Saturday, July 14, 2012

Vintage Star Wars Awesomeness at Mom's House


I've known that she had this somewhere for awhile now. She bought it for my dad, for $10, in the early '80's. She showed this to me years and years ago, probably around the same time she showed me the album of pictures from my dad's little foray in the 'Nam. And while that album is just as awesome, it is not one bit geeky (unless you count the shots of my incredibly skinny father in combat gear with ginormous nerd glasses on), so let's just focus on the Return of the Jedi portfolio.

It had never occurred to me before the moment that I saw this item again, but Ralph McQuarrie is obviously the artist who did the iconic movie poster mash-ups for the original movies. For some reason I had never put that together before. He designed so much of the films and I had no idea. From what I've gathered, he designed C-3PO and R2-D2. He suggested the breathing apparatus for Darth Vader. Not to mention all of the other things he designed. And I don't remember ever looking at the prints before either, so when I started to pull the pristine sheets of paper out with all of this new knowledge, magic ensued.

Pizza delivery for a Mr. Jabba the Hut?


I about peed myself when I saw this one. 


Almost peed myself yet again.

These were my favorites. I also enjoyed the picture of Sy Snootles and Droopy McCool, and if you think I'm making these names up and they can't possibly be Star Wars names, look them up. And you'll know exactly who they are if you've seen Return of the Jedi. In fact, go to this Wikipedia article, because the exact art drawing that's pictured at the top is the one that's in this portfolio. I'm just too lazy to take a crooked picture for you and post it. 

Nevertheless, as I was leaving mom's, she bestowed these prints to my care forever and always. All is well in my geek world. 






Sunday, July 1, 2012

I Do Not Want to Hear Your Opinion


I know I've said this sometime before, and I think I need to print it on t-shirts and bumper stickers or something: Say what you want about me, but leave my gadgets out of it.

I realized just how true this is of myself the other day when I was at the mall with a friend. There are a ton of malls around here, but the super high-end one has an Apple store in it. Surprise surprise. It also has all these ridiculous stores like Juicy Couture and Tiffany & Co., and you get treated to about six judgmental stares per square foot of mall space. It makes sense, I've done the equations. 

And then there's the Apple store. A happy place of laughter and rainbows. Where it's always 15 degrees hotter than out in the mall. Or maybe you're just sweating with anticipation. But you don't care. You're treading on holy ground. You should have to leave your shoes outside and go in barefoot.

Aaaanyway. My friend and I walk in so I can show him the MacBook Pro I'm considering once the new OS drops. Naturally the new retina display Macbook Pro is on the first table. I cavort over to it and move the mouse pointer around on the screen and gaze up at my friend, who is standing a little behind me with his hands in his pockets. "Isn't it just beautiful," I swoon, wondering if the screen would taste good if I licked it. 

And he peers at it for a moment, shrugs, and says, "It's not that impressive, really."

Suddenly there's this churning rage in my middle. I turn on him, incredulous, "Are you nuts? Look at it! It's so crisp and the colors are so bold and--"

"It's not mind-blowing or anything. My VAIO is HD and probably looks better."

My fists are clenching and unclenching at this point. "THIS IS THE HIGHEST RESOLUTION LAPTOP ON EARTH YOU FOOL."

"Just doesn't seem that great to me. I'd pay $600 tops for this."

I storm off at this point, livid for no reason whatsoever. Literally no reason. You are entitled to your opinion. That's perfectly fine. But your opinion enrages me. I do not want to hear your opinion.  I feel like I can very logically argue the case of Mac vs PC. I have owned and used PCs for 90% of my life. But then things changed. I could afford Macs. And I bought them. I bought all of them. And I am never, ever going back. It's so much more than the gadget. It's the stuff it's packaged in. Remember when I opened my new iPad? It's an experience in itself. Apple knows this. Nothing is shoddy with them. They don't cut corners. Their products aren't littered with garbage programs (like the 6000 apps that come on Android phones, most of which are complete shit) and error messages. Some people whine that they hate it because it's not open-source. Or that it's too expensive. Some people could care less about the whole experience and just want a decent, cheap computer. Well that's fine, you can think that way. 

