Adios and Muchas Gracias, Costa Rica!

"Located in the Central America isthmus, immediately north of Panamá, with ports in both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans and 153 highway miles between them.
Our country holds a privileged place in the world, being found in the center of the Central American Isthmus. On its east lies the Caribbean Sea and to its west, the Pacific Ocean. It is bordered by Nicaragua tothe North and Panama to the South.

A small tropic country, Costa Rica lies between two oceans. This, combined with its complex mountainous topography, gives rise to a extensive variety of habitants. These range from tropical dry forest and lowland rainforest to páramo, with a corresponding difference in climatic conditions. In general, temperatures vary between 14 and 22 degrees Centigrade in the high Central Valley and between 22 and 28 Centigrade in the lowlands. Temperatures remain relatively stable throughout the year, although some slight changes take place according to whether it is "Summer" (the dry season) or "Winter" (the wet season). Summer usually prevails from December to April and Winter from May to November. These seasons are clearly defined on the Pacific side of the country but are much less noticeable on the Caribbean side where the precipitation is much more evenly distributed throughout the year."
http://www.costaricamap.com/ing/aboutgeneral.html#9



I am a lucky girl. I have been able to travel to beautiful places. But I had a new opportunity- to travel to a beautiful place OUTSIDE the USA. I had not gone out of our states before. Had a passport that was lily white clean. I got it for a potential trip to Canada. Didn't make that trip. Last week I got my very first stamp in my passport. Costa Rica.

Had to look on a map to remember where the country is. It's in Central America for you geographically-challenged folks (like me). Wedged between Panama and Nicaragua, with water on both sides. The Caribbean on one side, and the Pacific Ocean on the other. Flew into San Jose, the capital, which is directly in the center of the country. This trip was planned by my boss, Red Bird, because he owns a home there, so I really did not know much about about where I was going and what I would be doing. This was the way to go. I had no stress about it and no expectations. People would ask, where are you gonna be there? I dunno, I would say.

Jaco. HA-CO. Red Bird's house is on Jaco Beach. In the cuidad of Jaco. Its an hour from the airport by van, zipping through the countryside, our driver barely stopping at street signs and passing slower-moving cars or big trucks. Would've been quite scary if I had been paying attention, but I was chatting with my friends and admiring the landscape. Oh, one thing about Costa Rica. HOT and HUMID. At least 86 degrees with 100% humidity so you immediately sweat when you step outside and you don't stop. If I'd stayed longer I might've gotten used to the climate, because the locals didn't look as uncomfortable as I felt, but my sweatpores were in revolt and oozed liquid full blast. Anyone headed to this area of the globe? Take as few clothes and as light of materials as you can find. We stayed in or around water as much as possible.

The locals in Costa Rica are great. They are poor but they desire work and work hard when given the chance. Every one of the folks that helped us, whether they spoke much English or not, tried so hard to accomodate us and gave us smiles that were genuine. We did a river raft tour, a canopy (forest zip line) tour, and an ATV tour and each time our guides were so informative, so polite, so gracious. I have deep respect for the Costa Ricans.

On my last day there, I spoke with the van driver at 4am on our way to the airport and he told me of his common-law wife, his older daughter who is now married but still his "sweetie girl" and his two young children who are 10 and 4. We talked about our kids' favorite tv shows and video games they love and how his older daughter works a job but still needs her dad to help her when her bicycle gets a flat tire. Our ATV tour guide told us all about his travels, but how he still loves his home of Costa Rica, for its beauty and laid-back style of life. Carlos, our housekeeper/cook, was in the Columbian Army with bullet-wound scars to prove it, asked my boss for work around his house and kept telling him he wanted to cook for him, and when Red Bird finally agreed, he found out Carlos was an excellent and creative cook who gets pleasure from our clean plates.






Their stories all are rags to riches, but their riches are big happy families at home, enough food on the table, and a job to go every morning. They could be annoyed with us Americans, or their long hours, or their small pay, but they seemed to take pleasure in helping us out and teaching us about their country, and making us welcome. It was the cherry on top of an already super sweet dessert of a vacation. I appreciated it immensely and hope to visit them and their beautiful country again real soon.

There might've been one local who was glad to see us go....


Hasta Luego, Costa Rica!

