Tuesday, May 31, 2011


SO I got a Kindle.

I know, you are probably sick of me talking about it already. BUT! Here are a couple of things that I have learned today.

1. Not everything is free and/or cheap. I thought that ALL THE BOOKS! would be a dollar a piece or something. Or free, in the public domain. Turns out, not so much. I mean, there are a lot of free books out there. But it is hard to search for them, and if you just browse you have to wade through shit like the US 2011 Federal budget (I am not kidding) and How and When to Be Your Own Doctor.

2. The technology behind the Kindle baffles me. I think that it is kind of like Wooly Willy, except a little more high tech.

3. I cannot get the Four Quartets. This infuriates me. The ONE work I read more than all of the others COMBINED. FUCK.

Other than that, it is pretty rad. Although the Four Quartets thing pisses me off for real.

Monday, May 30, 2011

Oh, Bother

I am often intolerant of slowness, stupidity, and quiet-talking. I can pair my annoyance with mercy more often than not-- but sometimes, I just can't take it anymore. I mean, I never really say anything rude. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. But I bitch internally about it, which is probably almost as bad.

When I read Emma, I feel a lot of pity on the heroine when she finally snaps at Miss Bates. God help me, I have been there so many times, and have only just managed to stay on this side of letting them know what I think.

My impatience is bother to me.

Sunday, May 29, 2011



The darkness of my soul makes hell look like heaven. I have been through more than you will ever understand. And I won't let you understand, because my telling you that I'm authentic and scarred adds to my mystique. Don't try to get me unless you've "been where I've been." There is no healing or love-- there is only the pain of this realization. Usually, a pat on the back is just someone checking to see where to put the blade. And my only outlets are my knife, my journal, and the scrap of my dry soul that feeds on bitterness.*

Basically, my band is the only one that understands me.

*Also sarcasm. Lots and lots of sarcasm.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Iliad, Book 1.4

See previous or start at the beginning

Silver-footed Thetis heard her son's cries and appeared before him, gleaming, sea water streaming from her hair. "What is it!? Are you OK? IS IT YOUR HEEL???"

Achilles sighed, his brawny shoulders drooping. "No, mom, it is not my heel." 

"Are you wearing your heel guard?" She grabbed his waist and twisted the huge man around. "YOU AREN'T WEARING IT?? YOU ARE NEVER TO TAKE THAT OFF, YOUNG MAN. NEVER."

"MOM!" Achilles yelled. "Stop it! I am twenty-eight years old! I think I can make my own decisions! On my own!"

"Then I guess you don't need my help," Thetis snipped.

Achilles ground his teeth together, and spoke through them, "OK FINE. I will put it on as soon as I get back to the tent. I just needed you to talk to Zeus for me."

Thetis opened her small palm to reveal Achilles' heel cover. "I took the liberty of grabbing it on my way."

With a silent curse, Achilles grabbed the leather thongs from her hand and strapped the gleaming silver patch to his heel. If anything, it drew attention to his only weak spot-- he was pretty sure Vulcan had done that on purpose. That gimp would love for him to be all wounded and limpy.

"Better?" he asked. His mother nodded and he continued. "I want you to tell Jove to help the Trojans. Agamemnon is being a total dick. He needs to be taken down a peg or ten."

"They're all off at some party in Ethiopia, but when they get back I'll see what I can do," she said. "I saw that Briseis, she wasn't any good for you anyway."

Achilles' brow darkened, his eyes narrowing. "I don't think I asked your opinion. She's gone, anyway." He trailed off into a mumble, "Fucking Agamemenon."

"WHAT did you just say?" Thetis said, whipping her head back around to face him, her feet already wading into the sea.


"Clean up your tent, too. That place is a pig sty."

With that, she dove beneath the frothing waves and was gone.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" Achilles yelled, tearing off the heel strap and heading back to his tent.

Friday, May 27, 2011

The Empress of Ice Cream

Call the seller of big cigars,
The corpulent one, and bid him sip
From crystal cups concupiscent pearls.
Let the Frenchmen loiter in such form
As they are used to bear, and let the girls
Bring farthings in small grimed fistfuls.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only Empress is the Empress of Ice Cream.