But I don't want to hear it. I am fully aware of my fangirl geekdom. I will not speak to you for hours. I will hold a grudge for days, depending on the offense. In fact, this is literally the single quickest way to piss me off. I know it's irrational and childish. But I can't help it. In fact I think the worst kind of people who blast Apple products are the ones who have never used them, or used them once 18 years ago and that was the day they found out their wife wanted a divorce, so all Apple products suck. This is why I feel perfectly justified when I blast PCs, because I've used them since I was taught the alphabet on a keyboard. I'd say it would be the same for Apple fanboys who have never used PCs, but I'm fairly certain everyone has used a PC. You can't go through school without using one, because Windows 95 machines were the only thing available in the stupid computer lab and that's where you played games on Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing, which you excelled at, and all the other kids were like "What the hell is a semicolon and why must I type it?"

So now that I'm done ranting, I'll probably be making something stupid soon with my new life motto on it. I'm considering a coffee mug. 


Sunday, June 17, 2012

Moving (Mostly) Complete: Initiate Enjoyment Phase


Seriously, bless my mother and her Doctor Who t-shirt for attempting to make sense of this madness, but NOT EVEN I CAN MAKE SENSE OF THIS MADNESS.

Anywho, I haven't posted in a month because things are finally becoming less HAJKDHLSKJAK around here. Just a few days ago I finally got to actually sleep in the bedroom, on my fully-assembled bed. Where, as you'll see below, I spent three weeks sleeping on the mattress in the middle of the living room floor. And then there's the matter of the whirlwind romance I had with the LG plasma TV from hell. I parted ways with that asshole after fighting for several weeks to save our relationship. But it, quite literally, just wasn't working. 

So here's my basic setup for those three weeks:


  1. The LG plasma TV from hell, probably on the only night that it actually worked.
  2. Where I laid on my back listening to ten thousand tractor trailers rumbling past on nights when I had the windows open, while my cat sang songs to the walls.
  3. "The Beast." This a/c unit comes very close to hitting absolute zero, and on several occasions I've been tempted to call a scientist because I'm fairly certain I've broken a record.
  4. Four hundred boxes of useless shit.


But all that aside, my living room floor is now clear, and I adore where I live. I already have a route I take when I go on walks in the evenings. I hit up the library (the first thing I gave up in order to save money was buying books, because I buy way too many) and check out what's new, then sit for awhile on the stone wall outside the library just relaxing. Then I hop down and go up the street past all the little outdoor cafes and pick up a coffee beverage at Starbucks. Sometimes I sit outside there for awhile too, just people-watching. I'm completely thrilled that I moved where I did. There's also a Wines and Spirits within walking distance. I don't need to elaborate any further.

So this coming weekend I get to buy me a couch and proceed to become one of those people with an apartment full of Ikea furniture. Who meets a guy named Tyler Durden on an airplane and then finds out his apartment full of Ikea furniture has exploded, except he actually did it himself, but you have no idea until later, and I just ruined the movie/book for anyone who hasn't seen it/read it. But seriously who the hell hasn't seen it/read it? You're all losers.

I also have a feeling I'll be indulging in a Macbook Pro in a couple months. Because you know, I need it and stuff. For all the professional geeking that I do. On my future couch in my living room. 


Sunday, May 13, 2012

The Terrors and Joys of Moving

I'm moving in less than a week. I don't take change well. It could be great, awesome change, but I'd still be all nerves and worries and little fits of heart palpitations. In fact I've actually been counting down to this day for almost two years. And now I'm dreading it, dreading it like a visit to my cousin's house on Thanksgiving to see the 99% of my family who are basically complete strangers to me. I knew it was going to happen. I knew without a doubt that I'd be freaking out at this point, but that doesn't make it any easier.

Take last night, for instance. I spent all day getting things together and starting the awful process of packing. I won't even get into how much moving sucks, because you know it does. If you're reading this, you're nodding and thanking Jesus that you aren't moving yourself. Unless you are, in which case, my heart goes out to you.

Anyway, I haven't slept well in days. Last night I just laid in my bed and cried for no good reason. I'm expecting this to be a trend for the entire week. Perhaps even into my first days or even weeks at the new place. I've been wanting to live by myself practically since I had any sort of inkling about moving out back in high school. I'm sick of fighting over what stuff belongs to who. Over who should be scrubbing their toothpaste remnants off the bathroom sink. I've had roommates, and I'll never live with a girl ever again. Women are really horrible things. I lived with a boyfriend too, and let me tell you, trying to decide what shit is yours when you're moving out is absolute hell. The next person I live with will be, god forbid, the wandering soul out there who decides they'd like to marry me. Until then it's just me and my cat and my gadgets, thank you very much.

