Like any lady, I’m certainly a fan of long, lush lashes, but eyelash transplants? Just when you thought there was nothing else left to artificialize (or “enhance”), yet another new procedure surfaces. I guess in this case, the hair is actually real but Jesus, the lashes are head hair– in need of regular cuts! Weird, eh? Think I’ll stick with mascara.

Whew! Friday finally– my first day off since Monday. I know, not a big deal for you working/schooling folks, but jesus, I’m beat after working four days straight. I’m getting a good vibe from this new job, but the commute is bugging me already. Sure, sure, 45 minutes doesn’t seem so bad except when you calculate it as a fraction of the workday, a 90-minute commute is practically 20% of the 8-hour shift– a sizeable chunk. And of course, yesterday’s drive back was a nightmare. I was going to try an alternate route, but then I didn’t have my cell phone, I was low no gas, and I was out of tampons. I told you before: I always forget important things when Aunt Flo’s in town. And not to be totally gross, but let’s just say, I had to get home fast. In typical fashion, my urgency only made everything else around me slower: traffic moved at a crawl. I decided against trying the new route (and getting lost), so I returned to I-880. When I finally got home, the dogs were dying to pee (as was I). Poor things, they had to wait– I am alpha dog after all. You’d think getting UTI as a child would be enough of a lesson for me, but I can’t help it. I still either forget to go, or I just fail to recognize the importance of an empty bladder for any journey of any duration.

Anyway, today I’m dog sitting the two Italian greyhounds next door. Boca and Cisco are on the neurotic side, and in all honesty, their overprotective (but friendly) father doesn’t help. So I’ve gone over there three or four times already to let them potty outside, and each time, they haven’t even stepped foot on the lawn. Instead, they’ve shitted and pissed inside twice. Luckily, they piss on the housebreaking pad and shit in the same vicinity (guess that’s good enough…). Still, who has adult dogs that piss/poop indoors? I know Italian greyhounds are pretty small, so their bladders probably can’t hold much volume. Still, four outings in 12 hours and potty accidents still? It’s just not right.

Italian greyhounds are an interesting breed. They’re sight hounds, and they have really short, smooth coats. Too bad the breed makes me think of baby dinosaurs. Don’t worry, I’m still giving them love and attention (even if they aren’t particularly attractive doggies). What they need though, is a bit more discipline…

As you know, I started my new job Monday. The commute has turned out to be worse than anticipated– not intolerable but definitely an intense journey. Luckily, I live right by the San Mateo bridge (one of two bridges that crosses over to East Bay from the peninsula). The crappy thing is, the interstate ramp after the bridge bottlenecks thanks to a traffic flow control light that only allows one car to get onto I-880 at a time. Sure, they have similar devices in DC too on I-66, but here, the intervals are so much longer. Whereas in DC, a car got the green light every fourth or fifth second, here it’s more like the seventh or eighth second. Doesn’t sound like a big difference, but when you have an entire lane of cars backed up, it’s a huge deal. My other complaint concerns the HOV lane. The hours are like 5AM-9AM and 3PM-7PM, so basically, unless I find a rideshare (I’m working on it), I’m SOL. I know, what’s my hurry. I don’t know– driving is just such a waste of time: I can’t use it for anything productive. Even if I tune into the news, I can’t fully concentrate and absorb the information. The traffic still requires some minimal attention. Oh well, minor gripes.

The job itself is good. I really like the other people– all really smart, young, energetic, and multicultural. I already found my dude from China with whom I can practice Mandarin. Awesome. The client seems nice too. Still early to tell, though.

I’m a little bummed that they’re a manufacturing plant, meaning I can pretty much forget about updating my wardrobe and struting around in my new tall boots (which, by the way, took me three years to finally buy). You see, I found these really nice (i.e. affordable) microfiber boots at Target. I wore them around the house for a few days before I finally built up the confidence to wear them in public (I have issues!). Their first public appearance was that Mandarin meetup. My friend Josh says he doesn’t like boots, because they are vampy. He suspects there’s a connection between the creepy guy incident and my boots. Anyway, I like the look of boots with knee-length skirts or dresses or long skirts, and I was all psyched about starting work so I could dress nicely in business casual. Well, forget that!

