Category: Random

Dog Poop and Homecoming

I don’t believe I have made a very good case for my luck here on VeggieMacabre. Really, I like writing down all the bad karma events in my life because in some way I feel that if I can share my misfortunes, than maybe someone can learn and lead a better life. Who am I kidding? I know people laugh and for that reason, it makes me feel a little better about the event. If you can’t laugh at yourself, you aren’t doing it right.

So today will be no exception. I wasn’t going to tell this one but after my teaser from the post about my hydrocephalic CareBear, I think it is time to let this one out of the vault. I’m going back to 1995 when life was simple. I just received my drivers license, Beavis and Butthead was the show to watch, Nirvana still topped the charts and I was focused on Homecoming. It’s no surprise that girls were a mystery to me at that stage but regardless I had a date and anxiety was high.

I went to a private high school far away from the town that I lived in and it forced my to have two social lives. I had my school chums and then I had my pals from the neighborhood. The school chums were great but I was never as close to them as I was with the neighborhood pals. We spent every weekend catching up on the times lost over the week. It usually involved MTV and this great quest to be the next Metallica. I know, I was in a shitty band, but who wasn’t back then? The real treasured memories I have of them is our complete lack of knowlege of the opposite sex. As the first in the group to go on an actual “date” they had me so spun up, the night was doomed before it even began.

I will admit, the days preceding Homecoming night was kind of a kick. My friends were absolutely certain I would be in the position to find out the workings of the female species so I needed to prepared. This involved concocting ridiculous assumptions on what girls liked to hear, buying cheap cologne and drawing straws to see who would purchase condoms from the gas station. We even went as far as putting my friend’s sister’s bra on the overweight Labrador to figure out the locking mechanism. The reason for that is no one would be a test subject and wear the bra for a realistic simulation. Regardless, the bra proved to be tougher than we thought. I think a person who is color blind has a better chance at solving a Rubix Cube than we would at unlocking that thing.

So the day came for me to go to the Homecoming dance. If it wasn’t for my buddies I probably would have treated it without much concern but I felt as if this was the turning point of my life and come Sunday morning, my view of the world as I knew it would be different. I had all my bases covered; tickets in pocket, reservations for the restaurant, money in wallet, flowers, cheap suit on, cheaper cologne on, and condoms in the….ok, condoms not in the car. I’ll get to that one in a minute.

Soon I arrived to pick up the date. She was from a rival private high school and I knew her from a mutual friend. Really, I had no business going out with her. She was smoking hot, popular and had every quality a 16 year old girl should not have. The summer before school we were at the pool and every college aged dude practically killed themselves just to talk to her. But for what ever reason she wanted to go to Homecoming with me, a skinny goof that had to borrow his dad’s tie to complete his used car salesman suit.

I parked the ’91 Explorer in the driveway, looked in the review mirror just to confirm I looked the same as I did 20 minutes ago, sprayed the final Binaca in the mouth and cut across her drive and some of the yard to the front door. As I rung the doorbell my pulsed race and I could her my heart beat in my ears. Then she opened door and man, she was stunning. I don’t know what goes into that transformation on prom and homecoming but somehow they start off as girls and then become princesses. I felt completely inadequate but a little smitten because I was taking her to Homecoming. Unless I completely screwed this up no one would be the wiser. So I walked into her house and I specifically remember my right foot feeling just a tad heavier.

I followed her around the den, through the living room and into the kitchen so I could meet the parents and put on the picture perfect corsage. This night was beginning to shape up perfectly until her sister came running down the stairs and around the corner screaming, “Ewww! Someone stepped in dog poop!” Instantly everyone’s eyes shot straight to the floor to see poop tracks starting at the front door, around the den, through the living room and into the kitchen, right to my foot.

They say at moments of sheer panic and distress you can have an out of body experience. I am fairly certain that happened to me because I saw the blood drain from my face. There isn’t much one can say when faced with such a dilemma. I looked at my date and she saw in my eyes that I was mortified so she immediately made an attempt to lessen the severity of the situation. Her mother followed suit with “honey this isn’t a problem” and “that happens to the best of us”. It didn’t matter what they said, I built this night up for a month and managed to destroy their carpet before we even met.

