Okay, so I'm going to go ahead and say beforehand that maybe I'm over reacting. Maybe I have no grounds for being weirded out and I should just be happy for the concern on my behalf.
That having been said, Tamia George (mother of my student Ororo George) is totally creepy. So like I said before, she used to be a student of my mom's back before the the war. In fact, my mom was pregnant with me when Tamia was in her class. Of course that could lead to some form of connection between the two of us, but I haven't seen her for a significant amount of time my entire life, so it seems a tad weird to me that she is so interested in me.
The setup is this: Ororo has serious anger issues, but is one of my best students. Her mom is concerned about her and wants to keep a close eye on her academic progress. Totally understandable. In fact, I wish there were more parents like that. So Tamia set up conferences with me in the mornings once a week. She said she could only do it before school, on account of the fact that she is a nurse and works late most nights. I am totally okay with that. However, when we start having the conference, we talk about Ororo for about five minutes an then the topic turns to me. She wants to know what my life is like. She wants to know what I do in my free time. She wants to know about family life and if I have a boyfriend and if I plan on having kids. I keep trying to turn the conversation back to Ororo, I keep thinking that it's unprofessional to share this much of my private life with a parent of a student, but she's relentless...and really really nice. I found myself telling her things that I didn't even know I was going to say.
Then we started talking about my mother. She was saying how I reminded her of my mom. I was just going to say something about a lesson that I had planned and how I'd gotten the idea from some of my mom's old papers. Nothing came out though. I just started crying. Not crying like a little bit either, like boo-hooing. Why did I have to choose today to wear mascara? Before I know what's happening, Tamia is stroking my hair and I am totally letting her. I felt like I couldn't breath and all I could get out between sobs was "I just miss her so much some times".
I don't know, maybe it's because it's getting close to their anniversary and I always feel kinda like this when that time rolls around. Also, it may have something to do with my period, which is about to start. I always know when it's that time, because I find myself crying over silly things. On my way to work today there was a man about my age in a military uniform on a playground spinning his daughter around. Really, all I thought was, "That's nice" but I was blinking back tears. What's that all about? Really, I could set my clock by it. Well, calender...if you had to set a calendar...seriously though, does this happen to other women? I hear jokes about women becoming like these horrible angry creatures during their periods, but I just feel like curling into a ball and disappearing for a week.
I DID IT!
I did it! Lease signed, apartment will officially be mine in one short (oh so not short) month. I feel so...I don't know what I feel...it's like happy and scared and there's this pressure in my chest and it feels like I'm going to explode. Hold on, gonna stand up and shake this out...
*shakes*
Alright, better. That's much better. I'm thrilled. Did I already write about the apartment on here? I'm sure I must have...did I mention WOOD FLOORS! Squee! Yeah, so I went by and did it this morning. The landlady gave me kind of a sideways glance when I mentioned finally being out on my own. She said something like "There are lots of families and older people in the building". I think it was her way of saying, "Don't you be havin any crazy parties up in here young missy!" No problem there. No parties in my apartment, not any time soon. Paula was not happy to here that, but I've got to lay it down right off the bat. Really, I can do like social gatherings over coffee or somethin (not that I really do) but parties of the noise complaint type are not really my style. You know what I could have though? A BOYFRIEND! Squee!
Okay, not really so squee on the boyfriend, I mean I'm very much of the "if it happens it happens" variety. I think it's something my dad wrote in a book of his once: "If you spent a lot of time looking for love, you're going to find the wrong person every time. If you just be you and do the things you like to do, the right person will be naturally attracted to you." Amen Dad! Cause I ain't gonna change for no man no how...not that they've really asked. To be honest, and you all know this, in this day and age no one is looking for a light skinned little mixed girl. Everyone is pushing darker and darker women since the war and all. The only thing I've really got going for me is my hair. I love my hair. I should do a whole blog entry on my hair care regimen some day. Hmmm, not today though.
Alright, bedtime for Zuri. Sleep well, little blog.
