Wednesday, August 31, 2005 

this is an audio post - click to play


Tuesday, August 30, 2005 

Fuck Me

Now that I don't have internet access I spend all day thinking, "ooh when I get home I'm going to blog about this and this and OOOHHHH THAT!!"

Then when I get home I have no recollection of any of the myriad of strange hallucigenic thoughts that parade through my skull ALL day long. NONE.



Hehe. I remember now......

One thing that I have always found incredibly stupid about all of my guy friends is their INSISTENCE to store everyone in the cell phone under fake names. What the FUCK?! It's so confusing. And I hate it! It's always seemed to me like they must be trying to hide something.

Which, yeah, probably isn't true since all of them do that even when they're single. So... whatever.

Anyway, the other day I started going through my phone book and I had tried to pick up the same habit for people who had the same name as other people I knew... yeah. Big fucking mistake. I cannot figure out who the fuck these people are to save my goddamn life.


Who is Rd? Who the fuck is that? Is it a boy? Is it a girl? FUCK I DON'T KNOW!!!

After some mind jogging I finally recalled a drunken night and me storing a number under "Reject".

Also, I remembered who BIA was... But still no Rd... and Heather? I don't know a Heather.

I'm starting to come to the conclusion that I must be storing numbers while drunk and then completely forgetting who the fuck these people are. I have occasionally met girls out and exchanged numbers with them so we can go dancing/drinking... but Heather? I really don't know who the fuck this chick is.



Friday, August 26, 2005 


My forehead feels incredibly smooth... which is odd because today I realized I was one day older and one day closer to death.


Thursday, August 25, 2005 

Faith (or fiction too)

I remember the day we lost our faith, it was during that split second God turned his face. We went to church, knelt to pray, and all we found was an empty space.

I bowed my head, steepled my palms, but my prayers were filled with a tempered rage. You raised your eyes, sighed your sigh, and looked for peace somewhere else inside.

Do you remember when we were young and filled with hope? Did you think you would bury two daughters. A husband. A son?

Sometimes I say we lost them, so I can finish the thought “At the supermarket” “the mall” “in the crowd”. God turned his face and we were all lost.

We buried them in unmarked graves. No money for rent, no money for head stones, we leveled the grass and went on our way. On Sundays we slept in for a change.

But we also tried to be perfect, afraid of an angry God, we thought we had been punished for everything ever done wrong and so we punished ourselves until we thought God satisfied, then you sat on the therapists couch learning to be justified. You, mother dear, rose from the depths sooner than I.

At night I crawled into the closet, shut the doors, lay amongst their shoes and cried into their coats.

I found my God on my hands and knees where all I could taste was regret and defeat. For days and weeks my wounds bled, my fears, my heartaches, my hatred. I took a shower and the tub turned red, combed my hair and found grey on my head. Old already at 23, I prayed for a God who would pray for me,fell asleep on cold bathroom tile and found a God that cried for me.

I remember the day I found my faith, I opened my palms to let go of my past and found I'd been given a future instead.




My back


Monday, August 22, 2005 

I Like Paint

In my version of "Cats" everyone dies...


Sunday, August 21, 2005 

Things That occurred To Me Today While Running Errands (or I wish I had a gun)

This story requires some background info. I hate writing background info, don't you? But whatever, here it is. I live on the rich side of ghetto city central. Which is, I know, pointless. I mean life up here on the hill is nice but I have to drive through shit to get here.

Also, thanks to all the mess with my ex-roommate aka soul sucking whore (refer to the april archives), I now live with my parents. Partly to pay back bills she stuck me with and partly because I'm still on the lease for an apartment I don't live in until the end of the year. Feel like slashing some tires with me?

So now I live rent free at the casa de la parientes. We have a deck, a pool, and poolmen that I occasionally have to let in. I feel like some rich spoiled kid/loser. I hate it. See my parents have always subscribed to tough love when it came to me, meaning I have never been handed shit or given a loan over a hundred bucks that I wasn't supposed to pay back immediately. My dependency gnaws at my skin... and theirs. I mean, we all like living together, but I'm 25. I need to get the fuck out. Never mind that I've been more independent and self sufficient than 99% of all the other people I know my age, I really wasn't raised to take handouts.

