Good Things Come in Small Packages...

And when you order something from Stapes.ca, small things come in big packages.

That is a 12" ruler...

...a whole lot of protective cushioning...

...and a Micro SD card.

Part of me wants to give the packer of this box the benefit of the doubt and assume that they were out of smaller boxes at the warehouse. But you know what? I really doubt it.. Thank goodness shipping was free.

Happy Halloween!

This year I made the most of Halloween by decorating the apartment, making candy apples, carving a pumpkin with Charles and roasting pumpkin seeds. Of course we (and by "we" I mean Charles...) had to take a couple pictures of our pumpkin to share. Charles named him Milbert.

 

Like last year I feel the need to share another one of my favorite Halloween cartoons. Enjoy!

 The Skeleton Dance

Happy Halloween from all of us!

The Deployment Support Centre

An unknown author once said that when someone you love is deployed half of your heart is deployed right along with them. Since the Military is responsible for taking the someone away in the first place, they have tried to soften the blow by establishing the Deployment Support Centre that enables " all families and partners of deployed Canadian Forces Members [to] receive a consistent level of support from their home bases through contact with their chain of command."

Apparently part of this offer of  "support" comes to you through the mail in what I like to call the Pre-deployment Goodie Bag. 

Much like any other goodie bag, this one stocked full of things to help lessen the stress, anxiety and sadness that comes with a deployment. Prozac? No. Paxil? No.  Zoloft? No. Brochure with sad looking cartoon characters on the front to remind you how saying Good-Bye to him as he leaves is going to be one of the single hardest things you've ever had to do? Yes.

Band-aid dispenser (complete with Band-aids) to help patch up what is going to feel like a gaping hole in your heart once he is gone? Yes.

"The Big Grip" for use as a jar opener, non-slip coaster, light bulb remover, screw driver gripper, sink stop, garlic peeler (?!) and constant reminder that you no longer have a man around to do all of that for you? Of course, how practical.

Magnetic ruler, book mark and sticker? Yep, got them too. As to how these are going to make me feel better about Charles being gone for nine months...well, your guess is as good as mine.

Jokes aside, while I understand and appreciate the sentiment behind my "goodie bag", I must say that I am also slightly offended.  To me, as I am sure to anyone else that has had to go through the deployment of a  spouse or family member, deployment is not something that is taken lightly. It is a serious and potentially life changing experience that affects not only the person being deployed, but also the people they leave behind. As such, I feel that it should be treated in a respectful and mature way. I do not for one second think that a booklet depicting various depressing farewell scenarios, a jar opener, and a band-aid dispenser are anywhere near appropriate.

Bottom line? Deployment stinks. Even if you are one of the guys (or girls) that is sincerely looking forward to being deployed, there simply is no way for loved ones to be separated for any length of time without it being difficult for everyone involved. Giving someone a bunch of free junk doesn't make things any easier, or better. As my mom says, you can put glitter on shit, but it is still shit. 

So what would make it better? A simple, clean package with no bells, whistles or big grips. Let me know the support is there should I need it, provide me with any information that I may find useful in preparing for the deployment and, as a final touch, a simple yellow ribbon so that I too may show my support.

Boobie and The Beast

This is a story about a bird and a breast. My bird, and my right breast, to be exact. There really isn't too much to tell, although I am certain that I will somehow be able to draw this story out much longer than the actual event that took place.

It had been a particularly rough week with Cleo. She, for reasons only known to her, had decided to turn completely demonic. She didn't seem to know what the heck she wanted. When she was in her cage she would scream to be out, when she was out she would make a mad dash back to the cage only to scream to be let out once again as soon as you closed it and left the room.  If you managed to extract her from the cage by using a hand towel (dubbed "the extraction rag by Charles"), and make it far enough away so she couldn't make her way back to the cage, you'd most likely be bitten only minute later.

I decided that since she was being such a holy terror I would try and snap her out of her funk by removing everything and anything from her cage that she would try and nest with and be possessive over. Her beloved cardboard box was removed and hidden in the closet, her tent suffered a similar fate, and all paper products from the bottom of the cage were confiscated.. I couldn't help but feel slightly guilty as she ran around the bottom of her cage looking for her belongings. My feelings of guilt didnt last for long however, because as I walked out of the room Cleo (with the small amount of Bird Brain she possesses) was already planning on how she could exact her revenge.