172 miles later...reflections on my Tour de Awesomeness

It started as a pipedream. To ride over 100 miles in one weekend. It has become a reality. I gained a lot more than just mileage over last weekend. Good friends, great sights, cycling comraderie, and oh yeah, an aching body and about 5 extra pounds of water weight.

I learned a lot about myself though- about my drive to finish something I start, how I can push myself to go beyond my own expectations, and how my competitiveness is my best quality.



The ride was for a cure for MS, which is so much more important than anything I took from it, so knowing all 13,000 of us were there to support that cause made me feel like Oprah or Angelina Jolie, minus my hot Brad Pitt hubby. Like we were rock stars, with people yelling well-wishes and thank yous, some in wheelchairs with signs saying "I was diagnosed with MS...",reminding us why we were there. It gave me chills every time....



I had a great team to ride with. The five of us packed up a buttload of gear and took off to Houston Friday night. The great part of this ride is it starts in Houston but we are riding HOME. The Finish Line is in front of the state capitol building in our hometown of Austin, TX. So it was a bit of a trek to make to get to the Starting Line but well worth it on the other end. We got a hotel within a mile of the Omni hotel, the official starting point of the MS150. Our sponsor team, Team Dow, due to its size planned to start at a secondary start location which actually would've made our first day trip 20 miles shorter. I was pumped about this idea. Only 80 miles the first day instead of 100? Oh yeah, count me in-- that sounds doable. Never mind that my longest single day trip before this was only 54 miles long and that wasn't my best biking-riding-attitude day. I was sure that with my training along with the frequent stops and the comraderie of this big of a group ride, I would be able to pull off 80 miles. But due to logistics with getting our bikes there and some of the team (the guys) wanting to do the Omni start, we as a group (I got vetoed 4 to 1) decided to go for it and do the Omni start and the 100 miles. In one day. With a second day of over 70 miles. WTH am I thinking? Horrible butt-pain, weakened muscles, dehydration, mental failure, bike failure, general body failure were a few of the things I was thinking...

So 5am came and up we were and away we went, into the dark rainy morning, over to the huge group of folks amassing around the Omni Hotel. As with all organized rides, 80s music was playing and an announcer was announcing loudly on the PA, so quickly I forgot it was only 6am and I was getting jazzed to head out. Rolling our bikes closer to the Start, we hear a bang and looked over in time to see some poor dude fall over with his bike, still clipped in. BEFORE the ride. If that'd been me, I'd have crawled back to the hotel. Not even out of the gate and you're already sniffing pavement. Blimey!

100 miles on a bike is called a Century Ride. This would be my first. I never in a million years thought I'd do my first Century Ride with another 70+ the very next day. Ay-yi-yi, what had I done? Off we went...the first 25 flew by and we were at the first (actually the 2nd, we bypassed the 1st) rest stop on the ride. This was a massive amount of happy cyclists in a grassy and because of the rain, muddy, area with bikes laid around everywhere and people chatting and snacking and waiting for the port-a-potties, which was where I headed. Then I grabbed a banana (my first of many on this ride), an orange, and a pack of Grandma's PB cookies (so yum, and so naughty but perfect for a workout kick), and refilled my water bottles.

After that we didn't stop again until lunch, in Bellville, TX. Another great part of the ride was the scenery-- all farmlands and fields among the small Texas towns with Main Streets and water towers and wildflowers that held the MS150 pitstops with pride. Props go to towns such as Industry, Nelsonville, Fayetteville, Winchester, Bastrop, and of course La Grange. Probably the MS150 ride was one of the bigger events of the year in their towns, with folks sitting in lawn chairs and on their porches to wave to us and cheer us on. There'd be banners and signs welcoming us, and good luck wishes on their store signs and church marquis. One man, with his yellow compact car, would stand by his car and swing a noisemaker around and jump up and down cheering for us and pointing at us and yelling who-knows-what as we rode by. He showed up no less than 4 times in 4 random locations along the way. Always excited, always happy, always cheering. Thanks to that happy Dude, because he was a welcome sight each time for us weary riders.

We rode the rolling hills through Central Texas that afternoon and ended up in LaGrange for the night. This was tons of tents set up on the fairgrounds with all the different teams and individuals bunking there for the night. We got bused to the showers at the nearby high school and back to our fancy tent for an excellent fajita dinner with our Dow team. Sleeping on cots in a huge circus tent with 200 others was a new experience for me.

