Despite being in the negative monetary-wise (and with no income to speak of), I decided that picking up a pair of durable practical boots might lift my spirits. "Retail therapy", I believe it's called. If I am going to get a job or complete my community service in this weather, a nice pair of boots would be invaluable, as I have to walk most anywhere I want to go.
The day started off with us heading to Shadyside to send his Macbook Pro off to be fixed. I relish any opportunity to go to Shadyside, and was quite excited to be in the area. As far as PA goes, Shadyside is where all my swankiest happenings have happened. It's where the after-party for the premiere of Kevin Smith's Zack and Miri Make a Porno was held, and also where I met and briefly chatted with the uber-cute Jamie Chung, and a few of her Sorority Row castmates while they were here in Pittsburgh. Both occurred on the same night at Alto Lounge.
The day was progressing nicely. Weather was way better than it has been. That and the smiles and conversations shared with random mac-store workers and patrons were having quite the positive effect on me. I always forget what a fun, funny and witty person I can be until I'm out in public doing it unintentionally. It's like "Ooooh yeah.... this is who I am...." Continuing the whole theme of avatars and the Japanese concept of tatemae and honne, it's in situations like these that I learn the most about myself. I don't so much think that we as humans purposefully shift from a private to a public persona for any reasons like shame or anything, but more because THERE IS NO ONE TO INTERACT WITH WHEN YOU ARE ALONE. And therefore no reference points. Despite many people assuming I probably do (what with all the characters and voices I do) I rarely, if ever, talk to myself. I can count on my hand the number of times I've done it. When by myself I am quiet and calm, and I would imagine most people are. Certain attributes of my character are only observable when compared in relation to those around me.
When I'm by myself I tend to think of myself as an introverted, bookish, nerdy, intellectual artist. Bordering on neurotic and somewhat anti-social. A bit egotistical but also somewhat insecure. In a crowd, I am the life of the party. The Tyler Durden to my Narrarator. I am attractive, conversational, witty, intelligent and humorous. I'm a local celebrity, shaking hands and kissing babies. The center of attention. A natural born leader. Barack Obama in public, Charlie Kaufman behind closed doors.
Side note: I've determined that I'm either incredibly good-looking, incredibly weird-looking or incredibly ugly because no matter where I go, people eye-fuck the shit out of me. Or maybe I look like a celebrity. It might also be that I'm so highly animated. Who knows? In my younger days it used to perplex and encuriate me, but presently it just serves to fuel my ego and make me feel good about myself.
We left the Mac Store and then went to a place called Sushi Too. A small, cozy sushi-hole that's not bad for being located in Western PA. The food was dece and the service was prompt and courteous. One of the cute asian waitresses was staring a hole trough me the entire time. Again, providing confidence and happiness. It's so fun to share smiles and stolen glances with a woman you've never met before. It feels naughty yet innocent, special yet arbitrary all at the same time. Either way it's fun and I enjoy it. I've always had a thing for asian women, specifically Japanese and South Korean, but after my (HORRIBLE) breakup with my most recent ex, they've been somewhat ruined for me. She was South Korean and every time I eye an attractive oriental girl I can't but help to be reminded of her. As such I've mostly tried to shut off my affinity for females from the far east.
While eating, Kevin and I began to wax philosophical on the values of eating at a leisurely pace, nutrition and just food in general. Having a history in personal training, health and fitness, being a former fat kid and a fan of clean eating I was all too happy to discuss such things. He was biking in the summer and has been steadily increasing his kitchen-related activities, so he too was quite keen to speak about such things.
Not too long ago, I watched two documentaries titled Food, Inc. and The Botany Of Desire. Both featuring Michael Pollan. (Both excellent, and highly recommended.) And after he himself completed it, Kevin insisted that I read Food Rules. I had just finished The Omnivore's Dilemma and I loved it, so in following the Michael Pollan theme decided to take him up on it. It's a short read, and I banged it out quite quickly. It's mostly just common sense and stuff I already know, although it was worded more cleverly and succinctly. It was like the cliff notes' version of either of the movies or Omnivore's Dilemma. With all this in the air and in our minds, we mindfully ate sushi and talked about how nice it is to know where your food comes from and to eat at a comfortable pace.
