Facebook is Better Now

Facebook chat sucks. Let's be honest. Nearly everyone (and by that, I mean everyone, I just don't like to make broad generalizations) has been on Facebook chat and been signed off at a "key" moment in the conversation. However, for the most part, the new Facebook is brilliant. The introduction of a tabbed browsing system, compartmentalized profile areas and an overall cleaner look makes the whole website that much better.

There are those detractors (read: those who can't cope with that fact that it might be a little easier to find information if it doesn't take 45 seconds to load a page) who prefer the old Facebook system. In that system, a person's whole life's information is jammed onto one page that takes way too long to load. I, for one, prefer to be able to find information immediately under clearly labeled tabs rather than be forced to scroll through 20 pages worth of useless information and ridiculous applications. If I want to see what applications a person has, I will click the applications tab. Simple, huh?

I wrote this post mainly to air my frustrations with the people who complain incessantly about the new Facebook. If you really hate it that much, do what the people who really and truly dislike it did and find a way around it. In a quick Google search I found hundreds of ways to get back to the old Facebook. So stop complaining, stop inviting me to Facebook groups and just click your mouse three times while reciting: "there's no place like Myspace".

The Sky Is Falling

The world is coming to an end.
Or at least people act like it is. Apparently, right now is "the worst financial crisis since The Great Depression", there's no gas anywhere, and Mongolia, American Samoa and a small city in Russia are going to bomb us right after Afghanistan, Krygyzstan, Iran, Japan and every single other "an" you can think of do. Auntie Anne's pretzels might even be on the warpath.

Can everybody just chill out? One of the reasons we have no gas in Charlotte is because as soon as we DO get gas, hundreds of people camp out, start filling gas cans, pouring gas in their mouths to spit into cups, hollowing out a false leg for extra gas storage and generally acting the fool. Yes, the banks are all merging and it is the start of a new financial age. But everyone freaking out is not going to change one thing on Wall Street, downtown Charlotte or anywhere important in finance.

However, with these freakouts, people start losing faith in regular stock, putting their money in oil, and then guess what? Gas prices go up again! No way... Cause has an effect??

My advice? Relax. Sit down. Take the bus to work if possible, drive if you have to, then come home, read the Bible, enjoy your family and friends and stop being so stressed. Who is freaking out going to help?

Warfare Pt. III

This is the third edition of my series waging imaginary war against very real, very tangible and defenseless creatures. Disclaimer: as stated in the previous posts, no animals were harmed in the writing of this post. Unless your cuddly animal, cat or 5-year-old decides to bump into me when I'm in a bad mood, they're probably safe.

Today's war will be waged against bunny rabbits. Yes, bunny rabbits. The sweet, vegetable-munching, beta-carotene ODers over which every animal activist and pretty girl seems to go ballistic. I am taking the torch from the Save Toby pioneers and carrying it myself for no fee. To pull all my thoughts together, I'm talking about kicking the fluff out of cute, cuddly bunny rabbits on a regular basis. Here's a sample scenario:

A few days ago I decided to enjoy a half-day in the forest during the weekend in order to enjoy nature and have a healthy snack while taking in the pleasant sensual bombardment that is the great outdoors. I spread a beautiful blanket sewn from Siamese cat fur in a clearing and decided to lie on my back and enjoy the sunshine that danced through the dense forest growth. As the light played about my features, I happened to catch a glimpse of a small, plump rabbit quietly observing me from the verdant undergrowth nearby.

I reached into my bag, pulling out a fresh bag of carrots I keep on hand for times such as this. Beckoning slowly to the little animal, I gently placed a carrot two yards away from my person and stepped back to give the Bugs Bunny look-a-like his space. Boldly, the tiny mammal raced up to the carrot and began to attack it with aplomb. Within the space of 60 seconds, the vegetable was gone, and the rabbit surreptitiously burped (an action I previously understood to be mainly a human feature). Wanting to test my limits without scaring the little creature, I dropped another carrot even closer to my feline-pelt domain and without pause, the rabbit seized it, devouring it even quicker than the first.