I was pleasantly surprised, and my 100 miles of riding-fatigue knocked my ass out so I didn't hear the snoring, the rain, or whatever else was going on in there. Dow did it right and our tent was awesome and even the squeaky camping cots didn't suck to crash on. One BIG surprise in my quasi-camping experience? The port-a-potties. Yes, I said port-a-potties. These were no ordinary nasty open-hole p-a-ps, these were swanky, upscale p-a-ps. I could NOT believe it. They were lighted, with bath mats, and a shelf in there with bath items, kleenex box, and pot pourri. A mirror, a sink with water pumped by a floor pedal, and a toilet that flushed like a airplane potty, but with foot pedal like the sink had. I didn't ask the men if they had the same ones, but ours said WOMEN on them. Why would I ask them? Its our little secret as far as I'm concerned. I know, I shouldve taken a picture, but I didn't. I do have manners.

The overnight rain cleared just in time for our mass exodus from LaGrange and all 13,000 of us took off (in waves so it took a while) and rode off into the semi-dark for another long day in the saddle. But all I could think is, I'm going home. It made it easy. I'd heard the lore of the hoop-lah awaiting us. And 6 hours later, Austin did NOT disappoint! Tons of people lining the roads into downtown cheering us into the Finish Line. I don't think I've ever felt anything like it. They knew we'd just rode all the way from Houston. They knew we'd raised millions of dollars for Multiple Sclerosis. They knew we were tired and our butts were sore. The sheer number of people there, cheering with the majestic Capitol building in the background just filled me to the brim with pride and happiness.

I'd completed my first Century Ride and a second 72-miler day, both of which are now officially my PB, or "personal best". I pushed myself longer and harder than I'd ever done before. I flew past athletes in better shape than I, or younger than I, because the speed and the cardio is what I love on the bike. I was able to plan and execute a 3-day ordeal of which I didn't grasp the hugeness until it was finally over. And now, as my muscles are starting to feel normal again, I'm thinking about my next long ride already, as a mother with a newborn forgets her miserable pregnancy and labor pains and dreams of baby #2. And yes, I am thinking I would like to be a part of the MS150 again next year.

By golly, I think I'm addicted. Who knew?

The Tale of Two Sistas

My girls. My offspring. My little mirror-images of myself. They love me, they hate me...and Lord help me, they aren't even teenagers yet!

Everyone is supposed to have a sister to be there through thick and thin, bound by blood, if only to conspire against their mothers from the moment they can talk to each other, right? I have one. Can't imagine growing up without her. Can't imagine now not having her live 3 miles away and intermixing our families on a regular basis. My poor brother never had a close sibling to commiserate with or lean on because my sister and I were less than 2 years apart, shared a room, and did pretty much everything together. We were bookends, a matched set, wore similar clothes, hairstyles, had matching dolls (mine was a white baby doll and hers was a black baby doll~~ sure, why not??). We played with the same friends, attended the same schools, and even dated the same guys (at different times- she'd love 'em and leave 'em and I'd come around a few years later and date 'em!). My mom threw her hands up at the two of us, let us pretty much run our own lives, only occasionally putting her foot down on our curfews, or how much we were able to spend on clothes (Mom was a sale-watcher, the bane of our fashion existence), or offering opinions on boys we brought home (don't think Mom ever liked a-one).

Sis was(is) younger so she was constantly up my ass, hanging around my friends, my boyfriends, needing something, whining about something, instigating something. I fully admit there were hellacious times of knock-down, drag-out, chase around the house and into the street fights. Ok, I'll be totally honest-- I knocked her down, dragged her around, and chased her around the house and into the street. I guess I was the aggressor to her instigator. We fed off each other...at time I'm sure it was a nasty sight. Now that I think about it, it explains a lot of my mother's current behaviors. My dad walked around quietly, head down, trying to stay out of it. He still does that, come to think of it.


Now, back to the two blessed mini-me's.... Karma is biting me in the oops-I-made-my-mother-a-nutso ass. Now I'm the lunatic Mom who is always a step or two behind them. Case in point, just this morning:

We get up for school/work, and as usual Lil Lady took her sweet time getting out of bed- It's after 7:00 (we leave the house at 7:30am).

Lil Lady: Mom, I just remembered I have to work the school store at 7:20.

