The Real Housewives of... HOUSTON?

Yes, believe it. The time has finally come. Rumor has it that casting directors have narrowed it down to about 5 women thus far. It has not been stated when filming will begin once these women are chosen, which only means one thing: I've got to go buy a new little black dress and parade around the Houston social scene like it's no one's business. 

Being the awkward, wall-eyed stalker in the background of 5 solid episodes would simply be a dream come true. I've gotten to a point in my life where I have absolutely no shame left- let the stalking begin!

To see pictures of the narrowed down selection of candidates, click here. Immediately.

Jeff Bagwell's wife, Ericka, was a candidate who is no longer listed in the latest update of finalists. I would have really liked to see her on the show since I spent my childhood playing "house" where I would tirelessly raise Jeff and I's twin daughters. They even made laughing and crying sounds, but mostly laughed since Jeff and I were such good parents and we were so happy together. It would have been interesting to see if Jeff's current lady holds a candle to what I brought to the table back in the day, including my Easy Bake Oven specialties that were to die for. Guess I'll just have to keep the faith that no one could compare to my domesticity and undying love for that bat stance.

Crystal Wall, however (yes, the wife of rapper Paul Wall), is in the running all of a sudden. What the shit? Great. If Kim from Atlanta released "Tardy for the Party" (which truly is a classic) and that plastic man Danielle Staub is now doing duets with her new lesbian lover, you can only imagine what Crystal has up her sleeve. Whatever song she decides to release, I'm sure it will make all Houstonians proudly embarrassed.

I'll be keeping a close eye on all you broads. Even if you're a bunch of dirty bitches, I'm still stoked that H-Town will eventually be featured on one of the greatest trash shows ever. 

Make me proud, gals. And please, please, don't have nasty, twangy country accents- talking like that really is grosser than all of your vaginas combined.

Cash Cab

Cash Cab is the most addicting game show... ever. Not only has it been my favorite game show for a while because of the interesting trivia, it is also my favorite because I'm secretly (well, not anymore) in love with Ben Bailey.

If you haven't seen it, consider this your slap on the wrist. Check it out on the Discovery Channel.

Cheers to you, Ben Bailey, for hosting a kick-ass show and winning your first Emmy last night for Best Game Show Host!

Suck it, Alex Trebek!

Garage Sales

No common phrase is more suitable for garage sales than "one man's trash is another's treasure." 

I have some fond memories of helping my mom with garage sales when I was younger, namely the time that my dad was out of town and we decided that the downstairs needed to be completely redecorated. We hauled the living room couch, the barstools, table and chairs, etc. outside and sold them for next to nothing. My dad wet himself with furry upon returning.

Sadly, the majority of the time it turns out that one man's trash is another man's trash. While the thrill of the hunt is enough to get most middle aged women off, nothing is more anti-climatic than showing up to a garage sale and seeing pure shit out on the lawn (or garage, rather).  Umm, I'm sorry, you spent more money and time making those neon posters that are posted around the neighborhood than all of these Taco Bell kids meal toys are worth. Turns out that "huge blowout" was referring to all of the diarrhea that those Chalupas once gave you. 

"Hi, I was wondering if you guys happened to have a box of kids meal toys and some rotten baseball hats with sweat stains on them?"

"You're in luck!"

Gross, people.

Because I have been in the market for a new piece of furniture to refinish, I thought I would bite the bullet and check out some garage sales in the area. I figured that people in the River Oaks / Heights area wouldn't be as bad. I found a townhouse in the Heights and stopped by in hopes of finding an old dresser. I arrived around 1:30 and it started at 2. The owner wasn't home, so I was awkwardly standing outside in the heat with literally 20 people that were all south of the border. The house opened at 2 on the dot. I suppose Garage Sale was the wrong term to use, because some lady that lived in this home was moving to another country and EVERYTHING in her house was for sale. Designer shoes, Prada bags, unbelievably expensive tables, couches, chairs, bedroom sets, etc. Not to mention that her taste was exquisite. 

It was amazing, but it was a nuthouse. People were raiding the house left and right. The place was 4 stories tall and I just asked where a dresser was and sprinted up the stairs to the 3rd floor and stumbled upon an old dresser that had great potential. She was asking for $200, and I ended up paying $100 for the dresser, and she threw in a free fancy wine opener (that I gave to my parents). I thought I would make good use of the people around me, so I solicited 2 guys to help load the dresser in my car for me, only to find that the broad still had all her belongings in it.

