OMG! I have decided that I am going to attempt to take both of my children to see Meet the Robinsons. I'm not sure when, but I saw this movie trailer, and laughed my ass off! I'm going to go see it for this 5-second clip alone.
This weekend, we drove down to visit my parents. They live about 200 miles south of here. Any time we can get both kids down and back and maintain our sanity, it is an accomplishment. This weekend tested that. Everyone was fine on the way down, but on the way back, the children decided to go crazy. Georgia started by whipping off her Dora sandals and screaming “Feet! FEET!” This is her way of telling me that she wants me to massage her toes. So I did my reach around arm straining thing and tickled her toes until my arm fell asleep.
When I stopped. she started screaming, and Eric and I thought that was a perfect time for a bathroom break. Plus Eli said he needed to go potty. We stopped at McDonald’s, and I got out to take Eli in to the bathroom. He refused. He was NOT going to the women’s room. Oh crimeny. We all had to go in.
When we finally made it back in the car, we managed to go a few miles before Georgia decided she needed to climb out of her car seat. We pulled over. We cinched that damn car seat up as tight as we could get it and strapped her back in. Now she was really pissed. And screaming. And Eli was screaming at Georgia to stop screaming. Perfect.
By the time she finally calmed herself down, Eli said he needed to go potty. Again. So we stopped. Again. Eric took Eli in, and when Georgia realized she wasn’t getting out of the car, she began screaming bloody murder. Again.
So she and I got out of the car and went inside the gas station. After the boys got out of the bathroom, we decided to get everyone something to drink. Imagine all of us trying to decide what to drink. While we were doing that, the children turned the gas station into their personal playground. At one point we looked over, and Georgia had picked up an apple out of a bin and took a bite out of it. When we got ahold of her, we looked over and saw Eli eating popcorn right out of the popcorn machine. I’m sure the employees were very happy to see us collect our children and leave.
We finally got home in a lot more time than what it should have taken us. This caused Eric to rethink out summer vacation. Originally, we were planning to drive somewhere on the Coast, take the kids to a beach, or possibly drive to the Grand Canyon. We are talking very long car rides. After last weekend’s drive down to Eric’s parents, he decided maybe we should go someplace closer – maybe Lake of the Ozarks. After this weekend’s trip, he decided that maybe we could stay in a nice hotel across town.
We asked the children what they thought. Eli responded with his new talent of making himself burp and laughing hysterically. And Georgia responded by screaming the word “NNNNNNOOOOOOOO!” which is now how she answers every question posed to her.
Yeah. I’m definitely thinking across town. Maybe.
Okay, this is going to be a slightly different take on things. Morgen’s Manic Monday word for this week is Spring.
Some people may think of flowers blooming now that it’s Spring. I’m usually not a big flower person, but my heart melted a little bit today when Eli came running in from the backyard with a daffodil he had picked just for me. I have it in a champagne flute full of water sitting on the kitchen counter. Eli was also excited because there were two ants crawling on his shirt. Yeesh! I hate ants, but at least I didn’t scream.
The other morning I was fixing breakfast when I heard squeals of delight coming from my bedroom. I walked in to find my children jumping up and down on my bed like it was a trampoline. As they sprang up and down, I thought of how fun that looked. Unfortunately, that thought came in second to the fact that the springs on my bed were protesting. Little Georgia doesn’t do much damage, but Eli can jump like a mad man. I reminded them of the rule – we only get to jump on the bed when we go to a hotel.
My third thought of the word Spring takes me back about 23 years. In 1984, when I was 12 years old, and I begged my parents to let me go to my first concert. They finally gave in, and I went to Wichita with my friend Brooke, her 16-year-old sister and their mom (we were a wild bunch) to see Rick Springfield and Corey Hart in concert at the Kansas Coliseum. Rick Springfield was the headliner in case you weren’t sure.
It was amazing. We sat right by a speaker, and I couldn’t hear for three days after that. Yes, I lost my hearing at a Rick Springfield concert. But I still had a great time! I may even still have the T-shirt somewhere.
I tried to get tickets a few years ago when Mr. Springfield came to Kansas City. He’s still hot. Unfortunately, tickets sold out very quickly. Apparently, he’s still very popular.