If you over look the fact that both Charles and I had been up since 4:30am, the next day started out much like any other. Convinced that there was no way we were going to fall back asleep, and that it was a waste of time just laying there, both of us got out of bed at 5:30am. I, in an attempt to be productive, started doing accounting homework at 6am (you can imagine how well that went) and continued working away until 8:30am or so.

Since I only had 30 minutes left before I was scheduled to work, and the accounting was going less than well, I decided that I would take a break and spend some quality time with Cleo.  Roughly 15 seconds after "extracting" Cleo from her cage, Charles received this email on his Blackberry..

I just took Cleo out to spend some time with her before work and when I bent over partially to get something she ran right down my shirt and into my bra and started to bite me. Then I tried to get her out and she latched onto my finger and wouldn't let go. She bit me really deep.  And now I am crying. And I hope if someone reads this email they laugh because of how pathetic it is. I know I would.

Some people dont believe what they are told, they only believe what they see...and so for those people (and for the rest of you who are curious about the havoc that a yellow beast wreak upon one's bosom) here is photographic proof to back up my tale of woe. 

Bite marks and bruising

Chunk missing from my middle finger

And for those of you that scoff at my war wounds, I DARE you, come, have a yellow bird run down your shirt and see how well you fare!

This post is dedicated to Leanne who knows that that wrath of a lovebird is no laughing matter...

Return of The Dave

I guess not responding to his last email wasn't a big enough hint....Needless to say, this one won't be getting a reply either.

Subject: When_You're_Smiling

Hey Laura

Thanks for the inspirational art of Louie, and the short encounter we had. You left me smiling.

When are you Winnipeg bound again?

Oh Dave. It has been just over three weeks since our encounter and up until this point there really hasn't been anything weird enough to write about. I was beginning to fear that my life might actually be turning into a somewhat normal and boring one....thank you thank you for for showing me that I  have nothing to worry about, and that my life will continue to be filled with odd circumstance after odd circumstance and will never be boring!

The Jerk Store Called...

As seen at Chapters in the Regent Mall, Fredericton

REILLY: The ocean called. They're running outta shrimp.

GEORGE: Oh yeah, Reilly? Well, the jerkstore called. They're running outta you.

REILLY: What's the difference? You're their all-time best seller!

This one is dedicated to my dad and Jordan (and anyone else who knows where this quote is from :) )

These are the Daves I know I know....These are the Daves I know....

Every once in a while something happens that it just too weird to be anything but the truth. And, as seems to be a growing trend when I travel anywhere by airplane, this story involves a man (a real 40 year old man, not some youngster posing as a man by donning a blackberry and a suitcase), Google, and lack of common sense. Perhaps some of you see where this is heading...

After the fiasco at the airport the day prior, I was more than ready to be on my way back to Fredericton. The trip with Cleo through airport security was uneventful at best, with the security guards seemingly perplexed at the fact that I was traveling with a small yellow demon who, for the occasion, had put away her devil horns and instead wore her "look how cute I am, don't I make you want to have a lovebird too?" face.

We boarded the plane on time and I sat at my usual seat by the window (would you believe that for all the times I have flown I have never had an isle seat? or used the bathroom on the plane for that matter...) and "the man" sat down in the isle seat (leaving the seat between us empty). "How nice," I thought to myself, "with no one sitting beside me I have plenty of room to kick out my legs and enjoy this flight. I sure hope this guy isnt a big talk---" "Hey, how's it going?" he asked. And so it began.

Now I am really not one for talking to people on the plane. Usually they are seated right next to you and so your faces are awkwardly close to one another. Plus, since it is a complete stranger, the conversation is mere pleasantries and filled with lots of awkward gaps during which one person gazes down the isle wondering when the drinks are going to come so they can fidget with their cup and eat their "bits and bites" (I really hate that name for a snack...but I will save that for another post) and the other person stares out the window thinking "get me the heck out of here...." but, I digress...

So he began to talk, opening up the conversation with "it sure is nice that we have this extra room.."
Me: "Yeah, it is. Normally I get stuck next to some big burly man who is spilling over into my seat."
Him: "Well I am neither big or hairy..." (and it is true, he wasn't...)
Me (Thinking I would cut him off at the pass): "That's two points for you then!"
Him: "Oh?" (big creepy grin) "Do you work on a points system?"
Me (Thinking this is going to be one LONG flight): "Depends."

