Birthday Drama!!!

When I think about writing I sometimes feel as if I have to have a master plan…a profound catalyst that will help me get all of the creative juices flowing so I know I will get maximum impact from my writing. But then I realize that some of my best writing ever has been free writing and that most times when I go back, I may need to clean something up here and there but for the most part it comes out just fine. I have wanted to write for the last month about the incident that took place on my birthday but I wanted it to be more powerful and effective. So instead of just getting the feelings out, I have done nothing. Which really sucks, because that is the only way I have found that I can let go of things that really hurt me and bum me out. So here is the rub…the “incident” which is not really and incident but more a ridiculous comedic tragedy…

Well, the beginning of this year had been filled with unfortunate events including the passing of my mentor and hero my Tio Henry. So I was bummed for a while over that stuff. I was really letting all get me down a lot. Not that I am not saddened by it anymore, I have just developed a better way of coping and I have also been able to turn that sadness into motivation to get myself together and start living my life the way I should be instead of being a spectator.

Basically I wanted to make my birthday special by being surrounded by those people I feel closest to. Enjoying myself and reminding myself why life is to be lived and enjoyed. I woke up on my birthday, got a manicure and a pedicure, the around noon I my homie Miggy V came and we went to get tattoos…My tattoo is awesome by the way! After which we went to Sunset Park and chilled on a bench and took in the beauty of the NYC Harbor like you can only do from Sunset Park! So far, perfect freakin day…right!

Ok so I went home, showered, put on my birthday gear, did up the do and put on my tiara! You know I was the birthday diva. So here I was, ready set in diva style. Little by little all of my wonderful friends began to show up and we were drinking and having a great time. We moved the party to a local bar and had more fun. While we were there one of my “friends” showed up and made a scene and then left! How rude! And even though I took it in stride it hurt me. But I have come to realize that if you have to work extra hard to be friends with someone. Then they are not meant to be your friend.

I tried for 15 years to be the best friend I could. But in the end, being myself and standing my ground and not allowing this person to monopolize my life and dictate my happiness was what brought this façade to a crumble. How sad. But I will say this.

My life is richer for it. Not compromising what I felt was right made all the difference. I would not change what happened for all of the money in the world. I am prouder of myself and the fact that I did what was right instead of what was easy. At the end of the day you realize that its not the quantity of friends you have, but the quality. We all have that one person that makes us nuts and we don’t even know why we still talk to them. My reason was pity. I felt sorry for this person. I felt that they needed someone to love them unconditionally. So like a parent with a spoiled child I gave that love. Everyday for years and years, I went above and beyond for that child in the hopes that someday, somehow that child would see the err of their way. But in the end, the child was spoiled and I was placed in a position of choosing what was right and what was easy. In the past I chose easy. Now I see that was to my detriment and the detriment of this person.

A Letter I wrote to My Dear Tio ~ RIP

To My Dear Tio ~

Too many times in our lives we leave things unsaid. It’s amazing to think that in this family of yappers there are a lot of things that have not been said. But there are. We leave things unsaid because it seems like a fleeting thought or a passing feeling. But good or bad we should say what we are thinking always. Because that is the best way to express our love for one another, being truthful and open at all times. I have seen you so many times in the past year and wanted to say certain things to you but felt that I was being negative by doing so. But the fact is these are things I want you to know, no matter what happens in the future.

1. You are my hero – I mean that. I always looked up to you, because you are the one person in my life that has been truest to himself. Love me or Leave me has been your motto and I love you. You faced obstacles in your life and took them all in stride. Whether emotional, mental or physical your spirit has persevered and that is the very definition of heroism. There have been many points in my life that I wanted to give up and I looked to you for the motivation and the courage to continue. Thank you so much for that.

2. When I was little I thought you were the coolest person on earth – And I still feel that way today. I look back at my youth and think about how fortunate I was to have you as my “Fairy Godmother” - always exposing me to new foods, music and the arts. I must have been the only 10 year old that knew the musical score to 10 Broadway musicals. But you invested your knowledge in me. Planting a seed that would grow into my own passion for music and art, for foods and travel. I was not always certain that I was cool enough to be around you, but you never pushed me away. Thank you for that also.