Because she was about to lose her mind shouting out prices to people on 4 different floors (nothing had a price on it), I just told her I was going to get all of the stuff out of it myself, so I just threw everything out of it, helped the guys load it in my car, and got the hell out of there. I was dripping with sweat as I rode off into the sunset with my great new buy. 

I'm looking forward to starting the dresser makeover during the July 4th weekend, and will hopefully have some pictures to show soon. 

Bonus from today: I found what I was looking for.

Bonus #2: I got to see the inside of an enormous, exquisite home in the Heights.

Bonus #3: No Taco Bell toys - quality all the way.

Happy hunting!

Pride, Not Prejudice

Although a native Houstonian, I have yet to ever attend the Houston Gay Pride Parade. That is, until tonight. I was out furniture shopping today with a friend when one of the old hippies that owns a shop on Westheimer warned us to move our car before too long in lieu of the parade.

I was down for going immediately. A couple of friends and I decided to grab some margaritas and check it out. What a riot! Over 150,000 people in the Montrose area - apparently one of the biggest gay parades in the nation. 

There were floats, there were beads (many of which were thrown and ended up hitting the side of my head... the heavier ones hurt), there was the Mayor of Houston, etc. White trash families, trannys of all shapes and sizes, ripped guys in speedos with huge socks stuffed in them, and girls with baggy shirts and sagging pants were all completed with the Grand Marshall being none other than Mr. Andy Cohen from Bravo. Being the shameless, Bravo-obsessed wanker that I am, I knew that I had to make a B-line when Andy drove by in the parade.  

As his car approached, I handed my camera to my friend and specifically said, "Don't fuck this up, or I'll kill you." I ran into the middle of the parade and up to his car and shook his hand and screamed, "HI ANDY!" 

The next 20 seconds consisted of an extremely profound conversation:

Andy: "Hi, how are you?"

Me: "I'm good, how are you?"

Andy: "I'm great, thank you."

Me: "You're so awesome- I'm obsessed with you."

Andy: "Aww, you're sweet. Thanks for coming out tonight."

Me: "No, thank you! I'm so excited!"

This is when he took the time for a photo opp knowing that my challenged friend was taking a picture. And this is the amazing result:

Way to go, [friend's name]. You fucked it up! Thankfully for everyone, I didn't kill her. I didn't want blood on my top and certainly didn't want to ruin the good time that the gays were having. And even though Andy probably thought I was a raging lesbian, he was SUPER nice. 

Andy, you get my Mazel of the Week!

Here are some top pictures (that are appropriate):

"2-4-6-8, How do you know your grandma's straight?"

The Disco Mobile

"Screw the Moon, we're going to Uranus!"

"Be Free from HIV"

I'll absolutely be going back next year.

LOOKBOOK

Ever since magically stumbling across LOOKBOOK.nu, my life has gone increasingly downhill. Fridays where I get the opportunity to work from home are increasingly more unproductive as I spin through the top look "hype" scores wishing I was thin and trashy enough to be oggled by other fashion lovers out there on the web.

Although LOOKBOOK is a fashion site, I think I enjoy the pictures themselves more than I notice the clothes. Some of these photos are taken and photoshopped by some really talented people, which leads me to believe that these skinny skanks are totally banging their best friend that just so happens to be an aspiring photographer. The girl gets an amazing picture that she can show to everyone and get crazy attention, and the best friend/photographer gets practice hiding his boner while observing some serious skin exposure through the lens.

Another exciting feature is that all the Americans think they're awesome by titling their photo as a misspelled French phrase, and all of the foreigners title their photos in incorrect tense usage and misspelled  English.

WARNING: Highly addictive. Check it out and have a ball- but go ahead and cancel those lunch plans. Am I crazy, or is this not wonderful?

Ummm, You Have Shit In Your Teeth

BOSS: "Hey, did you get a chance to complete that report we talked about?"

MY THOUGHT: Yes, dick. I sent it to you this morning but you were so busy dry humping Karen in Accounting because she got the new 4G iPhone that you didn't bother to review it.

MY ACTUAL RESPONSE: "Yes, I sent it to you this morning- did you have time to review it?"