Take from the drawer of gold
Ensconced in red velvet, that crown
With which she incited envy once
And place it so as to cover her hair.
If her sharpened wits protrude, they come
To show us how quick she is, and smart.
Let the tailor fix the seam.
The only Empress is the Empress of Ice Cream.

(Not to be confused with the Emperor.)

The Beautiful Things

The first too-hot sip of coffee, lightened with cream, flashing across your teeth and tongue, heating your throat all the way down to your stomach.

The bright, clean snap of a green bean just picked off the vine, smelling of earth and life and sunshine.

The color of light passing through a glass of red wine, flashing on the table and piano.

The rain as it drives into the stone of the patio and falls from the eaves-- a harsh wave of indistinct sound broken by loud intermittent splashes.

The way the hearth fire glows, breathing orange and red and black, with a subdued crackling and a sudden snap, sending sparks eddying through the air.

The way your body sinks into the mattress at the end of a long day, your muscles aching, oozing into a puddle, your bones separating slightly, falling deeper into your body as you exhale.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

The Cycle





Saturday, May 21, 2011


So today was supposed to be the day we all got Raptured. Or left behind. Snatched up to heaven or doomed to suffer through the apocalypse.

Either no one I know made the cut, or it was as misguided as every other end-of-the-world prediction.

I would like to throw my hat in the ring with a prediction of the end coming in the year that some country launches a nuke on accident. It is basically bound to happen. And when it does, the world is over.

Unfortunately, I won't be around to accept any accolades. Although everyone in heaven will be all, "There she is! The chick who predicted the end." And they will buy me drinks for ETERNITY!

Nighttime Melody

A fan in the corner
Thrumming lowly, slowly
Muffles the silence

They call it white noise
Because it cancels everything

But I think it just tucks it in
Under warm blankets
Sings it a lullaby
Then tip-toes
Out of the room,

Taking the waking light
Leaving the comforting
Liquid of night

Softening the harsh edges of nothing
With the mellow curves of something

Humming my mind into
The lapping wavelets
Of sleep.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Nursery Rhymes

So after reading the kid four stories a few times each, I finally turned off the light and snuggled next to him to say goodnight.

"Yeah, Petey?"
"Can you tell me a story?"
There may have been a bit of eye-rolling at this. Hey, he couldn't see me in the dark. But my go-to stories are either the Three Little Stories (Bears, Pigs, and Billy Goats Gruff) or the Once-Upon-A-Time-There-Was-A-Boy-Named-Charlie stories, and I just wasn't in the mood.
"How about some nursery rhymes instead?"
"What's a nursery rhyme?"

"Like this:"

And I proceeded to go through Hey Diddle Diddle, Hickory Dickory Dock, Little Boy Blue, all of 'em.

The kid had an opinion on some of them:

  • Wee Willie Winkie: "That is a silly name!" And for real, it is. It sounds like a euphemism.
  • Georgie Porgie: "Girls don't cry when you kiss them!" OK, Tiny Ladykiller. Remind me to give you The Talk when you turn 13.
  • Three Blind Mice: "That is weird." Again, he is dead on with this one. That poem is just fucked up-- blind mice running around, being mutilated by a murderous farmer's wife.

But his favorite, far and away, was the one that has always been my favorite. My grandma used to recite it to my brothers and I and we would just laugh and laugh and laugh. And it's not that the poem is particularly funny-- it is just... I don't know. When it's said aloud, there is something about the sound of it that just strikes a kid as hilarious. I think this is universal because when I recited it to Charlie he dissolved into hysterical giggles, and forced me to reiterate it for a little over a half hour. Until he was crying with laughter, screaming with laughter, yelling "AGAIN! AGAIN!"

"To bed, to bed," said Sleepyhead
"Tarry a while," said Slow.
"Put on the pot!" said Greedy Gut.
"We'll sup before we go!"
 For whatever reason, that third line just SLAYED him. EVERY single time. I asked him why, and he said, between giggles and gasps, "THE WORDS ARE FUNNY! THEY ARE FUNNY WORDS!"

Whatever the reason. I still imagine Sleepyhead, his head lolling from side to side as his eyes close shut, his pajamas on and a candle in his hand to lead him to bed, mumbling, "To bed....to bed...." This while his brother Slow drags his feet, dawdling like a champ and pulling at Sleepyhead's bedshirt, "Tarry a while!"