The greedy little lagomorph gazed up at me without fear, a pious look plastering its features. My heart was moved by the beauty of the situation, so my next step was clear. I stood upright, holding a carrot out at arms length, urging the rabbit to jump. I prepared myself, muscles loose but at the ready, and whistled for the creature to make his move. Suddenly, the bunny leaped, jaws outstretched for the waiting carrot and WHAM! I connected solidy with the rabbit's pliable ribcage. He flew squealing through the air, the perfect contact of my sublime side volley propelling him at air speeds previously unknown to rabbitkind. The rabbit's rapid trajectory was halted suddenly by the appearance of a massive oak tree, at which time, by all accounts, his life was extinguished immediately.

Satisfied by my forest excursion, I momentarily celebrated my mammalian "goal", packed up my things and returned to city life where I await my next foray into the woods in search of defenseless victims.

Footwear Update

I haven't talked about my kicks in a while, so I feel the need to update the 2.5 people that read my blog on my footwear situation. As I mentioned in my "Limited Is My Favorite Edition" post, limited is... my favorite edition. It can't be stated enough that I am a sucker for shoes that are stylish, have bright colors and come in short supply. Over the past few weeks I added three pairs of shoes to my wardrobe that do indeed fit all three qualifications. I've mentioned the red patent Supra Skytop NS pair that I got on my birthday, but the two most recent additions have yet to grace the pages of this humble blog.

As I mentioned before, I bought a pair of green camouflage Skytops a while ago. However, it turns out that they are too small for me, and I had to return them. When I went to return them, I was pleasantly surprised to arrive just as my favorite shoe store (whose name I will not mention to prevent biters and hypebeasts from knowing where I get my stuff) received a shipment of the new Supra "Teal Snake" Vaiders. Seeing them in person, I loved the color and styling, and decided to exchange them for my old camo Skytops.

A couple weeks later, I went by the store on my lunch break because I was bored, and happened to notice that the Supra Skytop Silver NS had received a significant price drop. I went back to work and consulted my brother, my parents, Sho and eBay on whether or not I should purchase them. After talking to my family and friend, I left the final decision up to eBay. I checked the prices of the shoes (which of course are limited edition, and won't be made anymore), and was shocked and awed at the astronomical fee for which they were selling online. My decision made, I shot straight to the store after work and purchased my newest pair of shoes.

As of this moment, I am placing myself on an enforced purchase hiatus. I'll be stacking chips and purchasing only necessities for a while. Hopefully no limited edition or extra fresh shoes come out in the next few weeks...

Not Another One

Ah, Signor Secco. For those of you who don't know/remember, my dislike of Juventus' Sporting Director Alessio Secco is well-chronicled. It would appear that he's now at his old ignorant ways again. Apparently dissatisfied with his previous brilliant purchases (see: Tiago, Boumsong, Sergio Almirón), Mr. Secco has decided to delve into the transfer market again for the January transfer window.

Goal.com reported earlier that Juventus plans to swoop for Bosnian/(possibly) German/Serbian/American central defender Neven Subotic from Dortmund and French striker Frederic Nimani of Monaco in the upcoming transfer window. The question that rings painfully in my mind is "Why Nimani?"

I wholeheartedly agree with the pursuit of Subotic, a strong, skilled young defender who seems set to have a very bright future. Subotic addresses the gap at centre back, he would slot well into the first team without much fuss, and he addresses the gap at centre back. The repetition of that phrase wasn't a mistake, I just feel the need to emphasize that Subotic's prospective purchase is out of necessity and is one that would benefit the side.

However, in my opinion, the interest in Frederic Nimani is unneeded, given the talent already at the disposal of the Bianconeri. Earlier in the summer, Juventus' purchase of Amauri was met with some opposition, given the presence of target strikers David Trezeguet and Vincenzo Iaquinta already in the team. In addition to the presence of forward Alessandro Del Piero and the return of Sebastian Giovinco as well as the younger prospects such as David Lanzafame coming back into the squad in the future, Amauri was seen as a surplus. However, Amauri has slotted well into the team, and acquitted himself brilliantly thus far. With Trezeguet's recent injury leaving him out for around 4 months, Juve currently has 4 healthy strikers on their books.

In my mind, Trezeguet's injury could be a blessing in disguise for Juventus. Giovinco has long begged for a chance to showcase his talents in the first team, and the absence of Trezeguet gives he and Amauri more of a chance to play. However, if Nimani is brought in, I believe it will not only hinder Giovinco's development, but may block Lanzafame's and/or other youngsters' re-entry into the team. Secco already has driven out Michele Paolucci and Antonio Nocerino, young players who were seen to have a bright future, and I fear this could be only the beginning.

