A White Flag

BACFLOFEN - ORAL (BACK-low-fen)

USES: To treat muscle tightness and cramping (spasms).

HOW TO USE: Take this medication by mouth, usually 3 times a day or as directed by your doctor. Do not suddenly stop taking this drug without your doctor's approval. If you suddenly stop taking this drug, withdrawal reactions may occur. Such reactions can include seizures or hearing/seeing things that are not there (hallucinations).

SIDE EFFECTS: Drowsiness, dizziness, weakness, tiredness, headache, trouble sleeping, nausea, or constipation may occur. Tell your doctor immediately if any of these unlikely but serious side effects occur: mental/mood changes (e.g. confusion, depression, hallucinations), hearing/vision changes seizures, fast/pounding heartbeat, fainting.

PRECAUTIONS: Before using this medication, tell your doctor or pharmacist your medical hitory, especially of: kidney problems, seizure disorder, mental/mood disorders, brain disorders (e.g. stroke). Use caution engaging in activities requiring alertness such as driving or using machinery. Limit alcoholic beverages.

*****

Amanda says...

At 18 months old, I was officially diagnosed with Spastic Diplegia Cerebral Palsy.

"Spastic CP, the most common type, is a disorder in which certain muscles are stiff and weak. The stiffness can occur mainly in the legs (diplegia), only in the arm and leg of the same side (hemiplegia) or in both arms and both legs (quadriplegia). A wide-based, staggering, or "scissors" gait is characteristic of this type."
-www.webmd.com

I've been avoiding taking muscle relaxers on a regular basis my whole life. I was raised in a family of addicts. I was raised with a fear of anything "good" that came in any sort of a substance.

Yesterday was my first day on the drug regiment. Last night was the first time I can ever remember sleeping through the night. I woke up today feeling...well, lovely. Lovely is the best word for it. I have never felt lovely upon waking up at any point in my life. After being still for so many hours, my muscles are usually stiffest when I wake up. It can take hours for me to really start feeling okay. Today...I just woke up and was ready. Wow. I also didn't feel the usually pang of a morning headache. Again, wow.

Part of me feels like this is wrong. But a bigger part of me feels like I deserve this. I deserve for life to cut me a little slack. I deserve to feel good when I wake up.

So, for now, I am surrendering to this drug. I am admitting that I can no longer do this by myself. I am choosing to consciously enter into a physical addiction to something. And I am relying on my faith in my self-control, and on my friends and family who I know will tell me if things are no longer within my control. For the first time in a long time, I am scared. But I like fear. It let's us know when things are no longer the same. And if things don't change for me, I will become consumed by pain. I can't continue to deny that.


Lacey says...

Oh yes, Francis. Take that, you stupid fucker!

Little Trooper

Sparky says...

I am beginning to really love being me. Often times, my life is more entertaining than tv. Usually, I find myself in a state of almost suspended reality, where the general social rules of courtesy and political correction are forgotten. My life is one giant social experiment. And so, by recent popular demand, and for your reading pleasure, I have compiled a collection of my best "little trooper" stories. Enjoy.


You Go Girl
How many times do you open a door for yourself? A couple times a day, maybe. Do you ever find yourself marveling at how utterly amazing the act is? I dare say not. In fact, I bet it is so routine an act that you hardly take note of it all. Well, believe it or not, I myself don't think much of it when I reach for the handle of a door, pull it open, and scoot nonchelauntly inside. I admit there is a trick to it that I have mastered over the years, but generally speaking, it is just no big deal for me, as I am sure it is no big deal for you. However, I guess there is an element of spectacular to the truly heroic way I swing those doors open, since many times I find myself attracting attention from onlookers. People "oooo" and "aaawe," sometimes offering me words of encouragement, strangely compelled by some civic duty to tell a perfect stranger (me) just how proud they are. My favorite of these strange encounters being one I had with a Polynesian woman who happens to work with me.

On my way back into work one day, I unlocked the door with my badge and swung the door open, just as I would on any normal, miserable work day. Once I was clearly already half-way through the door, I heard from behind me "You sure you got that, sweetie?" I looked behind me, to find a somewhat portly, absolutely adorable dark-skinned woman standing at the end of the hallway with a smile on her face. I smiled graciously back and said, "Yup, I'm good. Thank you." She suddenly cocked her head to one side, and said to me with a touch of attitude, "Oh you go on with your bad self, girl!" She was so sincere! Really! I couldn't help but giggle as I scooted off to my cubicle, feeling lucky I had found myself under such adoring observation.