Her father opened the garage door and we chatted as I hosed off my shoe in the driveway. I could tell he didn’t have the words to console my broken spirit so he asked about our football team. I was a wide receiver so I used he opportunity to try and impress him. But that fell short because our team was 5 and 5 and her school was sitting on an undefeated season. I admired him for trying but it came back to the problem at hand when her mother stated that they needed to get to Home Depot to rent a steam-cleaner.

Before we left I apologized for the fifth time and made sure to not walk across the lawn. I saw her dog behind the fence racing back and forth and I just scowled. So with the shoe cleaned we headed off to dinner. The ride was a little quiet but soon we began to talk, leaving the thoughts of poop far behind.

The rest of the night was kind of a blur. I know I managed to not step in anything else and we left the dance a little early. Driving back we stopped at the river park and made out to “Emerson Lake And Palmer’s Greatest Hits” cassette, side A and B three times over. It was a perfect end to a disastrous beginning. I brought her home by the midnight curfew and walked her to the door with a final kiss. As I was backing down the driveway she wave from the window and I waved back simultaneously running over the curb. It was wonderful.

I drove home and pulled in the driveway elated by the first make out session and gathering thoughts of victory speeches for my buddies. Noticing the light was still on down stairs and I walked in to see my Mom sitting at the kitchen table. And then I saw the box of condoms that I had dropped in the driveway resting in front of her.

Died, I did.

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Some Of The Things That Make Me Happy

It seems that many conversations I have been in directly or indirectly (because I’m nosy) always revolves around tragedy. There is rarely a time in a coffee shop, on an airplane or happy hour meeting that doesn’t, in some facet, involve someone dying or loss of an eye. Just the other day two ladies were talking about their friend’s mother who had a rash and two weeks later she died. With the same breath, they were talking about shoes. I can’t tell if other people’s tragedy brings comfort or misery really does love company. To me, I work hard at surrounding myself with positives because there seems to be a lot of wet blankets in the world. Here are some of the things that put a smile on my face.

Golden Retrievers are my favorite. I had one when I was a kid. His name was Guy which came from the Sesame Street character “Guy Smiley“, because as a puppy he was the one out of the litter that had a perma-grin. These dogs live a care free life of just being happy. Not really known for their intelligence they go through life rolling in stuff, shedding, napping, drinking from the water bowl then laying their wet mouths on your lap, and being goofy. Above all they just love people which makes them the easiest going animal on the planet. If there is truth to reincarnation, I wouldn’t mind being a retriever. Shit, I practically have the same traits now.

Stormy nights always scared the ba-Jesus out of me as a kid, no thanks to the movie Poltergeist. Today I find them very relaxing. It’s a good reason to unplug the TV and the computer, turn on a reading lamp and just listen to storm approach. At times I may open the garage and watch the show from the safety of my folding chair. Lucky for me, there hasn’t been any real dangerous storms here in a while. If there are, you know I’m going to be the asshole on the news that was found 200 miles away in someone’s tree. I never heed the warnings.

I’m an addicted runner but my addiction doesn’t make me a good one. I have been running most of my life but I just am not meant to be one. That’s why I turn to “Runner’s World” magazine for inspiration. The motivational stories keep me on track to get up, put my running shoes on and head out into the vast darkness every morning. Even though I still come lumbering in, snorting and huffing, side stitched and limping, I still did it. Plus the review of shoes is usually right on.

I know this sounds strange but I am a big fan of foreign vintage advertisements. I consider them more art than anything else and if I could find a print of this above, I would so hang that in the kitchen. Can you imagine a time when this would make you want to buy pork?

One of my new favorite pass times is cruising YouTube for old commercials of yester-year. I’m saving this for a full post later but it also is on the list that makes me happy. More over, I really dig McDonald commercials from ’86-’88. I believe I may have consumed more cheeseburgers during that time but I feel the real reason is that advertisements back then focused on stories rather than the product. Just take a look at this. Until the end, I didn’t know if this was for Trapper Keepers or hight-tops.

Tiki themed anything really floats my board, man. One day I am going to have a basement that will look just like this. I can picture drinking blue martinis and listening to Link Ray on the turntable while outside it’s a whopping 20 degrees. It’s a great reflection of my life; where ever you are, you can always be somewhere else.

