After a long and eventful trip to North Carolina, Biddy and I are back to the cold, gray, rainy reality that is Pittsburgh.
Unfortunately, the conditions down south weren’t much better during our stay. When we arrived, a black cloud immediately settled over the house—in the form of weather and illness. What began as a marginally painful sore throat quickly blossomed into a full-blown strep infection that settled into my sinus cavity. As the rain poured outside, I spent the majority of the first week on the couch with a bloody nose and zero energy or personality.
There’s no mystery as to where I picked up the infection. My daughter, although seemingly harmless, is a notorious carrier of some of the most miserable cold and flu causing germs in existence. Over the past year, we have all suffered through countless rounds of illness and boxes of Advil Cold and Sinus. She’s definitely worth it, but I’m looking forward to the day when our immune systems finally adjust.
This time, I was not the only lucky recipient. The timing sucked, not only because we were there on vacation, but also to attend my Aunt Willow’s wedding at the end of the trip. Now she was sick, the groom was sick, and so were the bridesmaids and the wedding singer. There was so much pressure in my face. My teeth hurt, my head hurt and the only thing that relieved the pain was alcohol. So we drank and drank. And when we couldn’t drink anymore, we all went on antibiotics.
That finally did the trick. If only we had known sooner! Once I was back on my feet, I was able to accomplish the things I had planned during my stay. One of these things was laser hair removal. As it turns out, my Aunt Prissy is a nurse practitioner at a gynecology office that features aesthetics & laser treatments.
I love the idea of permanent hair removal. To me, not having to worry about waxing or shaving again is equivalent to when I had Lasik surgery and no longer had to bother with contacts. It’s that big of a deal. However, the results are not as immediate as Lasik. You have to go about six times, six weeks apart to achieve hairlessness. I’m totally willing to put in the time and energy to accomplish this goal.
I’m not going to come out and say what I had lasered, but it rhymes with cubes. Surprisingly, it was not awkward to get the treatment from Aunt Prissy for several reasons. Number one, she performs countless pelvic exams a day, so she has seen a lot of vaginas. Number two, she’s very cool and not judgmental, which I really like about her. She was professional and didn’t make me feel weird at all. Number three, I’m much less modest about that whole area since I had a baby.
Since you have to wear goggles during the treatment and can’t see a thing, I’m not totally sure whether she was lasering off my hair or shooting me in the crotch with a BB gun. I really couldn’t tell the difference. The procedure is painful, but so is waxing. The pain is temporary (takes about 20 minutes) and the results are permanent. In six weeks I’m going back for more!
Afterwards, my bikini line was red and not anywhere near beach ready, which was fine because it was cool and windy. However, it was nice enough to take Biddy to the park and to the beach and she loved both! From the moment her feet hit the sand, it was very apparent that she is a natural beach bunny. We had to keep her from running into the water! See for yourself below in a video and photo montage Mister Ferguson put together to document her outdoor activity.
Since this post is crazy long and I have a lot to say about the wedding festivities (including the bachelorette party), I’m going to continue with part II tomorrow. Until then, check out some updates I have made to my side bar. You can now get Tiddy delivered to your inbox and also check out some of my favorite blogs!
Despite the fact that tiddyferguson.com only has two public followers and zero of you mofos comment on my posts (READ please start commenting on my posts), I am continually shocked to see that an average of 900 people read my blog monthly. The beauty of blogger.com (the program I use to create this Web site) is that I can see exactly how many readers I have, if they entered the site from a referring URL or what they searched for on Google that led them to Tiddy.
Sadly (or not), the top Google searches are the following:
big tiddys
girls tiddys and but
girls tiddys
tiddy
If you were looking for porn on Google and you somehow found this site because you can’t spell “titty” correctly, WELCOME! I’m not judging—I’m happy to have you.
Since I’ve started blogging again, I’ve started following other blogs by people who share my common interests—running, mommy-ing, clothes and drinking. I also follow a blog by a very dear high school friend who was both my neighbor and homecoming date. He is a triathlon competitor and the posts detailing his workouts make my marathon training seem like a very pathetic joke. You can find his blog here. Read it when you want to feel like a total lard ass. I’m proud of you, Millhouse.