BOSS: "Oh, OK. I'll take a look at that this afternoon and have my edits by EOD."

MY THOUGHT: Excellent. I love when you shit on my desk with a stack of edits while you're walking out the door and I'm stuck working on them until 8 pm. Tell the family I say hi.

MY ACTUAL RESPONSE: "Great, thanks." [insert small talk here]

Many things at work are enough to exhaust me beyond belief, give me small mental breakdowns, and lead me to the brink of stabbing myself in the eye with a ballpoint pen. But as aforementioned,  the finer things in life are the small details. What enabled me to carry on small talk with this boss that I loathe 78% of the time? The fact that he had a huge piece of shit (or something of the sort) in his teeth. Spotting something such as this can be a very empowering thing.

Knowing that this person (who I'll refer to as "Ned" from now on) has such a hideous distraction on their face also comes with a lot of strategy and control on my part. First plan of action? Keep the small talk rolling. This way, making him smile and evoking laughter exposes the shit to an even more noticeable degree. However, while doing this, it's very important to keep my own laughter under control, as well as ensure that my eye contact with him is consistent so that he doesn't trace my eyes observing only his mouth region. Small talk with the outcome of laughter will also encourage other people to join in on the conversation, which will then expose the shit on Ned's pearly yellows to 2-3 more people. 

While one of these newcomers might have the decency to normally tell Ned to remove the shit from his teeth, there's now the awkwardness that they can't say something, because if they tell Ned about the shit in his teeth in front of a group of people, they run the risk of embarrassing Ned (and thus, pissing Ned off). After my usual fun with this, one can pretty much assume that eventually someone will have the decency to tell Ned about the shit in his teeth and the next time I see him it will have been swallowed. 

However, occasionally a higher being will reward me and by 5 pm when Ned brings me those report edits, the shit is still residing in the space between his big tooth and the incisor tooth right next to it like it has been there his whole life. Then, just as he's about to walk out the door I can casually say, "Hey, Ned. You have something in your teeth."

Ned will immediately think one of two things:

1. "Welp, better get it out."

2. "How embarrassing." 

If it's #2, his next thought will be, "How long has it been there?" Which will lead him to think about the last time he ate. When he figures that was around 11:30 am, he will immediately know that the identified piece of shit has been present all damn day. The world makes sense again.

On a different note:

When it's someone you like that has shit in their teeth, but you haven't formed the bond to where you feel like you can tell them to get it out immediately, I usually end up being the one that feels more embarrassed. A very high-level boss that you respect, when it's someone that you've wanted to bone for the past 4 months, etc. 

It becomes conflicting. I want this person to know, but if I tell them, will they appreciate it, or would they rather figure it out themselves? Maybe they will be embarrassed but appreciate it at the same time. Will they try to pick it out of their teeth on the spot, or will they immediately escape back into their own cube/bathroom to observe the scene? Sometimes if I don't tell someone, hours later I will still be thinking, "man, I should have told them about that can of spinach hanging off of their canine. I hope they got it off."

Have you ever noticed how some people just happen to have the type of teeth that naturally catches shit in it? It's gross. Like even knowing that the second they bite into a peanut butter sandwich, half of it will magically appear wedged in between every crevice and molar they have in their mouth. And people, please don't pick it out right in front of me. Slap some antibacterial on those germ-infested fingers and do that in your own privacy. 

Either way, we have all been the victim of having shit in our teeth, as well as observing someone else having shit in their teeth. I suppose it's just another example of life's awkward blessings.

In conclusion, all that is left to say about this is: whether you love me or hate me, please tell me if I have shit in my teeth (but maybe spare me in front of a group of people). I'll appreciate it.

Happy flossing...

Tulips & Windmills

Another bucket list item: see the tulip fields in Amsterdam.

There is the most incredible picture of my mother sitting in the middle of a tulip field in Holland in the early 70s. She looks so classic, so beautiful. If it came down to inheriting only a small number of my parent's possessions, that picture would be my #1 pick.

Not only are tulips my favorite flower (take note, boys), I have always wanted to go to Amsterdam for a good time. To coincide with my new life plan of visiting a new place every year, this would be a great place to visit in April 2011, when the tulip fields in Amsterdam are at their finest.