*shakes*
Alright, better. That's much better. I'm thrilled. Did I already write about the apartment on here? I'm sure I must have...did I mention WOOD FLOORS! Squee! Yeah, so I went by and did it this morning. The landlady gave me kind of a sideways glance when I mentioned finally being out on my own. She said something like "There are lots of families and older people in the building". I think it was her way of saying, "Don't you be havin any crazy parties up in here young missy!" No problem there. No parties in my apartment, not any time soon. Paula was not happy to here that, but I've got to lay it down right off the bat. Really, I can do like social gatherings over coffee or somethin (not that I really do) but parties of the noise complaint type are not really my style. You know what I could have though? A BOYFRIEND! Squee!
Okay, not really so squee on the boyfriend, I mean I'm very much of the "if it happens it happens" variety. I think it's something my dad wrote in a book of his once: "If you spent a lot of time looking for love, you're going to find the wrong person every time. If you just be you and do the things you like to do, the right person will be naturally attracted to you." Amen Dad! Cause I ain't gonna change for no man no how...not that they've really asked. To be honest, and you all know this, in this day and age no one is looking for a light skinned little mixed girl. Everyone is pushing darker and darker women since the war and all. The only thing I've really got going for me is my hair. I love my hair. I should do a whole blog entry on my hair care regimen some day. Hmmm, not today though.
Alright, bedtime for Zuri. Sleep well, little blog.
Models have feelings too
So, I guess it's entirely possible that I'm a bad person. I mean, I never tried to be a bad person per se, but i really did hurt my sister's feelings and I am really sorry.
After work today I had this long voice mail from LaShawn (my uncle/dad) about how upset Paula was. Apparently, she had stormed off to bed the night before after reading my blog and then had called out sick to work this morning. I did my best to get out of the house early so I wouldn't have to deal with her.
I have to pause to say this, LaShawn is a very patient man. Both of us were furious at one another to the point of avoiding each other and he had the care, though not really the time, to step in and find out what was bothering us and force us to make up.
Now when I say "make up" that doesn't mean it went smoothly. Paula and I got into a screaming match about who has things tougher and who cares more about who, but he waited it out. It very nearly came to blows, which it honestly wouldn't be the first time that Paula and I have gotten into a fist fight outside of the dojo. In the end, it became clear to me that Paula was angry because she felt like I was leaving her behind when she had felt like we were so close. I guess I should have been grateful for those feelings instead of being mad at her.
I just...okay, I'm going to go on a personal tangent here. My parents were killed during the war when I was ten years old. They were trying to help my uncle cross the border because he had gotten into some trouble with the militia. When they were trying to cross their car was hit by a rocket from the north and everyone died on impact. While they had been on the road, they took me to my Aunt Edana's house where I could stay until they got back. Of course, they never got back. Edana and her husband LaShawn have been like parents to me ever since then. They officially adopted me a month later. I couldn't have asked for any better than this family has given me.
The thing is this though, I don't feel like I've ever had anything of my own. Not a house, not a toy, not a thing. It all feels like it's on loan. I was excited about having this apartment because it meant that I would finally have a place that was just mine and that I was paying for with my own money from my own job. I think Paula gets that now.
I don't want to leave these people, especially not my sister. We may be cousins by birth, but I can't imagine being any closer to a person than I am to my sister now. Okay, before I start crying again, I'm going to wrap this up.
Love you Paulie!
Your sister, Zuri
After work today I had this long voice mail from LaShawn (my uncle/dad) about how upset Paula was. Apparently, she had stormed off to bed the night before after reading my blog and then had called out sick to work this morning. I did my best to get out of the house early so I wouldn't have to deal with her.
I have to pause to say this, LaShawn is a very patient man. Both of us were furious at one another to the point of avoiding each other and he had the care, though not really the time, to step in and find out what was bothering us and force us to make up.
Now when I say "make up" that doesn't mean it went smoothly. Paula and I got into a screaming match about who has things tougher and who cares more about who, but he waited it out. It very nearly came to blows, which it honestly wouldn't be the first time that Paula and I have gotten into a fist fight outside of the dojo. In the end, it became clear to me that Paula was angry because she felt like I was leaving her behind when she had felt like we were so close. I guess I should have been grateful for those feelings instead of being mad at her.
I just...okay, I'm going to go on a personal tangent here. My parents were killed during the war when I was ten years old. They were trying to help my uncle cross the border because he had gotten into some trouble with the militia. When they were trying to cross their car was hit by a rocket from the north and everyone died on impact. While they had been on the road, they took me to my Aunt Edana's house where I could stay until they got back. Of course, they never got back. Edana and her husband LaShawn have been like parents to me ever since then. They officially adopted me a month later. I couldn't have asked for any better than this family has given me.