A blog I have followed for years is skippyhaha, which I stumbled upon through a now defunct site called vintagevantage.com which sold incredible t-shirts, both new and vintage. Over the years, I have learned fascinating tidbits of info from skippyhaha. For example, did you ever notice that there is a white arrow pointing right between the e & the x in the FedEx logo? Now you know.
In addition to providing entertaining trivia and insights, skippyhaha sells vintage t-shirts on the Internets. Not the poser vintage t-shirts you can find at virtually any store in the mall, but kick-ass shirts that were actually made back in the day. She sent me an AMAZING “Wilderness Waterski” shirt from 1981. They just don’t make them like this anymore. I cannot wait to wear this at the lake this summer while I watch Mister Ferguson wakeboard--from the back of the boat with a beer in my hand.
Thank you skippyhaha for my new favorite shirt! Check out skippy’s blog here and her vintage t-shirt store here.
I also want to send out a humongous thank-you to my girl (and adorable mommy-to-be) AR for sending me a fun surprise in the mail when I returned home from North Carolina this week. I love, love, love these New Balance shoes! I feel like they were made just for me.
More on my trip to North Carolina in the next blog. For now (back by popular demand) I’m going to leave you with another round of actual status updates from my Facebook news feed. My Facebook friends never disappoint!
1. Finding an all natural girl in OC is like spotting sasquatch. It’s either terribly dyed hair, covered in terrible tattoos, have random jewels staple gunned into her face or other body parts or a fantastic combo of all 3. To each their own but I'd rather date pinhead from Hellraiser than some of the talent out here.
2. Lady on the treadmill wearing shades would be pretty lame if she didn't just run like 20 miles.
3. I’m looking for a small, blue, Hello Kitty hair bow... not a blue one with Hello Kitty on it, but one that looks like the one Hello Kitty wears. If you have seen it for sale somewhere please let me know :-) Thank you!
4. Been hunting a racoon(s) most of the weekend...so far not winning the battle, but..."the only good varmint is a dead varmint, and to beat the varmint you have to think like a varmint...." I will remove the unwanted houseguests, oh yes, I will remove them!!!
5. My nice peaceful neighborhood has been compromised by what appear to be about 10 college freshmen on spring break. It looks like Akon, Young Jeezy and Chris Brown formed a band with Panic at the Disco and are using my neighbors house as a recording studio. If that's todays college man I fear for Americas future.
6. You’re invited to my birthday at Chocolate City. There will b a photograher on site so please Glam up for my party. I will send out the password the day before the party...letz keep it sexy.
7. When you make it difficult for me to stalk your Facebook page, I can't gather enough information to talk about you with others. Work with me, people.
8. Ran into a former co-worker last night. She said I was still pretty but gained weight. Ummm... thanks?
I have been dreading my two-week trip to North Carolina for weeks. Not the actual vacation, but the journey—the journey I was taking solo with a 13-month-old child. Since Mister Ferguson decided to go on a ski “mancation” to Whistler, my baby friend and I decided to head south for a visit with my family. The prospect of warm weather and Carolina BBQ excited us both, so we booked a plane ticket and packed our daisy dukes, flip flops and sippy cups.
Checking in and getting through security was not as bad as I thought it would be—although folding up a stroller, taking off my shoes and feeding both items through the conveyor belt while holding a toddler on my hip was quite a feat. Luckily, Mister Ferguson was flying out roughly the same time we were, so he was there to assist me through that whole process. Unfortunately, we were headed in different directions. Once he boarded his plane destined for blue skies and fresh powder, I was on my own.
I treated both of us to McDonald’s breakfast because when you have an early flight, you have to have a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit. It’s the law. Biddy enjoyed an Egg McMuffin and half of my hash brown. We sat and talked about what was going on in day care—who was biting who, who was getting ready to walk and who just couldn’t get off the bottle. Just kidding. Our mother-daughter breakfast consisted of Biddy throwing her food on the floor, laughing hysterically and randomly shouting at other travelers while waving her sippy cup full of milk in the air like a tiny drunk person.
When I realized that I was actually getting ready to take this pint-sized heckler on a crowded plane, I started looking around for the duty-free store so I could find some Bailey’s for my coffee or vodka for my orange juice—just a little something for Mommy’s sippy cup. No such luck. I’m a nervous flyer to begin with, so at this point my anxiety level was at an all-time high.