I guess what is generic for most is actually considered strangely rebellious for me.

Can I Get That For You?
If some random, apparently logical, adult came up to you and starting speaking and acting as if you were incompetant, how well do you think that conversation would go for you? While they spoke to you like an infant and violated your personal space with unwated hands on your back, do you think you could contain your composer? Could you keep your cool? Would you laugh? Would you cry? Would you scream at them to go off and find themselves a goddamn clue? Honestly, I could tell you about countless situations wherein which I have experienced almost every possible reaction. I have become a pro at controlling my responses in a manner that seems appropriate for whatever condescending situation I find myself in. However, I admit, some situations still catch me off guard and I find myself shocked at the downright stupidity and lack of decency some people really have when it comes to me.

One Saturday evening, I was off to go party my pants off with my friends, as had become our usual weekend tradition. On the way there, I stopped at the liquor store to pick up my usual bottle of Jaggermeister and something else for the rest of the party. One quick loop around the store, and I had picked up three bottles of liquor, and got in line to pay. As I was waiting in line, I dug through my pockets, and to my dismay realized I had left my I.D. in a pair of pants at home. So I gave it up right then and there and got out of line. I realize that cripples NEVER lie, and therefore we can get away with a hell of a lot, but buying liquor from a state-run store in Utah when you still look possibly underage... I wasn't feeling that brave. Just as I was putting one of the bottles back on the shelf, the cashier for the line I was in, came sprinting up to me. Apparently she had followed me when I strayed away, abandoning several customers waiting. She leaned down, put her hand on my back and said, "Hey, honey, did you leave it in your car? I will go get it for you." I politely smiled back and said, "No, I left it at home. But thank you so much anyways." Suddenly, she stood up and started walking around my scooter, saying, "Well I am just going to check for you, honey," as she starting searching my scooter for the phantom I.D. Just as she had her hand on the edge of the pocket on the back of my seat, I scooted forward, away from her, the lip of the pocket snapping back as I did. I looked behind me baffled, and said, "No, it's at home. I promise," while she stood their confused. I quickly put the other bottles back and booked it out of the store. I was scared of what I might say to her should she want to continue the utterly ridiculous conversation, which had now attracted the attention of half the people there. I was afraid I might have to explain to them why I had run her the fuck over and screamed in her face, "Oh I'm sorry I ran you over, honey... a dur a dur a dur!!!!!" Chances are the woman was so ignorant she probably would have forgiven me. Because in the world she lives in being crippled is the same thing as being stupid and harmless and perfectly incapable. Oh wait... I think I am talking about her. Ha.

Special
How many times have you had a creep hit on you in bar? Yes, it happens all the time to all sorts of people. Is it much fun? Does it make you feel all pretty and stuff? Or does it make you feel more like you forgot to throw up and you will be right back? I'm going to go with the latter. So what kind of creeps tend to take a liking to you? Cougars, sugar daddies, loners, furries, serial killers, pedophiles...? How about someone with a cripple fetish? Yes, it actually does exist. And yes, often times I find myself the target of such perverts. They tend to have a certain M.O., one I have become exceptionally well at spottong over the years. But sometimes, these creepers abandon any sort of a plan, and go straight in for the kill! These people should just die. Period.

I could not tell you why, but I have found that people in New Mexico love us cripples! I'm not sure what it is, but I attract creepers from every walk of life when I go out there. A week ago, I was out there visiting one of my oldest friends. My last night there we, along with her boyfriend and his friend, decide to go out to a bar and have ourselves a good time. Oh what a time it was...

I knew the guy was trouble the moment I saw him. The second my friend's boyfriend wheeled me into the place, this fifty-something, gray-haired, scrawny, drunk man with with some wicked stubble on his face looked right at me and said "Hi!" We shall call him Earl (why not?). I gave him a confused look, but smiled, and said "Hi." I looked up at the boyfriend, giving him the clue that we should move away from him now, please. We found a table, and I sat down with my back to Earl. The boyfriend's friend, who by the way had just met me, sat down across from me. We were not sitting there even a minute before I saw a look of panic flash into his eyes. Suddenly, Earl had his arm around me and his cheek pressed against mine. Cue inner and outer dialogue...