So, I hope you will all enjoy this blast from the past. It was a toss up whether or not I should post I’ve Done Everything For You or Jessie’s Girl. Now that I think about it, I also could have gone with Love Somebody. Hmmm . . .
In other words, Motherf*ck!
UCLA - 68
Kansas - 55
And here I had my celebratory Final Four post all ready to go. *sigh* I guess I'll just save it for next year.
Excuse me while I go cry in my beer.
Lots of reasons to celebrate today, and even though I am exhausted, I am exuberant enough to raise a glass for the following reasons:
#1 I am a rock star!
Last night, I had my biggest selling Passion Party so far. I sold $1400 worth of merchandise last night. Since I make 40 percent, that means I made almost $600 last night! Woo hoo! I couldn’t make that kind of money if I were hooking downtown! Dude! I sold 10 Gigis!! Husbands around the metro are singing my praises!
#2 Rock Chalk Jayhawk
It was a close one, folks, but the Hawks did it. Kansas pulled it out against Southern Illinois, 61-58, in a freaking nail-biter to make it to the Elite Eight. I could live without the high blood pressure, but what a great game. I’m a KU grad, in case you all didn’t know, and we haven’t seen a championship since 88. Come on, Bill Self, we’re ready!
#3 Weekly Went continues
Fox has officially picked up Prison Break for a third season! My weekly Went fix shall continue its run. Speaking of Went, he is currently in Korea shooting ads for Bean Pole Jeans. Some of the photos were released today. Does anyone want to see my new screensaver? Oh yeah, baby. Here’s a reason to celebrate!
*sigh* It was a good day.
Every week, I get in my Passion Party orders from the previous week’s parties, package them up and deliver them to my hostesses. This week, the hostess asked that I deliver her orders to her at work. I got them all packaged up discreetly in Wal-Mart grocery bags and put them in my trunk to deliver them to her.
Before I did that, the kids and I desperately needed to run to Wal-Mart grocery store for a few necessary items. Eli took pleasure in pointing out every single Dora item in the store to Georgia, who screamed “DORA!” louder each time.
Just as a side note, have you ever freaking noticed how many items have Dora’s picture on them – yogurt, pop tarts, fruit chews, soup, crackers, popsicles, you name it!! Dora is going to be the death of me! I already had to shell out money for a pink pair of Dora sandals at Wal-Mart on Saturday because Georgia wouldn’t let go of them and it was worth it to avoid the screaming.
But I digress. I sped through the store and threw the groceries in the trunk of my car, strapped the kids in and headed off to deliver my hostess’s Passion Party orders. I pulled up to the shop where she works and parked directly in front so I could run in and not have to take the kids.
I opened the trunk, grabbed two Wal-Mart sacks and rushed inside. I delivered them quickly and ran back out to the car. About halfway home, it occurred to me that I didn’t double check the sacks before I rushed them inside. I had a trunk full of Wal-Mart sacks, and I didn’t double check.
About that time, my cell phone rang. Oh, double crap. It was my hostess. Oops.
I made a U-turn and headed back to her shop. I parked again and this time double checked the sack before I brought it inside. I went in and handed her the Wal-Mart sack with two vibrators and edible massage lotion, and she handed me back my Wal-Mart sack filled with orange juice and yogurt.
Dude. I really need to be more careful.
Welcome to my recipe edition of Manic Monday!!
Manic Monday is the brainchild of Morgen over at It’s A Blog Eat Blog World. For more information on participating in Manic Monday, visit Mo for the complete rundown.
This week’s Manic Monday word is chip. First, I thought I could easily write about the chip on my shoulder. But after my evil twin eclipsed my body last week, I’m sure you’ve all heard enough about the innocent bodies left in the wake of my PMS.
Instead, I will turn toward a chip that is very near and dear to my heart – chocolate chips. Oh yeah, baby!
Okay, this may go along with the PMS too, but it’s much more enjoyable.
Eric and I were actually having a discussion about chocolate chips the other day because he was reading his Rachael Ray magazine, and she listed all the staples you should keep in your pantry – among them, chocolate chips. Eric said, “Chocolate chips aren’t a staple.”
I’m sorry, what?! Apparently, he’s on crack. Of course chocolate chips are a staple. I asked him when the last time was that we didn’t have a bag of chocolate chips on hand. He responded, “Just because you always buy chocolate chips does not mean they’re a staple.”
