Here are just a few of my favorite DIY (Stands for DO IT YOURSELF, GOSH!) tutorials and projects floating around the internet that you should know about this week. By the way, when i say craft, that doesn't mean a jumble of Popsicle sticks and Elmer's glue.Crafting is so much more.
Some are harder than others, a few are easy enough for the least-creative minded person to do. Also, don't forget Halloween is coming up!
1. Tattoo Tights
This is a simple photograph DIY I found on Instructables.com that is similar to the fake tattoo sleeves people have been wearing lately. Simple, cheap, and will scare your mother spitless.
You might have seen these novelty plates at places like Fred and Friends but all you need is a porcelian marker like the one in this tutorial and you can make your own designs and gifts. You can try drawing and tempering your plate in the oven after using a sharpie but the paint will wear off after a few good washes.
You have no idea how distracting it is when my mind Rick Rolls me during Math Class. No idea. One minute my cranium is a serene lake of knowledge, the next Mr.Farley's voice is completely drowned out by "...never gonna let you down, never gonna mess around, and HURT YOU!"
Generally I don't have this problem (usually its just humming elevator music). Today, though....today.... well. Today is different. I've been getting up at 6 am every day of the week for one reason or another and staying up long past burning the midnight oil getting various things done. Oh, and this week my Mom and I have upped our running to 3 1/3 miles every other morning. Really, running past the places and people we do I'm surprised we haven't been abducted yet. I guess all the hard-core weirdies are sane enough to be asleep at 6 a.m.
So, long story short, I'm already ready to drop out of high school and become a mattress tester when you add running, dance, and forgotten schoolwork on Monday night. That is why, this morning, I've officially lost it. Lost something. I'm too tired to remember what. A puppy?
This is my day so far:
6 a.m. Woken up. Promptly go back to sleep.
6:10 a.m. Realize it is Tuesday. Leap like a starved whale after some juicy octopus out of bed.
6:11 a.m. Realize that i'm not in the ocean and land on the hard, cruel floor. Curl up into a ball. Fall asleep again. Dream of jellyfish.
6:15 a.m. Wake up and crawl upstairs. Wander in circles, dazed, then eat the salsa I find on the counter. I think it was salsa...
6:20 a.m. Get dressed.
6:21 a.m. Go back to my room and find pants.
6: 31 a.m. Pack bags, pack lunch, pack children.
6:52 a.m. Get into car. Fall asleep.
Later...
7:45 a.m. Arrive at HL (home link). Open eyes are realize I've arrived. Look in mirror and try to rub away imprints on my face from sleeping on weird things in the car. Fail.
8:10 a.m. Hug all my Jimmer friends, say "Whats up in your fishbowl?", etc. Avoiding leaning on anything to prevent dozing. Blipped out of consciousness for a second when hugging someone.
8:15 a.m. Arrive at math class. Wait for teacher. Talk with students while dumping a packet of Zip Fizz into my bottle of water. (Zip Fizz is a vitamin/energy drink supplemental type thingy)
8:20 a.m. Teacher arrives and class begins. So does the song, "Forever Young", in my head.
8:34 a.m. The caffeine is coming and going. I'm alternating between disastrously tired and slap-happy.
8:40 a.m. Teacher is writing out the fraction m/zp. I can barely contain my hysterical laughter as he repeatdly says "Zee pee". I'm mature enough to not laugh out loud but young enough to be cracking up on the inside.
9:32 a.m. Released from class! Somehow levitate upstairs to the Lit. Classroom.
9:40 a.m. Listen to Teacher (mom) and fellow students (Jimmers) discuss and interact whilst I fold my orange student election ballot into a turtle. Draw its shell, a turtle habitat on a piece of homework, and construct the turtle's bio. (Name: George O'Charlie. Gender: Male. Alias: Awkward Turtle. Supper Power: Flight. etc.)
10:03 a.m. Wake up here and there to hear bits and pieces of the class discussion.
Jimmer: "Jimmer, will you be by gingerbread man?"
Jimmer: "Suurreee."
Jimmer: "I LOVE Queen Frostine. She is my bride."
Jimmers: "And the invention of the corn dog indirectly caused the Russian Famine because...."
10:20 a.m. Make George O'Leary eat some of Janelle's (er, I mean Jimmer's) chocolate cupcake in revenge for her claiming Author Bio while handing out homework. Jimmer, George says it was perfection on a popsicle.