Me: Okay, don't panic. It's only going to get more awkward if I panic.
Earl: "Hello there, Sweetheart!"
Me: "...hi..." Why the fuck is he calling me sweetheart? Oh my God, I can actually feel his stubble scratching my face and smell the liquor on his breath. Gross!
Earl: (Sitting down next to me and grabbing my hand with both of his and carressing it.) "I'm a nurse and I just want you to know that you are one special girl. (He then kisses my hand.)
Me: What does you being a nurse have to do with ANYTHING, you jack ass?! Does it somehow forgive the fact that you are currently molesting my hand? Okay, focus, you have to get rid of this guy. "Well thanks, man. I do what I can." (And I flash him my million dollar smile.)

Earl then preceeded to stare at me with a goofy, drunk smile on his face, till my friend's boyfriend gave him a pat on the back said "Alright, man, " politely dropping the hint that it was time to move on from the handicap girl, there was nothing left to see. Thank God, Earl took the hint and calmly returned to his seat and apparently stared at the back of my head for the rest of the night. I dare not try to imagine what the hell he must of been thinking as he tried to burn a hole through the back of my head with his eyes, attempting to reach and alter the part of my brain that had dubbed him absolutely vile. All I know is it was a cold fucking feeling going up and down my spine all night.

Shortly after Earl returned to his seat, the friend turned to me and asked with a puzzled look on his face, "Does that happen to you often?" How could I explain it to him, I thought. How do I show an outsider the crazy social happenings that go on in my world? I decided not to even try. I just smiled, as always, and said with my never-failing wit, "That guy was a bit over the top. But really...you have no idea!"


So there you have it. A small glimpse at my every day life and the people in it. Perhaps now you have a better understanding of where my poise and sense of humor comes from, and why they are essential to my mental survival in this world. I can't help but find the stupidity of others assuming I'm stupid amusing. It really is true... sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying.

Please, laugh with me. :)

Unworthy

"They were right about you...

Lying to my face again
Suicidal imbecile
Think about it put it on the fautline
What'll it take to get it through to you, precious?
I'm over this.
Why do you wanna throw it away like this
Such a mess, I'm over this, over this!"
-A Perfect Circle

Lacey says...

I find it truly amusing how we little girls are almost always taught that men are these courageous creatures. Pillars of strength, men are supposedly so brave. Ha. What a beautiful illusion. Surprisingly affective. Perhaps because these ideal men so rarely are faced with a real challenge.

I am a challenge. My very existence is threatening. I am the unknown and completely aware of it. The confusion this creates within all men I encounter has almost become comforting. Reliable, like clock work. I am not to be manipulated ever, and the game that men play to capture the awe of the "weaker sex" relies extensively upon manipulation. And the empty vessels which are almost all women make for such keen prey, so ripe with the decay of ignorance. They long to be plucked by the selfish hand of males who are all too eager to indulge in the harvest of the seeds they so carefully planted and tenderly cared for.

But what should happen if something should rise from the ground they did not plant themselves? ...fear. This is a creature not of their making, therefore beyond their control. And what the hell are they going to do with that?

So what am I really talking about? What deeper meaning can be found laced within all this talk of courage (or lack thereof) and forbidden fruits?

As of recently my insecure side has gotten the best of me, unfortunately. So I thought what better cure for the emo blues than a nice ego boost? So I began questioning the men I have been involved with as to whether or not they still found me attractive. All of them admitted they did. (Score for me!) But only an idiot is so easily convinced. I asked them why they thought I was attractive. I was given several generic answers like "Because you are hot and awesome" or they simply didn't answer my question at all. Not a single one of them could give me a decent answer. Not a single fucking one. They all saw an opportunity, and they took their first steps to sieze it. But none of them could seal the deal, because in order to do that they all knew they had to outsmart me by coming up with an answer I would believe, which is no easy feat. They couldn't just tell me the truth, which was either they didn't know and that scared them or they only found me attractive as a willing particpant who met the "just hot enough" par. None of them could rise to the challenge. All of them proved to be useless cowards.

Do any of them even stop to consider that admitting they are scared of me is actually appealing to me? That I would welcome them with open arms if they just admitted I have the upper hand over them? No. Because none of them are interested in being defeated. In their minds, I am not worth surrending control. In my mind...they are not worthy of my control.

Of course there is always my dream of finding the one man who has the upper hand over me. The one man who can outsmart me. The one who can dazzle me. The one who can pull me under. For now, I guess I will dwell within my covetted nightmare. Because the men within my reality no longer make suitable play things.