Well, that was a pretty pointless post but I had to get some happy thoughts churning. Meetings and sad sacks get to me after a while and just writing about this stuff has already made the day a little better. You guys should try this. I swear it works.

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A Little Help From My Freinds

I have been meaning to do this for some time so here it goes. It never ceases to amaze me that people read this stuff on VeggieMacabre. More over, people who actually have a common bond with my topics. Really, I think the most fun I have is reading other blogs. There is something to be said for people who can express emotion whether it be humorous or of the serious nature and make one feel through written words. I believe that is a gift and I want to share some people on my blogroll that have that.

The Pilver (Kristiane) : I’ve known Kristiane for a couple of years now. Many people who visit this site know her so it comes as no surprise when I say that she an amazing writer, Mom, multi-tasker and over all good person. The Pilver is one of the funniest, honest and most heartfelt sites on the Internet and if you have not been there, go! I am pretty sure we are somehow related because there is now way two people can operate on the same frequency like KB and I do. Trust me, it’s weird.

Laurie Kendrick : Laurie and I are good friends and I am a little bit smitten by that. Her blog is read by hundreds of thousands and there is great reason for that. She is funny. You can not read this in public because something will come out of your nose. I promise, I now know what coffee feels like in my nasal cavity. Her years in TV and radio have shaped her humor and wit to that of a God like skill. I hope that one day I can write as well as her.

The Evolution Of Me (Essaytch) : This is another funny girl that writes about the daily grind and my days feel a little less complete without checking in to read her hilarious letters to Mr. Manager, Paul Allen, or even WordPress itself. I also think Pippen the cat is just aces. There is something about Essaytch that makes you want to take her out to get drunk and then go see a live performance of Rocky Horror Picture Show. Maybe it’s the Seattle in her?

That’s What She Blogged (Allison) : I’m not sure how I found Allison on here but I am glad I did. Her daily events, 80’s and 90’s nostalgia, story’s of the “Imp” and stretch pants will keep you reading for hours. This is a must go to, because I believe everyone can find something in common on here. Whether it’s about being a parent, corporate work, funny dogs, The Office, or New Kids On The Block, trust me, it is worth reading. Her husband Matt is really funny too. It’s a double win.

Kittymao: It’s a breath of fresh air to have a friend that is honest, artistic and loves metal. She is a fellow Maiden fan and for that alone she has a place close to my heart. She also sent me this kick ass artwork she did that will be hung up in the den as soon as I get it back fro the matting store.

Shuanfu : A fellow X-E’er, Shuan and I have known each other for a while. I think it started when I gave him advice on women showing that I really have no idea how they work. I think I told him to run in zig zags and when in doubt play dead. It turns out that was advice for bear attacks. Regardless, if you want honest reviews for movies, collector items, or Wii games, go there. He’s a smart guy.

Furry Chocolates : If you couldn’t tell by now, I mostly have blog buddies that are funny. This one is no exception because if you don’t laugh from this Canadian, I think your laugh thingy is broken. Also, her husband is a very talented photographer as well as her cook book, also listed on Furry Chocolates.

Pammy-Girl : Oh, the very popular Pammy Shep in all her blogging goodness. She is the left-coast rep for VeggieMacabre and a great insight to the world of girls. I try to keep a distance from knowing too much but she is so talented with her writing and wit, I find myself reading on without a care that I may know too much. It’s nice to find open, honest, very educated people that can still admit to tripping into an elevator.

2 Lazy Dogs : I just recently found this thanks to Allison’s blog. I have to admit, she is a really talented artist. I don’t know if this has ever happened to you, but one of her paintings she posted left me speechless (which is quite a feat) and I stared at it for a good 10 minutes before sharing it with the entire office. Stop by, feel inspired and read the 101 page. Guaranteed to find at least 50 things in common.

Pistol Pete : Do you ever get down, need guidance, or just want to be lifted a little? Go here. I’m not the most religious guy but man, I read this almost daily just to refocus and it works. It works well. I am the type of person who goes to church, the entire time I daydream about everything not “church like” and yell at drivers leaving the parking lot. He brings it back to living a fruitful life and does it in a way that you would never know. If my computer was ever stolen, this would be one of the top 10 things that would force me to replace it that day.

jdevore : It’s Goob! Jodi is a great friend and I’m richer in life to know her. She has a great perspective on life and keeps the little things sacred which is a lesson most missed in life. If it wasn’t for the that, I would be lost in life.