Neither one of us is accustomed to waking up at 3 am, so by the time we boarded the first plane to Charlotte, we were both a little glassy eyed. Our seat was in the next to last row so we kept walking, walking, walking to the back—the whole time Biddy was reaching out and petting the lady in front of us.
Children under the age of 2 fly for free on US Airways, but they have to sit on your lap. Surprisingly, the airline does not count them as a carry-on item. You can buy your baby a seat on the plane and bring a car seat, which initially sounded ridiculous but is now looking like a better option for the next trip. She’s used to sitting in a car seat. She’s not used to sitting in my lap for an hour and a half.
As a mother, it’s impossible to imagine that someone would not find your child as adorable/smart/entertaining as you do, but those people are out there. I know this because we sat right next to them on the plane.
Before the flight, I had Googled “tips for flying with a baby” and had also asked several friends for advice. I was told to have snacks and several new little SILENT toys to keep introducing throughout the flight. So I crammed Goldfish, animal crackers, squishy balls, keys, stuffed animals and binkies galore into a backpack and actually threw in my Kindle (wishful thinking).
I was as prepared as a mother could be. I had anticipated everything except for being seated next to the two biggest assholes flying from Pittsburgh to Charlotte. I have been on the receiving end of many, many stink eyes in my lifetime, but nothing compares to the look our seat mate gave us when we sat down. Staring straight ahead and pretending not to notice, I put Biddy on my lap and went about my business. I got out the first toy, buckled my belt and hoped for the best. Apparently not satisfied that her dirty look had adequately conveyed her displeasure of being seated next to an infant, our seat mate loudly exclaimed to her companion, “Next time I will specify that I would like to be seated as far away as possible from any kids.”
My daughter, who likes everyone, decides this would be a great time to grab at the lady’s magazine. Now I am really freaking out because Biddy has no idea what the word “no” means and it really is impossible/pointless to discipline a one year old (no matter what her pediatrician says). The lady gets really agitated and says, “It’s going to be a looong flight” to her friend. I am apparently deaf/non-existent at this point.
To add to my little nightmare, the pilot comes over the loudspeaker and announces that we will have to sit on the runway an additional 15 minutes while the plane is de-iced. Yay. Biddy is beyond exhausted and is acting out like I have never seen. I’m trying to rock her, hold her still, sing in her ear. She is bucking like a wild horse, arms and legs akimbo. I am dangerously close to tears but somehow hold it together long enough to hear another sigh and “It’s going to be a looong flight.”
I get it. The lady paid a lot of money for the ticket and would rather sit next to someone more Wall Street than Sesame Street. Not the warm and fuzzy grandmother type I was hoping for. In a perfect world, there would be a separate plane for people travelling with children where they could all laugh, cry, kick and scream together. But I don’t own US Airways and I don’t make the rules. I was obviously struggling to maintain my composure and keep my child from running down the aisle. If I could talk to her and tell her to behave I would, but she DOESN’T UNDERSTAND ENGLISH or any other language for that matter.
Biddy is not a cuddler. She has never fallen asleep in my arms and she rarely sits on my lap for more than a minute. She likes action and is constantly on the move. The more I tried to restrain her in our seat, the more she struggled to get free. Despite my best efforts, her foot lightly grazed our surly seatmate’s knee during one of the more intense moments of our grappling session. This prompted a third, “It’s going to be a looong flight.” No shit, lady.
By the fifth time she said it, I had had enough. This woman was a bully. She didn’t have the balls to tell me to my face that my child was being annoying, but had no problem announcing it to the entire plane. The last time she said “It’s going to be a looong flight,” I looked her right in the eyes and said “It sure is!” She didn’t say it again.
That’s the thing about bullies. When you stand up to them, they don’t know what to do with themselves.
Mercifully, when the plane took off five minutes later, Biddy fell asleep and didn’t wake up until the wheels touched the ground. My arm asleep from the weight of her head, I sat in silence, grateful for a quiet moment to think up meaner comebacks to my seatmate’s insults. I caught her sneaking glances at my sleeping baby several times during the flight, making sure she wasn’t going to wake up and disturb her again.
When we got off the plane, we had to wait for our stroller along with everyone else who had to check bags at the gate. It was still all folded up when they handed it to me, so I had to balance Biddy and wrangle it open at the same time. Although it is a simple process, my first two attempts failed. There were no less than 15 people standing there waiting for their bags watching the whole thing. Amazingly, not one person even attempted to help. I eventually got it open and we made our way through the Charlotte airport to our connecting flight.