From there we ventured directly to the Tanger Outlets. A huge outdoor mall housing many factory stores of popular companies whose products are typically marked up and sold in department stores at typical malls. Having been the middle of February, and having been one of the harshest winters on record in this area, left the place mostly uninhabited. A weird ghost-town effect was plainly noticeable. Such a large place that obviously makes SCADS of money and attracts hundreds of thousands of customers, with nary more than a few stragglers in addition to those working the stores. It was somewhat eery, but kinda cool. I would like to see it on a nice, warm, busy day. Must be hectic. And awesome. Kevin expressed a preference for its current state and the division between us grew ever more apparent to me. Talk of zombie invasion (there at the outlets) lightened the mood, but I still couldn't help seeing the vast disparity in our characters.
While at the Outlets, I was struck with the plights of the modern American citizen. Specifically those of an affluent woman. I have never felt so womanly in my life. I mean that in as negative a way as possible. Many aspects of stereotypically female behaviors I actually strive to embody and unconsciously already do: nurturing, caring, feeling, so on and so forth... But there are two sides to every coin, and as such I can also embody the negative stereotypes of women as well, whiny, moody, shallow and overly obsessed with appearance. That last one is what happened here.
I just wanted a pair of crisp dark denim jeans, that were somewhat form-fitting but not restricting. Loose, but not baggy. Fashionable, but not gay.
I'd like to start off by expressing my extreme distaste for two current trends in fashion.
First, and my most hated, pre-distressed/faded jeans.
Are you kidding me? You expect me to pay upwards of a hundred dollars for jeans that look beat-to-shit? Jeans I would throw out? Back in my day, holes in your jeans meant you were poor or dirty, likely both. I'll tell you what, you give me fifty bucks and I'll go get a pair of Levi's, wear 'em for three or four years and then give 'em to you. Deal? No? That's retarded? Silly? Why you want jeans someone else wore? EXACTLY. Pre-distressed and "vintage" t-shirts can suck my dick, too. If the shit I'm wearing is going to look like I've had it for years, then I want to have actually had it for years. Earn your stripes.
Second, skinny jeans for men.
What the fuck?! It's like we've now plunged this nations' male population into the same bullshit trap we've had our women in for years. For decades women have been oppressed by advertising and models telling them they should be able to fit into jeans that even a skeleton would have trouble sliding on. Now we're telling our men the same thing? I am a man, damnit. I have thick, muscular legs. What the fuck am I gonna do with a piece of material best suited to hold two broomsticks?! Get that shit out of my face. Here I am, a robust, muscular twenty-five-year-old male and I'm in a fitting room thinking "Maybe I should start running? Maybe I should modify my diet?" (Quick side note: I FUCKING HATE when people say they are "going on a diet". You are already on a diet, asshole. Whatever you eat comprises your diet.) Bullshit. That's just capitalist bullshit propaganda working its way into my head. And I don't appreciate it. FUCK SKINNY JEANS. Fuck 'em. Give me a pair of man-jeans.
I am the unwanted half-breed bastard child of the denim world.
In the fashionable, young, punky stores I could feel the eyes of the clerks and few patrons judging me.
"Get out of here, you muscular jock asshole." Their gazes said to me.
"We don't like your kind round these parts..."
Whereas in Casual Male XL, everyone's eyes were saying,
"Oh look at you, you skinny little faggot. Oh boo hoo, my arms are too long for shirts. Boo hoo, I can't find pants that are loose in the thighs but actually fit in the waist."
Tertium Quid again rears its ugly head. Has me thinking I'll just have to get rich and have everything custom made. That way I can also have everything be hemp.
The whole ordeal had me feeling really bourgeois and affluent.
Like seriously, is buying jeans or shoes really this big of a deal?
Really that important?
Just buy a fucking pair of pants or shoes and shut the fuck up already. Yeesh.
I went in with the attitude of survival first, fashion second. I wanted durable fitting jeans that I could still move around in and a pair of boots that would keep my feet dry without being or looking clunky. It ended up turning into a fiasco that many women immediately identified with, according to the comments on my facebook status updates throughout the day.