So today I leave the million dollar estates filled with caucasians trying to pretend that they've made it, and minorities that really did make it but are trying to pretend that they're still "keeping it real", to go run errands in the flatlands among the locals, the coke heads, and the welfare mothers.

If you're about to get righteous on me, stop. I grew up on THIS side of town and used to jeer the hill people. See that crappy jr. high where all the kids throwing gang signs are standing, yeah, that's where I used to go to school. And the park with the hypodermic needles? Yeah, that was a short cut, if you wanted to run into some questionable people who might sell you drugs, might give you a lift home, or might just push you into a bush. Yeah. I NEVER walked through that park only past it, and I STILL got jumped by 8 fat fucks one day who were getting initiated into a gang. Fuck those girls were fat cunts. They jumped me from behind and I still gave two of them a black eye... or maybe just small bruises. Whatever. I heard them say ow and that's all that matters. Here's the point, I hate the fucking mentality of this place.

All day today fucking pieces of shit looking at me dirty, like I'm soft, like they could take me. Look, FUCK YOU YOU CHOLA LOOKING PUTA. You think eyeliner on your fucking lips makes you tough, I'll hit you and your baby's daddy with my car you ugly piece of shit. You get welfare checks and sit on your fat ass growing fatter everyday while you "forget" to get on the bus to sign up your dirty kid for Medicaid and THEN you get pregnant AGAIN because you couldn't AFFORD birth control because HAVING the child or having an ABORTION is so much more cost effective?

Look man, I'm just trying to buy my kid sister's groceries for her lunch but you gotta look at me all shitty cuz I don't have makeup lines all over my face and my clothes are from target instead of the cheap ass mexican store next to the discoteca and bitch, you got another thing coming if you think you can take me. Because you can't. I won't hesitate to hit you back, take off the earrings I'm not wearing and throw down. Fuck I'll do it if I have to, but listen bitches, ain't none of you tough. You want to know what tough is?

Growing up with this shit and staying sober while keeping my knees together so I didn't end up strung out and pregnant like half the kids I knew at 13.

Now I'm not going to say that I always took the higher road. No way. I threw punches, I pulled hair, and yeah, I skipped at least two thirds of school. But I can walk through a fucking grocery store without dogging out every fucking person who looks different than me. You people need to grow the fuck up.

And the men. Shit I can't bend over. EVER. Or make eye contact. Eye contact is also a big mistake. The cat calls never stop. And trust me when I say that I don't think that I'm hot enough to cause all of this attention. Sometimes I want a pack of darts so that I can nail every stupid fuck that calls me mama cita. Ooooh mama cita, shake it! Sh-sh-shake it!

I think that's all the English they know, and there's a horrible part of me that is pissed off to think that THEY think they're good enough for me. I mean, look at me! And don't give me that bullshit, just cause life handed me a better plate, because I know from impromptu interviews, that half of these dumb asses had it better financially then I did. Same city, same schools, same same same.

Except now I wear polo shirts and pants that aren't five sizes too small while they give me dirty looks.

Haha. I'm still a ghetto mother fucker though. Don't let the college education fool you. I have a box cutter in my purse.


Saturday, August 20, 2005 

Thera Flu Madness

Yesterday I woke up sick. I’m talking face swollen, eyes watering, skin puffy sick.

I looked like SHIT, and sounded like shit too. Which is, trust me, far from normal. So I took some thera flu and headed off to work. At lunch I walked down to walgreens to buy some more which is where I found these thera flu caplets. Which was actually way better for me to take at work so I was pretty happy when I went up to the register.

Where they asked me for my ID

My ID? Wha?

I had actually left my purse, with my ID in my friends car. The walk to walgreens was somewhat impromptu, but there was no way in hell I was walking back and forth so I could grab my ID for FUCKING THERA FLU!!!

Umm. NO WHERE on that box does it say I have to be 18 to buy that.

But I need to see your id.


Because my cash register says I have to.

Look man, I’m 25 and I’m obviously sick. Just give me the damn meds.

This last part was not said pissily. Mostly because I was on the verge of losing my voice and had just walked several blocks while feeling that I had no oxygen to my brain.

Anyway, the guy finally sold it to me. BUT WHAT THE FUCK.

Now I’ve looked at this box and the ingredients and the warning several times. Still no frickin clue why I needed ID.

Whatever, anyway I gotta go snort… I mean take… some more thera flu now.