We had a row to ourselves for the 30 minute flight to Wilmington, so Biddy was free to flop around like a fish out of water the whole time. I was SO happy and relieved to see my parents waiting for us at baggage claim. Although it was only 11:00 am, I felt like I had been going at it for 24 hours.
When we got to the house, I gladly handed Biddy over to my parents so I could decompress for a while. While I cooled off my nervous energy with a bottle of Chardonnay, Biddy was more productive and decided to walk for the VERY FIRST TIME! No kidding, we were there for less than 20 minutes and she just took off. You know what they say, you can’t keep a good woman (or toddler) down!
Moral of this WHOLE LONG STORY: If you happen to see someone at the airport travelling alone with a toddler—DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE! If you’re seated next to them and don’t want to be, keep your mouth shut. I promise that however uncomfortable the child is making you feel, the mother is going through hell. I have been on both sides of the fence, and given the choice, I would gladly be the inconvenienced traveler. It’s not that I don’t love Biddy—it’s just that I love her SO much that I am willing to buy her an airline ticket that entitles her to a seat all to herself!
The one thing I really like about running long distances (and there really is only one thing) is that it gives me time and clarity to sort out any issues in my life and put them into perspective. And this past Saturday from roughly 8 to 10 am, in rolling farmlands in the middle of nowhere, I was doing just that.
Mister Ferguson and I woke up around 5:45 am, picked up my running partner Julia Goolia and headed to the Shamrock Shuffle, a ten mile race that is held in Harmony, PA (about 45 minutes away from Pittsburgh). It was cold but clear when we huddled in the barn to get instructions from the race leader. She told us good luck and where to locate the starting line. Almost as an afterthought she added, “Oh yeah, the township police have forbidden the use of ipods on the race course. Anyone caught using an ipod will be disqualified from the race. You need to learn how to run without help, anyway.”
Um, hello? WTF was I supposed to do with that? I can’t run a mile without my ipod, let alone ten. I need Girl Talk, Kanye and Jay-Z to get me up those hills! Panic set in and my heart started racing. I opened my mouth to protest, but the lady meant business. She made it sound like she was going to do a body cavity search on each and every one of us.
It took me all of five seconds to decide the rule was meant to be broken. As I took my place in the back of the pack, a girl asked me what I planned to do about the ipod ban situation. I told her, “I don’t give a shit, I’m wearing it. They’ve already given me my t-shirt and it’s in my car. I’m not going to win the race, so they can disqualify me if they want.” In a show of solidarity, the girl and her friend also strapped on their ipods. We weren’t going down without a fight.
Turns out, it wasn’t as big of a deal as we thought it was going to be. I high-fived several policemen on the course and they didn’t say a word about my headphones. I wasted precious energy worrying about this nonsense—precious energy I desperately needed to complete the race.
The course was impossible. One steep hill after the next, the miles dragged on as I tried to concentrate on my music. It’s amazing how you can focus on the words of rap songs when you have nothing to distract you. In an effort to change things up, I had downloaded some new songs from itunes, including “ET” by Katy Perry and Kanye West. The song is either about having an out-of-body sexual experience or sex with an actual alien. I can’t decide. There are some truly bizarre lyrics, including my favorite line by Kanye, “I’m going to disrobe you, then I’m going to probe you.” Classic love song. Wish it had come out around the time of my wedding.
Distance running is definitely physically demanding. However, you also have to be mentally tough and/or bat shit crazy to take on a marathon. There is a point when the physical part fades somewhere into the background and it’s just you and your thoughts out there. That’s when you really get to know yourself. At mile six, I was obsessing over the interviews I had completed for my dream job the previous week. Had I said the right things? What could I have done differently? Why hadn’t they called me yet? Maybe I wasn’t qualified. Self doubt and fear crept into my mind and began to affect my race. What was I doing out there? This race was full of hills. Would I even finish?
As if on cue, Puff Daddy’s new song, “Coming Home” came on my ipod. You know you’re in bad shape when you’re drawing inspiration from Sean Combs, but at this point I was grasping at anything to help me finish the race. The line that got me moving?