 And so, we continued to "talk". The conversation went all over the place and eventually somehow lead to him asking me if I had seen the "Bodies" exhibit that was in Winnipeg this past January. I said that I hadn't and that there had been some controversy about the maker of such exhibits using the bodies of executed Chinese prisoners for their displays, and that the other display "Body Worlds", by a different maker ( Gunther von Hagens...that is such a wicked German name), had a section at the end of the display where you could actually sign up and donate your body to be used for such a purpose.

And because I had nothing else to really say to this guy and I was fearing the awkward gap in conversation, and it was dark outside so I couldn't even pretend to be looking at the scenery below, I did what I often do when I have nothing to say: I said whatever popped into my head. I can be a pretty random person, but I would like to think that the conversation about Bodies, Body Worlds, and donating ones body for such a purpose is a natural segue for me to bring up ways that I don't want to die. And so, thinking that at worst it would creep him out so much he would shut up and leave me alone, that is what I did.

"I want to be cremated when I die..." I began, "the thought of having all my blood drained and being pumped full of embalming fluid creeps me out..." And on I went..."I don't want to die in a fire...or suffocate...or drown...or really anything where you know you are going to die, and soon, and there is nothing you can do about it....but I also don't to slowly waste away in a hospital...."

Then, realizing I was hopelessly babbling about death to a complete stranger I giggled nervously, suddenly self conscious because he was looking at me weird, and added "This sure is a weird conversation to be having with someone I don't even know. Kinna morbid."

Him (extending his hand): "My name is Dave. Now I am not a stranger."

Dammit Dave, that totally didn't end how I wanted it to!

And so, the conversation continued. On and on and on....eventually somehow leading to me showing him some of my drawings (once again in an attempt to avoid the awkward pauses) and then to him asking me the meaning of my wrist tattoo "Becoming" (to which I once again went on a hopeless rant about life changes, how I am Becoming a different and (hopefully) better person because of these changes...how I am learning to deal with change better than I used to etc. All the while he stared rather intently at me, every once in a while throwing something out there like "You certainly seem like a strong girl" or "Well you certainly  have the good looks for that..." Just for the record I didnt know I needed good looks in order to get my CMA designation...hey! you learn something new every day!

FINALLY the plane started its decent into Toronto. Thank goodness- by this time I REALLY had to use the washroom, and was running out of random trivia to share. The plane hit the ground and The Dave decided it was now or never. "So...you ever going to be coming back into Toronto?" To which I (probably much to quickly) replied, "NO!! I really don't like Toronto at all blah blah blah ramble ramble ramble ramble..."

The plane finally lands, and everyone starts getting off, and The Dave and I go our separate ways. Free of The Dave at last! Or so I thought...

Thursday night comes along (All this other stuff happened Monday night btw) and Charles and I are at a movie. My phone goes off (I didn't even realize that I had brought it with me) and I look down at it and see that I have an email from "Dave Dyck"- "odd," I think to myself "I dont know anyone by that name." And so I ignored it till the movie got out.

Once out of the movie I checked my phone and found this:

Subject: Keep Smiling

Hi Laura

I just wanted to say Hi and thanks for a great trip the other day. You were a 10 when I first saw you and it only went up from there.

I made it to three maybe four on your count by not being big, harry, scary, and fourth wierd, but thats questionable.

Your drawings were extremely impressive and hope to see more of them.

I found this quote here that I thought was fitting.

Enjoy and take care

 

 

"A good performance, like a human life, is a temporal affair—a process in time. It is good as a whole through being good in its parts, and through their good order to one another. It cannot be called good as a whole until it is finished. During the process all we can say of it, if we speak precisely, is that it is becoming good. The same is true of a whole human life. Just as the whole performance never exists at any one time, but is a process of becoming, so a human life is also a performance in time and a process of becoming. And just as the goodness that attaches to the performance as a whole does not attach to any of its parts, so the goodness of a human life as a whole belongs to it alone, and not to any of its parts or phases".

 

Dave

After the first line I pretty much went into shock mode. HOW DID HE FIND ME?!?! I hadn't given The Dave ANY of my information...no phone number, no email address....nothing but my first name, and somehow he found me! It took me a while, but I finally figured out what he did.