The thing is this though, I don't feel like I've ever had anything of my own. Not a house, not a toy, not a thing. It all feels like it's on loan. I was excited about having this apartment because it meant that I would finally have a place that was just mine and that I was paying for with my own money from my own job. I think Paula gets that now.
I don't want to leave these people, especially not my sister. We may be cousins by birth, but I can't imagine being any closer to a person than I am to my sister now. Okay, before I start crying again, I'm going to wrap this up.
Love you Paulie!
Your sister, Zuri
Grow up
Oh great, this is how I find out my sister is mad at me. She hasn't talked to me in two days, no matter how much I talk to her. I ask her what's wrong and she says "nothin" so I leave it alone. Now I get home and sign on to find her little passive aggressive rant about apartment hunting with me.
Paula's not happy I'm looking at apartments? Tough shit. Paula has had everything she wanted for the past eighteen years and not had to work for a bit of it. Everything just comes naturally to Paula. She's pretty, yes, I've been told. You know what she did to get pretty? Not a thing! She works out less than I do, all but quit the dojo, eats like a pig and I'M the one developing the little pot belly. Not fair!
See that? Me shopping for apartments so I can actually have something that is really my own and that I paid for: fair. Being naturally pretty to the point of nausea: not fair.
You know what else isn't fair? I love music, I always have. I've been trying to learn how to sing since I was tiny. My mom used to sing so beautifully and I really want to be able to do that. In fact, it runs in our family. Aunt Edana is also a great singer. But no matter how hard I try, no luck. Paula decided she was going to be a singer halfway through her junior year and by the time she graduated she was getting crazy honors from the chorus society. Not fair.
I want dark skin, and long legs, and a perfect stomach, and a perfect voice, and men just falling all over me, but I don't get any of those things that Paula has.
You know what else I want? I f***ing apartment and that I can actually get. So you know what? If Paula can't be happy for me and if Paula can't get over herself for five minutes then too bad for Paula. I'm going down there first thing in the morning to sign that lease. Then, I'm getting out from under.
Paula's not happy I'm looking at apartments? Tough shit. Paula has had everything she wanted for the past eighteen years and not had to work for a bit of it. Everything just comes naturally to Paula. She's pretty, yes, I've been told. You know what she did to get pretty? Not a thing! She works out less than I do, all but quit the dojo, eats like a pig and I'M the one developing the little pot belly. Not fair!
See that? Me shopping for apartments so I can actually have something that is really my own and that I paid for: fair. Being naturally pretty to the point of nausea: not fair.
You know what else isn't fair? I love music, I always have. I've been trying to learn how to sing since I was tiny. My mom used to sing so beautifully and I really want to be able to do that. In fact, it runs in our family. Aunt Edana is also a great singer. But no matter how hard I try, no luck. Paula decided she was going to be a singer halfway through her junior year and by the time she graduated she was getting crazy honors from the chorus society. Not fair.
I want dark skin, and long legs, and a perfect stomach, and a perfect voice, and men just falling all over me, but I don't get any of those things that Paula has.
You know what else I want? I f***ing apartment and that I can actually get. So you know what? If Paula can't be happy for me and if Paula can't get over herself for five minutes then too bad for Paula. I'm going down there first thing in the morning to sign that lease. Then, I'm getting out from under.
Elated!
I think I found it! I think I found just the right apartment for me! It's going to be so great! It hasn't come open yet but it will be very shortly and the price is right and the location is right and it's oh so pretty!
Let me tell you about it. So it's right down close to the school and to downtown. I didn't even know there were apartments there. I just happened to be jogging with Paula after school (jogging, yuck!) and we were passing by what looks like an old warehouse down on the edge of downtown. There was a sign on the door that said "apartments for rent". I wasn't sure if apartments in an old warehouse would be something I would like, so I ducked in just to pick up a brochure. I asked the lady at the front desk about it and she was soooo nice. We had been running for like twenty minutes and I smelled terrible and was sweating like a pig (Paula never smells bad, no matter how much she sweats. I don't know how she does it.) anyway, she insisted on giving us a tour of the place and took us up to see the apartment they would be renting out. It's nice and homey and (I know it won't stay this way but...) the old lady who had been living there had it all decorated in this beautiful old fashioned cottage theme. The family was moving her stuff out over the next few weeks, so not open yet, but the lady said that we could sign a lease as soon as I was ready.