3. Although I ebb and flow in and out of your life with time you are always with me. Thousands of miles could not keep us apart because I carry you in my heart and mind. There is not a day that passes that I don’t use one of your pearls of wisdom. Small things like trivial facts about music and Mexico or big things like our family history. I get them all from you. Thank you for that also.

4. Beyond all of the music and the culture you have given me a love and a pride in my heritage that I don’t think would have been possible without you in my life. Your direction and guidance has shown me that there are so many facets to Latino culture and to being Puerto Rican specifically that I feel a swell of pride just to think about it. You embody the essence of a Latino; you’re educated, loving and passionate in both your professional and personal lives. You are this way with out reservation or apology. You really are the most magnificent person I know. Thank you for being you.

There have been plenty of times that you and I have spoken for hours, but I don’t think that I ever told you how much I thank you for choosing to be a part of my life. You could have done what most of my aunts and uncles did and treated me like accessories to the twins and Aida. But you didn’t. You made me feel special. You helped me to embrace my beauty, inside and out. You gave me the gift of your heart and mind. I wish there were other words that I could say besides thanks you. They seem so worn out and old fashioned, but they are the words that are used to express gratitude.

I love you so much and these are the things I needed to say to you and I wanted you to hear them from me. Regardless of what happens from this day till the end of time, I love you and thank you with all of my heart.

I wrote this a year ago...Ha Ha...

The reason that I hate working here is not that I necessarily hate the people; it has more to do with the fact that I really hate working in any office and I do not want to continue to work this way.

My dream is to be able to work in a creative field with creative people that are not only book smart but also have something of a visionary quality that allows them to see beyond the black and white of life. I need to be around people that see the colors of the world and create based on that vision.

If I had my own way, I would choose to work in a place that offered me diversity and would allow me to have a chance to speak to different kinds of people. The reasons I want to become a stylist is first, I love hair and I love how it changes the way a person looks, feels and presents themselves, I also love people and helping them achieve all they feel they need to in order to become who they ultimately want to become. Although hair seems so superficial, it is a big part of who we are and how we interact with others. I could be a lawyer or a doctor if I had those goals but I don’t. I want to do hair. I really feel that is what is going to make me happy in the long run.

Sometimes I am on the train and I see a girl with purple hair and a leopard print bag and I think to myself, I want to be that girl! I want to be me all of the time and dress funky, go to parties and enjoy myself. I want to schedule all my appointments for early afternoon and evening so I can get home and spend time with my significant other. I want to spend my day laughing in a salon and talking. I want to help a woman break out of her cocoon and become the butterfly she always knew was there.

But I am not, I am here and I hate this place and I hate myself for relegating myself to this place. I wish upon all wishes that I could break out and go to someplace else. I promise myself that I am going to do it all of the time but I am such a coward I never do. I know that once I get the balls to do this I will be ok and moving in the right direction. Till then, I am going to be a great big loser.

Alright here I am again, looking at the clock waiting for the moment when I can just leave and go home since I have begun typing this, six minutes have passed, two minutes was spent getting JIG a bottle of water and the other four was spent playing SPIDER, a form of solitaire that I have become addicted to. Of the 200 games I have played I lost about 3 and those were games that I gave up on because I am sick of doing the same thing. I don’t want to play the game but I cannot stop playing the game because it has entranced me. I still have 20 minutes to go and there is not way that I am going to make it out of here with my mind right because right now I am listening to a conversation between JIG and GAF and some title closer and a borrower about millions and thousands of dollars. There is no way that this is right. How can you get so much and do so little during your lifetime. I don’t even know why I come to work, there is really nothing that they need me for here, I am just taking up space and using valuable resources. I need a nap and I wish that there was a way that I could sleep and that I could get some rest before I made my way to Brooklyn. There isn’t and so I have to drag my cooch to the train and then get to Brooklyn and walk from the station and then up the millions of stairs before I can get to my house.