Dave got my last name by looking at my signature on the drawings I had shown him. He already knew my first name and so (in what I assume was a lonely drunken state) decided on Thursday night that it would be a super awesome idea to Google my name and see what came up. Luckily for him, my dads website popped up, which just so happened to have a copy of my drawing "When You're Smiling"- the very same drawing he had seen on the plane. Conveniently enough, there was also an email link...and so, in a moment of sheer stupidity, this Dave fired off an email that (in his mind perhaps) was sure to....well actually I have no idea what he wanted to get out of sending this email. Needless to say I have no intentions of replying to this guy and adding fuel to the fire...

And so, that is the story of The Dave I Know  (check out the link!)

This post is dedicated to Auntie Mary-Ann who truly understands what a gong show life can be!

Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go I wanna be sedated...

If everything was going as planned today I would currently be writing this blog to you from the Winnipeg Airport, or maybe even the Toronto Airport. Of course, if everything was going as planned today I wouldn’t really have much to write about at all.

I woke up this morning to the smell of bacon (a wonderful smell for us meat eaters). My mom decided that as a parting gesture she would make a delicious waffle breakfast complete with bacon. About halfway through cooking an entire package of bacon in the oven it became apparent that something (suprise suprise) was going slightly askew. Somehow, instead of dripping into the catch pan as it should, the bacon grease was leaking its way out of the bottom of the oven door, down the outside of the drawer under the oven, and pooling on the floor, where it was then walked through and spread across the kitchen floor. Upon discovery, the pool of grease was mopped up the best it could be, and tea towels were laid out over the now very greasy area in front of the stove, the other half of the package of bacon was cooked up, and my mom swore that never again would she buy uncooked bacon.  A total clean up, however, would have to wait- there were waffles that had to be made!

Making waffles from scratch is one of those things that very rarely goes off without a hitch, and today was no exception. Usually the waffles will end up sticking the waffle press, or something about the batter won’t be quite right, or your mother will decide to burn her fingers on the waffle press handle. Today it was the later.

Fast forward a bit and it is time to take me to the airport. I must say (and I am quite proud of this) that thus far I have not cried about leaving. I managed to avoid a complete break down while saying good-bye to my Grandma yesturday. Today Lisa and I say our quick good-byes before she took off into the basement to have a melt down. I however, did not cry. The drop off at the airport also goes uneventfully, with my parents making a hasty retreat so as not to start a chain reaction of crying at the airport.

After waiting in line for what seemed like forever, it is finally my turn to check in. The lady asks me where I am headed, and then informs me that my flight has been delayed. "Not a problem," I think to myself "that just means a shorter layover time in Toronto." Unfortunately the flight wasn't delayed the traditional 23.5 minutes, and instead was a good 2+ hours late- meaning that I would miss my connecting flight from Toronto to Moncton. "Not a problem," thinks the West Jet girl "we can get you on the next flight to Moncton, which...". At this point she trails off as she realizes that the next flight from Toronto to Moncton isn’t till Monday (tomorrow) at 6:51pm Toronto time.

"Well," she says "you have two options. Number 1: you stay here for 3 and a half hours, get on the flight to Toronto and then we will put you up in a hotel and you can get on the flight to Moncton tomorrow at 6:51PM. Number 2: you stay in Winnipeg tonight and then get on the 3:30 flight to Toronto tomorrow. Either way you will be getting into Moncton 11:20 Monday night."

Well the choice seemed clear enough. Stay in a Toronto hotel with an uncaged Cleo (very scary thought!!) for almost 24 hours? I think not! As if on cue my cell phone signalled I had a text message. I glanced down and saw it was from my mom:

"We were in such a hurry to leave and not be the first to cry we forgot to take the towel [the one that I had been using to cover Cleo's travel bag so that she wouldnt catch a draft] throw it out if it is too much to carry around"

I couldn't help but laugh out loud. And so, an hour and a half after dropping me off at the airport, my parents picked me and Cleo (and the towel) back up. I walked out to the van with a $100 travel voucher ("For any inconvenience this may have caused...") and The Ramones' "I wanna be sedated" running through my head...

"Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go I wanna be sedated

Nothin' to do and no where to go-o-oh I wanna be sedated
Just get me to the airport put me on a plane
Hurry hurry hurry before I go insane

I can't control my fingers I can't control my brain
Oh no no no no no..."