Every single item in my new place is going to belong to me. The toilet scrubber, the awesome original art prints, the Iron Man blu-ray, the 50 inch plasma TV. All mine. And nobody will be there to give me disapproving looks when I just want to sit on my ass and watch hockey or something instead of fold my clothes. I can make as much noise as I please when I stumble in at 2 AM, and nobody will be there to ask "Where have you been? Where are your shoes? Weren't you wearing a bra when you left?"

That's where my worries start, though. There's this thing with anxiety. I worry about everything. I've made my peace with that fact because it's never going to change. I'm already thinking ahead months when I potentially realize how completely and utterly alone I am in this place with my cat as my only company. Then I'll probably get another cat, because that's what lonely people do or something. And there's a negative correlation between how many cats one owns and one's chances of obtaining and keeping a boyfriend. But I'll worry about that when I actually start to worry about it. At this point I'm just excited to be able to leave the door open when I go to the bathroom, and I don't expect the novelty of that to wear off for a really long time.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Internet Speeds of the 90's Would Kill Me Today

I had some sort of 90's flashback yesterday. I was trying to download this ungodly large file. Like, double-digit gigabytes large.* The download feels like it's dragging. I feel inordinately impatient. The speed is going at 2 mb/s or something. The percent downloaded goes up by one every five minutes or so. I want to smash watermelons with a sledgehammer. I want to die.

Then I have my 90's flashback. I remember sitting at my crazy old corner desk back in the day (that thing is STILL in the same spot, but now it's got a bunch of junk on it, and occasionally I gaze in at the poor thing like a long forgotten toy from my childhood). I grew up during dial-up. I knew the tune of the dial-up modem like I knew all the words to every stupid Britney Spears song. I could've sung the aria of the "Dial-Up Modem Opera" true and clear, if it was possible for human vocal chords to actually make those sounds. As soon as the modem made a funny noise during its song-and-dance ritual of connecting to the internet, I froze, like a deer in headlights. I loathed that moment. When the modem finished its beeping, whooshing tune and I found myself connected to the world wide web, all was right with the world.**

I remember trying to illegally download the newest Backstreet Boys song, "Larger than Life." I couldn't buy the CD because I was a freaking kid and nobody would buy it for me. But I needed that song in my life more than I needed all my posters of Zac Hanson taped to my closet doors. The file was probably a few megabytes in size, unlike songs now with their epic sound quality weighing in at 9 mb or more. So let's say it was a 3 mb song. It took hours. Literally two hours at least. I bet that was one of the happiest moments in my life, when that song finally downloaded and I listened to this stupid song that was for some reason my only key to happiness.

So I'm looking at this 30 gb file I'm downloading now. It has 30 minutes or so left. It's going at about 2.5 mb/s now. That old Backstreet Boys song would have downloaded in a single second today.

ONE. SECOND.




* No it's not porn you fools.
** I'm not like, obsessed with the internet or anything. Like, come on, guys.

Monday, April 9, 2012

The Dumbest Moment of My Entire Life

It's Easter Sunday. I walk out to the kitchen to survey the progress of the ham in the oven, because a good ham is the way to my heart. Forget diamond rings. Can you make a good ham? Maybe we'll end up alright.

Anyway, I peek at this ham like the dad in A Christmas Story. I actually stick my hand in the oven in order to pry off one of the end slices, and my mother's pork senses activate in the other room. Just as the skin is melting off my fingers and I'm about to dislodge a delicious slice of sweet honey ham, I hear "ASHLEY GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF THE HAM."

Then I look up at the oven. It says 2:33 left, and I cry a little inside at having to wait another two and a half hours. The turkeys that are usually running around through the backyard are probably laughing their asses off at me. I trudge dejectedly out of the kitchen.

I come back later in search of a crescent roll, and I happen to glance at the oven again. The display now says 3:17. I stand for a moment, crescent roll sticking out of my mouth, completely flabbergasted. I chew the last of the crescent. I take a step out of the kitchen to find my mother's eyes already on me, just waiting to yell at me for getting at the ham again.