Viking River Cruises is currently offering a 10 day Tulips & Windmills excursion from Amsterdam to Antwerp to Belgium, then back to Amsterdam at half price rates until July 31st of this year. Granted the prices listed do not include the plane ride, but that can always be arranged later. The downside is that in order to get the half price discount, you also must PAY by July 31st.

Tulips, Amsterdam festivities, Belgian chocolate, wooden shoes, the Van Gough museum, Anne Frank's hideaway... the possibilities are endless.

Bottom line: I'm looking for a partner in crime. Any takers?

Awkward Family Pet Photos

It really doesn't need any further explanation...

Enjoy.

K2 - LEGAL Marijuana?

Steady buzz has been floating among many of us, but more importantly about the recent creation of K2, otherwise known as legal synthetic marijuana. Naturally, the new product has been causing all sorts of indigestion with the fuzz, conservative legislators and [insert anti-drug group here], but many tokers are looking at this as a godsend!

Otherwise referred to as "the business man's smoke," K2 is said to produce a high that provides a great case of the giggles, and doesn't leave you drooling from the mouth / slightly retarded for the remainder of the day. Another plus (in some situations) is that it is stench free, which would have been really beneficial to me during the time spent under the bleachers in between classes in high school (juuust kidding, kind of). While some have even reported hallucinating off of K2, I just think they're pussies and have never had a real trip before. Something has to go seriously wrong to obtain hallucinogenic effects from this product.

The obvious question many of you are asking about the product is "yeah, but does it really work?" The short, simple answer = Yes (allegedly).

Too good to be true? It may vary for different people - but you'll just have to go buy your own stash and form your own opinion.

Note: DO NOT buy this product online. Many local retailers now sell this product, and the majority of online distributors will sell you a fake product (hence maybe some of those hallucinations... wait, maybe you should look online instead?).

Finally, some kill that gives you a high and won't show up in your hair or on a pee test! Next time you're running low, your dealer is out of town, or you can't stand another minute of your kid's t-ball game without a dragon rip to the head, you might as well trot on up to your local head shop and snag a bag of legal dank for about $15.

Enjoy a brief, mild, safe, legal, untraceable journey, all you smokers out there!

The Sounds of Seattle

The Sounds of Seattle is a multi-band (kinda) tribute to Pearl Jam, Soundgarden and Alice in Chains that came into town on Friday. I bought several tickets expecting it to just be a good time to hear some great throwback songs and have a few beers if nothing else. Little did I know that the show would exceed any and all expectations I had. 

Thinking that the show would consist of 3 different bands, there were actually only six members who morphed into three bands: Bleed the Freak (Alice in Chains), Badmotorfinger (Soundgarden), and Ten (Pearl Jam), who's lead singer channeled Eddie Vedder so well that a blind man would swear it was him.

(Howard (lead guitar), Mike (bassist), Nick (Pearl Jam lead singer)) 

(Shane- lead singer for Soundgarden)

One reason the show was even more enjoyable was because we managed to score front row center spots, and then stuck around and (ahem) met the band afterwards. Nice, hot, and smily guys. If these dudes are in town next year (which they will be, according to Howard), I'll definitely be first in line.

(Mike and Howard)

(Ray on drums)

(Howard (aka SMILES McGee) and Shane)

(Howard and Shane)

(Nick and Shane after the show)

(Mike and some groupie... oh wait, that's me)

I'll spare everyone the rest of the pictures of me with the band where I'm over-smiling and my eyes are practically closed. 
What an amazing night.

Fortune Cookies

Dear Fortune Cookie,

Despite my sweet and sour shrimp being delicious, you are the highlight of my meal - not because you are tasty (in fact, you taste remarkably like the bread of Christ given at Communion), but because the mystery you hold as to what's in store for my remarkably plain life gives me something to look forward to. I chew through your tasteless exterior as fast as possible, barely containing my anticipation to read those 10 words of fate and see the lucky numbers on the opposite side to choose on my next Lotto ticket (because we all know, you have to eat the cookie THEN read the fortune, or it won't come true).

At least that's how it's always been.