Day one I wore khakis, a dress shirt, a sweater vest, and heels. I didn’t know this was on the agenda, but we went to the manufacturing plant, and jesus, I might as well have walked around with a big sign around my neck saying “Ivory Tower Prissy Pants.” Factories are like landfills. You don’t get any street cred prancing around in pretty clothes and shiny shoes. So day two, I toned my shit down: dark blue jeans, ankle boots (I got rid of my other closed-toe shoes), and a button-down shirt. Better but then I had to walk all over the damn site (over 100,000 sf) in heeled shoes. I’m the queen of bad timing: I threw out my steel-toe workboots a few months ago, thinking I wouldn’t need them anymore. For this job, I don’t really need steel-toe, but I definitely need something that’s leather and comfortable for walking. Ugh. I’m picturing those nasty-ass orthopedic shoes. God. Like nurses shoes. As style ignorant as I am, even I know those things are butt-ugly. Oh the sacrifice! Now I’m chugging down fossil fuels (putting 50 miles on my car), paying a damn $3 bridge toll, and cramping up my style (on purpose). But I have a new computer, a new phone, and a job. Happy as a button.

My friend Fonda is a 40-year-old Indonesian Chinese lady who’s married to John’s coworker: in other words, we are both Greenplum wives. She’s from a family of 13 children, so she’s very sociable. Fonda doesn’t have a formal job, but she stays busy keeping their big townhouse in check. Her top two hobbies are cooking and shopping. She loves cooking; oddly, she eats very little. And her husband? He loves cooking too, but his pref is for Western foods whereas she cooks Asian foods (Indonesian, Singaporean, Thai, etc.). So what ends up happening is, she cooks all these wonderful tasty foods that he doesn’t want to eat (at least not every day), so she gives them to random people– like a sales clerk at the local mall, or the security guard of their complex, or their neighbor.

Now that I’m in town, she invites me over twice a week for lunch. Crazy good shit: lemongrass fried chicken, thai curry chicken, pork wontons, Singaporean stir-fried noodles, rice vermicelli, shrimp/avocado dip. I know, I’m lapping it up. John keeps hoping I’ll learn something from her on one of these lunches, but really, she has everything ready by the time I step in the door. She did tell me about a stuffed green pepper dish which I made for John the other day though– so I am building up my skills.

Anyway, Fonda is a really sweet lady, and we have a good time hanging out, but at the same time, we’re at different times in our lives. I’m always pining away for professional fulfillment; she wants to cook, shop, and travel. And boy does she shop. The first time we shopped together, she dragged me into all these stores I’d never stepped into: totally high-end and intimidating– LV, Hermes, Armani Xchange, Cache. My god. LV is no fucking joke, either. Bags– ugly bags– that cost three to five grand easy. I can’t tell if she has that Asian obsession with brand names or if she just really thinks the bags are beautiful, but holy shit. I just measure that value in terms of laptop computers and cars. It’s a lot.

Yesterday, she showed me all this stuff she purchased on her latest trip downtown. I don’t mind checking out the goods. Still, I’ve never had an eye for fashion, and seriously, I just don’t see it. At all. Her stuff is, well, unusual. Sure, she totally pulls it off, but I don’t know. The styles are just totally off-the-wall. Some stuff she buys on sale, like Armani jeans for $100. Other stuff she says she can’t wait until it goes on sale, because it will be gone by then. Surely. Someone is snatching that stuff up? Right. One blouse was $165!! And jesus, I had no idea she had multiple LV bags. FIVE in her closet. Here I was all happy to upgrade from Carrefour to Bass. I really feel like the kid from the wrong side of the tracks or something. Apparently, her sister is like best friends with the First Lady of Indonesia. Gulp.

So all along the way, I’m like trying to drop hints to Fonda that I’m a cheap bastard. For example, when we drove by Ross yesterday, I told her I shop there: jeans for $10. She said she used to shop there in Boston. We went in: she didn’t find a thing.

Today, she went to get her hair done. She got a perm and cut. The total came to like $350, and she thought that was reasonable. She said she called places downtown and it was $500. Is it just me, or is that totally shocking??! Half a grand? Well, at least she was happy with the results. And apparently, the prices here are so much cheaper than in Singapore, she says. Shrug. Guess Fonda and I are both mavens, in own senses.