Thursday, August 18, 2005 

Pussy Cat (or Cindy was my inspiration)

If I was a guy I would be super sweet to all my girlfriends and nickname them all kitten.

That's right. All of them. This will also help in the event I have more than one girlfriend at a time. This would happen a lot since I am so good in bed.

Anyway, I would call them all kitten, and as time wore on slowly I would slip into calling them, "Pussy Cat".

Some of them would look at me askance.

"Hmm. What's he doing?"

But then they would chalk it up to my quirky but irresistable charm.

Months later Pussy Cat would just be shortened to Pussy. Randomly at first but with more and more frequency. The GF's would be like, "Umm. Hey T? Do you realize you're calling me Pussy?" I would turn slightly red with feigned embarresment, "Oh man Pussy Cat. I'm sorry. You just remind me of a cute little pussy cat! Claws and all!" Then I would bight their neck and make sweet love to them until they forgot all about it.

Some girls would be too smart and accuse me of diabolical evil plans. Those are the girls I would kick out of my house screaming "WHORE!!".

I would also break all their shit and fed ex it to their work.

Eventually I would find a girl, marry her and her full time name would be Pussy.

Which is when I get my tattoo.

On my back.


Summer would be the best because I would walk all around the beaches with my shirt off, proudly showing off the fact that I love Pussy.

Pussy is good to me.

Horrified parents would scream at me for being such a pervert and I would be like, "You got something against Pussy? What has she ever done to you?"

At work I would tell everyone that I had to leave, "Pussy's waiting at home".

When my daughters were ready to start dating I would advise them by telling them stories of their Mother, "Now lot's of men wanted Pussy. She had to beat them off with a stick."

And of course I would always be fond of telling everyone about my lovely wife, "Pussy is the best damn thing that ever happened to me".

Pussy. It's what's for dinner.




This is HNT... the censored edition.


Thursday, August 11, 2005 

I'm Just Not Into You

This morning I was listening to Greg Behrendt on the radio station. Alice. I like them. They make me go haha.

So Greg comes on and suddenly I am forced to listen as a deluge of idiotic women call in and begin to mouth off about the most inane things I have ever ever fucking heard.

So for those who don’t know, Greg is a stand up comic, with a rock/metal band that plays childrens nursery rhymes, and he wrote that stupid stupid stupid book, “He’s Just Not That In To You”.

Oh? Really? Was I supposed to figure that out when he didn’t return my calls, when he left another girls panties in his bed, or maybe when he got the tat of his ex’s name across his chest?

Basically what Greg has done is write a book filled with common sense and then handed it to women as if the were retards riding the short yellow bus through life.

See now, if I had written that book it would be a brick and every woman who ordered it would have that book smacked right into their face.

OK, a bit of a preface, I don’t hate Greg for this book, I hate women for not knowing this shit already.

For instance, some of the advice states that if he doesn’t return your calls, he’s just not that into you.

If he only has time to see you once a week, he’s just not that into you.

If he asks to bring a dog into the bed so it can lick you while he watches porn, he’s just not that into you, and also by the way, is one sadistic bastard.


If I hear one more damn female say in an insipid voice, I don’t know what’s wrong, I’m going to kick out all their teeth.

Look this book can be summed up in pretty much one paragraph.. ok maybe two, and I’m not going to charge twenty two bucks for this advice either. Or act like you’re stupid… although if this changes even one life then you really are stupid and I don’t want you reading my blog.

I’m serious. Click the x button right now. I hate you.

Ok, for everyone left: Everyone has bad days. Everyone. So the following sentences should be taken with something I like to call, common sense.

Guys who like you return calls, see you on Friday and Saturday nights (unless working), and don’t ever, ever, stand you up.


Also, men will lie to you to spare your feelings, to stop your crying, and to have sex with you. If there is a semi regular, or regular pattern of bad behavior, then this is how he TRULY feels about you! The nice stuff was just for sex and to clear his guilty conscious. Also, if he has tried to break up with you and you stayed anyway, any bad things he does to you? Yeah, he doesn’t give a rats ass because as far as he’s concerned you know the score and are now willing to take his shit.

I’m not exactly sure why women claim they don’t understand this. Personally I feel that it is an insult to our gender’s intelligence to keep up this charade of thinking men are just like women. They’re NOT. You want to know a secret girls? Men KNOW how we think and WHY we think that way, they just think it lacks common sense and therefore is of little importance.