When jeans fit over my thighs and ass they are WAY too loose around my waist and look retarded. Frumpy. Like that bullshit trend among teenagers where they wear jeans three sizes too small but yet somehow still manage to sag. The other options are jeans that fit in the waist and either look like gangsta-ass gangsta baggy jeans, that would be entirely unpractical to commence any sort of physical activity in, or jeans so tight they look like they could be painted on. I seriously felt like I was going to need cut out of every "fashionable" pair of jeans I tried on.
The boots I didn't feel as girly about, but I was still quite disappointed. Having a wide foot really fucks you for most shoes. Your options are crush the sides of your foot or have enough space in front of your toes that you end up sliding all around inside and chafing the fuck out of your ankles. I chose neither. Again, maybe I'll just have to wait until I can have everything custom-made.
I ended up leaving without buying anything. Seeing as how as I have less than a dollar to my name (indeed negative dollars) it was probably better that way. It doesn't change the fact that I still need/desire a solid pair of jeans and boots.
The ridiculousness and triviality of these "problems" does not escape me. Whereas people are dying just to find clean drinking water I'm bitching about the waitress putting ice in mine when I specifically asked her not to. Ludicrous. Then again, "problems" are only relative anyway... Even though you might laugh at a person being upset over losing a million dollars when they still have ten million more I'm sure that person is still quite sad about it. And rightfully so.
It just seems silly to me to bitch about finding correctly-fitting pants when there are people in the world THAT DON'T EVEN WEAR PANTS.
At some point, Kov wondered aloud, "What if you were in an asexual homosexual relationship?" His delivery was genuine and I could see the irony had yet to dawn on him. I sat quietly and just stared at him, waiting for the pink elephant in the room to wave his way. It did eventually and we each shared a chuckle.
Asexual homosexual relationship? No thank you. I want a sexual heterosexual relationship. I love women and I miss sex. I miss cuddling even more. I also miss sharing the burden of daily life in a near-perfect harmonious relationship. I hate to do dishes, my x loved them. I love to vacuum, my x hated it. Sooooo she did the dishes and I vacuumed. Perfect. I want that sort of relationship again. Natural. Organic. Not forced. Each one picking up where the other one leaves off.
That feeling combined with all the sympathy I received after my trying-on-jeans escapade helps to reinforce just how much I want and need a woman in my life. Not just one I can live with, but one I can't live with out. I think I want to fall in love again. But a huge part of me knows I'm not ready. Thinks I will NEVER be ready, ever again. My last x destroyed my heart. Ripped it out of my chest and stomped on it. Then wore the blood-covered boots out and told everyone where it came from. I could go into further detail but I don't wanna sound like a whiny emo teenager. Bad shit happens to everyone, you deal with it and move on.
It's just kinda hard to move on when your faith in the entire human race has been all but obliterated.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
It's shitty, but I want like a "rental" girlfriend. I'm not ready to settle down yet, so looking for more serious options would be doing both parties a disservice. I eventually want a wife that I'm madly in love with and can raise children with, but I'm simply not ready for her yet. Or them. (Our future kids) I am still a child myself. I need to figure myself out and get my life together before I think about pursuing a life-time partnership. Or creating/molding lives with said partner. It just sucks because I know that if I had a strong woman to depend on, and share with, that I could much more easily get my life together. It's like needing a car to get a job, but needing a job to get a car.
Back to the avatar talk...
I LOVE that movie. Just as it as. As a standalone entertainment experience. But also (and maybe even more so) for the the thoughts and ideas it created in me. Not only the long-standing return-to-nature theme that has been prevalent in my life for so many years, but also the concept of avatars.
In LittleBiGPlanet the first customization I gave to my Sackboy left him looking like a blue lion-man with a smile. When I was younger I gravitated toward Kimahri Ronso when my friends and I played FFX. The Beast was my second favorite X-Men character. I'm pretty fast and agile for a big guy and even a touch graceful. Blue is one of my three favorite colors. These and a whole slew of other things just left me enamored with the concept of inhabiting a twelve-foot blue lion-person body after coming out of the theater for Avatar. So many connections between things in my life lead to being an anthropomorphic cat-man.
So all this factored in and combined with my recent awareness of my apparent split-personality has left me wondering how best to physically represent myself. How best to express my inner self with my appearance. I have many "set" characters that I can slip in to, and out of, at will. With ease, (Sometimes TOO easily, and maybe not so willingly according to others.) Some are established and easily recognized and just modified for my purposes. Others are of my own creation. Others still are unnamed and not distinctly divided from the rest. In a stereotypically vain move, I've taken to using many of my friends as outward representations of my character.