And then it happens. The confused expression is still on my face. I glance back at the oven. Then I say the dumbest thing I've ever said in my entire life.

"Why does the time left for the ham keep going up?"

She stares at me. Then I get it. Instantly I get it. But it's too late. The damage is done. This is normally something that would happen to my mother. Normally she says something ridiculous and I get to make fun of her for the next hour. And she's not about to let this go. Not now, not five years from now, not when we run into my boss in public, not when she meets whoever it is that I end up marrying.

"Ashley, that's the CLOCK."

Just shoot me now. Ah well, at least the ham was a salty sweet meaty dream of juicy deliciousness.*


*Don't even say it. I know what you're thinking. Barbeque ribs, am I right?

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Impulsive iPad-Hunting

Obviously you know what this is about already, but I like to tell really long stories, so you'll just have to suffer through. This weekend started off really well and only snowballed from there. My Pittsburgh Penguins extended their win streak to 11 yesterday. I terrified my cat on more than one occasion by leaping out of my chair in elation. I ignored all of the St. Patrick's Day reveling because I despise it*, but that's an entirely separate story that, to be completely honest, I will never tell you, and you probably don't care about it anyway.

I was refreshing my iPad order status page every half hour, as I've been doing for about a week now. Since I waited entirely too long to order it, the ship date read "April 3," which was unacceptable on all sorts of levels. But what could I do? I could get it at an Apple store or something, but they'd all be sold out. Right? RIGHT?!

Wrong, apparently. I found this shady website that tells me possible stock levels of the new iPad at local Targets. Don't ask me how I find these things, because I literally have no clue whatsoever. I'm like an internet bloodhound. I'm a drug-sniffing K-9 unit, and this shoddy website advertising iPad stock levels was like a big bag of cocaine.

Anyway. I don't know what came over me. I suddenly saw a clear path to my destiny. My destiny being the local Target, where there may or may not have been a 32gb white iPad waiting for me. My order from Apple could still be canceled. So I got up and went to Target. I was fully prepared to be let down. I mean maybe not fully; I still had a whole lot of hope that the world would not lead me astray.

I should've taken a picture of what I saw when I got to the aisle with the iPads and e-readers and whatnot. They were locked in a glass case of course. But there were three iPads directly over the price tag for the 16gb white, which I didn't want, and three iPads directly over the price tag for the 64gb white, which I also didn't want. Nothing over the 32gb. Undeterred, I approached one of the electronics department employees, a skinny kid with long hair that he had to continually toss out of his face. It was actually distracting, even in my hyper-focused state. I wanted to brush it. It looked tangly. And give him a damn hair tie.

So he opens the glass case and shifts through the other iPads nearby, just incase somebody pushed it into the wrong spot or some stupid shit. Honestly put the iPads where they belong, don't be giving poor twenty-something girls heart attacks by making it appear that you're out of stock. Anyway, he pulled one of the iPads out after looking through them and scanned it with his little scanner thingamajig and said "Yep, this is it. Very last one."

I spent the entire 15 minute drive home trying my damnedest not to actually throw up from excitement, and also attempting not to push the speed limit. You see, the last time I've been that excited driving home from any purchase was when I got the seventh Harry Potter book at midnight, after which I got pulled over for going 80, laughed at by the cop as I bawled my eyes out and clutched my book, and sent on my merry way with barely even a warning. I just wanted to read, officer. I JUST WANTED TO READ.



Unboxing was, of course, weirdly enjoyable as always. It's these little things that make Apple's products so great overall. Then I spent the rest of the night setting up and restoring from my old iPad. Then I fell asleep in a gadget-happy coma, with visions of retina-display icons dancing in my head. MERRY APPLE TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD IPAD.


* Yes I realize my shirt is green in that picture. I didn't do it on purpose and didn't realize until I was already in the car. I give no shits whatsoever.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

New iPad vs. New Couch



I want the new iPad (I almost typed "iPad 3" here, but that just wasn't meant to be). But I'm moving in two months and the option to get one was never really an option at all. Just a far-fetched dream involving sipping pina coladas in the Bahamas while reading an article on my iPad. Or waiting for a flight to Italy while reading an article on my iPad. Or having somebody take a picture of me meeting Sidney Crosby, then them probably running away with my iPad, and me being very upset for about two seconds before I realize I'm standing next to Sidney Crosby and this would probably be a good story to tell our children someday.

