Pie

This past Thursday was Thanksgiving.  Before I get going though, I hope you all recognize the true meaning of the holiday.  How we slaughtered the Indians and stole their land.  Ok, not really.  That is a complete myth (kinda).  But really, I hope you all gave thanks for those things that God has blessed you with.  If you did not, maybe next year you should hear the story of the 5 corn kernels that the Pilgrims kept by their feast plates to remind them of what they had, and what they now have.  Anyway, I love this holiday.  As a matter of fact, it is the favorite holiday of many of my friends.  Yes, Shelly, I am talking about you especially.  However, I doubt that most of you have to endure the pain that I have to.  I come from a poor family.  So, when we cook the turkey, stuffing, and all the trimmings, it is not, for me, a one day affair.  It isn’t even a two day affair.  It becomes a meal that keeps on giving.  Thursday night, it’s turkey, stuffing, mashed taters, gravy, and whatever else you can think of.  Come Friday, you all go back to normal.  Me?  “Hey, what’s for breakfast?” “Eggs and turkey.”  Gross.  But later, “Hey, what’s for lunch.” “Turkey salad.”  Dinner?  Same thing as last night.  What’s for breakfast? (we’re on the second morning now) Biscuits, covered in turkey gravy with a side of turkey.  You get the point?  Good.  Because my answer is that of the gods.  “No thanks, Mom, I am gonna have PIE!”

 

If it was not for pie, I would never have survived the days after Thanksgiving.  On the flip side, if it wasn’t for pie, I would not put on the extra 20 pounds.  My mom made 5 freaking pies this Thanksgiving: Apple, cherry, key lime, pumpkin, and cheesecake (fuck you, it’s a pie).  I did not get my favorite pie.  I like poontang pie.  It’s best served warm and moist, but it is tasty and I could eat it for hours.  But no one offered me that this year.  Oh well.  But my second favorite is pumpkin.  Man, I must have eaten a whole pie by myself.  I love it.  Anyway, back to the post.  As I said, I would have been fine if it wasn’t for the pie.  It sustained me because I was sick of the same food for five days.  But, after every meal (which was substantially small), I would stuff myself with two different pie slices.  Cherry and Apple, Key lime and Cheesecake (IT IS A PIE!), Pumpkin and Pumpkin.  It did not matter.  I mixed and matched like a champ.  I love pie.

      

Anyway, I rambled on for a bit.  But I wanted to let everyone know how much pie means to me.  Ok, ok.  My Savior Jesus Christ, my family, my friends, my enemies, strangers, my neighbors, and my dog all mean the world to me.  I said a little prayer for everyone.  For those as fortunate as I am as well as for those who were not.  So, let’s raise a slice of pie and say, “CHEERS!” to those who know our pleasures, and hoping that everyone who does not know them will soon.  God bless y’all.  Happy Holidays! 

Failure

Those of us poor souls that live in Michigan, which accounts for approximately 98% of our (4) readers, know that these are tough times. New employment opportunities are tough to come by, many of those with jobs, especially in the “Big 3,” are not too sure of their security, and America’s youth are stupid. These are indeed tough times for many Michiganders. This is not, however, an entry on the state of the economy of Michigan but rather on one of the most embarrassing things about Michigan…The fucking Detroit Lions.

The Lions organization is quickly on its way to becoming one of the biggest jokes in sports. For me, it stems from the top. The Lions have Matt Millen as its General Manager. In his day, he was a badass linebacker for the San Francisco 49ers, I know this because he was awesome in Tecmo Super Bowl for the NES. However, his reputation is being tarnished because he fucking blows as a GM.

People around football know that to build a championship-caliber football team from scratch, which is what Millen started with in 2001, you build a defense. It’s the old adage “Offense wins games, defense wins championships” and I whole heartedly agree. A solid defense will keep any team in the game for all four quarters and give the offense chances to win. However, the lions have choose to use 7 of their last 12 first and second round draft picks to draft offensive players. Furthermore, all six of their last first-round picks have been offensive. Let’s highlight a few of these first rounders:

Mike Williams – Useless. If Mike Martz says he isn’t good enough to play offense, damn it, he isn’t.

Charles Rodgers – This guy is great. Even after his release, he is so arrogant about his abilities that he tries out for the Dolphins and refuses to run the 40 yard dash. Furthermore, Nick Saban, his old college coach, chooses not to pick him up when his team is desperate for receivers. Also, his brains are on drugs.