12:08 a.m. Released from class and sitting here writing and updating student's grades into the computer for Mother Jimmer. Jimmer, you will be happy to know you have a 110% grade. Other Jimmer, turn in your Reader's Journal.
So yeah. Thats my day so far. Who knows what will come next. All I know is that I need a neck massage and nap time, STAT. Maybe I can persuade Stephy Jimmer to give me a neck massage during Chem....I can bribe her with mysterious salsa.
The little boy with had circled the bustling gymnasium of people and tables over and over. Every once in awhile he would come back to our table of jewelry and chocolate and look at a necklace. Then, clutching his little cowboy leather coin purse, he'd set off again.
My mom was grading papers next to me behind our maroon table at the craft fair. Delicate origami fish, fans, and cranes hung suspended from wires and gummy bear, m'n'm, and other unusual earrings were arranged about their rack. Business was hopping and I was working in a special order when the blond munchkin came to a stop at our table again. Like a kitten struck with a sudden, serious thought he gently fingered the silver chain of a necklace. He looked mom straight in the eye and declared that he had chosen; he wanted the sparkly gummy bear necklace.
Like most little people, he wasn't used to using anything but mud pies and action figures as barter. So, one scrubbed coin at a time, he would hold them out and ask, "Is this enough?" and Mom would sadly shake her head no.Finally, he unfurled his hand and held out two gleaming $1 coins. "How about these?" Taking the coins, still warm from how tight he had been clutching them, we bagged and presented the necklace. The smile of anticipation that lit up his face was well worth the discounted price. As he said thank you and turned to go, I asked him who the necklace was for. "Oh, its for my sister's birthday!" he beamed with the sincere secret of the perfect gift.
We ended up selling many earrings to many lovely people and making a nice nugget of dough to add the the Japan Trip fund baking in my glass milk jar of money. Even though it was the smallest, the most valuable profit was watching the delight of the little boy as he traded all he had to please the sister he loved; two golden coins.
The smell of coffee in the morning and other of life's simple pleasures,
_Hannah
Can't help but be reminded of this:
Luke 21
The Widow’s Offering
1 As Jesus looked up, he saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. 2 He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. 3 “Truly I tell you,” he said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others.4 All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.”
I've been reading about King David in the Bible recently, and i'm constantly amazed. (I know you just read "Bible" and your interest just evaporated, but hear me out).When you say David, everyone thinks of this little kid with a sling-shot facing off a cartoon giant. The real David of the Bible was so much more, though. If you took James Bond, Indiana Jones, and the Prince of Persia and made them into one guy born into a Bible time family then saturated him in God's favor, you'd have King David. He was strong and skilled, slaying bears and lions and real-life giants when he was just a teenager. He was specially chosen by God to rise from a Shepard (a bit like being a fast-food employee or farm hand today) and was promised the throne of Israel, a powerful and influential kingdom of the Middle East. He was a dangerous warrior is battle, an anointed musician, and a man who would die in an instant to save his friend. Not to mention that the Bible takes the time to mention how attractive and desirable (aka, pulchritudinous out the back door) David was. Bond had nothing on King David's love life, either. David seemed to collect wives and concubines that he seduced, not to mention that he had one of the Bible's most scandalous affairs (not his best moment, for sure) that involved an indiscreet bath and murder. On top of all these achievements, however, David was a dancer.
Correction, David wasn't a dancer. He danced. He could have looked like a a spinning fool on crazy flakes when he danced, but he was so filled with the joy of the Lord that he couldn't contain it all. So he danced before God and all the people of Israel in celebration. One of his wives was watching from a window and later said to him: "How the king of Israel has distinguished himself today, disrobing in the sight of the slave girls of his servants as any vulgar fellow would!"
(Aka: "How kingly you looked dancing today, David. Can't you keep a shirt on while you are gettin' jiggy? You're acting like a civillian, not royalty! You looked like a fool dancing all around.")
He shot right back at her: "It was before the LORD, who chose me rather than your father or anyone from his house when he appointed me ruler over the LORD's people Israel--I will celebrate before the LORD.Yes, and I am willing to look even more foolish than this, even to be humiliated in my own eyes! But those servant girls you mentioned will indeed think I am distinguished!"