So me getting a new iPad was obviously farfetched. Until my dad told me someone was going to offer me $400 for my original. I had an idea that this was an astronomical number. So I thought about it for about twelve hours, ten of which I was fast asleep for, and I've decided to do it. Now the only problem is that I'm moving in two months, need tons of furniture, and really shouldn't be spending any single bits of money on gadgets.

But I mean who am I kidding? I'd rather spend a couple hundred on a new iPad than have a couch. People can sit on the floor. Nice comfy floor.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Shameful Tiny Tower Clone is Shameful; Zynga not Ashamed

As much as I hate bolstering whatever usage and download statistics Zynga has, I downloaded Dream Heights a day or two after it was released. As I suspected, the game is an embarrassment. Their one and only original idea for it seems to be specific famous landmarks for you to surpass, such as the Taj Mahal and Statue of Liberty. That's...cool I guess.
Oh come on. They aren't including the torch in the height for the Statue of Liberty? It's un-American! These bastards hate America!

I got a little carried away, but I digress.

The graphics are horrid, and I'll never understand what makes Zynga think this looks good. And all of their games look like this. The "Zyngafied" graphics are like their special personal touch. I wonder if over at Zynga headquarters, a game is made, then placed into a "Zyngafier" contraption that pretty much makes it look like garbage. For some reason that wouldn't surprise me.

One thing that makes me happy is the amount of one-star reviews for it on iTunes. Nevertheless, it's not enough to make a huge difference. As of this moment, there are 659 one-star reviews, and 5416 five-star reviews. Also irritating is Zynga employees posting five-star reviews. I'm sure every company does this. But the fact that a Zynga producer called the game "beautiful, fun, and polished" makes me weep a little bit.

The problem is that if Zynga makes something, it will be a top download, and people will love it no matter what it is. They could make another clone of literally any game, and people will post glowing reviews of how amazing it is. And all we can do to dispute it is post one-star reviews on the game, which really doesn't do much in the long run. That's about the only thing anyone can do though. I'll be interested to see if anything develops in the coming weeks. In the meantime, do not download this game. Download Tiny Tower. And remember: Friends don't let friends play blatant copies of successful games.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Those Zynga Bastards and Other General Copycats


This is alarming. But it's everywhere these days, especially in mobile and browser gaming. I noticed a lot of posts last week about this topic and thought I'd throw in my thoughts as well, especially because the story above really irked me the most. Above is the top of an infographic that NimbleBit (a team of three, who produced the 2011 iPhone Game of the Year Tiny Tower) released upon seeing some interesting tidbits about Zynga's new game, Dream Heights. You can see the whole image here, which I suggest you do, because it's absolutely disgusting.

Zynga is by no means the only company guilty of this, but I'm going to focus on them now. It is blatantly obvious that they copied Tiny Tower. They cannot, in any way, say they were just "inspired" by it. It is a blatant copy. Why? Because Tiny Tower was successful. And it was free. So not only was it successful and well-made and unbelievably fun, but it was one of the few great free games on the App Store that wasn't some sort of "Pet Shop Zoo Cafe Story" clone. And Zynga wanted some of that.

What I really do not understand is how this is allowed to happen at all. I'm well aware that I do not know much at all about copyrights and intellectual property and whatnot, but I simply do not get it. Zynga started with one or two original games, which everyone else copied. Like I said, they are not the only bad guys here. So they had an original idea (FarmVille), clones were made (like Barn Buddy, who the hell thought that was a good name?) and all of it just sort of happened. Then Zynga started copying games. In fact, they even started copying themselves, which they are obviously allowed to do, but still confuses the hell out of me. Please, stop making the "With Friends" games. Keep the ones you have, maybe axe Scramble with Friends because it's total crap, and just improve on Words and Hanging. And come on. The ad-free versions of these games are $2.99! They aren't even close to being worth that much. I could buy a block of cheese for $2.99 and get far more enjoyment out of it.