Me: Uh, it's 7:14 now. (whining starts) Dress fast and grab an apple on the way out! Chillgirl, let's go!

Chillgirl gets her stuff and makes her way to the car, then stops.

Chillgirl: Wait I need something! (runs back in)

Lil Lady flips out: Oh My God! Leave her!

Chillgirl walks back out, in no special hurry, to us waiting in the car, to her sister who is panicking.

Me: What were you getting??

Chillgirl: A dollar, to buy 5 pencils.

This child KNOWS she doesn't need 5 pencils. She knows we are in a hurry. She suddenly didn't know how to tie her shoes this morning either. Her sister is having a conniption and she's strolling along like its a Sunday morning walk in the park. Master Instigator. I see right through that innocent act. She's a plotter, that one. The youngest ones always are. (Sis, you know exactly what that means) Build 'em up with idolization and praise, and tear 'em down with Jedi mind-tricks. Chillgirl should consider a career in the CIA. Or a spot on the next season of Survivor. Lil Lady may need therapy, but she's not without fault here. I can come up with many stories where the drama's on the other foot between these two. The know each others' buttons. And mine. I'm screwed.

Ah, the life of single mom. I am the constant referee of interactions such as these. Its two against one, and sometimes I just put in my iPod headphones, turn on my music and walk around the house oblivious to the turmoil and strife brewing around me. I get through it the best I can, and love them the most I can, and teach them when I can. Thank God we are Catholics, so guilt works really well. "Jesus would NOT like what you just did!" is commonly exclaimed around our home.

If I'm lucky, they'll grow up and stay close, and be there for each other always. I'm lucky that way, so I wish that for them. They will have different personalities and lead different lives, but they have the common ground called Family, so they are bound by that, and will thrive because of it.

Butt in saddle for 2 days/160+ miles...worth it for a good cause.

Seven days and counting for my debut in the MS150 bike ride. I joined my Austin cycling buddies on the Dow Chemical team to fundraise and to ride together. The Dow team alone as raised over $120,000 for Multiple Sclerosis. Donations in my name are still accepted (hint, hint folks)! We ride from Houston to Austin in two days. This is a big deal. A big deal for the cause and a big deal because I have never ridden so far in one day, let alone two days in a row. About 80 miles on Saturday, and close to another 80 on Sunday. Why is it called the MS150, you ask? Beats me, because that route is well over 150 miles.



I decided to do this ride with my friends back in January. They were doing it,and I jumped on the bandwagon, thinking April was soooo far away. Uh, hello! How did this year go into warp-speed and it's ended up here already?

Bring it on! We are ready. We have trained. And trained. We've rode long hours in all weather conditions, cold, wet, windy (oh hells yeah, the winds this winter/spring have been a big ole booger for our training), and Austin has some of the best roads and hills to train on. I have my trusty Cervelo bike, "Dash" as I call him (her?), to carry me along the way. I've been cycling these roads for 4 years now and am proud to say some many of the hills that used to eat my lunch I have now conquered time and time again. Not to say they don't wear my ass out, but I am no longer defeat-ed, I defeat those sumsabitches!

I have battle scars. Every person who's consistently rode a bike, and especially a bike with shoeclips, has fallen down. I mean Fall...Down. Picture an old useless building being imploded and toppling down in one big piece. That is a cyclist who can't unclip before he/she hits the ground. Boom. This usually causes scraped knees/shins/hips (clipped feet and legs taking the brunt of the fall) or bruised wrists/elbows/shoulders (uselessly trying to stop the ground from coming at you). I've slid off roads onto grass and into curbs. Passing cars have sprayed gravel at me. And especially fun has been some jerky motorists honking, yelling, or shaking their fists at me and my companions. Even had one brainiac threw a full can of Sprite at us, and it barely missed my friend's helmet. Not complaining here. These are the facts of life on a roadbike.


Here's the evidence of my cycling activities today...rode out around Pflugerville and Hutto and Elgin today with my friend. Forgot to spread the sunblock all the way down my arm. The white mark halfway up is my watchband. My hands stay white because I wear gloves. I went sleeveless today to try to cover up the tan line from when I've worn half-sleeve jerseys before. My feet are white too and I have a line on my mid-thigh. Not pretty. Cycling is not conducive to the upcoming bikini season...