Go

Susie says...

Five years ago, at the age of 18, I moved away from home to start my life. It was something I had eagerly been anticipating since the age of thirteen when I realized my family, as much as I loved them, would never understand me. I dreamed of the day when I, a square peg constantly being forced into a round hole, could set out on a glorious adventure to find my own place in the grand scheme of things. Eighteen was a beautiful time, full of so much potential. Anything was possible. I had almost limitless options. The entire world seemed like an open road, inviting and intriguing. I had focus and was so very driven. I was going to make something spectactular out of my life. I stepped onto the open road with a confident stride, a smile on my face, and visions of grandure in my head. It was all happening.

It seemed, however, that after that first step was taken, various road blocks were immediately set up before me, as if that single step had instigated an offensive action to keep me from discovering what lie ahead. I was forced to divert from my glorious road, down a rocky path with much less appealing terrain.

You see, depsite my dreams, some things just had to be done. Responsibilities had to be fufilled, unpredictable events had to be dealt with, and certain people who always and have and always will mean the world to me needed to be taken care of. So as I started down that first unpaved path, I looked back at my road and simply thought my dreams could wait. I knew my handsome road would always be there.

Eventually, the one path forked into two, which divided into three, which led to several more. Before I knew it, I was lost down a maze of backways, so far away from my one true road. One day I looked behind me and could no longer see where I had started. My road was out of sight. And soon, it was out of mind.

Honestly, I had the strength at the time to charge through the road blocks. It would have taken work, but I could have gotten through them. But other things seemed so much more important. And only in hindsight can we really see the truth. I have grown tired of the endlessly winding paths that lead to only more twisted paths, that in the end lead to nothing important. I am officially drawing a line in the dirt. I can't seem to find the finish line, so I am simply going to make my own. From that finish line I intend to build. I refuse to any longer be orchestrated in unwanted directions.

But what did my road look like? Sadly, I just can't remember. What do I want? Strangely, I just don't know.

I am heading into the future blind, but undeterrably resolved. Even if I don't know what kind of road I will build, or where it will lead, I am going to build it regardless. Because I am certain there is somewhere better than here. And I am certain I was meant for something greater than this.

My Own Revenge, Part II

Sparky says...

So my five year high school reunion is coming up. Oh joy. How do I propose to survive such a mental cluster fuck that is one whole night full of "little trooper" moments? Simple. I intend to dress to impress with the most delicious arm candy accompanying me.

1. The outfit. I'm thinking something that stands out and leaves you thinking. It can't be something too flamoyant, that would be too obvious. However it should be something that catches the eye and keeps it, leaving my audience pondering intensly. So I am thinking... Something black along with my lucky pair of jeans with holes in just the right places, with black leggings underneath. The beautiful thing about that is I sit down most of the time, and most people don't really take note of what I wear until I occassionally stand up. So while the outfit may be too much on any normal person, on me it will simply be an outfit leaving people hints all night long. Subtle, but memorable.

2. The arm candy. This area is going to be a little trickier for me to pull off. But oh how I love a good challange. The whole point is shock and awe, but still believable. I was considered a closet lesbian throughout most of my school years, so I figure I might as well give the masses what they want. My company for the evening will most certainly be of the female persuasion, which is what most of my fellow classmates are already expecting. The shoker, however, is I intend to show up with TWO women, not just one. Homosexuality will already be difficult for the conservatives to accept, but that is not enough for me. I want it to be a painful experience...almost too much to bear. Usually this sort of the over-the-top act would be a total buzz-kill for people. They wouldn't believe it. But I dare them to challenge a cripple. I mean...a handicapped lesbian dating two women... in Utah?... she couldn't make that up if she tried, could she?

3. The attitude. This will be the key element. This will tie all the abstract elements of the con together. The actions themselves are undeniably obscene alone, therefore unbelievable unless presented to a complete moran. But with the right attitude, it is doable. I have to plant the seed of of doubt. I have to say it, repeat it, believe it. How would I enter this sitation if it were actually true? ...delicately. The fabulous women escorting me will be introduced as my very close friends. How did it all happen? Well, you see, Jocelyn and I met because she was dating one of my close guy friends and we grew very close. When the relationship ended, I was there to pick up the pieces, and well...one thing led to another which led to this. And Jocelyn had another close friend named Whitney, who I instantly clicked with when we met. Whitney and I went on a trip to New York over New Years, the sparks flew, and we just realized the three of us were perfect for each other. We complete each other, as best friends should. We are not sure what exactly our plans are for the future, but we hope to see the world together and possibly settle down in Europe one day when our careers allow us to. We have talked about adopting children someday, but at this point we are more focused on our jobs. And on each other. They have made my life beautiful. ... We all know I pocess the powers of manipulation to pull it off. Coming from a cripple, it could possibly even evoke emotion from some people. It might even lead some people to believe that anything really is possible. I could change lives with this story.