But despite all those people swimming around in my head (or maybe because of) a single "overlord" has yet to emerge. The ultimate symbol of Josh Vish-itude. There have been a few attempts, and I'm sure people I know have opinions on the matter, but the truth is, I don't feel I've completely realized who I am yet. As a character or in appearance.
I've decided to take it to the drawing board and to design myself from head to toe. From the inside to the out. To turn myself into an immediately recognizable symbol. An Icon. I want what I look like to represent who I am. In short, I will now be creating my own avatar. As best as I can with the options I've been given. Most people can immediately describe the character and/or appearance of say, Jesus or Goku or Superman or Bruce Lee when asked to do so. I want to be the same way. I want to be a household name. Like Coca-Cola or Arnold Schwarzenegger. A verb. I am well aware this is my ego talking and that such aspirations also inherently prove risky (on many levels) but regardless, this is how I feel. All humans want to be remembered as it is our most feasible chance at immortality. A legacy is far easier to attain than actual eternal life. I am no different.
In favor of brevity I will eschew talking about the character I aspire to embody and will instead focus on the outward appearance of my physical body.
I want to be tan, fit, lean and muscular. In addition to actually being athletic and powerful, I want to look it. Crisp, clean lines around neatly trimmed hair. As far as manner of dress. I want to be tactical, yet fashionable. Function first, fashion second.
In other Vish-news...
I am officially done inhaling combusted cannabis until I have secured a gym membership, the ability to get there and the time to use it. This requires a job and transportation. Neither of which I have now. You can't respectfully smoke marijuana without maintaining a productive lifestyle. In my opinion, at least. And right now I am just a bum. A typical stoner. NO MORE, I say. One blunt before a workout. Maybe a pipe on the weekends. No more chiefin' joints and smokin' roaches. No more midis. Only beautiful nuggets. Green. Colorful. Hairy. (just like me)
When I start living in a manner that I am proud of and pleases me, I will resume my willful habit. But first, I must prove myself. To myself.
"Get out of here, you muscular jock asshole." Their gazes said to me.
"We don't like your kind round these parts..."
Whereas in Casual Male XL, everyone's eyes were saying,
"Oh look at you, you skinny little faggot. Oh boo hoo, my arms are too long for shirts. Boo hoo, I can't find pants that are loose in the thighs but actually fit in the waist."
Tertium Quid again rears its ugly head. Has me thinking I'll just have to get rich and have everything custom made. That way I can also have everything be hemp.
The whole ordeal had me feeling really bourgeois and affluent.
Like seriously, is buying jeans or shoes really this big of a deal?
Really that important?
Just buy a fucking pair of pants or shoes and shut the fuck up already. Yeesh.
I went in with the attitude of survival first, fashion second. I wanted durable fitting jeans that I could still move around in and a pair of boots that would keep my feet dry without being or looking clunky. It ended up turning into a fiasco that many women immediately identified with, according to the comments on my facebook status updates throughout the day.
When jeans fit over my thighs and ass they are WAY too loose around my waist and look retarded. Frumpy. Like that bullshit trend among teenagers where they wear jeans three sizes too small but yet somehow still manage to sag. The other options are jeans that fit in the waist and either look like gangsta-ass gangsta baggy jeans, that would be entirely unpractical to commence any sort of physical activity in, or jeans so tight they look like they could be painted on. I seriously felt like I was going to need cut out of every "fashionable" pair of jeans I tried on.
The boots I didn't feel as girly about, but I was still quite disappointed. Having a wide foot really fucks you for most shoes. Your options are crush the sides of your foot or have enough space in front of your toes that you end up sliding all around inside and chafing the fuck out of your ankles. I chose neither. Again, maybe I'll just have to wait until I can have everything custom-made.
I ended up leaving without buying anything. Seeing as how as I have less than a dollar to my name (indeed negative dollars) it was probably better that way. It doesn't change the fact that I still need/desire a solid pair of jeans and boots.