Victoria Regina Imperatrix

Royal Canadian Regiment Crest- pen and ink

Maintiens Le Droit

RCMP crest- pen and ink

For those of you who dont believe that truth is stranger than fiction...

The other night I complained loudly to myself as my phone alerted me of an incoming email at 3:09am. "Hey Laura" it said, "We've got exciting news: Your $20 Amazon.com Gift Card* is ready to be used!". Go away SPAM, I thought. Get yourself out of my inbox and into my junk folder where you belong. Quit bugging me with your tomfoolery, I am trying to sleep. I made a promise to myself that first thing in the morning I would unsubscribe to whatever I had acidently signed myself up for, and be done with it.

You can imagine how annoyed I felt then when I woke up only to find two more emails from the same company (Livingsocial.com) telling me about more great stuff that I had signed up for that was now ready. What the heck? I went down to the bottom of the email, clicked the unsubscribe link, and was redirected to some other page that asked me for my city, email address, the name I had planned for my first born and other rather personal information. Yeah, that seems like stuff that I should give out if I dont want more SPAM sent to me- so I closed the window, alerted Gmail of the SPAM that somehow snuck its way into my inbox, and left the computer feeling rather proud of myself. Take that SPAM, my superior human brain outsmarted you!

Fast forward to that evening when I am on the computer getting ready to register as a student at the University of Athabasca- and my phone goes off, once again alerting me that I have an email. I glanced over at it quickly and noticed that the email was from "Laura Hasiuk". OK. WHAT. THE. HECK?!.  Not only did I not send myself an email, but the subject of the email was "One-day deal", something that sounded suspiciously like the other stupid emails I had been getting from Livingsocial.com. First SPAM. Now SPAM trying to steal my identity...

Frustrated, I opened my gmail account on the computer and found this (and this is where it gets just plain weird:

Laura,

I think that I accidentally had a Philly One Day Deal for an Amazon.com gift card sent to your email by mistake.  If you received this, would you be able to forward it to me?  So sorry for the confusion.

Thank you!!

- Laura Hasiuk

 Now, there are two really weird things about this email.
1. There is another Laura Hasiuk out there, which I find odd because Hasiuk isnt that common of a last name (or so I thought?!).
2. This Laura Hasiuk is living in PHILLY which is where Charles currently is!!

What are the odds? Seriously? I quickly fired off an email to my doppelganger (I love this word. Check out the definition here: Wikipedia We Love You!).

Laura,

I was wondering why I was getting that stuff sent to my account- I was getting so mad because they kept sending me emails at 3am! Odd that you are in Philly...my boyfriend is currently out there. Weird/creepy that we have the same name and you are in Philly (stay away from my boyfriend! haha j/k). Will check my trash for that coupon.

Laura

Swear on my scuba diving text book that I am not making this one up. Here is a screen shot of my double (from my email account) as proof:

The first "Laura Hasiuk" is me (the one with the red dot beside my name". The other one is my double.

 Honestly, I thought stuff like this would only happen in Fredericton.

Many Ways to Serve

Canadian Military Crest (Air force, Army, and Navy) done in pen and ink

Through Adversity to the Stars

Royal Canadian Air Force crest done in pen and ink

"An artist never really finishes [their] work, [they] merely abandon it." -Paul Valery

Charles' Christmas Present: Military Police coat of arms done in pen and ink. 

My Moms Christmas Present. The Dalai Lama "Religion is Kindness" done in 2B pencil

A commissioned piece. "Brian R. "Buzz" Massie S.J. 1943-2009" done in 2B pencil

The Dashboard Melted but We Still Had the Radio

I have decided to start off  2011 with a bang. Honestly, I didn’t set out to make this year as crazy as it is already becoming. My plan was simple enough: come to Winnipeg while Charles was away on training, feel sorry for myself for not doing something to better myself, while working at the pet store job I originally had no intentions of returning to (sorry Chad, no disrespect meant) and then return to Fredericton where I would do more of the same (feeling sorry for myself, that is), minus the working at an actual job bit. But, things don’t always go as planned (thank God) and so, today I decided to celebrate me. Why? Because, (as Donna and Jordan say) I can.