4. The point. Obviously, the ultimate goal is revenge. I have no shame in admitting I intend to fuck with the people who fucked with me. And just in case I have underestimated the whole situation, and it doesn't turn out as planned, at least it will be an epic story. And I will have gotten my jollies off several times throughout a night that otherwise has the potential to be a horrible, annoying experience for me. Either way, if the plan succeeds or fails... I win. It's not like I really give a shit about these people anyways.



Lacey says...

You're fucking scary.

It's All Happening

Penny: Speaking of the world. I've made a decision. I'm going to live in Morocco for one year. I need a new crowd. ...do you wanna come?

Nina Says...

I can feel an itch. It is burried deep within my chest, very near to my heart. It is small, but it is growing. It is persistant and undeniable. I can feel it when the wind changes its course. I must change with it. I have grown so tired of this place, these people... this life. This rat race has become predictable and boring. It's time to run with a new herd, and with a new purpose. I will no longer be content if I stay.

I only planned to put off my dreams to be lazy for a bit. But a little while turned into a long while which has now turned into too long a while. And the thought of becoming an old lady with a head full of what could have been sounds like the most painful death I can think of.

Action is required. Danger is craved. The unkown is waiting for me. And it won't beckon forever.

It's time to go. I will let you know where when I get there.

My Own Revenge

Sparky says...

I never enjoyed high school. It was and still is a common misconception that I was shy in high school. This couldn't be further from the truth, I was not shy in the least. The popular kids who secretly held conversations with me while cheating off my tests in class could attest (if they actually fessed up to the fact) that once you engaged me in conversation, not only was I a pretty friendly kid, but I was also smart, witty, and surprisingly well-versed in the ways of the great, big, wide world. What most people mistook for shyness was actually disgust, possibly even hatred, for the cliquy highschool society that forced me into the outskirts to fend completely by and for myself. You see, what you have to understand about my highschool experience is the depths of my solidarity. There really was no place for me in that world. There was no real place for a cripple amongst the rich, Morman prom queens, nor the overachieving geeks who all assumed I must be stupid, nor the wannabe loner goth kids who found my genuine freakiness far too threatening. And I was never helpless enough to fit in with my fellow handicap peers, who felt content in the special ed classes where they could revel in their laziness. (I suppose it is only fair to mention as well that I was a bit pudgy back then. And any fat kid is going to find it difficult to fit in.) And the most ironic part of the whole story was EVERYONE knew who I was. How could they not?

Now before you start feeling too bad for my former angsty self, let me reassure you that I had no real desire to fit in. Being forced into the position of a spectator, I got to see all aspects of this fake society for the joke it really was. And even then I knew that after graduation, none of it would matter in the real world. So I figured, why try to achieve greatness in this place? I knew my place was somewhere in the real world, waiting for me. So my teen years became about one thing only: survival. And in a fake world where the satus quo is ruled by a majority you stand no chance in a hell of being a part of, there was only one way to survive: offense. Hence, why I chose to hate everyone.

Highschool is over now, and has been for a while. And I never have to go back. And that place in the real world that I knew was waiting for me is more awesome than I could have ever imagined. Especially when I run into those pathetic sons-a-bitches I graduated with. I love the look on the girls faces when they see me at the bar, on their night away from their boring husband and pesky children, which are really all they have. They still don't know what to make of me, only their lack of prowess over me in the real world has now turned their supposed power into utter confusion. I love the awkward conversation that always accompanies the nostalgic meeting. It is filled with cordial greetings while they try to convince themselves (not me) that we were actually friends back in the day. It usually ends with them condiscendingly telling me, "Well it is just so great to see you out and about, doing your own thing!" Followed by my response of "Oh thanks so much, darling. I do what I can," dripping with apparent sarcasm, afterwhich I return to my table of boys who have another drink waiting for me. And even better than the subtle, yet bittersweet, revenge on the formerly popular girls, is the shock of the boys who spent their time ignoring me. I love the up and down look they give me when the skinner version of myself stands up to give them hug. I love how conflicted they are, staring at this girl in a wheelchair who SHOULD be ugly...but she's not. They are attracted to me, while deep down feeling guilty about it. Some even come right out and say things like "My God! You really do look amazing! ...not that you didn't before...but you know what I mean. Haha. Can I buy you a drink?" To which I graciously decline, pointing to the table of gentlemen waiting for me to return. And then off I go, with them staring baffled at the brakelights of my scooter.