And then in bounds Greedy Gut, his pajamas looking like they are made for someone half his size, stretched to bursting around his huge belly, a stew pot in one hand, the lid on his head, crying, "Put on the pot!" throwing his arms around his brothers' shoulders and herding them to the table, "We'll sup before we go!" He definitely emphasizes this last bit with a wave of his wooden spoon.

And his brothers, as tired and slow as they are, have just been cajoled into soup before bed. You've gotta imagine that Sleepyhead falls asleep face down in the bowl, Slow doesn't get a chance to finish before Greedy Gut relieves him of his bowl, and there Greedy sits, soup dripping off of his beaming face, satisfied and warm as he sits back in his chair next to his brothers and a cozy fire.

I love that Greedy Gut.


When manipulative people start pissing me off, I just remember that the word "manipulative" harkens back to the Latin idea of "handful," and a handful is really not that much.

I mean, unless you're talking about boobs, and then it is just right, no waste.

But a handful is not enough ice cream, not enough sand for a sandbox, not enough beer or soda or lotion or blanket or sandwich. It is just a little tiny bit.

I can handle a little tiny bit of a manipulative person just fine.

By stepping on them with my big feet and squishing them dead.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Helpful Hint

If you think someone is actively plotting your demise, they probably are.

Monday, May 16, 2011


Reader, beware
The cupboards are bare
The mind left to look for transcendence
And while it was gone
The pen wrote a song
Revealing for all the mind's absence.


How can I convey to you
The way you make me feel
Without being condescending
or caustically rude?

You are a cut on the corner of my mouth
That doesn't heal until I'm silent
For days on end

You're rough sandpaper,
Rubbing repeatedly
On my dry knuckles

A tiny rock
In my shoe

A mosquito
In my bedroom

A noise
At night

You are all of these things
And so much more
So much, much more

An unfinished line

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Unsolicited Advice

More often than not, I find the answers to the questions I have by a) asking someone I consider an expert on the subject, or b) googling it. Usually, the questions I find myself asking are things like "What was the name of that guy that used to work at the book store? You know, the one with the red beard and the improbably hot girlfriend? Daniel? David? I feel like it started with a D? He rode a bicycle and always carried a knapsack?" in which case I would ask a person, OR "Average MLB starter ERA," which is how I would phrase a question for Google, as it requires neither modifiers nor sense in its inquiries.

Point is, if I have a question, I know where to go for the answer. I was a fucking reference librarian, for fuck's sake. That is the whole point of the job. So chances are, all of my questions are always answered.

Why someone would assume that I have questions about the ways that I am doing things when I am obviously not asking them for their expert opinion baffles me. Also, annoys me. No-- PISSES ME OFF.

ESPECIALLY!! Because usually the people advising you are the LEAST qualified people for the job. They are NOT the people I would go to even in the unlikely event that I WERE in fits of despair over my inability to determine the proper course for my actions.


1. Woman who abused her children, did drugs in front of them, and had them taken away from her several times, regularly tells me the proper way to discipline, teach, and feed my child. Woman, you are the last person on earth I would ask for advice about child-rearing. If I had cocaine-related questions, though, I hope you know I will come to you.

2. Man who is unemployed and living on welfare after getting fired from his last entry-level job because he threatened to kill a co-worker gives me advice at least once a week on how to run my already successful business. Man, you do not get to tell me how to do this, because I am pretty sure I have a handle on it. If I need to know the pros and cons of working in the fast food industry, you will be the first person I ask.

To these doucheholes: We would all be better off if, when I am not requesting your opinion regarding my life or anything in it, you instead apply to your own life the advice you so dearly wish to dispense. If it works out for you, chances are I'll want to know your secret, and you can share then.

To you, reading this now: ARE YOU WITH ME ON THIS? Or is this one of those things that only annoys me because I am an intolerant bitch?

WTF #1

WTF #1: Rogue Baby

Friday, May 13, 2011

Iliad, Book 1.3

See previous or go to the beginning.

Minerva was in her room, packing a light bag for the trip to Ethiopia. She grabbed a few tunics from her Spartan closet, a hairbrush from the bedside table, and an extra pair of sandals, and slipped them into the knapsack. Done. And with plenty of time to spare.