Am I ready? I feel so ready! I've lived with Edana, and LaShawn, and Paula for almost ten years now, ever since mom and dad died. I'm so ready to have my own place.
But this is like the first time in...ever that Paula and I have gotten along. For the first time in our lives we're actually like sisters. This oughta tell you something about how close we are: I was talking about going out on my twentieth birthday and not only did she say she was going to force me to go out with her, she offered to lend me some clothes. Paula does not let her clothes out of her sight for anything. When she takes a bus to a show, she refuses to leave her clothes suitcase under the bus. She takes it as a carry on! Granted, most of her clothes aren't going to fit me. Paula has a lot more hip and chest than I do (by the way, totally not fair, she's eighteen for Christ's sake!). You better believe I'm going to take her up on the shoes though. I'm not looking forward to being dragged around clubs by the prettiest girl in town, but if I'm going to do it I'm going to do it in some awesome shoes!
So, I think for sure I have to get out of this house, but I have to find a way to keep Paula as close to me as she is now. I can't lose that. It's nice to have a REAL sister, even if she doesn't come to the dojo anymore.
P.S. She doesn't come to the dojo anymore because I keep kicking her butt!
Let me tell you about it. So it's right down close to the school and to downtown. I didn't even know there were apartments there. I just happened to be jogging with Paula after school (jogging, yuck!) and we were passing by what looks like an old warehouse down on the edge of downtown. There was a sign on the door that said "apartments for rent". I wasn't sure if apartments in an old warehouse would be something I would like, so I ducked in just to pick up a brochure. I asked the lady at the front desk about it and she was soooo nice. We had been running for like twenty minutes and I smelled terrible and was sweating like a pig (Paula never smells bad, no matter how much she sweats. I don't know how she does it.) anyway, she insisted on giving us a tour of the place and took us up to see the apartment they would be renting out. It's nice and homey and (I know it won't stay this way but...) the old lady who had been living there had it all decorated in this beautiful old fashioned cottage theme. The family was moving her stuff out over the next few weeks, so not open yet, but the lady said that we could sign a lease as soon as I was ready.
Am I ready? I feel so ready! I've lived with Edana, and LaShawn, and Paula for almost ten years now, ever since mom and dad died. I'm so ready to have my own place.
But this is like the first time in...ever that Paula and I have gotten along. For the first time in our lives we're actually like sisters. This oughta tell you something about how close we are: I was talking about going out on my twentieth birthday and not only did she say she was going to force me to go out with her, she offered to lend me some clothes. Paula does not let her clothes out of her sight for anything. When she takes a bus to a show, she refuses to leave her clothes suitcase under the bus. She takes it as a carry on! Granted, most of her clothes aren't going to fit me. Paula has a lot more hip and chest than I do (by the way, totally not fair, she's eighteen for Christ's sake!). You better believe I'm going to take her up on the shoes though. I'm not looking forward to being dragged around clubs by the prettiest girl in town, but if I'm going to do it I'm going to do it in some awesome shoes!
So, I think for sure I have to get out of this house, but I have to find a way to keep Paula as close to me as she is now. I can't lose that. It's nice to have a REAL sister, even if she doesn't come to the dojo anymore.
P.S. She doesn't come to the dojo anymore because I keep kicking her butt!
Bad Day
So, there's this kid in my class (I thought after I graduated high school I'd never start a sentence like that again)... anyway...there's this girl in one of the classes I teach, her name is Ororo. Beautiful name, it means soft and silky. Suffice to say, this girl is nothing if not inaccurately named.
Ororo is a junior taking English Literature and she is brilliant. I mean, when we do papers I always put hers aside to read right after a particularly bad one (and girl there are plenty of those). Usually the smart kids are either the quiet ones or well...how should I say this...calm? Smart kids generally find a way not to get into fights. Ororo has never been one to let anything stop her from doing what she wants to do though. I was in the hallway, waiting for class to begin, and I can just hear snippets of this conversation that's going on. Two of the little ebony princesses that run the school are gossiping about something. Well, Ororo was walking by and must have heard something she didn't like, because she decided to tell them off. Well, one of them was smart enough to keep their mouth shut, seeing as she was half Ororo's size, but the other one just couldn't let it go. She gets all up in Ororo's face and says, "Mind your own business, bitch!"