Start Tinkering

Juventus' managerial figurehead, the silver-crowned Claudio Ranieri, is known as "The Tinkerman" in the footballing world. This moniker was bestowed upon him because of his overwhelming propensity for changing lineups, formations and tactics on a regular basis in the many teams of which he has been caretaker.

In my opinion, constant change in a squad makes it very difficult for the team to gel and form a cohesive unit on the pitch. For the most part, I do believe Ranieri has done a good job with his rotation policy at Juventus, especially with the resources at his disposal. However, there is one glaring omission from the Juve rotation. My favorite miniscule maestro: Sebastian Giovinco.

After recalling Giovinco from loan at Empoli, my hopes (like most other Juve fans) were sky-high that Giovinco would be given a run in the first team in order to aid his development and showcase his talents to the world for the Juventus cause. Instead, Bianconeri supporters have been left wondering why our pocket dynamo rots on the bench, even as 36-year-old Pavel Nedved struggles through 3 games in 7 days.

As games pass and Giovinco remains on the bench, speculation increases about his frustrations and ongoing contract negotiations. The ever-present threat of Arsene Wenger and Arsenal poaching our brightest talent seems more realistic by the day. Something must be done, and the tiny talent must be given a chance in the Juve first team.

Let him play!!

Really Spain?

Spain has been a notoriously racially intolerant country for centuries. From the expulsion of the Moors from Central Iberia in 1212 to the expulsion of Jews from Spain in 1492, there are many instances of Spanish racism and general intolerance of different cultures. In the modern era, it would appear their viewpoint hasn't changed much.

Earlier today I read an article about rising Anti-Jewish and Anti-Muslim sentiment in Europe. Unsurprisingly, "positive views toward Jews outweighed negative ones in every European country surveyed but Spain." A whopping 46% of Spaniards held negative views toward Jews, compared to 36% of Polish and 34% of Russians.

I'm not surprised. Over the last few years, a few racial incidents have sprung up that give backbone to the statistics presented. Most recently, the Spanish Olympic basketball team was photographed before the Olympic Games in Beijing with their hands to their eyes, pulling the skin back in order to mimic the epicanthic fold that occurs widely in people of Central and Asian descent. Understandably, the Chinese response was less than favorable. Even before this incident, racist action out of Spain has reached the forefront of world news. Time after time, Black soccer players in Spain have had monkey sounds directed at them, had bananas thrown in their directions, been victims of racially derogatory comments and more. Even the Euro 2008-winning Spanish national team coach, Luis Aragonés was caught on tape in 2005, calling the French-Guadaloupian Thierry Henry "that black s**t".

The extent that racism is accepted in Spain is evident in the punishment imposed upon Aragonés after his off-color remark. Initially, the Spanish federation refused to discipline "El Viejo" (The Old Man), but after being urged to do so by Spain's anti-violence commission, decided to fine him a paltry 3000 Euros. This sum, the equivalent of around a day's wages for Aragonés, is a laughable punishment for such a racially insensitive remark coming from such a high-profile person.

Unless attitudes towards racism in Spain change, I wouldn't be surprised to see the percentage of negative views towards minorities go up in the next poll. It hasn't changed much in 9 centuries, who's to say it will start now?

Rogue Tech

This morning at around 3 AM I awoke to the sounds of what surely was a robot sent back in time from 1984 to murk me in my sleep. I jumped out startled out of my wits, looking around frantically to pinpoint the origin of the attack in order to properly make my defense. In my excitement I nearly fell out of the bed flat onto my face. I was unable to find the death-dealing android, but I did find the source of the terrifying noise.

Inexplicably, my printer was churning through some unbidden process as if it were 9 AM and I needed to make 20 copies of an important email. No paper came out, but the little monster made it seem that real work was being done.

This is not the first time my printer has started working on it's own. It's actions have lead me to believe that it has become self-aware and is working toward a mass technological agenda. First they disrupt our sleep, rendering us useless during the day. Then they get us while we're surrounded by tech-mology at work, sleepy and unable to defend ourselves. Finally, we'll be raised as live batteries for their new technology world. I vaguely remember part of that storyline from some movie called The Matrix, but I don't think anyone will notice.