"Minerva?" She heard Juno calling for her down the hall. Her eyes darted to the owl in the cage near the window. Crap. She would not have time to get her out the window, too--

She was too slow. Juno was already in the door, giving her that "I need a favor" look. Stifling a sigh, Minerva tossed her aegis onto her bed. "Yes?"

Juno tried to smile sweetly, but it came out manipulative. "You are SO good with humans, Minerva. So... HELPFUL when things get out of control."

"Is this about the Achaeans again?" Minerva asked, plaiting her brown hair deftly, over her shoulder.

"I KNEW you would be willing to help!" Juno gushed. "If you could just HURRY. I'm pretty sure Achilles is about to do something RASH."

"So Achilles is being Achilles, and you would like me to...?" Minerva trailed off, finishing her braid with a silver ribbon.

"Well, just keep him from killing Agamemnon," Juno said, as though it were nothing. "I mean, I would do it, but I have ALL of this packing to do..." she trailed off, nearly succeeding in looking helpless.

Minerva grabbed the aegis from where she'd thrown it and slung her knapsack over her shoulder. "Afterwards, I'm going to take a few days off. I'll meet you in Ethiopia." With that she walked out of the room and onto the beach.

Achilles was raving by the time she got to him-- yelling and reaching for his spear. "YOU TOOK A PRIEST'S DAUGHTER AND THOUGHT IT WOULD BE OKAY??? AND NOW YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE MY BRISEIS??" Minerva barely noticed the tall, dark Briseis being led over to Agamemenon as she grabbed Achilles by his yellow hair and yanked his head around to face her.

"You," she said, looking into his wild eyes. "Stop."

It was like throwing a bucket of water onto a fire. He clamped his mouth shut, swallowing hard, averting his eyes to the ground in respect.

Something in Minerva didn't like seeing the wild man tamed so easily. "Talk to your mother about it," she said, letting go of his long hair. "But don't start something with him now."

"Th-thank you," he said, his muscled shoulders loosening as he took a deep breath. "I'll do that." He threw a hateful look over his shoulder at Agamemnon, then turned toward his tent without a word.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Buried Treasure

It's not so much pirate's booty
As it is a baby bootie,
Accidentally discovered,
Uncovered while searching
For a blanket for the houseguest
Who is waiting in the guest room
Getting colder. And you sit,
Holding a baby bootie, the
Blanket forgotten on the floor,
Fingers burnishing this gem,
Working as they did years ago,
Tucking soft pink feet and tiny toes
Into the most precious booty on earth.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

And That's All We Have Time for Today

Flop onto the couch
And tell me your problems.

Don't be shy, I've heard it all.
Grotesque fantasies,
Horrifying memories,
The heavy weight of guilt,
Crushing pain of hatred,
Blank numbness of ennui.

I've heard it all.

And you may think you're special
With your abnormalities
But I am here to tell you

You're as normal
As everyone I see
In one-hour increments
Five days a week.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Iliad, Book 1.2

See previous here.

"HE HAS BEEN KILLING THEM FOR NINE DAYS! NINE DAYS! I mean, when he was just shooting his arrows at the dogs, I didn't really care," Juno huffed, petting the cat on her lap a little harder than was necessary, "but then he started in on my Achaeans! And they are being decimated."

Demeter shook her head disapprovingly, her long brown hair swishing side to side as she gave Juno a pat on the shoulder. Athena did not look up from the book she was reading, but mumbled a noncommital "Mmm-hmm." Hestia kept her eyes on the fire.

"There's not much use talking to Apollo at this point," Demeter said, looking over at the fern in the corner, which grew slightly under her gaze. "Ares is down there with him. They're beyond reason."

"Well, I've had it." Juno stood up suddenly, and her cat fell to the ground with a loud yowl. "Jove is off gallivanting who-knows-where. If not for me, nothing would ever get done around here. It's no wonder I'm always on edge. It's all of the stress of keeping everything together."

Athena's grey eyes took on a steely hue, but she kept reading.

"When Jove comes looking for me, tell him I'm with Achilles," Juno said. "With Achilles."

"Of course," Demeter said. "It'll serve him right."