Anyway Greg’s coming out with a new book called, “It’s a breakup because it’s broken”. Hmm. Really? I thought couples who cry and argue all the time were MEANT to be together?! It makes me sad that America is really that stupid.

Why do I say that?

Because the book is selling like crazy in America and a couple of other countries, but not France. Greg actually asked a Native Frenchman why it wasn’t taking off there and Frenchie replied, “Because in France, when we don’t like someone, we simply say ‘Eh. I don’t like you”.

Wow. What a concept.



Today Sublime is Stuck in my Head. Loop.

Starting today here is what I'm going to do, I'm going to make a list and everyone who pisses me off is going to be on this list and then I'm going to go down and sign whatever fucking paperwork I have to to get a gun. Then, when I get this gun, I am going to shoot every motherfucker in the head with it.


I'm going to look straight into their mocking eyes and sigh, "This is for being such a bastard" and my exclamation point is going to be the sound of my finger pulling the trigger.

It's three o'clock and there's already at least ten fucking people on my list. I fucking hate everyone. Mostly cuz most people are a bunch of @#$#@$#@%$#%@# who never #$%R$#%$#^%$^&%@$# and really deserve a @#$$%@#$%$%!@ up their $%$@#!#%$#^%%$^%$@#.

Although, to be fair I've added some people to this list that I haven't seen in a while. Like the Ex. Or... at least one of them. Today I was reminded of his tendency to use my spare keys to come over while I was napping... and perchance avoiding him. What an asshole.

Yeah. I might pistol whip him as long as I'm on a crime spree. Fucker.




Now presenting neck


Tuesday, August 09, 2005 

Dear Diary

Last night I dreamt that I had a cat that could play frisbee and attack on command.

Also, since this is my diary and super top secret, yesterday I bought a trench coat and a handy dandy book about making my own ammunition. SCORE!

I'm so getting even with that stupid chess club from high school!


Monday, August 08, 2005 

Do As I Say, Not As I Do

It's funny how one can get to the ripe old age of 25 (26 on the 26th of September for those taking notes) and not learn to shut their mouth. Actually age has, if anything, made me mouth off more. My friends husband says I'm getting to the point where I just don't care anymore. Which is true. To a point. I mean, I really don't care what the fuck you think of me. You can judge me anyway that you would like but at the end of the day it doesn't touch who I am or the rules I answer to.

I mouth off a lot, and so occasionally, me and my mouth have gotten into trouble. Like the time I told that guy silk shirts were for fags and if he wanted to date girls he might try switching to cotton. Or, there was that time I almost beat a mustang in my explorer and when the guys were laughing because they won I started laughing too and said they should have beat me three times as badly, too bad they drove like pussies. They stopped laughing pretty quick, but sometimes my mouth spits out shit I should really be keeping inside.

The problem is I can't! So much shit is FUNNY! And besides, just because I say something doesn't mean I believe it or actually do it. Fuck. Do you really think I drive drunk around town aiming for mailboxes? It's called humor people! Shit.

Like the time I was quitting and I told everyone I was gonna moon the boss on the way out while screaming, "Fuck You". The boss wasn't a bad guy, but the image of my ass hopping out the door screaming obscenities? Hilarious.

Anyway. Try to explain that to someone you just talked shit about. Hey man, I like you, but you're so damned uptight I just HAVE to make fun of you!

Hehehe. Damn. I hate having a conscience cuz right now I actually feel bad. Must drown bad thoughts with rum. Mmmm. Rum.


Sunday, August 07, 2005 

This is my new blue girlfiend. She's cool cuz she drinks. Unfortunately she looks just like all the other blue people and this makes me feel slightly racist.



this guy won at the race and then did donuts on the track in front of us. it was sooo cool



At the tech museum



some pics I've taken recently


Friday, August 05, 2005 

The Half Ass Movie Review Returns:

So last night I watched Underworld with Kate Beckinsale, and first off, OMG she is SO hot in this movie! Really really hot. I started to wonder if I was a lesbo 15 minutes into it. Anyway, so some of you might be thinking, “WTF. Terra’s a goddamn bitch ass liar. She told us she never watches movies.”