The only game that Zynga made that's good is called Drop7. That's it on the left. Nobody has even heard about it. It lurks in the shadowy corners of the iTunes App Store like an illegitimate child that Zynga wants to keep a secret.  Granted, there's also a $2.99 ad-free version that I refuse to buy, but the game is still great and the ads aren't even noticeable. It has nice music and sound effects and is a really fun way to work your brain. I stumbled upon it because the icon had that damn Zynga dog in the corner, and it was clearly something I'd never heard of. If I hadn't been surfing the App Store looking for new ways to waste my time, I never would have known the game even existed. And strangely enough, it doesn't seem to be a clone except for basic gameplay principles. If Zynga made more self-contained games like this, perhaps they wouldn't be seen as a big money-sucking bully. But then again something tells me they don't really care how anybody views them, as long as money is pouring in.

Anyway, my point is that I'd really like to know how all of these games can get copied over and over and nothing is done about it except for a snarky infographic that kinda-sorta calls them out. Is there some sort of legal thing somewhere that says anybody can copy your stuff in such-and-such a case and so forth? I mean, the similarities I see between Zynga's Dream Heights and NimbleBit's Tiny Tower are amazing. I'd even liken it to almost word-for-word plagiarism. And I'm pretty sure plagiarism isn't allowed in published works. They just kind of Zynga-fied the graphics and called it theirs. Nevertheless, there's one good thing I've seen in the midst of all of this. A week or so ago there was a whole host of horrific clones in the App Store. Temple Jump (after Temple Run), Plant vs. Zombies (after Plants vs. Zombies), and a few more were fooling poor idiots everywhere into spending $.99 when they were nowhere close to the real games. But happily, Apple took all of the clones down. It makes me wonder what would happen if the name of Zynga's game was much more similar to NimbleBit's. What if the name was Little Skyscraper or something? Would things be different? Something tells me that yes...they would. And that is a little horrifying.

But honestly now, if anybody can explain this to me, please do so. Because it literally blows my mind. I know there's a fine line between copying and just being inspired by something...I don't know, maybe I'm just being ridiculous because the offense in this case seems so blatant. So please, comment away!

Update 2/19/12: Shameful Tiny Tower Clone is Shameful; Zynga not Ashamed

The New Hotness

Let me first give a piece of advice: Never assume something you've never done before is going to be simple, even if it honestly seems like it is going to be simple. If anyone has come here over the last week or so, you probably saw that god-awful "server not found" page day in and day out. Attempting to get Blogger to redirect to my newly unhosted domain was about as easy as convincing my cat to stop snacking on the roots of my hair in the dead of the night. Which is to say, really freaking hard. But it never would have happened as quickly if not for Mike Woycheck (the site-fixing, not the cat-convincing), who is possibly the most patient person I know, and who thankfully knew some secrets to get me up and running again. Tweet @woycheck and tell him he's awesome!

I honestly have about four blog posts in the works, and one or two are kind of out of date now since I'm an idiot and thought I'd be able to just change some server settings and have everything redirecting in two shakes of a lamb's tail, but I don't care too much, and if YOU care, you probably shouldn't be here at all.

Nevertheless, the newest bit of geekery in my life is that Casey got us tickets to the Distant Worlds Final Fantasy concert on February 25 for Valentine's Day, and I will most likely be weeping fat tears of joy the entire time. This is literally something I've wanted to see since I played Final Fantasy VII ages and ages ago. And then there's the complete, heart-wrenching ardor I feel for the Final Fantasy X score, which you may remember from this post. All of the symphonies were always in Japan or NYC or somewhere else equally unachievable. And it's happening in ten days. Ten! I've had so much to look forward to this year and there's still more to come. So since everything seems to be working again, expect a post later today involving my views on some of the copycat games that have been popping up (I'm looking at you, Zynga) and even more to come. Hopefully no more hiccups with the site in the future!

Saturday, January 28, 2012

EVERYTHING WILL CHANGE.

Things are going to get all sorts of crazy around here. I've decided to go ultra minimalist as far as the blog. All this extraneous crap--Twitter, Flickr, Goodreads, blogroll, useless information about myself--will be going elsewhere. Off to have a magical time together in a sparkly new locale. The address for all of that good stuff is forthcoming. The blog might be down for a bit soon, and will more than likely look a whole ton different when it comes back up. In the meantime, here's a really stupid and slightly traumatizing video that has absolutely nothing to do with anything I have just said. See you guys soon!