But as I've said before, I love it. Right now the bluebonnets and other wildflowers are rampant and beautiful, sprawling across the farms and fields we pass. Today we rode over a bridge and looked off to the side below and saw two gray mules (donkeys?) grazing hip-deep in pretty purple wildflowers and tall green grass near some woods. I wished I'd had a good camera to catch the sight. When the wind is at your back (as all cylists wish it always was), you feel like you are flying. My body is moving Dash but the wind is carrying us both.

The MS150 is a long trip, but with my friends rolling by my side, and great support from the Dow team and the MS150 ride coordination for the break-stops and lunch-stops, and our overnight stay in LaGrange at the half-way point, we will glide into Austin to the Finish Line with sore butts, but smiles on our faces.

My personal donation page:

http://main.nationalmssociety.org/site/TR/Bike/TXHBikeEvents?px=7622378&pg=personal&fr_id=12962

Duffy, Warwick Avenue, and a case of the Winks....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HhZ5-L9znt8

This was me in my car this morning...except minus the awesome singing. Just had a moment of GD-IT, how did I let him do that to me? And the tears flowed. Out of nowhere. Duffy says it all. "I want to be free, baby, you've hurt me." I wish I could say some things to Romeo to make him hurt too, but I'm the bigger person. Not gonna do it. Silence is the only way I'll go, but frustration sneaks up on me and I'll have another Duffy moment, oh Mercy. Love this girl, she gets it.







I made a move. A bold move. Duffy would approve. I joined Match.com. Ugh. Wrote up a benign profile and some current pictures and let 'er rip. Apparently I'm "fresh meat" on Match this week. Have gotten a few emails. Even more "winks". This is a way of a guy saying "hey chickie, take a look over here...you like what you see?" I asked a guy friend who is on Match what the hell I do when I get winked at. He said wink back if you are interested. So I have. I've even winked a few guys myself. That will or maybe won't spur on an actual email. So far I've emailed back 5 guys who have emailed me first. I am still struck how old the guys interested in me are. I'm struck that THIS is the 40+ year old man. I know a lot of 40+ year old people, seeing how I'm almost one of them, and they don't seem old to me at all. I guess still-shot pics are not a 40 year old's best friend.

Folks at my age need to be living, breathing, and God yes, moving to show how young we still are. We are weekend warriors and we join sports we've never played before and have the uniforms, toys, and accessories to prove it. Reliving our little league roots to hang on to youth. No, I do not have agism when I look at these guys' profile pics. I give them the benefit of the doubt- and at least look through their pictures. The ones with their weekend warrior pictures included are the ones I wink at. Not agism, just lazyassism. I need a man to go out and compete with me for the best fit 40+ year old we know. We'll race each other into the ground, or to the ice-packs and ibuprofen at the very least.

I was sure to post things I do not want in a man. No fishermen, campers, or hunters please...all these "sports" seem very lazy. Beer-drinking, sit on your ass, smell like wildlife, non-cardio sports. No thanks. Save me the runners, cyclists (of course), skiers (God yes!), swimmers, volleyball players, etc. If I can kick your ass or give you at least a run for your money, you are my kind of guy.

Not sure yet if I want to move on to that next step--- meeting them. Yikes. Measuring them up while they measure me up. What a nightmare. Dry your eyes, GIRL...comb your hair, put on your makeup and a smile, dammit. Lord....or Duffy, give me strength!

The Sunday Afternoon Funk

Sunday is the end of my weekend. I am never off on Mondays, so Sunday's are always the end of my weekends. I don't dislike my job, but I LOVE my homelife and freetime on my weekends and days off. Every Sunday I wake up excited to be off another day, but as the hours wear on, the happy-weekend-mood slowly slides into the blues. I literally feel it coming over me. Every single Sunday. Its a physical reaction and I can't seem to stop it.



The Funk visits whether I had a kid-weekend or a me-time weekend. Usually after a kid-weekend it hits me later in the evening because I'm busy with them, but it still comes and even the kids notice I get crabby those days. But its worse on my me-time weekends because I am alone, and especially lately, that in itself has been difficult for me. And Sunday is always a waiting game for the kids to come home and then they always suffer with the separation from their dad after a weekend with him. See, he's not a Wednesday-nights-with-the-kids-divorced-dad because he lives 45minutes away and won't drive up here mid-week for a few hours. He's a every-other-weekend-dad, Friday after school to Sunday evening. Its not a lot of time and although I know he loves them and gives them a great time when he has them, its not regular enough. So on top of my own Funk, I deal with their Funk too. Not fun.