Ahem, lately, you haven't been giving me a fortune at all. Rather, you have been providing me with trite sayings, or common quotes that are even misspelled half of the time. Only months ago, I received a fortune cookie that said "breakfast is the most important meal of the day," but it was written in Spanish. Should I be upset that it was a shitty saying and not a fortune, or the fact that Texas now has so many Mexicans that even Chinese restaurants are catering to them? Perhaps by 2012 there will even be traveling Chinese trucks to overcompensate for the high demand, which will of course eventually lead to a revolutionary war between the Taco Trucks and the Chinese Trucks in 2015. Or even worse, instead of a war, what if the awful idea of Mexican/Chinese fusion food was born (e.g. sweet and sour burritos)? Come on, now- What would General Tso say about all of this?

Look, if I wanted a lame quote, especially in a different language, I'd search the Internet for one and plug it in to Google Translate. I'd honestly rather receive bad news, something even along the lines of "You're going to be a failure in life" because then at least I'd know what lays in the road ahead. At least that would be a fortune.

Fortune Cookie, your insides used to be perceived as a gift, an exciting phenomenon that was never questioned or doubted. Now you've gone so downhill that all I can picture when I read your messages is some wall-eyed fraggle sitting in a dark basement admiring his genius for coming up with "smiling makes people happy." Way to earn that minimum wage, fraggle. I don't blame you, I blame whoever is paying you.

Alas, I haven't given up all hope, nor will your lack of fortune deter me from enjoying a fine Asian meal.  Perhaps I should be more upset and concerned that I haven't had good fortune with fortune cookies.

Cheers to being persistent and keeping fraggles financially afloat.

People Who Eat Alone

I have always been one of those people that have never had a problem doing things alone. Even when I was in college surrounded by endless amounts of people my own age, sometimes I needed that "me" time to go see a movie by myself, or go shopping, or pick up some dinner, etc. However, for some reason whenever I see someone doing something alone, especially someone that is eating alone in a restaurant, my heart breaks.

If that person is an old man, I even tear up at the thought of their life. Last night a friend and I went to grab a bit to eat at Shanghai River and a middle-aged man came in and got a table for one. He looked so lonely and I almost went up to him to say hi, but he probably would have been insulted by that gesture. All too often I have too much compassion for people that don't need or want it. I can't help but make up these complex stories (sometimes morbid) in my head of why this person is there and what they are feeling. 

Maybe his wife died in a terrible car accident and this used to be their favorite place to go for dinner. Maybe to avoid coming home to an empty house he likes to stay out and fill up his time eating at restaurants and watching everyone else enjoy their evening, eavesdrop on conversations, etc. Maybe his family is back at home and he is living here temporarily for work. Maybe he's getting stood up on a first (or second) date. I wonder what he does for a living.  Does he have children? If so, do they get along, do they keep in touch?

Odds are, that man was perfectly happy eating his Kung Pao chicken a la carte for one. He probably just likes to people watch. Maybe he has a loving family back at home and his wife was out playing Bunco. Or maybe his wife was hosting Bunco and she kicked him out of the house until 10 pm so she and her friends could brag about their children, scream obnoxiously loud on a good roll, and bitch about their men not helping out around the house. Or maybe something did happen to the one he loved, but he was coping with it just fine and dining out on a Thursday night was his regular routine. 

That's a lot of maybes. The old men are the ones that truly get to me. Old women as well, but there is more of a fear that I will end up alone like them than there is compassion for their situation.

These are all unfair thoughts, because I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me when I am out doing things by myself. If someone wanted to sit with me and have a conversation, I would find it quite odd, although depending on my mood at the time, it would be welcome. Sometimes my compassion gets the best of me. All too often I get so upset at the thought of something fictitiously blown out of proportion when I have no idea what the reality of the situation is.

Maybe mister Wal-Mart greeter has millions and just wants something to occupy his time. Perhaps the elementary crossing guard just enjoys the exercise and keeping people safe. It could be that the elderly woman who takes a morning stroll with her cane through River Oaks every morning is too much of a speed demon for her husband to keep up.

Although I feel my compassion is an important quality to have, it's time I start giving people the benefit of the doubt.

Crossing Neil Young Off My Bucket List

He's too ugly to have sex with, so I did the next best thing and FINALLY saw him live the other week here in Houston. Seeing Neil Young live has been on my bucket list since I was about in the 8th grade, and moved to the top of the list after I started playing the harmonica about 5 years ago. 

Neil played an acoustic set at Jones Hall (which was a cool choice in venue) and was completely solo- just him and the stage that was equipped with 5 guitars, 2 pianos, an organ, and of course his harmonica. I brought my dad as a hot date and overpaid an insane amount for the tickets, but the show truly exceeded all of my expectations. 