And that would be true. I am a bitch ass liar. But I really don’t watch movies. I stole these from my friend’s house. I told him I would return them but instead I’m selling them for drugs as soon as I’m done. Not that I do drugs, I just sell them to the next door neighbor’s kids.

So back to the movie, here's the brief synopsis: The vampires and wherewolves are at war, and have been since anyone can remember. The vampires are on the brink of annihilating the wherewolves when Saline, a vampire warrior, discovers they have a stronghold, a human they're tracking, and new bullets to kill the vamps. But no one will believe her.

I never watched this because the critics said it sucked prison cock, which I found to be slightly disturbing. They complained about a lack of direction, too many stupid overdone lines, and of course Kate Beckinsale, aka Hottie, copycatting the chick from the matrix. Which, yeah, all that stuff is kinda true. If you really wanna be a dick about it. But…

Kate is so much hotter than the Matrix chick. And yeah, maybe the Vamps never fed off humans, but, that’s really not what the movie is about. The movie is about a WAR, you stupid fucking critics. If they threw in the war, plus vamps killing humans, and a good/bad vs human spin on it then the movie wouldn’t have had any kind of focus. Stupid fucking dumb ass complaining critics. Basically they wanted this movie to have a completely different script.

Although I do agree that the hottie, playing the human, from dawson’s creek should’ve had a lot more lines. And close ups. And naked shower scenes.

So end verdict, I loved the movie. I thought it had great plot twist, lots of action, betrayals, there was more than enough blood, and a couple of times I went all tense, “oh no! What’s gonna happen!” I fucking loved this movie. Nuff said.

"Don't touch my human love slave"

IRobot. Synopsis: The world now relies on robots for a large majority of their everyday domestic help. However Will Smith's character, Spooner, hates robots and is on the quest to find a bad one. Which is stupid because the robots are governed by three programming laws that prevent them from harming anyone human. When the scientist who invented the robots dies from an apparent suicide Spooner suspects a robot of murder and sets out to prove it.

Here’s the thing about this movie. It kept skipping and so I made up my own story about gay robot lovers and Will Smith being their videographer who gets pissed when the robots make a deal of their own and cut him out of the profits. So Spooner, man with the gayest name on the face of the universe, gets even by inventing a new robot that kills the fuck out of everyone. Hehe. Sorry I was laughing at a flashback of my made-up movie. It really was pretty good. Too bad you can never see it.

"Why you gotta do me like this robot? Why? All I ever wanted was to love you!"

Be Cool. So Chili, from Get Shorty, decides he's done with the movie business and now he'd like to try his hand at music. So he picks up a talented singer who's being chased by the russian mafia, and a record company being threatened by one of it's clients.

Halfway through this movie and goddamn Vince Vaughn cracks me the fuck up. He is so funny, and kinda cute. Mmm. Vince fantasy. Oh, and John Travolta fantasy too. Ok, here’s the thing about Chili, I seriously would marry this guy in real life. He is so drop dead sexy. And I’m not talking about his looks, I’m talking about how he just handles everything. Everything! Gun in his face? Chili lights a cigarette. C’mon, he’s smart enough to have counted the shots and realized that the stupid idiot is out of bullets. Bunch o thugs just walked up with glocks, ffft. What does he care? He’ll get you your money in three days. I like this movie most of all because it’s basically a mafia movie with a weird ass twist that has me laughing out loud. Oddly enough, I didn’t like Get Shorty. Go figure. Oh actually that’s the exact same complaint I have about this movie. Sometimes the plot is hard to follow. For years people have been trying to explain to me what Get Shorty was about. Their explanations mean crap to me, its like they’re speaking gibberish, which is kinda what the movie was. Which has led me to this one conclusion, people are such dumb fucks that Get Shorty, had NO plot and no ones ever figured it out because they were too dazzled by the hollywood names attached to the poster. Whatever, I’m going to have to watch it again to prove that it was stupid…. I may have been reading a book while watching it, which could’ve contributed to my confusion. And for all you people yelling at the screen that Get Shorty was great, even though you can’t explain why, I also hated Kingpin. Sorry but these are movies you can only enjoy if you’re a drug addict who has killed off a majority of your brain cells.

"Yo T, Hook a brother up! What I gotta do to get a lil sometin sometin?"