And thenceforth, it was on. Not that it lasted very long. Ororo gave the girl a solid jab right to the bridge of her nose. It was like a popping sound *pop* and the girl's nose was two pieces. Unfortunately, the girl was not smart enough to leave it at that. She decided to catfight Ororo. By the time I finally broke it up (which I'm very proud of, I put Ororo in a full nelson! How often do you get to use your martial arts skills as a teacher!) Ororo had one nasty scratch on her cheek and the other girls was upside down in a trash can.
Really though, you have to stop here and imagine it. Think of the elitist little princess you know, now picture her pretty little legs in a pair of my aunt's (Edana's) designer high heels, kicking from the inside of a trash can. Honestly, I wanted to high five Ororo, but high-fiving in a FULL NELSON doesn't work.
Now here's the thing that gets me. I have this weird attachment to Ororo, It's not just because she's smart, but because her mom was in my mom's English class all the way back when she was pregnant with me. Weird, right? We're out the twenties where people grew up and lived in the same town their whole life. Except, you know, with a war and natural disaster in between.
Natural disaster...that reminds me, I haven't heard from my Aunt Danae in a long time...I need to call her when I get a chance. I want to go visit her in Florida when I get a chance, but when would I have a chance? C'est la vie!
Anyway, long story short, Ororo is on her last warning before she gets booted from general education to military school. Ororo would not do well in the military, big problem with authority. So her mom and I are having regular meetings from this point on to update her on Ororo's progress. I don't mind, it's actually going to be strangely nice to devote time to a kid I like (usually the kids that need the extra attention are butt holes!)
Okay, so I finally hear Paula getting out of the bathroom, so I am going to sink into a long hot bath.
Oh, by the way, I've been looking at apartments! It'll be great not to share a bathroom with my little sister any more.
Ororo is a junior taking English Literature and she is brilliant. I mean, when we do papers I always put hers aside to read right after a particularly bad one (and girl there are plenty of those). Usually the smart kids are either the quiet ones or well...how should I say this...calm? Smart kids generally find a way not to get into fights. Ororo has never been one to let anything stop her from doing what she wants to do though. I was in the hallway, waiting for class to begin, and I can just hear snippets of this conversation that's going on. Two of the little ebony princesses that run the school are gossiping about something. Well, Ororo was walking by and must have heard something she didn't like, because she decided to tell them off. Well, one of them was smart enough to keep their mouth shut, seeing as she was half Ororo's size, but the other one just couldn't let it go. She gets all up in Ororo's face and says, "Mind your own business, bitch!"
And thenceforth, it was on. Not that it lasted very long. Ororo gave the girl a solid jab right to the bridge of her nose. It was like a popping sound *pop* and the girl's nose was two pieces. Unfortunately, the girl was not smart enough to leave it at that. She decided to catfight Ororo. By the time I finally broke it up (which I'm very proud of, I put Ororo in a full nelson! How often do you get to use your martial arts skills as a teacher!) Ororo had one nasty scratch on her cheek and the other girls was upside down in a trash can.
Really though, you have to stop here and imagine it. Think of the elitist little princess you know, now picture her pretty little legs in a pair of my aunt's (Edana's) designer high heels, kicking from the inside of a trash can. Honestly, I wanted to high five Ororo, but high-fiving in a FULL NELSON doesn't work.
Now here's the thing that gets me. I have this weird attachment to Ororo, It's not just because she's smart, but because her mom was in my mom's English class all the way back when she was pregnant with me. Weird, right? We're out the twenties where people grew up and lived in the same town their whole life. Except, you know, with a war and natural disaster in between.
Natural disaster...that reminds me, I haven't heard from my Aunt Danae in a long time...I need to call her when I get a chance. I want to go visit her in Florida when I get a chance, but when would I have a chance? C'est la vie!
Anyway, long story short, Ororo is on her last warning before she gets booted from general education to military school. Ororo would not do well in the military, big problem with authority. So her mom and I are having regular meetings from this point on to update her on Ororo's progress. I don't mind, it's actually going to be strangely nice to devote time to a kid I like (usually the kids that need the extra attention are butt holes!)