Joey “Check down” Harrington – This guy will light up the Lions come Thanksgiving day. I am calling it – 25-35 375yards 3 TDs 0 INTs.

Furthermore, Millen fires coach Steve Mariucci after pressure for change. However, most of the fans were calling for someone else’s head.

This franchise will continue to blow until William Clay Ford stops giving Millen mustache rides and gets someone in the front office willing to take this team in the right direction, like me.

Shine

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDjnYuVnqq4&mode=related&search=

 Casey, I am not trying to steal your thunder.  But, I thought everyone needed to see this.  This was inspired completely by my co-creator and partner, Casey.  He is the man…and this is the Kiwi.

Dictator

When I was a child, I had no idea what the real function of it was.  When I got older and entered high school, I knew what it was for, but was afraid to use it.  When I got into college, it started to rule me.  Now I am a bit older, 24 to be exact, and in graduate school.  Although I have not used it in quite a while, well with anyone else, it still controls me.  It makes most of my decisions.  Women do not understand it.  It seems trivial to them.  But, the funny thing is, women cannot get enough of it (not mine, but every guys).  This is where you usually think I am going to say something funny—like ice cream.  But no, I am, without a doubt, talking about my penis.

 

I took a friend of mine, or an acquaintance, to the vet for her little bunny.  Then we went to a few stores.  We just hung out.  It got me out of work, and since she is cute and Chinese, I was all about hanging out with her.  Our time together came up in a conversation to another female friend of mine.  She said, “I was talking to (name), and said, ‘I don’t know why we take (Chinese girl) anywhere.  We should just let the boys do it.”  I said, “Hey, I like her.  She is cool.”  Her response was, “You men and your penises.” *** I laughed out loud.  I had no rebuttal.  Even though I had nothing to say, it sent me into a deep thought that I had never been to before.  I called Casey to tell him about the conversation.  I told him to expect this post.  Here it is bro.

 

My penis has complete control of me.  Although it does not have a brain, it makes most of my decisions.  Any woman who reads this will be disgusted and think I am a pig.  Any woman who talks to her man will tell him her thoughts about my post, and he will agree I am a pig and he is not like that.  Rest assured ladies, your men are liars.  Any man who reads this will laugh and know I am right.  Any man who reads this and talks to his woman will save face and lie like a little bitch.  I will not.  You women listen to me now.  I know you will not believe me.  Why should you?  You and your man have a real relationship.  So when he reads this and quietly cheers under his breath and then goes to the bathroom to shake hands with his best friend in private, be confident he will look at you in the eye and lie; telling you that is not true and he is not ruled by his penis (which I bet my life he has named) and you will take this lie as the truth.  Good, I am glad you feel that way.  I am glad he has you fooled—because when he lies and says, “Yes dear, he is a pig,” a little later he will have his penis in your hand, mouth, panooch, or if he is really lucky (and you are kinky) your ass; and he will be thinking to himself, “works every time!”  He agrees with you, but he makes it sound like it is his own thoughts.  Truth is they are his penis’ thoughts.  Think about it.  If he agrees with you and tells you how amazing you are and he never thinks like that, his penis does not think for him–his heart does, you will scream like a baby banshee and throw your arms around his neck and say, “I am so lucky to have a man like you; who respects women and loves me for me.” He will know you are ready to thank him for being your mind-bitch by letting him get his pee-pee wet.  Would he say that if he knew at some point his penis would not get what it wants?  Please, do not fool yourselves.  Women, your man cares for his penis more so than anything else on the planet.  Men, do exactly what I have said.  Read this and agree, then tell your woman no way.  Lewis is an ass.  That way, you can get what you want for your penis.

