditional puzzle game. (I only know this stuff because Husband told me. Don't think I'm cool enough to know anything about video games.) Anyway, it's only worth comment because I don't have the attention span to do ANYTHING for six hours. I'm not sure what happened. I didn't eat lunch or dinner, I didn't get up to go the bathroom, my eyes began to hurt, I began to feel jittery - cracked out on video games, I suppose. I remember a while back some Japanese guy died of starvation at an internet cafe after playing a computer games continuously for days, and at the time I thought it was a very Darwin death, but now? I bet that man was playing Puzzle Quest.

In other news, I'm having the permanent bridge put in tomorrow. So they're going to yank out the fake tooth they glued in there and anchor another one in, I guess. This sounds painful. I'm not looking forward to it. I'm just hoping it doesn't hurt as badly as when they took the original one out.

I'm also annoyed with the gym. I've been going steadily for a while now, and I can't make my muscles hurt anymore. I don't like that; I ENJOYED being sore all the time because then I know it WORKED. I spent twenty minutes on a tricep machine yesterday and I don't feel a thing. I don't want to put more weight on it, I'm not trying to get muscle-y, I'm trying to tone what's already there. Any of you fitness people have advice for me? I really have no idea what I'm doing.

UGH. DRUNKEN OLD MEN.

I have not had a proper night's sleep in weeks. First it was insomnia (the kind where you've been lying in bed for three hours just watching the clock blink and mentally calculatiing how much sleep you'd still be able to get if you could just fall asleep RIGHT NOW) then the last week has been filled with wedding stuff and dreams about things I don't want to dream about. Husband's sis is getting married and I'm the maid of honor. No problem. This is hopefully a one-of-a-lifetime event for her, so I'm okay with being tired.

However, at last night's rehearsal dinner, I was outside the restaurant getting a break from the crowd (I'm antisocial at heart, but I've been trying REALLY hard to be sweet and charming and friendly to everyone. It's hard, though) when Husband's father comes out and asks me if I still play the drums.

ME: "Uhhh. No, not really. I starting getting pain and numbness in my left wrists several years back and playing the drums also kind of stirs up bad memories for me."

HIM: "But you still have a drum kit set up in your house don't you?"

ME: "Well yeah, but it's for HUSBAND'S band. His drummer plays them."

HIM: "Would you play some time so Charlie could play guitar with Husband? As a favor?" (Charlie is my father-in-law's best friend. He sings and plays guitar and generally seems very proud of this.)

ME: "Uhhhh. Sure. Whatever."

This was apparently a very stupid thing to say.

Twenty minutes later, I walk back into the restaurant to find my 17-year-old niece (technically she's my step-niece-in-law. You figure that one out) and discover that the entire party is SMASHED. (figures. Open bars tend to have that effect.) So the room is filled with drunkards, the drunkest being my father-in-law, his friend Charlie, my stepfather-in-law (whom I adore. He can do whatever he wants.) and some woman that I've never met who is some sort of aunt to Husband and has decided I'm her new best friend. Ugh.

Then comes the news: Everyone is coming to my house to "jam." Excuse me? Husband, how did you allow this? We're TIRED. We were looking forward to going home to SLEEP. Father-in-law approaches to ask me if the jam session is okay (after having invited half the party) and I look at him, incredulous, and sigh.

ME: "Sure. But you people have to be OUT of my house by midnight. The wedding is TOMORROW. Your DAUGHTER'S wedding. WE've got to get some sleep or we're going to look like hell in the photos."

So they all come over, drunk as hell (since I've stopped all drinking, I've become more aware of how obnoxious this is) we play music so Charlie can showcase himself, and then Husband and I kick them all out promptly at 12. And you know what? That wasn't early enough. I'm up this morning, still exhausted, and due at the hair salon in an hour. Today's the day. I hope I don't trip over my dress.

I love you Kelly, but I can't wait for your wedding to be done! =) Sheesh. The bright spot in all of this is that I really love my niece and I've been able to spend quite a bit of time with her, and that we went to LaBare for the bachelorette party and they've finally stopped wearing those ridiculous neon spandex thongs in favor of regular (tight) boxer briefs. Someone finally got the memo.

VICODIN ES MAKES ME WANNA PUKE.

I'm finished with my first semester as a teacher, I've gone and come back from seeing my parents, (it was a VERY quick trip. Sorry I didn't have time to see you. But I'll be back soon for Die's shower in January) and I'm finally finished with all the Christmas shopping and mailing, etc. So, to celebrate? I had a tooth pulled. Well not really. I had a baby tooth that was still hangin' in there and it had to go. And apparently it was hanging pretty tightly because they had to break it in half to get it out. Good times!

Now I'm nursing my bloody mouth and watching the room spin from the pain meds. Merry Christmas, all!

I guess I'll be thinking of some resolutions for 2009 soon. I don't really know what they'd be. I have the same ones every year, which must mean they're not happening.

Thus concludes a very boring blog post.

I CAN'T SLEEP AND THIS IS REALLY FUNNY.

I borrowed a microphone for the computer in my classroom. I thought my kids would enjoy hearing their voices played back through the speakers. My autistic students and my emotionally disturbed student respond really well to music and singing, so I asked one of them to sing a song and we made a recording and a powerpoint from it. She chose "Santa Claus is Coming to Town." She sang clearly, loudly, and without hesitation the following opening lines:

"You better not shout, you better not sue
You better not score, I'm talkin' to YOU!
Santa Claus is coming to toooooown!"

This is the same child who calls me by my last name like I'm a football player or something. I love my job. Mostly.