The ridiculousness and triviality of these "problems" does not escape me. Whereas people are dying just to find clean drinking water I'm bitching about the waitress putting ice in mine when I specifically asked her not to. Ludicrous. Then again, "problems" are only relative anyway... Even though you might laugh at a person being upset over losing a million dollars when they still have ten million more I'm sure that person is still quite sad about it. And rightfully so.
It just seems silly to me to bitch about finding correctly-fitting pants when there are people in the world THAT DON'T EVEN WEAR PANTS.
At some point, Kov wondered aloud, "What if you were in an asexual homosexual relationship?" His delivery was genuine and I could see the irony had yet to dawn on him. I sat quietly and just stared at him, waiting for the pink elephant in the room to wave his way. It did eventually and we each shared a chuckle.
Asexual homosexual relationship? No thank you. I want a sexual heterosexual relationship. I love women and I miss sex. I miss cuddling even more. I also miss sharing the burden of daily life in a near-perfect harmonious relationship. I hate to do dishes, my x loved them. I love to vacuum, my x hated it. Sooooo she did the dishes and I vacuumed. Perfect. I want that sort of relationship again. Natural. Organic. Not forced. Each one picking up where the other one leaves off.
That feeling combined with all the sympathy I received after my trying-on-jeans escapade helps to reinforce just how much I want and need a woman in my life. Not just one I can live with, but one I can't live with out. I think I want to fall in love again. But a huge part of me knows I'm not ready. Thinks I will NEVER be ready, ever again. My last x destroyed my heart. Ripped it out of my chest and stomped on it. Then wore the blood-covered boots out and told everyone where it came from. I could go into further detail but I don't wanna sound like a whiny emo teenager. Bad shit happens to everyone, you deal with it and move on.
It's just kinda hard to move on when your faith in the entire human race has been all but obliterated.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
It's shitty, but I want like a "rental" girlfriend. I'm not ready to settle down yet, so looking for more serious options would be doing both parties a disservice. I eventually want a wife that I'm madly in love with and can raise children with, but I'm simply not ready for her yet. Or them. (Our future kids) I am still a child myself. I need to figure myself out and get my life together before I think about pursuing a life-time partnership. Or creating/molding lives with said partner. It just sucks because I know that if I had a strong woman to depend on, and share with, that I could much more easily get my life together. It's like needing a car to get a job, but needing a job to get a car.
Back to the avatar talk...
I LOVE that movie. Just as it as. As a standalone entertainment experience. But also (and maybe even more so) for the the thoughts and ideas it created in me. Not only the long-standing return-to-nature theme that has been prevalent in my life for so many years, but also the concept of avatars.
In LittleBiGPlanet the first customization I gave to my Sackboy left him looking like a blue lion-man with a smile. When I was younger I gravitated toward Kimahri Ronso when my friends and I played FFX. The Beast was my second favorite X-Men character. I'm pretty fast and agile for a big guy and even a touch graceful. Blue is one of my three favorite colors. These and a whole slew of other things just left me enamored with the concept of inhabiting a twelve-foot blue lion-person body after coming out of the theater for Avatar. So many connections between things in my life lead to being an anthropomorphic cat-man.
So all this factored in and combined with my recent awareness of my apparent split-personality has left me wondering how best to physically represent myself. How best to express my inner self with my appearance. I have many "set" characters that I can slip in to, and out of, at will. With ease, (Sometimes TOO easily, and maybe not so willingly according to others.) Some are established and easily recognized and just modified for my purposes. Others are of my own creation. Others still are unnamed and not distinctly divided from the rest. In a stereotypically vain move, I've taken to using many of my friends as outward representations of my character.
But despite all those people swimming around in my head (or maybe because of) a single "overlord" has yet to emerge. The ultimate symbol of Josh Vish-itude. There have been a few attempts, and I'm sure people I know have opinions on the matter, but the truth is, I don't feel I've completely realized who I am yet. As a character or in appearance.
I've decided to take it to the drawing board and to design myself from head to toe. From the inside to the out. To turn myself into an immediately recognizable symbol. An Icon. I want what I look like to represent who I am. In short, I will now be creating my own avatar. As best as I can with the options I've been given. Most people can immediately describe the character and/or appearance of say, Jesus or Goku or Superman or Bruce Lee when asked to do so. I want to be the same way. I want to be a household name. Like Coca-Cola or Arnold Schwarzenegger. A verb. I am well aware this is my ego talking and that such aspirations also inherently prove risky (on many levels) but regardless, this is how I feel. All humans want to be remembered as it is our most feasible chance at immortality. A legacy is far easier to attain than actual eternal life. I am no different.