 

My penis is the basis of my existence—of your existence.  Sure, if women did not exist, no one would.  But, the same holds true for men.  Without us, you have no more of you either.  When a man is powerful or displays acts of immense power and/or defiance, he is said to have “big balls” or “testicular fortitude.”  When we bomb another nation or country, we use bombs shaped like huge dicks.  Any electrical appliance that has a plug-in and is inserted into a socket is said to have a male part and female part.  The Washington Monument; a huge, pointed shaft.  Buildings; tall, slender, and erect.  Men are in the highest positions of power in America and our symbols are all based on our fucking hogs.  I am not writing this to be nasty, but I want people to realize a man’s penis is his favorite possession.  Without it, he is not a man.  A man would allow you to take anything from him but his penis.  Hell, you could have his balls as long as he had a penis to stick into something or to jerk it off.  So, is it really a surprise that men allow their penises to control them?  By no means am I saying that the penis always makes the best decision.  By no means do a man and his penis always agree.  But honestly speaking, a penis has the final say in what happens.  Ladies, do not be discouraged.  A real man will not force sex on you.  He will wait.  He will marry you.  He will love you unconditionally and forever.  He will make your dreams come true.  In the later years of life, he will be fine without using it and just having wonderful conversations will be enough.  But please realize the underlying theme is in our nature.  Every man that has full use of his penis will use it.  It does not matter if he is 90 and the girl is 20, he will use it.  If he has a Christian faith and morals, or beliefs that align with these, he will try not to use it until he is married.  But when he is married, he will make up for lost time.  The penis is Gods greatest gift to man, followed by the gift of the one to use it with. 

 

Men, when you read this, do not be ashamed of your penis.  Instead, be happy you have one and it works.  Use it wisely.  If you use your penis well, it will reward you.  Pleasure, children, health, etc.  Ladies, enjoy the penis of the one in which you want to enjoy it.  I am not an ass or a pig, I am just honest.  And as always, if I offended you, I extend my warmest and most heart-felt fuck you—only this time literally.  HAH!  Until next time…

 

*** There is much more to this conversation.  But, this is the gist.  And yea, the Chinese girl knows that if I had a chance, I would use my penis with her—as with every female.  I usually tell them anyway.

Kiwi

Damn flightless birds creating emo all over the place.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sdUUx5FdySs

Discuss.

Traci

Lewis: Casey, I was thinking about something today. We have a sweet blog page. We have gotten a good fan base already. A mutual friend, Tracy, wants to know our thoughts about Oreo cookies. She is obsessed with Oreos. That is freaking weird. But, they are tasty. When I think of an Oreo cookie, I think of the most perfect cookie ever made. Two pieces of chocolate cookie with a white cream on the inside. But you know what? The taste is only the beginning. The eating is where the fun comes in. An Oreo is a blast to eat. They are good frozen, at room temperature, or deep fried (don’t judge me, try it). You can peel them apart and eat them in sections, stuff them down one by one, or nibble. They go good with milk, chocolate syrup, peanut butter, or by themselves. They can be dressed up in chocolate and candy corns to make little turkey thingies (if you haven’t seen these, come to my Thanksgiving family parties), dipped in fudge, or put in ice cream! Now that I think about an Oreo like this, it’s a pretty versatile cookie. Only one downfall; they may be delicious just about anyway, but they will make you a fat ass.

Casey: I know a lot of people grew up eating Oreos, so the obsession may come from trying to recapture your youth. I, however, was not that lucky. Every now and again my Mom would bring home Hydrox brand cookies and that was a special treat. If you weren’t so lucky to get these dollar-store treats, let me enlighten you. First off, unlike their competition, Hydrox were not surrounded by two chocolate cookies but rather two dried-up wintergreen Skoal dips. And the creamy center, yea well you can just forget about that because after 1985, the Food and Health Commission refuses to let Hydrox use their special recipe.

Lewis: You know, it is funny you mention Hydrox. I am a poser for sure. I was pretending that I knew what a true Oreo tasted like. I am from the hood. I grew up poor. So, I know what you mean by dried up Skoal dips and a special recipe in the middle. The only time we got Oreos was on Christmas. AND GUESS WHAT? They were for Santa Claus. Like that fat bastard needed anymore. This is why I believe in hunting. Hopefully someone shoots Blitzen in the heart and Santa in the ass.

Casey: I love Christmas but hate all of the movies that portray Santa Claus as a real person. It’s great for the kids, sure, but they are living a lie and we are selling it to them. The real Santa is the host of the local hit show “Tool Time.” That show was great and Heidi was hot. To tie it all in, I think I saw Al eat an Oreo on the show once.

Lewis: I love that show “Tool Time.” Santa was a jail bird then came into comedy because he made his cell mates laugh a lot. For some reason, Hollywood tapped him to be the bearer of gifts. Speaking of fat man, Oreo cookies will make you fat. Hydroxs will just give you cancer.