I wish I knew how to better handle the Funk. It begins with me dredging up sad thoughts almost on purpose...wallowing in things, like missing Romeo, or feeling sorry for myself trying to figure out the dating world, or if I'm doing enough with the kids. I get very quiet and think and pray and mope. When I dated Romeo, Sundays were the days I questioned his devotion to me or the kids, and I pulled away from him, knowing our alone-time was at its end for the week. I know, that sounds counterproductive, but the Funk made me do it. Nowadays it just means all my fun activities and free time are put on hold for the week, and I'm back to the grind of my weekly duties.

The first step to changing this is hopefully admitting the Funk exists, then blogging about it :), and we'll see...tomorrow is Monday, so it may be a week before I'll know.

Boys, Boys, Boys

My BFF Cora gave me the book Act Like A Lady, Think Like a Man, by Steve Harvey as I venture into a new dating world in my almost-40s. The dating world these days is MUCH different than it was in my early 20s, the last time I was out there, most likely because I am MUCH different (thank God!) than I was in my early 20s.





I have perused this book, but haven't yet read it cover to cover. So far one chapter has seemed the most useful for my current state of affairs (or potential for such).

Chapter 10 is titled: THE FIVE QUESTIONS EVERY WOMAN SHOULD ASK BEFORE SHE GETS IN TOO DEEP. Ha! Here it is, written from a man's point of view, for us ladies' education on what to be thinking of when we have met a new guy and are out on those first dates, and deciding if he's worthy. Basically he's saying, don't fear you will lose a man if you confront him with these questions. Make him be clear up front and then YOU can decide to stay or go.

1.What are your short-term goals? Plans that deem him a grown-up, heading toward something, and a place you could come along with him too.

2.What are your long-term goals? Looking at his future clearly and in detail with a plan to get it.

3.What are your views on relationships? As in with his parents, on kids, God, past relationships, family in general. Ask all the tough questions.

4.What do you think about me? Listen for specific examples of what he likes about you.

5.How do you FEEL about me? Make him dig down deep to put words to his inner thoughts about his feelings for you.


Steve Harvey's book explains these in detail and it makes a lot of sense. I remember going through whole dating cycles without knowing any of this stuff about a boy. What a waste of time! And to ASK the question? EEK! That might mean I could get an answer I don't like and I'll have to break up with him and be alone again...Lord what an idiot I was.

In my most recent dealings as a almost 40-year old, the life status and motivations of the men my age have changed drastically from back then, as have mine. I have determined 3 different "types" are out there. Now remember, I'm just a beginning dater so I hope to revise this list or amend it, so don't hate on me if I contradict myself later.

The first one is the Never Been Married guy: somehow in his 40s without being nailed down yet, hasn't had any kids and has lived alone all this time. See some of my early blogs about this guy, cuz I just got out of a relationship with him. We girls always hear, You Can't Change A Man? Well, the NBM guy is set in his ways and likes it that way. IF you ever got him to marry, the woman would do all the bending here...and not in a good way, if you know what I mean.

The second one is the Just Got Out of a Marriage guy: this one is looking for wifey #2, and fast. He's in shock that something, he has NO IDEA WHAT, went wrong and his best solution would be to shack up immediately to avoid any soul-searching for his place in the divorce that just happened TO him. JGOOAM guy probably loves the hell out of you because you are NOT his ex-wife, and he's willing to overlook all of your flaws, if he even stops doting on you long enough to see any of them. In fact he probably hasn't stopped talking about his ex-wife long enough to ask you any of the important 5 questions, and he wouldn't care what the answers were anyway, as long as you are willing to take him in, like yesterday.

The third one is the No One is as Perfect as Me So I'll Just Sleep Around guy. These guys have a superiority complex with such high-standards for marriage material, that they decide they won't even bother with all the stuff that would precede marrying someone. This guy will just get in your pants and move on to the next unworthy one. He won't ask you about you, he won't give you any time-specific information about seeing you again, and he'll talk about himself A LOT. Like a big show all about him. If you want a nice romp in the hay, the NOIAPAMSIJSA guy's your man, but don't you dare fall for this guy.



There are more to come, no doubt. I'm just getting warmed up.