Anyway, the big news of the day? I got a job!! HUNDREDS of applications later, I got an offer from the fuel cell startup company. Of course, in typical fashion, they low-balled me. I got all worked up prepping my case for a better rate. When I returned their call, I was all nervous and flushed. My heart beat a million times a minute. In the end, I got almost 50% more than their initial offer! Yippee! So it’s three days a week starting out, and then if everything goes well, full time in the new year with benefits/options/salary negotiations then. The only condition is that I start Monday, which is totally fine by me. Yes! Back to the working world. And now that I know where my place of employment is, we can now figure out where we want to live– we may be moving farther down the peninsula.

Our lease is up at the end of November. Can you believe John’s been here nearly eight months already? Our complex is actually a convenient place– a bit pricey for the space but super nice pool and hot tub as well as great location near his work. Unfortunately, the place just changed management, and the new peeps are driving me up the wall already. First, they are obviously unorganized. I have called or spoken in person to three reps over the past month. Despite assurances that someone would follow up with me, no one did. I just want to know our renewal options for one year or month-to-month. Is that so much to ask? Basic shit, right? And I mean, our lease ends November 30! Not much lead time. So when I called the first time, the response was that the new management is still figuring it out. I asked for a rough estimate, a ballpark. I mean, hello, they are leasing units to new tenants now, right? So, what rent do they charge them? Duh. The reply was that management can’t even give me a ballpark, because the rent varies depending on the location within the complex and also on how long someone’s been leasing. So lame. I can’t even get over how stupid that is. So that’s like strike one and strike two. Then, last week some beotch from the office showed up at my door to inform me that tenants aren’t allowed to hang-dry laundry because when the leasing agents show prospectives around, everyone can see the clothing and underwear and it’s unslightly. Well, fuck me: you’re unslightly, do I tell you never to go outside? At the time, John was home early with a major migraine, so I didn’t want to get into an argument about it, but thinking back, I should have ripped her a new one. For sure. I mean, how asinine is that? One of the great things about living on the peninsula is that the weather is sunny and warm most of the time. Why the fuck am I going to pay money to use their half-ass, inefficient electric dryer when I have a perfectly good and free energy source to dry my clothes?! I was so pissed afterwards. What, like people haven’t ever seen underwear before? If it’s so freaking offensive, go gripe to all the media outlets about all the trash that’s aired on tv! That’s goddamn disgusting and offensive! Needless to say, we are searching for a new place to live.

As for the job hunt, I was invited back for round two this morning at the sustainability nonprofit. The board chair is super nice– an attorney, I believe, but older (maybe in her 60s). Very elegant and polished. The more I learn about the gig, the better it sounds. I mean, I would work mostly from home. 40-50 hours/month. Pay is not bad, even by private sector standards. Very self directed. Only thing is, I’d have to develop contacts with city government– sort of cold-calling ish. I’m not really a natural sales person, but I’ve definitely delivered presentations, and so long as the content is good, I don’t think it would be that bad. And of course, it’s promoting the concept of sustainability, building awareness, etc. I’ve been working hard on my networking/social skills, so what better place to put them to use? I must say, overcoming (at least partly) the social anxiety has been incredibly liberating and empowering. It’s so nice not to deal with the inconvenience of that kind of paralysis.

Anyway, the fuel cell start-up has contacted at least one of my refs; hopefully that one is moving forward as well. I can’t tell you how excited I am about some job progress. Of course, knowing me, once I start working, I’ll probably gripe about it. John and I definitely subscribe to the “grass is greener on the other side” philosophy. It’s our nature. Can’t help it. Heh, heh.

OMG! That huge IBM recording that I did? It was over eight hours worth of work, and then my PM tried to pay me for only three. I dunno what the deal was; my reported hours have NEVER been an issue, but I definitely read slower this time. But whatever, it seriously took eight hours. Then after I finally got the hours approved, there was some issue about the quality. I don’t know if the problem was my rattling Vaio or my mic, but basically, I had to re-record practically all of it. Another eight hours, I’d say. Ugh, hopefully that’s the last of that project. I’m so paranoid now: any day, I’m sure I’ll get an email telling me it’s still not good enough. I’m going to run some recording samples on my new MacBook Pro. John installed Audio Hijack, so hopefully that will enable me to record some decent quality clips. Then, it’ll be time to say goodbye to my beloved Vaio. (Something tells me having a laptop in each room of the apartment is a bit over the top.) But I don’t know… so hard to give up the Windows OS. What if I have to access something– an archived document or something. Dilemmas, dilemmas.