Achilles and Patroclus were lounging around the tent, watching Briseis as she tried to straighten up the mess around them. The girl's dark hair and dark skin looked almost warm in the light of the lantern. She grabbed a bundle of blankets from the floor, her black tunic inching up as she did so. She suddenly realized the men had grown quiet, and whipped around in time to see Patroclus bending over to get a better look. Scowling, she wadded the blankets up, threw them in Achilles' face, and stomped out.

Patroclus was laughing so hard he almost drowned out Achilles' loud "RAWR!" The younger man left the tent to throw a few more teasing insults after the woman, and when the tent flap closed behind him, Juno stood there, radiant and proud.

Achilles hastily stood up, shoving the blankets behind him while inclining his head slightly, rather less than most would in the presence of the goddess.

Juno, of course, noticed this, and her face took on a bit more of an edge than it usually had. "Achilles."

"My Queen," Achilles said, raising an eyebrow, but inclining his head lower this time.

Juno rolled her eyes. The nerve of some these half-mortals was almost comical. "Let's just cut to the chase, shall we?" She swung her golden plait around her shoulder, stroking it as she spoke. "Apollo will not rest until Agamemnon returns the girl to his priest. You are going to do whatever you need to do to calm him down." She ignored Achilles' muffled groan. "I would suggest an assembly. Calchus may have something to say. And straighten up in here," she said, looking around the tent. "Your mother would be ashamed of you."

"That's what Briseis is for," Achilles muttered.

Juno's eyes lit a little at this. "She is not your slave."

"Actually, she is," Achilles retorted. "Agamemnon gave her to me because I am the best warrior he has. To the victor go the womenfolk," he said, imitating Juno's overdramatic emphasis.

"We'll see about that," Juno snapped. "An assembly. NOW." She disappeared before Achilles could reply.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Interview with JesusTChrist

Lifted wholesale from the place I posted it first, for which I am not giving you a link.

It's here. The moment you've all been waiting for.

JESUSTCHRIST, prepared to answer ALL OF THE questions. Please be kind.

Here he is, riding what he assured me was, indeed, a BRONTOSAURUS (suck on THAT, scientists):


And we're off!

What's your favorite joke?
Phil Collins' career.

What's your real first name (if you feel okay sharing)?


What's the story behind your username?
I picked "JesusTChrist" because people are always (wrongly) assuming that my middle name begins with an "H" for some unknown reason. It is Jesus THE Christ, people. Get it right.

Why did you choose your avatar?
My avatar is the same as the picture I submitted for the interview-- Dinosaurs are awesome, and I am the only living person who has held one. BAM.

When's your birthday? What astrological sign is that?
December 25. Capricorn.

Where are you from?

What's your living situation?
Currently living in a sweet pad in heaven, although technically I have full domain of the universe.

What's your class background? Race, heritage, or ethnicity? Religious orientation?
Well, I was born in a barn (haha, I know), and my adopted dad was a carpenter. My biological dad is God, though, which kind of trumps all that working-class stuff. I'm 100% Jew and also 100% God (don't ask me how the math works). I believe that I am God, so I think most people would classify my religion as New Age or something.

What's your relationship status? Sexual preference?

I'm not in a relationship with anyone, but I'm in a personal relationship with everyone. I prefer that everyone have sex in monogamous relationships.

Do you have pets? Siblings? Kids?
None, unless you count brothers like the way black people use it. Which is more meaningful, I think.

Do you work or go to school? If the former, what's your job? If the latter, what's your area of study? If you've finished school, what was your area of study?
My job is Master of the Universe. He-Man ain't got nothin' on me.

Why are cats so much better than dogs?
Because I made them that way.

How long have you been a member of the forum?

Since the beginning.

Are you a member of any other forums? If so, which ones and what are they about?
No, all of the other forums suck.

Where do you like to spend time online?

I don't really get online much. Too much gossip. And porn.

Do you have a blog? If so, what's it about and can we have a link?

I don't have a blog, but I wrote a book that is online. You can read it here.

About how many hours a day do you spend on the computer?


What's your favorite thing about yourself?
My eyes.

What's your most outstanding feature?
My ability to be self-sacrificing. I mean, I take it to a whole new level.

What's your most unique talent or skill?
Um, probably either my ability to walk on water or the way I can change water into wine. It makes me really popular at parties. Oh, and I rose from the dead. Beat that, bitches.