I dare say there is almost nothing I love more than reinvention.

Eat your hearts out, you dirty dogs. Your awe brings me the sickest joy.

A Very Long Day

mind fuck:
Something that seriously fucks with your brain, such as watching Fight Club every night for a week. Trust me on this.

- www.urbandictionary.com

Amanda says...

I have never believed in giving up, no matter what. But sometimes, it is best to simply accept people for who they are. Including ourselves.


Susie says...

This day won't seem to end. I find myself off my game today. Perhaps it is because I have been playing all day... the same, horrible game.

Bad weather on the East coast meant cancelled/delayed flights galore. Or the deepest bowls of Hell at work, that's accurate as well. I spent eight hours straight on the phones, more than half of which was spent talking to people who weren't really paying attention to what I had to say the first time around. Or the second. So most of the day was spent repeating myself over and over and over again. And almost everyone I spoke to was pissy from the get-go. Thank God for caffiene. It allows you to keep going and going and going. Just to add an extra kick in the ass when I was already feeling 10 feet under, I got caught in a downpour that included hail on the way to my car after I was finally done working, which completely soaked me. And now, I have to go back for a shift from 4:00 a.m. to 7:00 a.m. A stray shift I happened to pick up. We have been so slow the past few months and I was convinced I could get the little three hour shift off. First busy day HAD to be today. Joy.

In between my shifts, I didn't have time to do much aside from eat and nap for a bit. So in an act of pure desperation, after a truly gruesome day, I attempted to vent off a little steam. I tried to actually have a conversation with that degenerate of a roommate of mine. I simply had no one else. Since he was under the influence of both marijuanna and alcohol, the conversation was a punch-line short of the biggest joke in the entire world. Not only did he proceed to constantly interrupt me, going off on totally irrelevant tangants, he also did the exact same thing that all my customers did all day long: ignored me and forced me to repeat myself, drunkenly swearing to me, "No, really, I am totally listening this time!"

I am hanging on by a very fine thread, made of fail-safe manners and adrenaline. Coffee don't fail me now.


Nina...

I love how theraputic music is. I just put on those headphones and disappear. It took a little while to find just the perfect thing today, shuffling through Norah Jones, Regina Spektor and Jill Sobule... I needed something soothing but bitterly true. And then...there she was, as she always is. Nina Simone. Telling me, "Dont forget get to sing with lust!" And so I did, belting out the words to I Put A Spell On You, Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood, and eventually Feeling Good . And I felt oh so good. I then drifted off to the good memories of Steel Train, and proceeded to Kill Monsters in the Rain while I was sleeping.

When I woke up, I found good company in my little brother. Just like the good, old days, we lit up a joint and proceeded to reminsce and talk about nonsense. A good conversation about the little things in life that are still important to talk about. The things that are good for the soul.

A perfect wind-down and reboot. Just what I needed.


Lacey says...

I hate long, busy days where I constantly have to be social. It clogs up my mind with thick bullshit. My mind isn't even quiet when I sleep on a day like this. All I do is have nightmares, getting no real rest at all.


Sparky says...

Family is the best. They humor you while you pour your heart out to them, pull you out of your funk by talking about something completely different, then pump you up for your next round of life with blatently honest and ridiculous motovational speeches. "Come on now...it's Eye of the Tiger time! You have got to be like Rocky, ready to take down that fucking Russian guy! Or ya know...whatever he was."

Okay... It's been a long, taxing, and sometimes treacherous battle. You have fought and fallen courageously, proving yourself the victor more times than not. I know it's been a tough war and you are exhausted, but it is time for the final, epic stance. And you will be rewarded for your well-earned success with hours upon hours of glorilously un-interrupted rest. And the satisfaction of knowing you are a champ.

It's time to focus. Turn on Painkiller by Judas Priest, twist that volume dial till it's as loud as it will go, and scream along to the words you know so well. Put on your Grrrrrrrrr face.

Let's do this fucking thing!