Okay, so I finally hear Paula getting out of the bathroom, so I am going to sink into a long hot bath.
Oh, by the way, I've been looking at apartments! It'll be great not to share a bathroom with my little sister any more.
This is Silly
Okay, here I am, doing this blog thing. It's a silly idea, I really don't have anything to say. I was just reminded recently of my dad and how he told me that the secret to being a writer is to do it. So here I am, Zuri Wallace, being a writer. I can't imagine who would want to read my blog.
Hmmm...What do I write about on here anyway? Isn't it weird that an English teacher can't make up a prompt for herself? It's ridiculous is what it is. Anyway, I'll just go with the old standby of writing about something that's important to me.
Teaching. As long as I can remember I've wanted to be a teacher. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to do a lot of other things in the process, but that has been a constant for me. I can remember chasing Paula around the house with a copy of one of my dad's books and forcing her to listen to me read. She used to hate it, but I felt like that was the only way to get better (and I wanted her to hear my favorite stories (not to mention, I was in a lot of them)). When I was five, my mom brought me home some supplies from an old classroom that they were throwing out. There was a tiny whiteboard that she mounted on my wall as well as a school desk and some old markers. I used to sit my doll Halliberry up in the desk and make her listen to me teach about "The Twilight Princess" or the old books I used to read with mom and dad like "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe."
I always loved to read. I think that was my parents' doing. I remember thinking that if everyone had parents like mine, they would all love to read. Maybe that's part of my goal as a teacher, to make kids as excited by a story like Othello as I am. To be honest, as much as I want to understand people's apathy toward great literature, I just can't.
After my two years of service as a Service Teacher, I knew that I wanted to become a career teacher. My mentor was the greatest. Teena Julian was her name, she still teaches in Atlanta, but we haven't talked in awhile. She had had my mom as a teacher years before and the first thing she said to me was that she would be shamed if she couldn't make me at least as good a teacher as my mom made her. Just thinking about it almost makes me cry. I really miss my mommy sometimes!
Oh God, way off topic. So, yeah, I guess that's going to conclude my first blog entry. It ain't exactly five paragraph form, but it's close enough for jazz. Wow, I have never used that term before and it just came out. I guess it's true though, blogging is sort of the jazz of writing. You just say what you say as it comes to you. I just hope none of my students ever find this blog, then I can't say anything bad about them on it. Mwa ha ha.
Hmmm...What do I write about on here anyway? Isn't it weird that an English teacher can't make up a prompt for herself? It's ridiculous is what it is. Anyway, I'll just go with the old standby of writing about something that's important to me.
Teaching. As long as I can remember I've wanted to be a teacher. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to do a lot of other things in the process, but that has been a constant for me. I can remember chasing Paula around the house with a copy of one of my dad's books and forcing her to listen to me read. She used to hate it, but I felt like that was the only way to get better (and I wanted her to hear my favorite stories (not to mention, I was in a lot of them)). When I was five, my mom brought me home some supplies from an old classroom that they were throwing out. There was a tiny whiteboard that she mounted on my wall as well as a school desk and some old markers. I used to sit my doll Halliberry up in the desk and make her listen to me teach about "The Twilight Princess" or the old books I used to read with mom and dad like "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe."
I always loved to read. I think that was my parents' doing. I remember thinking that if everyone had parents like mine, they would all love to read. Maybe that's part of my goal as a teacher, to make kids as excited by a story like Othello as I am. To be honest, as much as I want to understand people's apathy toward great literature, I just can't.
After my two years of service as a Service Teacher, I knew that I wanted to become a career teacher. My mentor was the greatest. Teena Julian was her name, she still teaches in Atlanta, but we haven't talked in awhile. She had had my mom as a teacher years before and the first thing she said to me was that she would be shamed if she couldn't make me at least as good a teacher as my mom made her. Just thinking about it almost makes me cry. I really miss my mommy sometimes!
Oh God, way off topic. So, yeah, I guess that's going to conclude my first blog entry. It ain't exactly five paragraph form, but it's close enough for jazz. Wow, I have never used that term before and it just came out. I guess it's true though, blogging is sort of the jazz of writing. You just say what you say as it comes to you. I just hope none of my students ever find this blog, then I can't say anything bad about them on it. Mwa ha ha.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)