Casey: This concludes our discussion on why “Tool Time” rocks.

Playstation

Nothing is more exciting than college football.  I love the pros for sure.  Super Bowl is amazing.  March Madness is totally sweet.  Stanley Cup is awesome.  NBA championship brings out some flashy athletes.  World Series players are top of the line baseball players.  Come one, who doesn’t love America’s past time?  The world cup—ok, I draw the line somewhere.  These grass fags sicken me.  There is a fine line between a soccer player and some tool that runs around after a black and white ball.  Gimme a break.  But college football!  Now that is amazing.

 

I am not here to boast about the University of Michigan and the possibility of knocking off Ohio Suck, I mean State, and winning a national championship.  I am not going to talk about the biggest rivalry in all of sports.  Instead, I am going to talk about my theory of Jesus Christ and Playstation!  There is absolutely no way that you can tell me the Lord is not playing His version of Playstation right now.  You want to know what I mean?  I bet you, any money; Jesus started a season with Rutgers.  COME ON!  Tell me I am not right.  Rutgers is ranked number 6 in the BCS polls!  This, in my mind, is what is happening:

 

 

Jesus: Hey Noah, I started a season.  I want to take this team to the Promise Land.  Grab the joy stick and you can be the other team.

Noah: I hate playing with you.  I always lose.  No supernatural powers and I’ll play.

Jesus: Deal.  Now, don’t be a vagina. Pick it up and let’s go.  You might beat me this time.

Noah: Fine, who you gonna be?

Jesus: Rutgers.

Noah: HAH! You loser.  I am gonna kill you.  I’ll be Louisville!  Pbbst, Rutgers.  What a jackhole…

                       

                                 (3 hours later…)

 

           

Jesus: YOU CAN’T BEAT ME!

Noah: I HATE PLAYING WITH YOU!!!  You shoulda just let me drown.

Jesus: You still can.  IN YOUR TEARS! RUTGERS! RUTGERS! RUTGERS!

Now, I may be a little pre-mature in my theory.  But, you can bet only one last thing remains to see if this is sound.  If Rutgers beats West Virginia, and gets a shot at the title game this 2006 season, you better believe Jesus is wearing scarlet.  Oh, and by the way, don’t be all offended.  This is a joke.  I am a Christian and I am pretty sure Jesus is sitting on His thrown laughing right now—with his joystick in His right hand and slurpee in the other.

Cognition

I don’t think that people think quite as much as we should, I am guilty. I do not believe that we, as a culture, give ourselves enough time to let our brains do the thinking. We let other modes of stimulation do it for us.

I became aware of this a few years ago when, in a botched self car repair, I cut the radio completely out. No radio, no tape deck, nothing. And being a broke college student, at the time, I chose not to get it repaired. On the two hour car ride back and forth from college and home, I found myself actually getting into some deep thought. I was able to think about some pretty important stuff; who I was, what I wanted, and who I wanted to bang.

When I was teaching in a school not too long ago, a young man came into the room to talk to the students about reading. He explained to them that when you watch T.V. the images are broadcast for you, so you do not use your imagination. However, in reading, you formulate your own pictures in your head about what everything looks like and I think that this directly corresponds to allowing yourself to think uninterrupted by outside influences.

Perhaps I am talking of meditation, I really don’t know. But I challenge people to actually sit and think for a while. Televisions off, radios off, manufactured stimulation off and just think. It can be in your room or in a park, it really doesn’t matter. Just allow your mind to wander for a while and see what you discover about yourself. You may be gayer than you think.

Writer’s Note: I generally hate telling people what to do or how one should live their life because it generally seems pretentious and arrogant. So if that is how I come across, I apologize, those are not my intents.

Treadmill

Like many others, I run on the treadmill rather often as a form of cardio. In the warmer months I often choose to run outside but in the remote frozen tundra of Hoth, where I live, running outside can be a bitch in the winter. The longer I run on a treadmill the more I find myself in a battle, a giant war of trying to keep motivated and not bored, to the point that sometimes I have given up before my desired goal.

Some obvious solutions are to run with a friend, listen to music, and watch T.V. but these distractions are not always readily available to you. So, I have compiled a list of ways to beat the treadmill mindfuck and complete your run.