I know that his show had been getting good reviews, but you never know how a music legend is going to sound in the flesh - especially a 65 year old burnt out hippie. In my opinion, he sounded better live at age 65 than he did when he was 26 on the Live At Massey Hall album.

He played many of the greats: Cinnamon Girl, Old Man, Ohio, Southern Man, Cowgirl in the Sand, After the Gold Rush, Like a Hurricane, Rockin' in the Free World, Down by the River, etc.

But also left many classics out, namely Heart of Gold and The Needle and the Damage Done (the latter being my favorite, which I was very disappointed about).  But I can't blame the guy-- if I had to play the same fucking song over and over again (especially Heart of Gold) for 40 years straight I would jump off the ledge.

I could ramble for hours about this, but bottom line is:

Cheers to you, Neil Young, for putting on a show that was one of the best shows I've seen and facilitating the best night I've had in a long time.

Do I Need an Umbrella?

Many times we ask ourselves, Do I Need An Umbrella today? 


Well, ask no more.

Inappropriate Fruit

We all have weird eating habits when it comes to certain tastes, food groups, strange snacks, etc. at certain points in our lives. But when someone feels the need to continually lecture others about their eating habits and constantly provide unwarranted advice about what's healthy and what's not, it's just freaking obnoxious.

I don't care that skipping lunch isn't good for you, I don't care that having a Diet Cherry Coke rots my insides, I don't want to watch you eat entire tupperware containers full of broccoli (and see half of it still on your face an hour later), and I especially don't want to hear about your extra fiber in your oatmeal every morning to assist your morning shit. Not to mention that all of this is disclosed in one of the most obnoxious, ear piercing voices known to man.

So, my nutritious co-worker, in celebration of your healthy habits, I arranged the fruit on your desk as a sign of my admiration of you and your  wholesome fixations:

The Korean Chronicles, Part 4

The grand finale of my Korean journey was none other than hiking the highest peak in all of South Korea. Apparently hiking is the national past time of Korea, so it was an opportunity that I was both looking forward to and dreading at the same time. I knew it was going to be a physical challenge, but I had no idea how much of one it would be until I actually went for it. It didn't really help that we got lost trying to find the entrance to hiking the mountain for 2 hours before the hike actually began. I was already tired before the uphill battle commenced, which didn't fare well for me in the end. There's not too much to say about the journey other than the scenery was absolutely beautiful, it was one of the most physically challenging things I've ever done (I saw my life flash before my eyes a few times, almost vomited once or twice, and fought blacking out by drinking copious amounts of natural spring water), and I am so proud of myself that I made it. There were several natural spring water stations throughout the hike that had little plastic bowls to fill up and pour on your head / drink out of.  I would usually be germophobic to things like that, but I was so exhausted that I chugged the hell out of that water and it was the most delicious water I've ever tasted (at least I thought so at the time). It was really cold too, which I thought was neat. Here's a picture of the SCW taking a sip:

The hike was about 7 hours total, and it only took a little less than 2 hours to make it down. This meaning that the 5 hours going straight uphill was absolutely absurd. It also didn't help my self esteem too much when 80 year old men were passing me up with their hands behind their back like it was no big deal to climb up stone steps for hours upon end. Here are a few snapshots of the hike up until the first major platform:

I was told that once I made it to the major platform that it was an indicator that I was almost to the top. This was the best news ever, until I made it to the platform and realized that this was my next challenge to face:

So once I mustered up the strength to move my little legs up each and every one of those stairs, I was ready to do the Rocky fist pump and celebrate my accomplishment, until I saw this:

Finally, for real this time, I was at the very top after I climbed this set of final stairs. The Rocky fist pump was out of the question because I was drooling and had a purple face and pretty much crawled to a bench that I could sit my fat ass on and catch my breath for the following 30 minutes. Once I felt like I could stand up without tipping over, I was able to get some pretty amazing shots of the most incredible view. Here's one of them:

This was definitely a challenge that I know many people couldn't do, and one that I am proud that I completed. The walk down was much easier, but very challenging to operate my legs because they were shaking so badly. It looked like the lower half of my body was having a severe seizure. What a great event to accomplish before coming back to the states, and one I lived to tell about (barely).