(Aka: "Yo, wife! There was no shame because my dancing was for God. Anyway, God chose me, NOT your father the last king, to rule over Israel. I will celebrate and thank God for what he has done for me. I would embarrass myself so much even I thought I looked ridiculous if it was for God. Oh, and those servant girls in the crowd watching me? They will only think I am being kingly! True story."
(By the way, his wife ended up being cursed never to have children to the day of her death. Better think twice before despising God's people.)
"So great," you're thinking. "He was filled with great joy and danced with no shame before the Lord. Great guy, good for him, time to go check Facebook." But there is more. Anyone can worship God with a thankful heart when life is going well, blessing and favor being showered, a new iphone 4 in their pocket. But what about when your To Do list is longer than your day? What about when you are depressed, an emotional wreck? When you don't have the new car you want and you just wrecked the junker you do have?
David faced one of the hardest times of his life shortly after his adulterous affair with Bathsheba, a military friend's wife. 9 months, to be exact. His newest wife was pregnant. However, in punishment for King David's sin, God told him that his son would die. David's confidant and cocky additude suddenly deflated. In utter misery and grovelling desperation, he tore his kingly robes and refused to eat, pleading with the Lord for his son's life. This is what happened:
"And they said, “He (David's son) is dead.”
To someone who isn't a christian, stumbling on this story without looking at the rest of the Bible, they must think that God is a heartless, cosmic dictator. Nothing could be farther from the truth. God had to punish David, like a parent taking away a toy that their child had stolen, but it was perhaps harder for God than it was David. No father enjoys seeing their kid in pain, but sometimes the right thing to do isn't the easy thing to do. How easy would it have been for God to just allow David to live happily ever after, no side-affects after committing adultery and murder. But it wouldn't have been right, it wouldn't be the best thing for David. It can be so hard to understand from our point of view, but God was only doing what was best for David, like any good parent would.
Never think that God didn't care about David, though. God did. The price of sin is death, and since no one is perfect we all are sentenced to death, no matter how many good things we do. God loved David, you, and me so much that he gave his own perfect son to die so that we could live. Jesus was the ultimate sacrifice.
Right, back to King David.
"And they said, “He (David's son) is dead.” So David arose from the ground, washed, anointed himself, and changed his clothes; and he came into the house of the LORD and worshiped."
Wow. When I first read this I did a double-take. If you've ever lost a child, a sibling, or a family member you know what it feels like. Shock, disbelief, confusion; the feeling like someone has unceremoniously ripped your heart out of your chest and all that remains is a hollow place where all the memories and love of that person are supposed to be but never will. "How it feels when the sacred is torn from life, and you survive." The death of a loved one, especially a child, is an event that can destroy a family. It took months, more, for my family to return to a semblance of normal life after my baby brother died (another story for another time). So how, HOW, can David worship and dance before the Lord when his newborn son just died? Not to mention when David knows that it is all his fault?
Because David knew why God had taken his son, he knew God did it because he loved David more than the King could understand. He still knew, beyond the pain he felt, that God had saved his life and had made a way that despite David's sin he would see his son again one day. He knew that God is indescribable and worthy to be praised.
So he danced. I doubt that the same joy filled him, i'm sure he felt like a piece of dirt that had gone into the wash and became a shred of beaten lint. Not to mention he hadn't ate, washed, or slept for who knows how long. And yet he worshiped. David had enough wisdom to know that worship isn't just praising God when everything is thanksgiving and blessing, its about learning to dance in the rain.
So that is also why I dance. I'm no prima ballerina and i'll never be able to do a perfect grand je'te, but I will always strive to dance like King David. Unashamed, in love, with a heart of worship. Plus, have you heard me sing?
(Here is an incredibly subtle hint...)
There is always a story, _Hannah
(P.S. Started writing this as my 20 minute blog post about why I dance, idea from Brianna's lovely blog. Here I am, two hours and some pretty heavy writing later...)