I have been feeling pretty stuck lately. Lost, confused, majorly discombobulated (and that just isn’t good for anyone). Everything in my life has changed in these past few months and I haven’t really been sure of how to deal with it, or myself. I am no longer a pet store employee, a dog washer, a flower delivery girl, a laboratory demonstrator, or a student. I am no longer the granddaughter who gets to have sleep over’s and pizza parties with her grandma, the sister who gets to share laughs at her parents expense, the daughter who gets to spending time in the hot tub with her mom, or Tim Horton’s dates with her dad, or the friend who gets to gets to just enjoy being a friend and having friends.

I am just me, and for the past few months I have felt very much alone and for the most part insignificant: no job, no friends, and no real plans for the future. On the upside, when you are so alone, it gives you a lot of time to think about what it really means to be you. Are you what you do? Are you your job? Are you the things you own? And if you are your job and the things you own, what happens if you lose these things? Do you fail to exist? Sometimes it feels like it…

Common sense (and advances in science and technology!) tell us that of course this isn’t true. And that is why today I decided to do some major digging and find out what it really means to be me. Who the heck are you Laura-Anne Marie Hasiuk?! My quest started in the most unlikely of places; a large Tupperware bin in the storage room at my parents house.

You won’t believe what I found. Somewhere, among a cheap soccer trophy that I had long since forgotten about, and valentines cards from Grade 5 with words of undying love from some guy I don’t know anymore, I found me. Here is a glimpse of what I look like…

-May 13 1996- Winnipeg Symphony Guest of Honor
-June 1996- Certificate of Celebration- “Thank you for your quiet, gentle ways, warm smile, wonderful organizational skills, being willing to help me in the classroom, and for your hard work throughout the year”- Mrs. Noonan
-June 1996- Certificate of Appreciation for St. Ignatius Crossing Guards
-June 1997- Certificate of Appreciation for St. Ignatius Crossing Guards
-June 1997- St. Ignatius School Certificate of Notable Accomplishment in Recognition of Year-Round Consistent Effort
-June 1998- St. Mary’s Academy Certificate of Merit for Honors in Grade 7
-March 4, 1999- St. Mary’s Academy Best Communication Award “For her outstanding contribution to the quality of school life in the area of science”
-May 29, 2003- St. Mary’s Academy Award “For her outstanding contribution to the quality of school life in the area of drama sets and props”
-May 29, 2003- St. Mary’s Academy Award “For her outstanding contribution to the quality of school life in the area of Yearbook- Senior Editor”
-June 26, 2003- Province of Manitoba High School Diploma
-June 26, 2003- St. Mary’s Academy High School Diploma
-June 26, 2003- Award for Highest Academic standing in Art 40S
-May 26, 2010- University of Winnipeg Gold Medal in Bioanthropology
-June 10, 2010- University of Winnipeg Batchelor of Science degree

Am I any of these things? Of course not. However, these silly pieces of paper with their official gold foil seals and fancy calligraphy writing are the result of me. They are the result of my determination, hard work, impressive organizational skills, and support from friends and loved ones. In other words you are not what you do. Rather, you do what you do because of who you are.

This post was by no means a “look at me and all my “major awards”” post. Instead it was a reminder; a reminder to remember who you are (who you REALLY are) and to embrace it. For the past few months I have lost sight of myself and, more often than not, sold myself short. I failed to acknowledge that I am so much more than a military girlfriend with a degree and no job. For some reason I just couldn’t see that only circumstance had changed, and not me.

And so, it seems only appropriate then that I celebrate the rediscovery of myself by doing what I do best: something really cool followed by something really nerdy.

First for the cool thing. My mom and I have officially signed up for scuba diving lessons! After a few confined water training sessions at the pool and written tests the two of us will be ready to move onto the open water dives. Unfortunately “open water” in Manitoba in March is “scarce, so there is none to be found”… which means we may just have to go somewhere where these is open water in March…Florida anyone? After 4 supervised open water dives we will officially be certified in open water diving and can go anywhere we want! http://www.padi.com/scuba/

Now for the nerdy thing: I have decided to go back to school to work towards my CMA designation (http://www.cma-canada.org/).

I have no doubt in my mind that all this learning is going to result in some wicked late night insomnia induced posts... I can hardly wait till I can start spewing out accounting terms coupled with awesome biology words like Golgi apparatus (that was for you Dave) and vomeronasal organ (for you Leanne) and phagocytosis (for myself). Why? Because I can.