Well, it’s me the big loser from Loserville. I am just so annoyed at myself because I realize that somewhere there is a rewarding career for me to partake in and that for some unexplained reason, I don’t. I want to be happy and creative and have a nice life, I just must love the pain of this life that I have right now. This week I have been working here, miserable and just hating life. I want a better life, I want to be happy, I miss being happy. As of late I have been a miserable crab and that makes me worthless to be around. I asked about my raise today. Not a firm ask, more of a punk, “Uh, have you spoken to the Accountant about my raise?” - ask that was really useless, because in response I got a, I’m a big fat liar response, “Yeah, I have to call her, I will do that today.” LIKE I DON’T KNOW WHEN HE IS LYING… What the hell does he think that I just sit around with my finger in my ass and don’t realize that the world is going on around me???? All of the spirit and love that I had for this job and career has been stomped out of me by this man. I HATE this job now. I never believed that I could feel this way, but I do. I HATE THIS JOB. Sometimes, I would rather jump in front of a moving train than to come to work. That is really sad. I wish for a broken leg so I can avoid coming here. The crazy thing is that it’s not the work. I don’t mind the work, I actually miss the work. Captain Avoidance tries to do as little as possible and so I don’t do anything of substance. I don’t even get to finish most of the projects that I start because he would rather have them languish than get the work done. It really is that lack of appreciation, the annoying side bits that I have to do, the listening to the same crap over and over and over again. It’s maddening. There have been times that I look at his face and want to start screaming at the top of my lungs, SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I don’t care what you think or what you have to say, it all means nothing to me. But I don’t. That is probably why I am so depressed.

I actually gave this to Vanessa to read, how sad that is. I am willing to admit to another person how crappy I feel here, yet and still I have not scraped my ass off of this chair to ask for my raise.

Well I got my raise. As many times in my life before, I got it too late and so I am so far behind that I am gasping fro breath to try and make a difference in my finances. Somehow I think that if I can just keep rolling with the punches, I can get by, but that is not always the case and I have this innate fear that there will be a date when playing fast and loose if you could call it that will bite me in my ass. I know that not everyone can afford the lives they live but I was kind of hoping that I could get by.

Now is the Summer of my Contentment

I sometimes feel as if I don’t have enough angst in my life. Like I am not pissed off about more things that have to do with me and how I relate to the world. I am, for all intent and purposes, generally happy. I have bad days, we all do. But I can tell you that none of them are as bad as they used to be.

I really have developed this profound love for myself and all those around me. I don’t know if it’s the Buddhism or the lessons I learned from my uncle and the impact his death, or rather his life, had on me.

I just feel so beautiful and empowered. I feel that there are things that have not happened in my life yet and that is ok. Maybe those things were not for me. I also feel that there are good things in my future. Why? I don’t know. I guess this feeling of enlightenment came over me at 30.

I recall my 20’s clearly, what a miserable time that was! I don’t know if it was that way because I was living my life in the pattern of other people; or I was confused by the inner struggle I felt between what was me and what was good and accepted; or that I felt like I was not achieving enough. Or ultimately if the reason for my unhappiness was that I was on Long Island which is a place full of freaks… To this day I am not sure. But one thing I am sure of is that I was unhappy. With everything! I felt like a loser, I was fat, working a dead-end job and hanging out with people that were like me. I hated my life.

So here I am, 32, living in Brooklyn, still fat, working a similarly dead-end job ( it really is , I mean the only promotion available is Lawyer….) and still I hang out with people like me, but its different. I love myself and I am content with my life. I have a wonderful home and amazing family and friends that are priceless. I am so fortunate. And I do love my body and my face. It hasn’t really changed; I just love it more now then I did then. Ok I could get another job. But that I haven’t is not such a bummer to me anymore. Its just a fact of life…You know how it is…you take the good, you take the bad…you take them both and there you have…The Facts of Life….(I slay me…)

I guess the naked truth is that your twenties are truly just an extension of your teens. Only it’s much worse because there is more pressure to keep up with higher stakes. Your friends are getting theirs at their own pace and you at yours. But what people never tell you is that everyone’s happiness is not the same. What makes me content and what makes the rest of the people on that I know content is not that same. I had to learn that. But it took a long time to get that through my thick skull…

I don’t want to be Jane Q. Public with the minivan and the 2.5 children and the dog named spot. I don’t want a house in the burbs with phony neighbors and PTA meetings. I grew up in that shit so at one time that was what made sense to me. But looking back, wow! Am I glad I did not do that to myself? YES SIR….