Ain’t No Stopping Us Now… I love that song
whenever it comes on it makes me feel strong
I thought I told y’all that we won’t stop
Looking at it on the page right now it makes me laugh that these words had such a profound effect on me last Saturday morning, but they did. At that point I knew that I was going to finish the race. I knew that I would get the job if it was meant to be and if I didn’t, I would get another one and it would be just as great. I spent the last four miles thinking about all of the things that have happened to me over the past year and how I could apply my new wisdom from Puff Daddy to other areas of my life. A little over a year ago I was afraid of childbirth, afraid of becoming a mother, afraid of starting to run again. Yet, here I was, completing a ten mile race, with a happy and healthy 13-month-old little girl waiting for me at the finish line. And I realized that as long as I believe in myself, the best is yet to come.
We were all pretty beat when we climbed into the car to go home. Mister Ferguson announced to us, “If we’re going to keep running these races, I’m going to have to get a pair of tighty-whities.” We all cracked up and I told everyone about a running thong I had seen in a catalog that week. I don’t know about you, but unsightly panty lines are the last thing I’m worried about during a long run. I can't think of anything more uncomfortable.
It’s Tuesday morning and I still haven’t heard anything about the job, but my positive attitude hasn’t waned! I will keep you posted. Wish me luck.
My 13 mile long run was cancelled today because my running partner Julia Goolia is under the weather. She sounds terrible. And although I wanted to get it over with, I can't say I'm disappointed. Seriously--long runs suck the life out of me. Instead, I spent the morning with Tony Horton getting my P90X on. We own the whole set, but I only like the plyometrics video because it is super hard and makes my legs stronger for running. The rest of the videos are full of push-ups and pull-ups which I am not ashamed to admit that I cannot do.
After the workout, I got out my laptop and logged onto Facebook, which I check before any other site out of habit. There is just so much information available in one place. Some important, some not. For example, I found out Michael Jackson died and what 35% of my Facebook friends had for lunch in the same newsfeed.
My Facebook friends vary. Some post status updates hourly, some monthly, some yearly. What's interesting to me is what one deems important enough to post as a status on Facebook. One of my "friends" is always sick and spares no details about her many ailments. Over the past year, I have been constantly informed about the color of her snot, the consistency of her bowel movements and what medications she is taking. I'm not sure if she's looking for attention or a diagnosis.
Another feels the need to comment about the weather EVERY SINGLE DAY. I'm pretty sure he's not a meteorologist, but he would be perfect for the job. My favorite is when he curses Punxatawney Phil for giving us a false reading on an early spring. That damn groundhog! I don't know about you, but I expect accuracy from my rodent weather predictors.
These two are wedged in between the political commentators (left and right wing), those who "check-in" everywhere they go, the farmers of Farmville and those who simply post song lyrics as their status. I don't want this post to come off as me being judgmental about Facebook status updates, because trust me, I'm not. I find them all fascinating. Yellow snot..Obamacare..barn raisings..dinner at Olive Garden--without all of this, I would have no newsfeed.
The following are five actual status updates from people on my Facebook:
1. Im having a tatoo party at my house tomorrow. My friend is a tat artist and is coming over and doing really good but cheap tats. Txt/call me if you wanna come! It's gonna start at 4pm and run till everyone is done. I need like 5 ppl for me to get mine for free!!
2. Relief! Not only did my abscess break on it's own and give me major relief last night, it just did it again! That means I don't have to drive to Monroeville to see the endo today. Hopefully my tooth cooperates and I stay pain-free this weekend!
3. Its so cold out tonight I wish someone would teach me how to Snuggie.
4. Looking for a place to rifle hunt near kanawha county. Please let me know. Doe, buck, doesn't matter. Let me know. I feel like I am putting an ad in classified section of newspaper. My dad will be with me because I can't drive at this time. Let me know.
5. So my daughter just asked me if she can burn incense in her room during the mummification ceremony she is about to perform for Strawberry Shortcake.
I sure hope she gets that tooth fixed and that guy finds somewhere to hunt. I'm getting ready for the tat party so I've got to get off of here!
Yesterday I went to Wal*Mart to pick up some items for dinner. It was “make your own pizza night” at the Ferguson household, a sneaky way for me to put dinner on the table without actually cooking. I simply purchase pizza ingredients at the store and line them up on the counter. Everyone gets what they want and I avoid slaving away in the kitchen. Win-win.