BE WARNED!!! If your printer or any other piece of technology begins to act up in the next few days, be on your guard. Don't say I didn't warn you.

The Man From Negron

There have been reports streaming in from Chapel Hill, NC, Atlanta, GA and Greenville, NC of a figure flying about the streets and buildings terrorising citizens. Some believe it to be a large bird, others think it's a small plane, but I have surmised the truth. Andre Sherard is the Black Superman.

I began to have suspicions about Andre's true identity when he would often disappear for extended periods when we hung out. I wasn't sure where he was, but he would return out of breath, often with blood or rubble on his clothes. From the information I've gathered, Andre, or "Bizarro Negraro" as he tends to call himself, will swoop in on unsuspecting victims, "saving" them from some "fate" he has constructed in his own overactive and puny brain. These "rescues" will often end up in injury for the person being saved, destruction of public property, as well as general horror and disgust at simply seeing Negraro's perfectly coiffed perm.

The authorities have been notified, and the official advice for people wandering the streets is to stay inside if at all possible. If it is not an option for you to hole up in your abode, exercise extreme caution. If indeed you do run across the Ghetto Superman, avoid eye contact, act confidently and convey the appearance of being in charge of the situation. Eventually he will lose focus and drift off to play video games, juggle a soccer ball, go on AIM or stalk people on Facebook.

Shots Fired

This is a formal declaration of war against my good buddy Andre "I wish I was 3000" Sherard. Let it be known that this is in no way a war brought forth from malicious intent, just pure, unadultered hate (the good kind).

This war, should Andre choose to accept terms, will be a battle of wits, words and jokes. It begins tomorrow at 10:00 AM. Any submissions before that point will not be considered part of the war. Basically anything goes in this war.

For you Andre: Get it ready, get it ready, get it ready ready.

Warfare cont'd

A few days ago I wrote about toddler warfare. Per the request of my friend Hannah Ferrell, I've decided to extend the challenge to other relatively defenseless beings in this world, making it a full series on Warfare. Today's battle is with cats*. Let's go!

The other day I was walking down the streets of Cologne and a beautiful orange tabby kitten gamboled up to me playfully, seeking a bit of attention and perhaps a meal to boot. Seeing the forlorn look in its eye, I carefully picked it up, cradling it in my arms. It mewed pitifully and licked my hands, asking for a saucer of milk, a warm couch to curl up on and a bit of love. With the utmost care, I held it in front of me, gave it a gentle toss and punted it 30 yards into the air, where it landed with a resounding crash on a nearby Jaguar (ironic?).

With my coffin-corner punt firmly entrenched in the windshield of the luxury vehicle, I gave a resounding scream of triumph and whirled around, looking for my next unwary victim. However, the cats on this particular avenue were a bit more streetwise, and wouldn't be caught as unawares as their young fallen comrade. A small squadron of lean calicos stalked around the corner, quietly padding towards me with a steely resolve. I casually stepped sideways and took out the ball of catnip I always keep in my pocket for situations such as this. I tossed the catnip into the group, and seconds later hurled myself bodily into the group. 3 minutes later I walked away from the fray confidently, the broken bodies of a plethora of felines strewn around the empty street, lives extinguished. Feeling my job to be incomplete, I then went door-to-door, flicking house cats between the eyes then stuffing them into specially prepared cages full of rabid mice.

I continued my assault against the forces of felis catus throughout the day, showing no mercy to any mouser I came across. The visceral thrill of brandishing a literal cat o' nine tails against an elite phalanx of frenzied felines cannot be overstated. As I swung the live, bristling weapon against the bodies of countless pets, I felt that my warlike campaign was near a satisfying end. As an exclamation point, I seized three cats at a time, tying their tails together with a small space in the middle, just large enough for an old-fashioned torch. I set each trio on a purpose-made raft, and pushed them off into the Rhine, basking in the beautiful music of yowls my kitty torch created. My cat persecution was complete.

*Editor's note: The events in the above post are entirely fictional. No cats were harmed in the writing of this blog.

Young Theo

Has little Theo Walcott finally come into his own? For years, he's been hailed as the "New Thierry Henry", a title he's struggled to cope with until very recently. The temptation to compare the mercurial winger turned forward turned winger to his former mentor was at times irresistable given their remarkably similar qualities. Each has a certain turn of pace normally accessible only to those lining up beside Usain Bolt, they both have a tendency to drift out wide when playing centre forward, and are both in possession of the "did that really just happen??" factor.