That is not me. Not that its wrong, Its just not me. I am an artist, a dreamer, a child, a star, a diva and a lover of people. I am tumbleweed. I am a beam of gas. I am like a stream of mountain water, moving through rock and making my own path. I am beautiful and fluid, refreshing and life giving. Not in the conventional birthing way, but in an existential soul filling way. I give life through my words and my actions. I give life through my love and my support. When I weep it is with compassion and for the love of all humanity. I don’t think I am a wonder-being. These are just my sentiments.

About a week ago I was in Union Square. While there I saw a woman sitting on a bench reading a book. She was older, probably 50, silver and white hair cut short in a faux-hawk. A small cute pair of earrings, she had on jeans and a purple tank top with a pair or worn-out green chucks. She had a bag from whole foods next to her on the bench and a backpack between her feet. What made this woman stick out in my mind is the beautiful ornate tattoo she had on her left arm. It ran from her shoulder to her elbow and it was amazing looking. I must have stared for a good five minutes because she looked up slowly at me and smiled like I was a weirdo and then went back to her reading. And although I was blown off as a kook by this lady I realized that she was what I wanted to be. Well, not her per say, I don’t know who or what she is. But that is the older woman I want to be. Not a conventional granny type with yarn and mothballs. I want to be a tough old bird with tattoos and a faux-hawk. I want to eat healthy and read in the park. I want to be me without excuse or reservation. I want to be young at heart and in mind and spirit.

In that woman I saw a mature Tinkerbelle enjoying a moment of quiet. That’s what I aspire to be. I want my life to be filled with more experiences than things. I want to know more people than names of actors and tv shows. I guess that is where I differ from most. I love to drink in the diversity of the world we live in as opposed to living in sameness.

I guess this all reads rather disjointed and crazy, but that’s ok too. I am perfectly imperfect…

I really do love you all - in my own way….
J

Fading...

Life is short. That is too true. Sometimes we rush though things and don’t realize how brief a time we have on this earth. Everyone has done it. I am equally guilty of the rushing through life – rat race thing. Too busy, must earn more, must get more, and must do more. As New Yorkers, we don’t usually stop and enjoy a moment. When was the last time you allowed yourself to sit in a park? Just went without plans? Nothing to do, no cell phone, and no rush; just enjoyed the smell of the new grass and leaves. When was the last time you sat and had a conversation with a child for an hour? Asked advice of an elderly person and sat and listened for a few hours? If you are anything like me it’s been a while. When was the last time you watched a squirrel or a bird with rapt attention?

Here is the question that I pose to you…What’s the rush? What difference does it make in the end if we are wearing designer jeans or sweats… Life is so short. When I was young I felt that I had forever to finish doing all of the things that I wanted to do. Now I realized that I don’t. Time is passing by and I am not getting any younger. But still in all, that is not a reason to stop appreciating the world around me. It does not give me a reason to not spend time watching the water or a sunset. Why is it so hard to make time for the little important things? It’s good to feel close. It’s good to love, even if it’s for a moment. I have been watching a beautiful strong wonderful man fade from this world for the last few months. I sometimes wonder as I look into his speechless face how many of the images he sees in his mind are about the things he was in a rush to acquire or if they are the beautiful simple moments he spent sitting in a park or enjoying holding his partner’s hand? How much of the hours he spent working and the commuting and paying bills does he recall? Can he remember the smell of the ocean, the feel of sand on his feet the sun on his chest? With all of my heart I hope that he does. I hope he can recall the taste of a freshly made taco and a cold Modelo. I hope that the sounds of a mariachi band on the streets of Mexico City are playing in his head. Images of the vejigantes on the streets of Puerto Rico at carnival dance through the day. Memories of Summers on 116th street, fresh accapurria and ice cold malta. I hope that all of our small moments together, an shared inside joke, singing a song or doing a dance together are with him as well. I wish for him that his last memories are not filled with regrets but with joy and recollection of the small things.