What's your strangest habit? Your most annoying one?
Strangest habit is probably my propensity to speak in parables. Some would argue that is also my most annoying habit.

Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

What's something about your upbringing that was unique, and how has this affected your view of the world?
Well, my Dad had me killed. That was pretty harsh. But we're cool now.

What's the most difficult thing you've had to deal with in your life?
See above. There was also the whole flooding of the earth episode. That sucked. Fuckin' Noah forgot the unicorns, and the dinosaurs were too big. I mean, they were eating all the people, so I guess it was Ok that they got weeded out, but still. Thank Dad we have them in heaven, or I would be pissed.

Do you have any ongoing health issues or medical conditions?
I have nail holes that don't heal. And a spear hole in my side. That's about it.

Do you have any interesting stories about scars? Surgeries? Hospitalizations? Gory infections? Teeth? Gory dental stories are good, too.
Well, I was crucified this one time. And I died. But then I rose again. No biggie.

Have you ever broken a bone?

Ever had stitches?

What's something most people have done or experienced that you haven't?
I am the 2,000 year old virgin. Also, I've never sinned.

Have you ever had a mystical, supernatural, or otherwise inexplicable experience? If so, what?
All of them. Try being alive and THEN being born. And being one with your Father and the Holy Spirit, but also being distinct. And eternal. My whole life is one big ball of inexplicable mysteries.

Do you have a lucky or favorite number?

What's the nerdiest thing you've done lately?

I reformatted my harddrive and gave Steve Jobs a new idea for an overpriced gadget.

What's the biggest change you've made in your life recently? What's been good about this change? What's been difficult about it?
The biggest thing would probably be letting the weather go. I was really trying to micromanage it, but it was getting so stressful trying to prevent hurricanes and earthquakes and tsunamis and tornadoes and floods all the time. It was a full-time job, and everything else was kind of going to shit. So I am letting it kind of work itself out. Obviously, it was difficult to let go. And the weather is being a total bitch about it, killing all of my people. But I think in the long run it will be better for all of us.

In one sentence, what's your philosophy of life?


If your life were a book, what would be the chapter headings?
1. The Beginning
2. The Old Testament Years
3. Christmas
4. Life
5. Death
6. Heaven Again
7. The Wallflower Years

What do you most enjoy having conversations about?
Probably animals. I am really proud of them.

What are three things about yourself you feel it's important for others to know?
1. I am not my Father, even though I am.
2. I know you better than you know yourself and I love you.
3. Sometimes you ask me for things I cannot give you right now, and I am sorry that I can't make everything perfect for you all the time.

What's the most exotic animal you've ever touched?
All of them.

What's the creepiest interaction you've ever had with an insect?
That one plague of locusts in Egypt? Yeah, I did that. It was effed up, yo.

What's the most morally complicated or confusing situation you've ever experienced or witnessed, and how did this affect your view of the world?

To me, things aren't morally complicated. It was confusing being a person, though, because your emotions get so tangled up in shit that you are not sure what is right, even when you know what is right. Like, I knew I had to die, and I told my mom that, but when she was crying I really wanted to get off that cross and just be all, "PUNK'D!" but I couldn't. It is hard to endure human suffering when you know you have the power to alleviate it but if you do, you will be fucking with everyone's autonomy.

Who is your favorite former member of the forum whose blog posts you stalk shamelessly?

Serious, of course.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Open Letter #1

Dear Kitty,

I see you.

I know you think that creeping onto my lap in slow motion, low to the ground, one slight paw movement at a time, makes you invisible. I know this, because you freeze and look up at me if I "notice" you, and don't move again until I look away.

Guess what.

I can still feel your paws sinking all fifteen pounds of you into my gut as you slink onto me. Also, my eyes are like one foot from you. You are rather large, even if you are moving in a ninja-like fashion.

I will let you think you have won this time. But I am getting up when I goshdarn want to get up, regardless of whether or not you're all settled in and looking innocent. And if you start licking yourself, it is over, because your breath smells like ass.


P.S. For real, do something about your breath.
P.P.S. Dammit, I want to get up.
P.P.P.S. Are you snoring?
P.P.P.P.S. I wanted to sit here forever, anyway.