The building was like a blank ice box prison, much like a gigantic igloo. Wary and prepared, Hannah the Anthropologist stepped into the holding and training facility. The walls had been pasted with motivational posters and other cheerful propaganda that was put in place for a positive impact on the species.Oh, the humanoids were everywhere! Hannah found it fascinating to observe these sub-species of the homo sapiens, other wise known as "public schoolers". They gathered like clots in the main throughfare: the hallway. Moving and socializing, performing everything on the range of social relations: Communication, sharing media such as art (comic books) and music (earbuds), several of the humans seemed to be openly engaged in the mating ritual of kissing. Or perhaps they were simply exchanging saliva samples in an act of sharing? It was hard to tell.One thing was clear to Hannah, however: A sub-species whose females wore sparkly booty shorts in 60 degree weather would be fascinating to observe...
Yeah...pretty much looked like that.
So i'm not actually a student of anthropology, but that doesn't mean I didn't feel like an alien in a foreign land when my friend Steph and I went to a local high school to take the PSAT. As a life-long homeschooler, I've never actually been enrolled in public school/spent more than 3 hours in one on a school day. So for me and my friend, it was slightly like being in a foreign country. A very small, strange, diverse, and narcotic country which we only spent about 4 hours in before high-tailing it out of there.
Let me begin by saying that walking around the school trying to find someone, ANYONE, who knew where the PSAT was being held was like was worse than riding a London subway during the evening commute. Worse than an awkward elevator ride with 30 strangers in Tokyo. Unimaginable as it may be, the hallways of a public high school were more turbulent and discombobulating than any form of commute I've ever been on. (Well, almost. There was the train ride with The "It". But thats another story...) Its like trying to fight your way up a down escalator crammed with surly, loud, and hormonal teenagers who haven't been fed yet.
Ok, ok. Maybe Japan was worse. But still, the hallway was pretty bad.
Really, it was like Homelink (the "homeschool high-school"/Co-op we attend) except multiplied and sleep deprived. How the various clicks and social circles were treated and accepted was obvious to see, though. For Example:
Geeks/Nerds:
-At Homelink: Fun, if slightly bizarre, people who often come to class in cosplay or wearing t-shirts from their favorite TV shows/Anime. Usually pretty intelligent and are the kind of people who fully embrace their nerdom and aren't afraid if its cool or not to wear a fez to school. (Because everyone knows you can't go wrong with a fez. Duh.)
-At Public School: Sad little people with capes and action figures stuffed in their pockets. They hug the lockers and avoid people as they walk down the halls. Messy, unkempt hair and black layer upon black layer of clothing. They travel under the radar one by one and meet to play D 'n' D near the water fountain between classes.
Quick question. How is it possible to be high before breakfast? I mean really, some of the people we met must have been eating some pretty potent poppy-seed muffins on the way to school.
Can I get a witness?
The test itself went fine. We sat in silence, the sound of scribbling filling the chilly lunch room. The lunch ladies were cooking dehydrated food on the far side of the caff. and teachers paced about and looked over our shoulders, like silent sharks with monotonous blonde hilights and comfortable shoes. Whenever they walked by me I felt like i'd been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. This was ridiculous because I don't know how in the world someone could cheat on a standardized test. Where was I going to hide my answers, anyway? The soggy tissue in my pocket from catching a cold?
To sum up the experience, i'd like to share this little blurb:
(After test)
Girl next to me: "So, um, my friend wants to know if you're home-schooled?" (All the homeschoolers had a Hall Pass)
Me: "Yeah, my friend and I are just here for the test."
Girl: "Right. So, after the test, do you like go home or stay here for lunch?"
Me: "...go home. I'm not enrolled here."
Girl: "Ohhhh, ok."
Sigh. I know several public schoolers and most of them are nice, funny, and intelligent. I guess they were all home sick that day. If you are a public schooler, a home schooler, or any other type of schooler I may not know about, please don't be offended. I'm writing commentary on the not-too-fabulous side of public school that I experienced, but its not like I attend or can say I know everything. Plus, its the person that comes out and not the place they come from that counts. I love you all. Except you, the one with "I Heart Math" t-shirt. You need help.
Bottom line, you aren't missing out on anything by not going to public school and it isn't the hellish place that some people make it out to be. Light purgatory, maybe. But they do give you your own cubby-hole.
Emma is an enigma. Part 4 year old sister, part adorable blonde midget, part fruit loop, part hidden evil mastermind. In my mother's own words, "She is the most bizarre child." (Obviously she has forgotten my
childhood...)