From this moment on, promise yourself to take time, to take time. Schedule doing nothing if you must, with no plan and no direction. Get up, leave your home and go nowhere in particular. Talk to anyone you meet. Sit on a park bench and think about silliness. You have forever to work. You can work until you die. But don’t put off life.

Anais Nin Quote: I Love Her...

I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don't mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don't mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling all that I am capable of doing but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding.

Bi Life My Life

I guess I am writing this because I don’t usually think about my sexuality in the concrete. Although I do not take issue with my bi-sexuality and I have not been untruthful with any of my partners, I have to also say that I don’t like the negative references that I hear from people when they discuss bi-sexuality. I always thought of my sexual preference in terms of being a people person or of not restricting my choice of mate by gender. Not so much being greedy, but as seeing beyond the physical of a person and loving who they were inside. Although it’s true that you have to have some kind of attraction to a person, I believe that attraction should not be limited to hair, eye and skin color. Sometimes I am not sure that I am attracted to someone for their gender or for their appearance or maybe just who they are inside.

Ok, so I don’t sound like I am trying to be this existential snob. I see a woman like, Salma Hayek, and I think…Damn!!! she looks amazing! But that is usually not enough for me to feel an attraction to someone. I like people that make me laugh. People that can see the beauty in small things, people with the ability to love others and animals and nature, because it is right, even if it’s not cool. If you can do a silly voice or a dance and you can still discuss the big important things with an opinion, even if it is in conflict with mine, we can chill.

I like to kiss girls and boys. So what! Is there something so wrong with that? Is there something wrong with having the capacity to love beyond the physical? Feeling a bond with humankind that transcends all other things? I know there are a lot of people both gay and straight that cannot understand. On this platform both groups are united and we “bi-sexuals” are on the outside. But if you have never felt these feelings you will never understand what it’s about. At times I feel more “hetero” than “homo” and at times I feel the reverse. But I know this…I have always felt this way. I have always liked boys and girls. I have always been true to myself and when I was involved with someone, male or female, I was with that person only and always with great pride. I guess I just had to say this. Maybe it will help some to understand better. I can hope right?

Why is it that with people with the crappiest headphones and the corniest play list are always the ones blasting their i-pods?

It has seems to be a phenomenon since the i-pod became popular. Cheap Headphones + Crappy Playlist = Annoying Morning Commute.

Now I will be the first to admit, that the headphone that come with your i-pod may not be the best. I had to shell out $50.00 for ear buds that were comfortable and sturdy, that being said however, I don’t see why there are some of us, and you know who you are, that just buy downright crappy headphones. I don’t want to mention a brand name because I don’t know the legal ramifications, but it rhymes with Toby…. Just because they are big does not mean quality and in fact I think that the size makes them more like speakers subjecting us to your Engelbert Humperdinck trance remix. No offence pal, but please spare me. It used to be that by mercy we were limited to the amount of crap a person could listen too because you could only carry so many cd’s. But with an i-pod you have an endless supply of annoying music blasting through your cheap ass headphones. Thanks, for making my morning assault on my senses complete. I get to be pushed and shoved; smell some of the weirdest odors on the planet; see hocking and spitting and nose picking with the added benefit of listening to your crappy music. All I need is a piece of liver in my mouth and my day will truly start in the worse way possible. Do the world a favor will ya pal? BUY SOME DECENT HEADPHONES and KEEP YOUR SHITTY MUSIC TO YOURSELF!!!