In other news, my parents return from Taiwan soon. I still haven’t gotten their DC condo rented out. The rental market is cooling, I think. So the price has dropped. Any takers? I know, John’s already ragged on me about the template– looks insanely similar to StarPups. Back off, man. I’m not going to do a new design/color scheme just for a condo listing! Anyway, please pass around if you think of anyone who might be interested.

Ok, time to prep dinner: steak, potatoes, and asparagus risotto. You’d be proud: I rode my bike to Trader Joe’s this afternoon. Only three miles, but that didn’t stop me from huffing and puffing my way back. I just checked the tire pressures, and they dipped way low– down to 20 psi from 60 psi. Surely, it was the drag from these flat tires that killed me. Surely.

Earlier this month, my beloved Sony Vaio started showing signs of wear; its fan began rattling a little louder than normal. I love my Vaio though, so originally, I was totally planning to just get the updated version of my model (SZ). Unfortunately, when I went to the store, I realized Sony totally cut corners on its latest laptops. For example, the metal solid casing is now replaced with less durable plastic AND the keyboard is all fucked up. And still no DVI input (John’s gripe). When I crunched the numbers, Sony priced out around $2k. I widened my net and researched Dell, then Toshiba, then Gateway. In the end, the household sys admin (i.e. John) announced he would no longer provide PC support in the home office. Not that he was providing that much support anyway, but I was getting pretty sick of not being able to share drives and files and shit. Long story short, I caved. Truth be told, I’m now using an Apple MacBook Pro. I know, next thing you know, I’ll be pregnant or something!

So of course I’ve been kicking and screaming throughout the conversion. I swear, I’m operating at only 60 percent efficiency trying to deal with this mouse-dependent operating system. Supposedly there are shortcut keys, but not nearly as many as for Windows. On top of that, I haven’t found the programs particularly fast. Even John was surprised by the speed (the laptop runs really hot too); early on, he suspected my unit was a lemon. Within the first week, I experienced OS hangs, random program shut downs, etc. Yeah, not a great intro into Apple.

But the last straw was yesterday. As you know, I recently purchased my Doo Wop box set. Naturally, the day my package arrived, I put in all my CDs. What do you know, my new laptop couldn’t play three of the four! Thinking maybe it was the discs, I put them into other computers in the house– they all played fine. Wtf? So, I called AppleCare and spoke to a super helpful guy named Richard. He gave me a case number and said I qualified for an exchange. The rest of the afternoon, I took all my files off the hard drive.

After John got home yesterday evening, we went to the Apple store in Burlingame. Mother fuckers. Basically, they were dicks about it. They insisted that full exchanges were only given within 14 days of purchase (I was at 21 days). According to them, Richard gave me the wrong information. So, I wasn’t going to get an exchange. Not only that, they wanted me to reproduce the problem. I didn’t take the CDs, because Richard said all I needed was the case number. And the problem was flakey– some CDs worked, other’s didn’t. So basically, I argued with them back and forth for 20 minutes. I mean, I did what I was told by AppleCare. Why should I be penalized for improper training on their end? Plus, the 14-day policy stated on the receipt is for a return if you’re unsatisfied. I don’t want a return. I want an exchange for a defective item– I think that’s different. I was so pissed. I mean, for Crissakes, we buy so much of their shit. And John even got his work to convert to Apple. Seriously, me receiving misinformation from their staff is not my issue. They should honor their word, whether it comes from some telephone support rep or whomever (I had the case number and everything!). I mean, here I had already spent all afternoon clearing off the hard drive. So fucking unprofessional, considering they have a whole inventory of laptops in the back. Ugh. Finally, I said I would go back and get the CDs to demonstrate the faulty drive. What would happen next, John asked? They would ship the unit in for repair. Say fucking what? No way! If I make another trip and show that the drive is defective, I want the goddamn exchange I was promised. I’m telling you, I don’t like being nasty assertive, but if you’re going to bullshit me, I’m not going to take it. After conferring once more with the store manager, the genius bar dude acquiesced. Jesus, they sure don’t make it easy!