Hmph. At least now, I have Rachael Ray on my side.
In celebration of the chocolate chip, I am posting my absolute favorite recipe using chocolate chips. They are Chocolate Highlander Cookie Bars. Dude! They are the best freaking things ever. There’s a layer of shortbread on the bottom, and a layer of rich gooey chocolate on top. Sweet Lord in Heaven!
Best. Things. Ever. Enjoy!
Chocolate Highlander Cookie Bars
Ingredients
2 sticks butter, softened
½ cup powdered sugar
¼ teaspoon salt
2 cups flour, unsifted
4 eggs, beaten
2 sticks butter, melted
1 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
½ cup flour, unsifted
2 ½ cups chocolate chips
⅓ cup powdered sugar
Directions
Preheat oven to 350° F., rack in middle position
FIRST STEP:
Cream butter with 1/2 cup powdered sugar and salt. Add flour and mix well. Pat it out in a greased 9- X 13-inch pan with your fingers (standard cake pan).
Bake at 350 degrees F for 15 minutes. That makes the shortbread crust. Remove from oven. (Don't turn off the oven!)
SECOND STEP:
Mix eggs with melted butter and granulated sugar. Add baking powder, salt, and flour, and mix thoroughly (by hand or with hand mixer).
Melt the chocolate chips in a small double boiler, a pan over hot water on the stove, or nuke them for 3 minutes in the microwave on high. (Be sure to stir—chips may maintain their shape even after they're melted in the microwave.)
Add the melted chocolate chips to your bowl and mix thoroughly.
Pour this mixture on top of the pan you just baked and tip the pan so it covers all of the shortbread crust. Stick it back into the oven and bake it for another 25 minutes. Then remove it from the oven and sprinkle on additional powdered sugar.
Let it cool thoroughly and cut into brownie-sized bars. You can refrigerate these, but cut them before you do. (They're pretty solid when they're cold.)
I am out of town this weekend for my niece's third birthday extravaganza, so forgive me for being a bad blog buddy.
I feel like I need a break from the norm anyway. My crabiness is starting to get out of control. Today, I yelled at a bank teller, and then immediately called Eric at work to explain the story of the rude bank teller. After a pause, he said "You do seem crabby today. I think the bank teller was right." WTF?!! I hung up on him.
So, this weekend, I'm going to try to extract myself and take a few deep breaths.
Things are already turning around. I managed to get green shamrock shake out of Georgia's white Hello Kitty! May the celebration begin.
I hope you all have a Sham-rockin' St. Patty's Day!!!!!
Some people have road rage. I have phone rage. I get really annoyed with wrong numbers, specifically rude wrong numbers – as in people who call in the middle of the night, people who call and say “Who is this?” or people who just hang up. Grrrr!
Since the invention of caller ID, I don’t just let these types of things go. Yeah, yeah, I know. I can just hear the voice of my hypnotherapist telling me to rechannel my energy into something positive.
Well, this isn’t so easy when you’re having a bad day. Yesterday, I was busy with work, busy with kids, busy, busy, busy. I finally had about two seconds to myself to sit down in the afternoon about 5:00. And the phone rang. *sigh* The area code was the same as my parents, but I didn’t know the number. I answered it, and was greeted by a long pause, then a voice that said, “Hello?” I said, “Yes?” And the rude voice said, “Do I have the wrong number?” I said, “Well, how am I supposed to know.” And they hung up.
Dammit! How freaking rude! Is it so difficult to say, “I’m sorry. I must have the wrong number.” Apparently, it freaking is.
I immediately hit *69. When the person answered, I said, “I believe someone from this number just called me and hung up.” The rude woman said, “No. Someone from your number called me. I was calling you back.”
What the f*ck ever! Normally, I may have blamed it on my children, but Eli was occupied on the computer, and Georgia was asleep. I said, “I highly doubt that. And next time you call someone, have the decency to say, ‘I’m sorry’ instead of just hanging up like this,” and I hung up.
The woman called back. I picked up and immediately hung up without saying anything. Great! Now evil, rude woman was harassing me.
That should have been it. Except that for some reason I was thinking her number seemed familiar. Not a lot of people other than my parents call me from that area code. Then I remembered that I was in touch last week with a woman about her Passion Party order.