Usually a jolly little elf, Emma ran to me this morning and clutched my leg, weeping. It was sudden, becaause i'd seen her only a moment earlier passionately kissing a door. She claims she was prodded with a garden tool by Glory (Most Wanted Sisiter #2). Who knows if it really did happen or what Emma did to provoke Glory, but in the end her fashion choices saved her hide. Nothing could pierce the multiple layers of leotards, frilly blouses, sweaters with embroidered Eskimos, and corduroy jumpers she wears. Jumpers,plural. Oh, and a tutu.
From the moment she was born she has been...unusual. I still remember playing with her when she was a freshly-baked little bun of a baby with crystal blue eyes and a a blonde, Vulcan-like hairstyle. Truly, she looked like a her mother was an angel and her father Spock. Anyway, so there we are. I, waving my arms around and contorting my face like a fool to entertain her. Emma, sitting in her car seat and laughing at this strange creature before her. In a, what I thought, show of sisterly affection she reached up and grabbed my hand. Smiling sweetly, she bit. For a toothless toddler her bite was worse than her bark. I can truthfully say that while she was growing out of her baby-hood I was nearly gummed to death several times.
I love her to cupcakes, but there have been trying circumstances. Most teenagers will invent a plethora of excuses why their homework is late:
"I accidentally put it in the offering at Church!"
"The school bully stole it from me at lunch!"
"Well, you see, I have this medical condition..."
"I was speeding and the cop took my essay to hold against me in court."
"I was abducted by aliens and they are currently using my homework to learn about the human mind."
"My/A (animal) ate it."
"It was pick-pocketed!"
"Oh, the book publisher has it to review for becoming their next novel."
You get the jist. Well, I have a honest-to-goodness excuses why my homework is missing, thanks to my lovely sister:
"Sorry, my sister found my homework and chewed it up."
"Oh, that paper! My sister Emma colored on it."
"The math problems were all done but my sister buried it in the garden for "treasure hunt"."
and, my favorite,
"I'm sorry, I had it completed but my little sister Emma peed on it."
Yes, peed. All over the literature assignment that I had hand-written. The potty-training years were hard on us all.
I no longer have to say, "What child? The one kissing that stranger's car? Nope, don't know her." Emma has started to give out aliases and completely re-writing her life story. At the doctor's office, for example:
Disco Doctor (thats a whole other story): "So, whats your name little girl?"
Emma: "Christina Georgey."
Me: "No, its not. It's Emma."
Emma (completely serious): "No. I'm Alice Georgy."
Me: "You said Christina."
Emma (Patting my knee pityingly): "You are wroooooong, Hannah.It's my new names."
When my Dad went to go pick-up Emma from the sunday school of a church we were visiting, the teacher looked shocked to see him. Emma quickly cleared up the confusion for everyone. "Oh, Daddddy! You are my other Daddy. My first Daddy died in the war. But then I married you!" Really, how long will it take these big-people to understand the simplest things?
Despite years of experience with the mysterious midget, she still manages to surprise me. Who wouldn't do a double-take when they glanced out the window to see their little sister, buck-naked, streaking with wild abandon through the yard for everyone to see?
This is exactly what she looked like. Only, more secretive and less frosting.
So thats it for now, its been awhile since I checked on my sisters and they've been scarily quiet. Past times when this has happened i've found them doing such delightful childhood activities such as, oh you know, having a tea party with creek water and a tea-time snack of rocks and dirt (which Emma tried to eat). Oh, or hunting down one of my friends and pantsing them. Yes, this really has happened. Or hosting stuffed-animal cage fighting in the garage. But, come what may, life is never dull with Emma around. Hilariously humiliating, maybe.But never dull.
Google Images. Like Every other picture unless I specify.
I looked over my blog this week and realized that I write about a lot of the same stuff over and over. I write a lot about food (its just that good), dancing, math, trips I promise to write about eventually (but never do because I'd never stop), sleep (or lack there-of), and everything is splattered in lolcatz and gifs. I think I might have a slight fascination...
Anyway, things are gonna change around here. Today i'm going to write only about things I don't know about, breaking one of the time-tested rules of literature. Well, literary rules can go hide under the sofa and read Wooster and Jeeves until i'm done.
So...things I don't know about. This could take awhile.
-Football
Albert Pujols plays football, right? Or-wait. Nevermind.