The Ice Princess. I don't care what this movie is about. I walked by this when my sis was watching it and if I could’ve picked up the 42 inch TV and thrown it through the window, I would’ve. That movie was fucking awful and I think the cameraman was drunk. You parents who have been put through the horror that is The Ice Princess will totally understand what I’m saying. It is full of the most god-awful close-ups that sway, and sway, and sway. For christ’s fucking sakes! They had enough money to hire Kim Catrall but not enough to get a goddamn tripod for the camera?! This shit was seriously on The Blair Witch Project scale of bad, awful, bullshit, camera angles. The director of this movie should be torn limb from limb and fed to Chihuahuas. Anyway, I only watched five minutes of it before I wanted to barf, so that’s as good of a review as you’re going to get.

"I like you. You're dumb."

Please complain below.



I'm In a Bad Mood

I came home all pissy today. The kind of pissy where nobody better fucking talk to me or I'll rip their skin off and make a lampshade.

Oh yeah, I'll feel bad about it, eventually. But that's next week, right now I'm only worried about today, and how I might go about killing everyone in sight.

Shit man, just don't talk to me when I'm like this.

Anyway, so I've been planning this NY trip, and my mom tells me she changed something, and it made me spit nails so bad that I knocked over the garbage can while throwing something away and then had to right it quickly before I kicked it all over the fucking house.

So fuck NY. I'm not going. And fuck everyone while I'm at it. I fuckin hate changes in plans, and I know that I'm all pissy right now but I really don't give a fuck. I've been planning this trip for nine fucking months and she had to go piss all over it when I invited her because I simply wanted her to enjoy something new with me. Well. I guess that was a mistake.

fuck. That's right, I say fuck a lot! You got some kind of fuckin problem with it?

But I don't want to be mad, I want to let it just slide right off my back like water. Which doesn't seem to be working. And when I try not to be mad about things that irritate me I turn into a whiny emotional bitch which I hate even more.

Fuck I'm going to go kick some walls now, and yes, I promise to call anger management tomorrow and regret this outburst next week.



Thursday, August 04, 2005 

Trunk Space

The next time I buy a car from a private seller I’m going to take my friends Gabe and Jimmy with me. Gabe is a big white guy with a shaved head who only wears football jerseys. He doesn’t talk much because he hates people and he’s stupid. Also I don’t let him talk when we’re out in public because I don’t want anyone to know that I’m friends with stupid people. Stupid people make me want to smack them and I think about smacking Gabe a lot.

So mostly he just stands around looking pissy. I assume this is for two reasons: One, he’s not allowed to talk. Two: He can’t understand the conversation. However he carries shit for me and often lends me his truck. Friendship redeems itself in strange ways.

Jimmy just got out of a level four prison. I like to tell people that too.

“This is my friend Jimmy. He just got out of prison. Level four. He’s never killed anyone, that we can prove anyway.”

Just in case they want to lock their shit up. Which you know they do, but they’re afraid to do it in front of him in case he snaps.

When I got to the sellers house I would introduce everyone and then, while the owner was looking nervous, ask to see the car.

Trunk first.

This would raise some eyebrows but the seller would reluctantly agree to open the trunk.


At which point I would ask how many people could fit in the trunk. Then, at the sellers blank stare I would turn to Jimmy, “Hey. So what do you think? One… two? I mean, is it big enough?”

Jimmy would look thoughtful and scratch his head.

“I dunno. Depends on how big they were.”

Then we would look at Gabe and we would make him climb in the trunk so we could get a better idea. We would close the trunk and tell him to struggle around testing the shocks.

When we were done we would tell the seller one of two things

A. Sorry, we’re looking for something a bit different.


B. Looks great! How much?

God I love buying cars.




Ok, I had to actually take a photo for HNT... I felt like I was cheating. FYI: I hate my ribcage.

Ummm. I was drunk when Grace took this picture. Or at least I think Grace took this picture. I don't know. Oh wait! Do I sound like an alcoholic now? Yes?



Wednesday, August 03, 2005 

Sometimes I Rant, Sometimes You Read, Let's Strike a Compromise and Agree That I'm God

If I were a badly dressed socially challenged idiot, who deemed themselves to be smart while failing to maintain proper hygiene, I would cover my 1990 something import hatchback with bumper stickers sporting political bullshit statements that no one gives a crap about.

The first person I meet that says, I became a vegan after reading a bumper sticker, is going to be the first person I punch in the mouth with my keys facing outwards.