Count your steps.

This one fucking blows but I do it all the time. I count how many steps I run every thirty seconds. It’s generally around 75 but I count just to make sure. I repeat, it is stupid but it works.

Race the person next to you.

I find racing the person next to you a great way to kill some time. If you can find a treadmill in between two people, you are golden. Your goal when racing the person next to you is to demoralize them. Try to stay at least .1MPH ahead of them the whole time. If they speed up, it is your sworn duty as an American to go up with them. Now, some of you may be wondering what to do if the person next to you is an 80 year old walker. DESTROY THEM. Your goal should then be to run twice, maybe three times the amount they walk. Warning: Under no circumstances do you ever get on a treadmill next to someone who is going faster than you can go, it will crush your soul and will to live.

Hold your breath.

I will sometimes use this little trick to see how tired I can get myself. As you are running, hold you breathe as long as you can. You will increase your VO2 max* and pass the time a little bit better. If you pass out, that’s cool, too.

Fart.

This one is highly entertaining in a busy gym. Don’t feel bad… Gas happens.

*I base this on no scientific research at all.

Hug

Hugging is one of the best gifts that you could give anyone.  It could be a stranger, a friend, a family member, a girl you like, a guy you like, or someone you respect.  A hug is very important.  I believe that a hug is just as intimate as a kiss.  You don’t think so?  Think about the last time you kissed someone.  You embraced them, didn’t you?  I mean really kissed someone.  They were in your arms.  So, a hug is very important.  But, they’re fun because you can give them to anyone—not just your significant other.

 

I want you to realize, though, that there are rules to hugging.  The reason I started thinking about hugging was because of my friends Aubrey and Jill.  Aubrey and I hit it off quick.  We became great friends our sophomore year at Adrian College and really made each other better people.  A few months after knowing her, she introduced me to Jill.  While all three of us were walking and talking one day, Aubrey made a comment to Jill that since she was having a down day, she needed a “Lewis hug.”  She looked a little uneasy, but Aubrey explained that I am a great hugger.  So Jill gave in and hugged me.  To me, this was strange.  But, I gave Jill a hug anyway.  I really wanted to give her a hug.  I liked her as a person; nice, funny, caring, and as a bonus she was a cutie.  Jill said, “Wow, you are a good hugger!”  At first, I thought this was strange.  I was hugging a person I had just met.  But then, I looked into Jill’s eyes and saw them twinkling a bit.  She had a smile from ear to ear.  This was the first time I thought hard and long about why I am a “good hugger.”  Jill, by no means, was attracted to me.  It didn’t make her day because she liked me and, “Oh my gosh, that guy just hugged me (insert ninth grade girl who just got winked at by the starting quarterback of the high school football team giggle here).”  So, I knew she was happy just because I hugged her and in that hug was the unspoken, “I think you are cool.  Here is to your day getting better and to the future of our friendship.”  It was not sexual or creepy.  It was just a friendly, affectionate hug.  Anyway, I thought long and hard about hugs that day and I came up with these ideas.  I converted them to rules.  I think you should follow them, too.

            1) Never give a hug unless you mean it.  This one-armed thing is not going to cut it.  People want to feel your warmth and your love.  You move your arms out of the way and put them around one another so your hearts are close to one another.  A one-armed hug is only ok from fathers to sons, although they should really hug each other better.  No one can understand but a father and son what it means to pass on a legacy.

            2) No patting the opposite sex—ever!  A pat means that the hug is one of two things; a formal good-bye to a relative, or a hug that you really didn’t care to give.  This goes against rule number 1.  Usually you don’t want to hug a relative good-bye.  You want them to stay, or you just don’t want to hug them period.  Again, see number one.  As for the opposite sex, a hug that doesn’t come from confidence suggests awkwardness.  For a guy, if you hug a girl, embrace her.  Really give her a hug.  Let her know that she is loved even if you don’t know her.  You aren’t a creep; you are just giving someone a sign of love.  A gesture that says, “Hey, whether or not I am attracted to you is of no consequence.  You are a human and I love and respect you as part of our race.”  If you are a girl, do not pat the guy.  If you do it and then have a cute little red face, it makes the guy think you are now flirting.  He will want to kiss you.  If he leans forward for a kiss, kiss him back.  He deserves it—you just patted him.  If you pat him and don’t giggle and turn red-faced, it means you think negatively of him (creepy, weird, or you are so involved in yourself you think he likes you for some reason other than you just being a nice human, how dare you be so selfish?!?).    