Miss Kitty’s Claws are out…Believe it or not it’s about Dogs…how apropos…

So I drag myself out of bed and I am going through my morning routine. I am a morning person so most of my blog ideas come to me in the morning. However this particular morning I was so tired that I could not bear it… (Having gone to bed at 2:00a.m. which is wildly out of character for me…) I was not feeling very creative this morning. But I digress, I was going through my normal weekday morning routine, Good Day New York was on (Its just enough news to keep me informed without making me want to jump in front of a bus, and besides I have been watching it for 10 years) and they were going through their normal segments and talking about whatever while I was strolling from room to room getting dressed, brushing my hair and looking at my emails. Where is all of this going? You may ask. Here…

There was a segment about Cindy Adams, the gossip columnist from the NY comPOST… and her new book about her dogs… (I know what you’re thinking…”Jen, ease up, that’s not so bad”) And on its face, you are right its not. Then she began talking about how she loved her dogs and how they have fur coats (not their own, another animal…WTF!!!) and jewelry, they eat poached chicken from Le Cirque and that she even considered getting them their own apartment (Are you with me yet). So I am getting increasingly annoyed and Lynn Brown, who is my favorite morning personality, says “I need a mommy like you…” To which I reply “Word!” So they continue to talk about her fucking rich ass dogs and she goes on to discuss what Lynn B called “…a tragic moment for [her]” the death of “Jazzy” her dog and 3 year companion. I have lost a dog that lived with my family for 15 years; its death was a sad event. But I did not write a fucking book about it. I assumed the American public had better things to do then read about my dog’s life and death. Cindy tells her about how she sent her dog to a kennel for the first time and it died. She further goes on to discuss her outrage at the abhorrent conditions of the kennel that her dog was kept in. That and these are her words, “…this is a dog that I laid on the floor and fed poached chicken from Le Cirque, and it had e coli in its system. How do you think that happened?”

Apparently, the death of this dog apparently moved this heifer to become an advocate for doggie kennel reform and actually get a law passed. NOW AGAIN, I LOVE ANIMALS, but I am I the only one that sees that something is terribly wrong here?

This newfound doggie mania is getting to me. I hate to hate, but I gotta. Dogs are cute, but they are pets and it is not in their nature to want a Louis Vuitton jacket and Prada boots… They don’t care if it’s poached chicken from Le Cirque, Fried Chicken from Bo-Wah Kitchen or rotting chicken from the back of C-town. Instead of buying your fucking dog a fur coat of all things, how about buying some sacks of flour or potatoes to donate to a homeless shelter, giving books to a public school or giving a gross of basketballs to a recreation center. Of course that would only benefit your fellow man, why would you do that? Some may think, “hey it’s her money let her do with it as she pleases…” Fine, I can do that. But when that ho gets mugged because the schools are not turning out employable students, or a homeless man is so hungry her grabs her dog and tries to eat it, don’t say shit to me. To answer the question, “Yes, you are your brothers’ keeper.” Helping is an act of selfish selflessness. It keeps us all safe. These people would rather spend money on a disposable life source then contribute to the betterment of mankind. I don’t have a lot, but I give where I can. I am not saying everything, but if you have an extra 20K to spend annually on a dog, I think we can all agree that its expendable income. Dogs are animals; they need food, water and shelter. Finito!!! If you give a dog fresh water, a bowl of chow and a box to sleep in all of his needs are complete. As a matter of fact if you give the average human those basic needs they are doing ok also. But since you have gotten rich, and probably on the backs of the very poor you hold such disdain for, why not give back.
I can see only one solution. We have to make it trendy to have a homeless person as a pet. We can make big carrying bags with wheels and then you can take then to a spa and a salon. Feed them on the floor of your kitchen. Give them names like Zhi-Zhi and Ginger. This seems to be the only way that you can get anyone to help another being. We can pick up the homeless, clean them up and keep them in pens so the ultra rich can browse through and pick one. Here is what the copy would be like on the advertisements…They’re Warm and some are Fuzzy…Some are Crazy but take one home and they will be all yours…HOMELESS POUND PALS. Pick one up today. You get to name them, take them home and let them lay around your house while you work. Then you can have a groomer come in and style your homeless pound pal’s hair and then you can take them for a walk in the park. That is if you don’t want to carry them around in your matching stylish bag. But don’t get home too late or they may piss in your shoes or shit in your favorite Hermes bag… YOU SELFISH ASSHOLES!