However, as similar as the two players may appear, they are not the same player, a fact Walcott is especially keen to address. Even after taking on the Arsenal legend's number 14 jersey, scoring an Henry-esque goal, and celebrating in an eerily similar fashion, Walcott stated: "People always say it is like Thierry.. It is nice to be compared to him, of course, but I want to be my own player."

And it seems he now is. While Henry thrives on drifting out wide from a central position, he struggles with playing as a winger from the kick-off. On the other side of the coin, Walcott has shown excellent versatility in playing as an out-and-out right midfielder, as evidenced by yesterday's brilliant performance against a strong Croatia side, where he became England's youngest ever player to score a hat trick in World Cup qualifying. All his goals came as a right midfielder, a feat even Monsieur Thierry Henry would be proud of.

Theo showed glimpses of brilliance early in his career, popping up from time to time with a good performance in his early Arsenal days. However, he was accused of being inconsistent after a series of spotty performances. Recently, his consistency has improved, and he's put in some top quality performances, hinting that he may be close to fulfilling his ultimate potential. It may be that Walcott's time has come.

Toddler Warfare

33. That's the number of 5 year olds I can take in a fight according to a recent survey. If it really came down to it, I think I could take on over 50. I have no problem picking up a doe-eyed, recently weaned adolescent, barely out of diapers, swinging him/her over my head and taking out wave after wave of indefatigable milk-munchers. Imagine the visceral thrill of bowling a whimpering, simpering toddler into 15 other rabid, charging munchkins with only your bodily harm on their pre-pubescent minds. If it came down to it, I believe anyone could take their fair share of 5 year olds. And some of us would enjoy it.

I'm not saying I'm going to walk into the grocery store and uppercut the first small child I see tottering through the cereal aisle. However, if there are 45 of them with gap-toothed snarls brandishing bottles of milk and Batman toys, I have no qualms with seizing the nearest waif I see and hurling him bodily into the group, following it with a Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson-esque leap.

I'm just saying. It could be fun.

Limited Is My Favorite Edition

I've recently begun to stray more and more from traditional shoe stores, opting more for smaller hole-in-the-wall skate shops and non-chain retailers. My preference has shifted from shoes that are widely available to the general public to what those in the know like to call "limited edition" kicks. This highly technical term refers to shoes that are produced in short supply, and only offered for a finite period of time.

I'm a huge fan of unique clothing, especially as it pertains to footwear. I prefer not to wear ridiculous attire, but I do like bold colors and shoes that aren't worn by every other person on the street. That is not to say that if I see a widely worn shoe that strikes my fancy I won't buy it simply because it's a commonplace item, but my preference lies in distinctive vestments if possible.

That being said, recently I've been smitten by Supra Footwear's Skytop shoe. Supra produces their shoe in limited quantities, and they are only available in select skate shops around the country. Their shoes are high quality, comfortable, and most importantly they look good to me. Despite one of my best friends Juan Duque calling the camo Skytops "rain boots", I love them, and I can't wait to snag another pair in a new colorway.

If anyone would like to donate to my shoe cause, I have PayPal and I also take checks. Email me at c.aa.west@gmail.com or just write a comment and I will follow up with you.

Untitled

"It is absolutely silly and unproductive to have a funeral for the word nigger when the actions continue. We need to have a movement to resurrect Brothers and Sisters, not a funeral for niggers. 'Cause niggers don't die."
- "Project Roach"

Recently I've been plagued by, dare I say it, niggerdom. When I say this word, I am not referring to Black people specifically, I'm referring to general ignorance. Whether it be rampant disregard for the rules and general standards of the English language, general inability to behave like civilized humans in public, or simply basic incompetence, I am severely allergic to idiocy. It's not a race thing, it's not a culture thing. It's a people thing.

As much as I am annoyed by incompetence and lack of intelligence, I am conversely buoyed by signs of intelligence I see from time to time. When I am able to hold a good conversation or read something enlightening it lights an internal spark of hope. However, the problem of niggerdom still remains and it's up to those who have the mental acuity and passion for knowledge to carry the torch. I don't mean to insinuate that it's not ok to act foolish from time to time, or have fun all the time, but once the line of coonery is crossed it's time to look around, see if anybody is watching, and quietly jump back into the realm of intelligence without missing a beat.