Mind you, the time was already 8:15 p.m., and they were closing the Genius Bar at 8:30. I was so annoyed that they made me argue so hard about all this. I mean, I’m confrontational, but I do prefer being nice generally. And I hate when I get really pissed, because my face gets all red and my voice shakes. Not like I’m going to cry, but I’m just so worked up. I know, anger management issues. Can’t explain it. Anyway, I figured this battle was done for the night, but John– he knows me so well. He knew I was going to stew and stew over this. I mean, I was plotting a huge uproar, blah blah. So, he knew we had to resolve the issue immediately. He drove like Tony the TransAm driver to get me home to pick up the CDs and get back to the store. I walked back in at like 8:25, and they were not happy to see me. But whatever, man. I put in one of the CDs that didn’t play earlier and this time it played fine. My heart was pounding: come on, man don’t fuck with me now. Thankfully, the laptop spit out the second CD (which read fine on another laptop in the store). Whew! Now, give me my fucking exchange! I still thanked them, because I guess technically, they had to go against store policy. But still, they should have just listened to me in the first place. I am never ever going back to that store. I would rather drive 25 minutes to Palo Alto. Fuck that shit. Exhale.

Thankfully, this new unit seems less buggy than the other one. John says Apple’s definitely been having more hardware issues on their stuff. For his sake, he’s glad they did the right thing… in the end.

In other news, I got my handwriting analysis back. Obviously, a lot of the clip is general and unpersonalized; still, I’m impressed they actually scanned in my sample. I’m not going to purchase their pen, but you never know, John just might.

I had my interview this morning for the Education/Outreach Director position at a local sustainability nonprofit. Meeting went ok, but the place kind of lacked energy. It’s part-time, mostly working from home. The office, should I need to attend meetings, is a bike ride away. See? You’d think the answer would be easy, but the other thing is, it’s nonprofit. And, as much as I love them, they are always frickin’ po. Oh well, we’ll see what happens. The fuel cell place asked me for references, and I have an interview Monday for a web content writer position at an internet optimization company.

Hurray! I had a great interview this morning with the fuel cell startup. Only thing is, the location in East Bay will require that I get a car. Of course that’s jumping the gun a bit, considering there’s still another stage in the interview (if I get invited back). Nonetheless, the CEO did say he was pleased with my resume and my interview. Yay. I’m pretty psyched because the job would involve a lot of client interaction, and since it’s a small company, there’s plenty of role flexibility because there’s so much to do.

I also just received a package: my latest splurge– The Doo Wop box set. When John and I were in Seattle, I got sucked in to the PBS pledge drive, where they had a Doo Wop concert series. I swear I was born three decades too late. You can’t even find oldies like this on the radio anymore. Oldies are now music from the 80s! I know, an outrage isn’t it? So now I’m chillin’ to Earth Angel. This music is just my speed. 🙂

Haha, I’m in such a good mood, I’m going to try some new recipes for dinner tonight. I know, leave it to me to press my luck and fuck up a good thing, right? Well yesterday, I experimented and made a tasty beef and onion dish. I mean, yeah I smoked up the whole apartment (got everyone’s eyes burning and all!) in the process but hey, in the end we had a tasty meal so what more can you ask for.

Hmm what else. Oh, I got this in a fortune cookie last week: “Genius does what it must and talent does what it can.” Am I retarded or is this perplexing? So what, geniuses are driven by compulsion and insanity? Sigh. Is it too hard to ask that shit be spelled out for me?

Oh, another interesting happening in my thrilling life. Stephen Colbert had Jane Fonda and Gloria Steinem on his show. He did a cooking/baking (apple pie) skit with them. Hilarious. They’re launching a new women’s radio network: GreenStone Media. Something to check out.