Football is one of the more interesting sports. People being tackled, dog piled, and occasionally breaking a femur. What I want to know is who's idea it was to dress the players in skin-tight spandex and padded shirts? They have one a sadistic stylist.
See http://hannah-hoo.blogspot.com/2011/02/wheres-etrade-baby.html
-Baseball
I do have experience with baseball! Well, if dancing on the field during Global Day of Prayer counts. Baseball has got to be the slowest game known to man besides snail racing and competitive paint drying. However, the last baseball game I went to was not a complete bust. I got ice-cold coke, a hot dog, and finishe Fantastic Spiderman, Volume 1. Besides that I vaguely remember that the cardinals were playing a blue team. You can guess who won. (Sorry, Matt and all people who love that all-american past time. Go here for a buddy:http://hometowndiscount.blogspot.com/)
-Golf
WHY? What makes people want to watch as people hit a little white ball with a little silver stick into a little green hole. Golf does, however, make excellent TV to watch when you need a good nap.
Honestly, the only reason i'd watch golf is this guy.
-Tennis
David Tate is the only person who has ever made tennis sound interesting, I have to say. So that elevates it to being more interesting than baseball, less interesting than football. At least people occasionally get pelted with a furry green ball. Now that's entertaining.
(Ok, lets just assume for the moment i'm virtually clueless about everything sports-related. But I do like soccer.)
-Being enrolled in real, honest-to-badness public school. Sure, i've seen the movies and read the books about the pop facade of High School, but i've never actually experienced it for myself. The few times I have stepped into a public school (for testing, contests, etc.) everyone seems to be sleepwalking.And texting.
-Having Short Hair
Correction, I did have short hair when I was about 6. Then I watched the Disney princess movies and had the idea that princesses have long hair firmly stuck into my little cranium. Now its waist-length and I don't know if I could ever just snip-snap it all off. Plus it really would come in handy as a scarf, an aid for tower-climbing princes, and for strangling attackers. Or anyone who tries to cut it.
-Being in a romantic relationship
The closest thing i've had to a boyfriend is Peter Pan when I was 10. Like every relationship, we had our problems. Him being fictional was the tie-breaker. Honestly, i'd like to wait for romance until college. I don't want to give away little pieces of my heart to short-term boyfriends to only meet my future husband and bestow him with swiss-cheese affection. Not to say that dating in high school isn't right for everyone, its just what I choose. I know i'm not ready, at least at this moment in time, to deal with someone else's emotions as well as my own. Someday, some lucky guy.
-The Simpsons
Yup, i'm in that 10% minority that hasn't seen an episode of the Simpsons. Just a clip or commercial here or there.
-Twilight (Books and Movies)
...and i'm also the minority that hasn't seen/read Twilight. Unattractive, undead, pale, sparkly vampire dudes just aren't my cup of tea. Nor guys who can't keep their shirt on and have excessive hair issues, though shapeshifters are much more pulchy than bloodsuckers. Probably the real reason I haven't read/watched the series is i'm too easily hooked on "doomed romance" cliff-hanger series.
(I'm really in a lot of minorities, huh? But, still human. Probably. ;)
-Politics
This is like the floor of a movie theater: a sticky subject and something I don't usually stay on for too long if I can help it. I know the basics: Total government control: bad.This guy is the good guy, you want him to win the election. This guy is the bad guy, you don't want him to win. They will challenge each other to a traditional duel with swords to become president of the united states. See? I know everything I need to about our government.
-Being an only child
Oh, that fabled childhood of the chosen few. Still, I wouldn't trade my siblings for the world (unless it comes with chocolate rivers and cotton candy clouds). My years of being a older sister/default mother have trained me well. I can change a diaper in my sleep, repair stuffed animals with super glue and paper clips, and carry multiple children at once. Being a mister (fake mother/sister) has given me a love of children, the skills to care for my own children in the future, and the resolve to put off having said children for a long time. Oh, the day when I can open a pack of gum- no, anything, and a chorus of voices don't call out: "CAN I HAVE ONE, TOOOOOO?"
Those are just a few of the things I don't know about. Looking back at the list, I sound far too stereo-typical homeschooler. If I had a nobel prize and constantly wore floor-length jean skirts it would complete the picture. Honestly, people, i'm not that strange! Now, where did I put my new gene-splicing make-your-own clone kit?