Without delving too deep in to my feelings, I wanted to give a quick overview on my recent frustrations. If I'm similarly irked, I will share my feelings in more depth.

Sneaker Head

It finally happened. It snuck up on me with all the cunning and subtlety of a shotgun-toting Dick Cheney, and finally caught me. I am now a bona fide -- wait. I'm not really a sneaker head. I can't claim to have ever had the urge to pay more than $150 for a pair of tennis shoes. I can't say I've ever had the urge to wait more than 15 minutes in line to cop a pair of fresh new kicks. I can't even say I've marked my calendar for a shoe release date, and I've DEFINITELY never nearly gone broke to buy a pair of shoes.

So what am I? Maybe I'm just a sneaker ear. Or a sneaker eye. Not the whole head. I can't be a legit sneaker head. I like my paper too much. I am quite fond of Green Benjamin Franklin and all his presidential buddies. I do love a good pair of fresh new clodhoppers with which to tool around town and garner stares of admiration, hate and consternation, but I am not willing to sacrifice my whole life in order to achieve sneaker head status.

Call me a sneaker h. Maybe if I get my skills up and get a life sponsor I'll add the next three letters.

Where's God?

In this blog I've talked a lot about shoes and soccer. Well almost exclusively about shoes and soccer. I tend to talk a lot about these things because they're fun to talk about and they're relatively controversy-free. However, last night, I was thinking about one of my mom's favorite phrases: "Where's God in this?" When I started to write the blog, I intended it just to be an outlet for my extraneous thoughts. It may come across as if all I think about is clothes and sports, but in reality, thats just what I choose to put down on "paper". God is central in my life, and I felt I should address that fact without getting too in depth about my philosophy and views. This blog isn't meant as a serious medium for deep thoughts, just surface ideas.

Anyway, now that I've gotten that off my chest, I'll resume normal shallow content.

Speed Freak

Around 10:30 this morning, out of boredom, I decided to try the infamous coffee bean and see how my body would respond. Around 5 minutes after ingestion of said beverage, my legs --already normally prone to a constant state of movement-- began to go into overdrive as if prepping for the biggest b-boy battle of the year. As I sat at my desk, my fingers twitched at the keyboard, typing explanations to friends on iChat as to why my thoughts were racing faster than the G.W. Bush approval rating rollercoaster (coming this year to Disney). Comically enough, I had no urge to do work at all, the opposite of what coffee drinkers supposedly hope to achieve with their AM consumption of this dangerous liquid.

There's a reason I don't drink caffeinated coffee. I'm already an incredibly hyper person, and the addition of crack (I mean coffee) to that mix just spells nervous energy and crazylegs wrapped into a tightly strung ball of muscles.

As I now begin to come down from my ridiculous coffee "high", I can definitely see why people choose to drink it in the mornings. While I'm quite sure I receive the most extreme effects of coffee --an incredible boost of energy for a much shorter period than normal-- I can understand how coffee's extra push can get many through the day. However, I can also see how people develop a serious addiction to the diabolical little bean. The draw of that additional get-up-and-go with little consequence could be irresistible for many. I just know I won't be in that number. Unless I get really bored.

My New Crush

Alright, I admit it. I've fallen for Supra Skytops. I first saw them around a year ago, and as they were gold (a color I'm not very fond of), I didn't take much notice. However, recently Supras have become my new favorite shoe, followed closely by Nike SB Dunks. Searching the shoe website KicksOnFire.com the past couple weeks, I've run across more and more crazy editions of Supras that caught my fancy, and as it was my birthday a few days ago, I decided to get a pair with some well-earned money I received for staying alive for 22 years.

I walked into the store intending to purchase the white and red Supra Skytop NS (Non Skate) for my closet's benefit, but was immediately greeted with the magic words: "Limited" and "Edition", pertaining to the brand new red patent leather Skytop NSs. Of course, with red being my favorite color, and limited being my favorite edition, I walked out with a brand new pair of Supras and the knowledge that I was only the 2nd person in Charlotte (and possibly the Southeast) to own them.

After I bought the Supras, I had the urge to buy more of the shoe in different colors over the next couple days, but I valiantly fought it off by repeatedly looking at my bank account, gas prices and my phone bill.

More to follow...