I love the idea of public transportation. Unfortunately, in practice, public trans sucks big time. Maybe I would think differently if I actually lived in the city. From the suburban point of view though, my god, the experience is agonizing. Take today, for instance. I had a one o’clock Berlitz teacher orientation (back to English teaching again… maybe). I caught the bus at 11:30, arrived at SFO 12:10, caught the BART at 12:20, walked to the building (located in the hoyty-toyty financial district) and arrived exactly on time. Sure, 90 minutes doesn’t seem so bad. On the way, I worked on my college applications equivalent (i.e. job apps). I get to answer supplemental questions like “Describe a program/project you managed from start to finish” and “Give an example that best demonstrates your leadership skills.” Fun shit, I tell you. So yes, had some time to also write out my to do list, organize my purse, etc. But on the way home? First, I had to wait 20 minutes to catch a BART that went to the airport (most only go as far south as Daly City). Then, when one finally arrived, it didn’t pull all the way down the subway tunnel. By the time I figured out it was only boardable from the center, the damn thing had already pulled away. Fucking a. Had to wait for the next airport one. The BART stops a lot, so getting to the airport took like 35 minutes. When I arrived at SFO, I went downstairs and waited another 15 minutes for the bus. Then at the next station, a group of Special Olympics (at least that’s what was on their backpacks) people boarded. Now I fully support the SO. Of course, they have same rights as I do with public access, but I’m just saying, the passengers made for a rowdy bus ride. They pretty much yelled at each other whenever they spoke. One dude rocked back and forth incessantly. I just felt ill-rested. I know, I should have brought headphones. I didn’t. To make matters worse, I was dehydrated, my contacts were dry, and I had a splitting headache. Finally, I got home a bit before 4:30. In summary, I had a one-hour event downtown. I was gone from 11:30 to 4:30. See what I mean? By car, the commute is probably 30 minutes each way but then parkings is next to impossible, plus it costs an arm and a leg. A lose-lose situation. The solution, I suppose, is to just get a job on the peninsula.

The good news today (haha, you weren’t expecting any, were you?) is that I have three interviews this week. Un-fucking-believable, right? Another one for teaching, one for a fuel cell technology startup, and one for a San Mateo sustainability NGO (it’s so close, I can ride my bike there!). Thank goodness the ball is finally rolling! I need to start my professional life!

OMG, John had me tune in to the AZN channel last night. I didn’t even know there was a “network for Asian America.” I like the idea, but I need to check out more of the content before giving final judgement.

Anyway, the show yesterday was called “Ivy Dreams.” Basically, the cameras followed five Asian high school students through their college applications processes, from their test prepping to their acceptance/rejection letters. Man, this show brought back so many horrible memories. I got totally stressed following the cameras into their rooms and seeing all those SAT prep books. And god, their parents were ubiquitous. Telling them to study, calculating their probable test scores, watching them check scores online… Jesus. And of course the scores were never high enough; the kids took and re-took exams up to the wire. One girl scored like 720 out of 800 on one exam, and when she called to her father all excited to share the good news, he complained that she could and should have scored an 800. Ugh. I mean, a lot of things have changed since my experience (now students can get their scores and acceptance/rejection news online!). Still, so much has also stayed the same: the parents constantly harping on their kids– “You’re spending too much time with your friends. You’re diluting your efforts. You need to study more. Don’t participate in so many extra-curricular activities– just focus on studying.” Blah, blah, blah. Even when I didn’t listen to them, the constant conflict was so fucking draining.

I definitely busted ass in school. Sometimes, the results were great. Other times, horrendous. And now? What’s the payoff? Who the hell knows. I sometimes wish I would have enjoyed myself more back then. There’s something really sad about getting panic attacks and breakdowns over school– especially in the seventh grade.

So, freaky guy emailed me Friday. He said the USEPA Pacific region is hiring, and he has a contact. I know they’re hiring, and actually, I have a contact… Anyway, his message began innocently enough; the following sentence, however, was a bit weird. Here’s what he wrote:

Read the Chronicle Classified there are jobs with the EPA. Call me let’s do lunch and I’ll show you how to get into show business.

Ok, wtf? Show business? Is that a typo, because I have never ever mentioned anything about getting into the entertaiment/media industry. John says “show business” raises a red flag and that kind of lingo is commonly used to get some ass. Again, I’m feeling an odd mix of emotions. First, I’m confused. Where is this coming from? The jump from EPA work to show business just doesn’t flow. Second, if the statement does not in fact contain a typo, I’m pissed. I mean, who does he think he is? As if I’m going to fall for some desperate shit like that? I have never been one for random hook ups or one-night stands or sex buddy arrangements. Call me conservative. Call me insecure. Call me closed-minded. Whatever. With that kind of activity, I’m fine being labeled “conservative” and “UNliberated.” Third, I’m a bit curious. Is this dude for real? I almost want to test him, to figure this out, because if he is seriously propositioning me in any kind of inappropriate way, I want to clear all doubt and then go in for the kill. You know? Like, just try me, and I will give you a piece of my mind. Bring it.