Oh, crap. I went to my office and looked up her order form. Sure enough, it was her number. Great. Not only was I a bitch, I was a bitch to a woman who placed a $250 order from me.
I’m holding out some hope that it was someone else calling from that number and not her. And whoever it was, she still called, hung up and was rude. So, my bitchiness was justified, right? Right?!
Okay, so maybe I need to work on my phone etiquette just a tad. Hmph.
The first step is admitting you have a problem, right? Well, I think after this morning, there’s no way I could deny it anymore. We all know I’m a coffee addict. That isn’t much of a surprise. But I don’t think I truly knew exactly how bad I was.
I had a Passion Party the other night, which went late. The next morning, I was tired (this lovely time change isn’t helping), I had a headache, and I needed coffee. I take my coffee with cream, no sugar. I don’t do black coffee. I need stuff in it.
I brewed a fresh pot, and went to the refrigerator to get the half and half. There were about two drops in the bottom of it. Empty.
No. No! NOOO!!
Okay, after a few deep breaths, I was trying to come up with a back-up plan. The kids were still in bed, so it’s not like I could just run out for half and half. Then an idea struck – amazing that I had a rational thought since I had had no coffee. I remembered that a couple of weeks ago I made a cake using whipping cream.
Cream! It was still in the refrigerator. I started shoving things around looking for it. Aha! I located it right behind the margarine and edible body pens. I looked at the date. March 10. Okay, that was only a few days ago. I was sure it was still good. Right?
I smelled it. Crap! It had started to turn. It wasn’t so horribly bad that it was turning into yogurt, but it definitely wasn’t what I would call “good.”
I thought to myself, I’m only going to use a little bit, and I’ll bet when drowned in a cup of very strong coffee, you won’t even be able to tell the cream was a little off. Right?
So, I poured it in my cup. And there I sat in my kitchen, drinking my coffee laced with sour cream. Not one of my finer moments. Unfortunately, you could tell the cream was bad even when it was mixed with strong coffee. And I drank it anyway. *sigh* That is rock bottom, my friends. Rock. Bottom.
I don’t like funerals and dead people. I know that no one likes funerals, but they seriously give me the heebie jeebies. I think the open casket thing is freaky as all hell because the dead person always looks like they’re wearing clown make-up, and I morbidly expect them to pop up at any minute. I also have a weird urge to lift up the bottom part of the lid to see if they’re wearing shoes.
A lady Eric works with lost her husband this past weekend. We’ll call her Sandy. Eric thought it would be nice if we all went to the funeral. Grief is something I don’t do well. At all. I am the person who gets the uncontrollable giggles at funerals. It is really not pretty. Therefore, I didn’t think it was a great idea for me to go, much less bring the children. We have touched on the issue of death and heaven with Eli. He knows all about Baby Jesus, but I still don’t think the whole concept really clicks for him. And all I needed was him screaming, “MOMMY! Why is that guy asleep?!” in front of the grieving widow.
Incidentally, Eli asked his daddy the other day if he knew what happened to fish when they die. Eric said, “They go to fish heaven.” Eli sighed loudly and said, “No daddy! They go in the potty!”
My son! What a comedian!
Anyway, Eric and I decided that a good compromise was to go to the visitation. Now, I’m from a small town. Visitations consisted of a room full of people, most of them crying, enough flowers to give you hay fever, a dead guy, and a sign-in book. Our plan was to go in, sign the book and I was to hustle the kids to the back of the room out of earshot of anyone while Eric went to talk to Sandy.
Apparently, they do things differently in a big city. First of all, they dress up. For a visitation? Second, they don’t bring kids. Who knew? Third, the chapel was so busy, people were illegally parked for two blocks. When we managed to find a parking spot, we could barely get in the door. We were then ushered to the end of a line that circled all the way around the building. I’m still a little unsure about what exactly we were waiting in line for.
Considering Georgia’s recent decent into madness, I was pretty sure we should cut our losses and go. Eric wanted to wait. *sigh* Georgia wanted down, Eli wanted to play with the display coffins (yes, display coffins (!!!) and I just wanted to get the hell out of there. People around us were talking in quiet hushed tones as we passed by poster boards filled with pictures of the dead guy, his wife and their dog. Eli was screaming, “I’m HUNGRY!” and “I need to go potty!” and Georgia was screaming, “DOWN!!!”