In favor of brevity I will eschew talking about the character I aspire to embody and will instead focus on the outward appearance of my physical body.
I want to be tan, fit, lean and muscular. In addition to actually being athletic and powerful, I want to look it. Crisp, clean lines around neatly trimmed hair. As far as manner of dress. I want to be tactical, yet fashionable. Function first, fashion second.
In other Vish-news...
I am officially done inhaling combusted cannabis until I have secured a gym membership, the ability to get there and the time to use it. This requires a job and transportation. Neither of which I have now. You can't respectfully smoke marijuana without maintaining a productive lifestyle. In my opinion, at least. And right now I am just a bum. A typical stoner. NO MORE, I say. One blunt before a workout. Maybe a pipe on the weekends. No more chiefin' joints and smokin' roaches. No more midis. Only beautiful nuggets. Green. Colorful. Hairy. (just like me)
When I start living in a manner that I am proud of and pleases me, I will resume my willful habit. But first, I must prove myself. To myself.
Last night after getting some grub at Mad Mex with the pair of Kevs, Little Kev wanted to hit the town. Apparently Big Kev had made it seem like that was the plan, so when he was talking of heading home Little Kev was left wanting. So he asked me to head out and about with him. Again, I all too happily obliged.
We first went to Oakland and the Spice Cafe. It was too loud for normal conversation and after a water and contrived conversation with a waitress we decided to roll out. We then made our way to Shadyside. After parking, we putzed around and eventually came to Alto Lounge. There was a pleasant group of attractive young females cutting a rug on the dance floor and music of an acceptable volume. We stayed there for a bit and flirted with the bartender. A ridiculously attractive brunette dressed sportily. She helped us find directions (on her Macbook) to Shadow Lounge. And that is where we headed next.
This whole time we were chit-chatting away in the car as both of us are extremely talkative and passionate. A few common topics emerged. He was quite pleased with the feeling of adventure afforded to him by driving around somewhat aimlessly and eager to break into nightlife. Prior to my forced isolation, I was never much for the bar scene. I abhor tobacco and those that smoke it and for the most part don't even care to drink. I like beer and I drink it with meals, but I do it in the snobby sense. I say shit like, "Oh notes of cardamom..." or "These hops were harvested quite young..." Drinking for me is not "LET'S GET SHIT-FACED!!!" I have never understood that mentality. Beverage is beverage and regarded largely the same way I treat food. Regardless of these facts he chose me to be his liaison. Which I can certainly understand, giving where I grew up and my time spent in LA. And because of my unwilling segregation I've been desiring to go out more as well.
After parking we rolled up to the front door which was flanked by a few scattered groups. One such group of which was a trio of attractive ladies pleasantly puffing some pot right out in front. On my own I would've taken a hit for sure, but with Little Kev nearby I didn't want to chance making him feel awkward. He's only just breaking into the social scene and I anticipated he would have felt lost while I was shooting the shit with fellow smokers. This was later confirmed as accurate by him. We poked our heads in and after finding out there was a ten dollar cover for a place that would be closing in roughly a half an hour, we decided to bail. The victory was already won. Little Kev just wanted to know where the place was for sure and I was happy with the crowd I had viewed in my short time there. The lingering scent of cannabis smokily hanging in the air, and rhythmic beats I'd have no problem movin mah feets to, will surely bring us both back there soon.
I am ready and waiting for you, Monday.
Big things should be happening tomorrow and hopefully I'll get a chance to write about them soon thereafter .
In other Vish-news...
ReplyDeleteI am officially done inhaling combusted cannabis until I have secured a gym membership, the ability to get there and the time to use it. This requires a job and transportation. Neither of which I have now. You can't respectfully smoke marijuana without maintaining a productive lifestyle. In my opinion, at least. And right now I am just a bum. A typical stoner. NO MORE, I say. One blunt before a workout. Maybe a pipe on the weekends. No more chiefin' joints and smokin' roaches. No more midis. Only beautiful nuggets. Green. Colorful. Hairy. (just like me)
^^yesssssssssss! We need to get back to that
<3Abbles