            3) A true hug is an embrace, not a grope.  Your hands should be placed in one of 2 ways.  (A) One person should have an arm over the shoulder and around the waste.  The other should have arm under the shoulder and over the arm around the waste.  Or, (B) the girl should put both arms around the guys’ neck and the guy around the girls’ middle-lower back.  Pick her up and pull her close (this is a bonus).  MEN, IF YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO THE GIRL, you may smell her neck.  Do this subtly so she is not sure if you did it or not.  Again, embrace her.  Do not sniff her neck—smell.  Do not touch or grab her butt, keep your arms around her back, low enough to say we are not just friends but high enough to say, “I’m not just grabbing at your ass.”  Even if you don’t think so, the girl will like it.  It is a compliment if done correctly.  Women love smoothness and chivalry.  That does not mean you should be a wuss (see David DeAngelo and his publications to learn how to NOT be a wuss), it simply means be confident and funny in your words, but romantic and chivalrous in your actions. 

            4)  It is fine to double hug.  If the first hug is so good that you both release, but hold onto one another’s arms and look into each others eyes, another hug and a slight laugh/giggle is ok.  This means that you share some passion, love, and a hint of playfulness.  Note: This does not necessarily mean in a sexual manner.

            5) Variable hugging is good too!  What I mean by this is hugging while lying down (see spooning) and hugging from behind.  Spooning can be friendly or sexual.  You must state the intentions before the spooning occurs.  For arguments sake, we will say the guy is the big spoon.  However, it is ok for a guy to be the little spoon.  Sometimes, it makes the guy feel loved and secure—deal with it, ok?  If you do not state that the spooning is just for coziness, this will indicate to the guy you are comfortable with him.  He will, if he is like me, whisper in your ear and be playful.  He will then reach his hand around, lightly touch your cheek, pull your face around to his, and kiss you passionately.  Ladies, if he does this, and you turn your head, you will be kissed.  Kiss back.  You indicated you wanted to be kissed by following his hints.  You knew what he wanted.  Don’t act like you didn’t.  

            Hugging from behind is a risky endeavor.  Usually as soon as she is touched, the girl will turn around.  If she doesn’t, the same rules apply.  This is not nasty.  This is a hug with your arms around the waste.  A guy should only do this to a girl.  Girls, if you come up to a guy and hug him from behind, it means pick me up and give me a piggy-back ride.  Guys, you must be careful.  This time too high or too low means, “Damn, I might be going to jail.”  Keep your hands around the waste.  If she puts her hands on your arms and leans back and you can see her smile, you may smell her and whisper in her hear.  Be a gentleman!  Nothing dirty stated in her ear—just soft talking about anything.  You do not need to be romantic here.  Just whisper a friendly, “Hello, darlin’.”  Something about a whisper in the ear is a huge turn-on.  Do this subtly.  Do not make it obvious.  Also, smell her lightly. DO NOT sniff like a pervert.  The most crucial rule for variable hugging: an erection is never initially allowed.

            6) Same sex hugging is a necessity.  When two females hug, they shall embrace one another and scream like baby banshees.  When two males hug, they will shake with the right hand, hold it in front of them, move close to one another and throw the left arm around the shoulders of one another.  You may pat here because it is a macho open-hand punch rather than an uncomfortable “God don’t touch me any longer” smack.  Men may embrace one another if they are at a funeral or time of despair.  However, you either do hug (A) or one man has two arms around the guys shoulder and the other has his under the shoulder grabbing from behind with an open hand each shoulder (only the man crying can do this hug)—or they are gay (which is ok, too!).

 

So this is my take on hugging people.  For the most part, I am directing these rules to the men.  However, there are some additives that the women must follow.  They are indicated within the text.  These rules are for friendships or relationships (hetero or homo; just realize if you are homosexual, indicate which one is the “male” and which is the “female.”  That way you know which role you are for the hugs).  I hope you all follow these rules.  As always, with every post Casey and I shall do, we want comments, feedback, and ideas.  If they are good, they may be added to another post or we may just give you a shout out and tell you we think you understand life. 

Still growing up…