The old couple standing in front of us said, “I don’t think she’s going to make it,” looking at Georgia. “You’ve signed the book . . .” Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. They were nicely telling us to take our loud children and get the hell out. I looked at Eric and he said, “Okay, we should probably go.” Ya think?
On the way out, Eli noticed a dish of candy by the door. He snagged a piece on the way out, which made him extremely happy. On the way home, he asked, “Can we go back to that place sometime so I can get some more candy?” Eric and I both looked at each other and said, “NO!”
Eric found the best Web site today! It made me laugh my ass off. You can answer a few fun questions, and get your Trojan name. I am Athena, Goddess of Genitalia.
The site also has an amphitheatre, in which they have taken an old Gladiator movie and dubbed it MST3K-style so it sounds like they are talking about sex. You must check it out here!! Have fun, and leave your Trojan name in the comments section.
She refused to eat anything after that and kept pointing to the freezer. Grrr. . . That just set the mood. We took Eli to preschool, and I put her in the stroller so I wouldn’t have to chase her. When I took her in, she just smiled as everyone cooed at her, looking like an angelic cross between Krissi Snow and Cindy Lou Hoo. I saw the demonic grin behind those eyes. 
Today I realized that my purse, which is the size of a suitcase, weighed so much that it was about to give me a hernia. Therefore, I decided it was time to clean it out. I only carry around what I deem a necessity, so I’m not quite sure what happened. Here are 13 things I found in my purse today.
1. Hello Kitty toothbrush – Georgia’s, not mine. One morning, she refused to leave the house without her toothbrush, which she had deathgripped in her little fingers. She finally threw it down in the middle of the grocery store when she was distracted by something shiny.
2. Toy flute – After I took this out of my purse and Eli got ahold of it, I was reminded how ear-splittingly loud it is, which is why I hid it in my purse in the first place.
3. Chop sticks – Eli picks up extra chop sticks every time we go to Panda Express or Noodles & Co. He uses them as some weird experiment with his Legos.
4. Candyland card – I have no freaking clue how that ended up in there.
5. Potpourri sachet – I was trying to make my purse smell better, since Georgia’s sippy cup of milk leaked in it.
6. Purple dinosaur – Eli’s crappy toy “prize” he got at the dentist’s office.
7. Nipple Nibblers (watermelon) – I’m telling you – best freaking lip gloss ever!
8. Breast reduction pamphlet – If I keep it in my purse, I remember where it is.
9. Tide Stain Stick – Dude! They need to sell these damn things in bulk.
10. Georgia’s hair – My baby’s first official haircut was two weeks ago. *sniff*
11. Mucinex – along with the Visine, nose drops and prescription drugs, my purse is a regular pharmacy.
12. Passion Party catalogs – I never leave home without a few to hand out.
13. Coffee receipts – Between Caribou and Starbucks, I’m sure there were hundreds of dollars worth of receipts shoved in my purse. I quickly threw them away before my husband could see them.
It started out as a normal playdate. My friend Heather #2 showed up with her two children Jay and Zee. She came in and set her stuff down. Her kids ran into the family room to play with my kids.
They were here all of two minutes when we heard, “AAAAAAA!” from both Eli and his friend Jay. Heather and I went running into the family room just in time to see her son Jay throw up. Again.
Oh, double crap. The family room is carpeted. Before I could utter a very inappropriate “M*ther F*ck,” Eli screamed, “MOMMY!! Jay threw up on my ATM machine!!” For some reason, that added some levity to the situation. Eli’s best friend was obviously very sick, and he was ultimately concerned with the fact that his plastic ATM machine was covered in vomit – his friend’s welfare be damned! Why do I find this amusing?
After upchuck #2, Heather managed to get her son into the kitchen before vomit #3 hit. At least there’s no carpet in the kitchen. Still, I was left with the daunting task of trying to figure out how to get throw-up out of the carpet and keep my children from touching anything before I had sanitized the entire house.
On top of that, my friend Heather was mortified that her family paid a special visit just so her son could spew in three rooms of my house (he made it to the bathroom for the next one). As I was attempting to wipe up the carpet with wet towels, and spraying it with Clorox sanitizing spray, as well as spraying the kitchen down with Pine-Sol, Heather went to get out my vacuum.