Back to Wal*Mart. As I entered the store and started wrestling a cart away from the chain (they are always stuck together), a girl who looked to be in her early 20s and weighed about 100 pounds walked in. She took one look at me (at this point I have one leg up on the cart for leverage and there is a vein bulging out of my forehead) and announced to no one in particular, “Shoo. I’m too tired for this.” She proceeded to walk to the other side of the entrance, hop on one of the motorized carts and drive off into the store.
There was NOTHING wrong with this young lady, yet there were no signs on the motorized carts specifying that one must be disabled in order to ride. Shoo. I was tired too! And for a fleeting moment I considered jumping on one of those bad boys and picking up my groceries. But I felt bad about possibly taking a cart from someone who needed it and also self-conscious about the stares I would definitely receive, so I freed my cart and pushed on. Out of curiosity I kept an eye out for the girl as I shopped and I spotted her several times—casually browsing through the aisles while happily bullshitting on her cell phone. Poor, worn out little thing just needed a break. I understand. My early 20s were exhausting too.
Speaking of exhausting…my long runs keep getting longer each week. Thinking up new topics to blog about keeps my mind occupied for half the time. The other half needs music to keep going! If you are in need of some new workout tunes, check out Girl Talk. The artist is a guy from Pittsburgh who mashes different songs together in a way that seems impossible and the result is really kick ass and motivational. There is really no way to describe it, so you will have to listen for yourself. The good news is that it is free and you can download it here. Let me know what you think!
Hello friends. It’s been about two years since my last blog and all I can say is that a lot has gone down here in the Ferguson household since then. Let’s catch up…
When we left off, I was gearing up to run the Pittsburgh Marathon. I am happy to report that I completed the race! It was long, boring and it rained pretty much the whole time. My race time sucked and I am obviously an idiot because I’m preparing to do the whole thing over again this year.
Almost immediately following the race, I got knocked up and ballooned to almost 200 lbs. Not an exaggeration. Last February, I gave birth to a sweet baby girl and named her Biddy Ferguson. Since then, my life has been full of diapers, bottles, footie pajamas and Cheerios. Cheerios are so gross because they kind of smell like urine and they get stuck to everything.
Now Biddy is one! And while not anywhere close to being self-sufficient, I really feel like she is starting to make her way in this world. She doesn’t talk per se, but she grunts and points when she wants something—which is a hell of a lot easier than trying to decipher cries. I remember when I was pregnant and people would tell me I would “just know” what she wanted based on what her cries sounded like. Not true. The only distinction I can make between her cries is when she’s “kind of pissed” and “really pissed.” I have realized over the past year that I am not a mind reader and the sooner this little lady can start communicating her needs and wants, the better! Luckily, she’s a delightful, fun-loving girl who is always ready for a new experience or a snack.
Obviously, having a baby is a major life-changer. I was prepared for that, thanks to everyone who felt the need to tell me, “You have no idea what you’re getting into. Things are really going to be different when the baby comes! Your life will never be your own again.” This is by far the most annoying statement one can make to a person getting ready to have a baby. I mean, I was already freaking out about the fact a BABY was going to COME OUT OF MY VAGINA. I didn’t have the emotional capacity to think beyond what would happen after we brought the baby home. I just figured we would wing it. So far, so good?
I’ve gotten a few lectures from Mister Ferguson on watching my language around Biddy because she is really starting to pick things up. I’m working on it. But recently, I realized it’s not only words she’s absorbing. Last weekend, I was standing in front of a mirror in my ski pants and sports bra. Before I put on my shirt, I started patting my belly and pinching my fat like I always do—bad habit. As I reached for my shirt, I saw Biddy sitting on the floor next to me with her shirt pulled up and patting her belly. It was both hilarious and eye-opening. At that moment, it became very real to me that my words and actions will help shape my little girl’s behavior, personality and self-esteem. And that scares the shit out of me.
So that’s what’s new with Tiddy. As you may have noticed, I redesigned the site and I’m very excited to be internetting again! As usual, I will be here to bitch about my weight (back to pre-baby, but not ideal), talk about new products and services, running, music and whatever else I’ve got going on! If you have any topics you would like me to blog about or questions, please contact me. Talk to you tomorrow!