Dude! It’s incredibly nice that you want to help clean up, but I’m thinking the best thing would be to remove the child before he has another projectile vomiting episode. When she saw him go white as a sheet, she decided that was in fact the best move, and managed to get him outside. I then looked out to see him tossing his cookies in the front yard. Poor kid.
They did finally manage to get on the road, and I have since found out that Heather and her other son got Jay’s stomach flu. Not. Cool.
Luckily, I managed to sanitize everything and give the children boiling, anti-bacterial baths, so we seemed to come through the incident unscathed. But, I think I’m going to schedule our next playdate at the park. Just in case.
Dude! My daughter is turning into a maniac!! Yesterday, she took Eli’s balloon and ran with it. I do mean literally ran with it. Like she was an Olympic runner! She is phenomenal at taking any sort of a toy and getting it away from her brother, or me for that matter, as fast as humanly possible. I only wish I were so skilled at such a young age.
Anyway, I saw her streak past me with the balloon while headed down the hall. She was quickly followed by Eli who was screaming his usual mantra, “No, Georgia!! That’s MIIIIIIIINE!”
They both disappeared down the hall, and before I could dry my hands off to go follow them, I heard Eli’s shrill scream, and he came running in crying. I noticed his hand was all red. I asked what happened, and he tearfully proclaimed, “G. . g . . Georgia bited me!”
I held up his hand for closer inspection, and in retrospect, I really should have taken a picture. His had was not only red, it had some deep teeth marks. Eli's rabid little sister had even broken the skin in a couple of spots. And with the placement of the teeth marks, that girl must have had his entire hand in her mouth!
Where did Georgia learn how to bite? The cats?
About that time, she came waltzing in, the balloon long forgotten, attempting to put on one of her shoes. I got right in her face and said, “We do NOT bite, young lady!”
It seemed to make Eli feel better that I reprimanded Georgia even though she was giving me her best WTF face. *sigh* I have a feeling we will be revisiting this issue in the future.
Come on, I’m the Passion Party lady!! Or as the people at Caribou Coffee call me – the Sex Toy Lady. They always ask for your name when you order so they can print it on your receipt. My receipts seriously say Sex Toy Lady. I’d like to see them explain that when they’re audited.
Anyway, when you’re in my profession, you really have to be an expert in exactly what makes people blow. After a few months of pimping adult toys and sensual products, these are my two top recommendations.
For the ladies:
The Mini Tongue. It may look creepy, but it is in-freaking-credible. Seriously. You. Have. No. Idea.
For the gentlemen: 
Gigi. Available in regular and glow in the dark. Let me tell you, if I had a penis for 24 hours, I would want to spend 23 of them with Gigi.
For many more products that will make you blow your top (in a good way), visit my Passion Party Web site.
Welcome to edition #2 of "Things that hurt like a Mo Fo when you step on them in the middle of the night."
This week's winner is:
Those f*cking drum sticks are pokey!
The thing that gets me is that I actually make a point of picking things up before I go to bed so I won't kill myself in the middle of the night.
Apparently, there are gnomes that live in my closet, and while I sleep, they come out and scatter shit around my bed. It's the only thing I can think of.
Either that or the children are trying to kill me.
I have decided that I am going to unplug my TV and throw it out the window.
Eli went to bed early tonight (miracle of miracles), and I decided to turn on a movie while I was getting Georgia ready for bed.
I was happy to see Four Weddings and a Funeral was on. I love that movie! It’s one of my favorites. Not only is it extremely well-written, but Eric and I saw it about three weeks before we got married, so it just brings back fun memories. It’s not a movie I ever really thought about not watching in front of the children. . . I really have to be more careful about that.
Anyway, I turned it on right as the movie was starting, and if you all have seen it, you may remember what the first few lines in the movie are. In case you don’t, I’ll remind you. The first line is Hugh Grant looking at the clock, screaming, “Oh F*CK!” The tirade of “F*ck! F*ck! F*ck!” goes on for a couple of minutes.
For some reason, this caught Georgia’s rapt attention. She looked at me, smiled and said, “F*CK!”
Eric and I both gasped in shock. I said, “Are you freaking kidding me?! Did our one-year-old just say 'F*ck!'?"
Nice. I’ll be putting that down in the baby book as one of her first words. At least I can take comfort in the fact that she didn’t get it from me.