Hopping In Puddles : You have to read some of these letters on here. Talk about heart felt! I wish I could find the words at times but clearly Micheal has.

Dohopoki : Have you ever met someone and you just know from a brief interaction that their IQ is probably 180. That’s doho. He is hilarious but the witty comebacks in his responses is where the magic is. It’s a great look into the mind that borders genius and insanity, and that’s a compliment. I’m glad he has recently decided to join the blogging community because it’s just too good not to read.

Kirbyann : Read the poems. Most of the time poems are over my head, and many English college courses have confirmed that. These are wonderful and at times will give you goosebumps.

Vonnegut’s Asshole (Eric Spitznagel) : One of the most famous people on this site, he is an accomplished novelist, magazine contributor and one of the funniest bloggers I have read. Some day I hope I can write like this guy. I have read his books but really lucked out to find his site. I still can’t believe it is for free.

Squee : It’s hard not to love Squee from X-E. She as been a rock in the comment section on X-Entertainment for years and I was ecstatic when she commented on one of my posts. I felt like I had a visit from the Queen or something.

Keywork : Much like Doho, this is a smart guy. He is cleaver, funny and if you don’t agree with him politically, watch out. He can hold his own. I pop in regularly as a lurker. I learn a lot.

MaryJane : Amy pops in from time to time but each time is like Christmas. You have to love the way she writes and topics of choice. She is a fellow X-E’er and it’s worth stopping by to listen to her mixed tape from 1996.

Crown Combo : Misty has been and still is an inspiration to me. If you ever want to find out about girl nostalgia go here. She is funny, brilliant and here blogs as well as her articles are more of an adventure than anything else. I don’t think a day has gone by without me checking in to see what she has gotten into. It really is a fun site and she is a good, good friend.

Social Pariah : I am not sure how I was found but I am glad she did. I have read every post and it is so funny. Go there right now and look at the midget in the leprechaun mask with the guy smoking a bong. It still haunts my dreams.

X-Entertainment : And of course, Matt Caracappa’s site. This is the reason I started writing. If you have never been there please go. Then you will understand where VeggieMacabre came from. Every post is quality, every topic will keep you interested and before you know it you will be assimilated into the X-E’er club. Actually it’s more of a cult. Matt is by far the most talented writer I have ever read. He can spark your interest in things you normally would never care about. His humor is dry and but never over your head. I don’t know if this is a sad thing, but if I left this world early, X-Entertainment would be one of the things I would miss the most. It is that good. There is no were else that you could travel back in time from the safety of your desk and relive the most innocent chapters of your life. Thanks for the Matt.

Well, that’s my shout out. I thoroughly enjoy reading everything on my blogroll. I usually don’t add many to it unless it meets my standards of humor, intelligence and over all non offensiveness in nature. I can’t thank you enough for sharing your personal thoughts, memories and life lessons. My job in life keeps the stress levels high but you guys bring me down to reality like nothing else. Keep the great posts coming.

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Hydrocephalic Care Bear

I maybe alone on this, even though I am praying I am not, but for some reason or another I wanted a Care Bear when I was a little kid. In the early/mid eighties these stuffed bears were quite the fad and girls as well as boys of my age had to have one. I think the same held true for Pound Puppies, Teddy Ruxpin and My Buddy, because I remember at least putting a few of these things on my Christmas wish list. Maybe there was a gender identity crisis among kids my age because a Pound Puppy and Battle Damage He-Man were neck and neck for best gift. Regardless, I wanted a Care Bear and I had no shame in asking for one. I take that back, begging for one.

Now I wasn’t a fruity kid or anything. I played in the mud, was the king of four square, liked bugs and sharks, was pretty sure I was Luke Skywalker for a while and had every GI Joe figure known to man but I also followed the fads. When Jam shorts were in style I wore them. When Yo-Yo’s emerged from the shadows of the fifties in the fifth grade I learned how to “walk the dog”. When Rebok Pumps were a must, my poor Dad shelled out $100 so I could inflate my sneaker tongue. And when a cartoon about Bears shooting care symbols off their stomachs meant every kid, no matter what gender, had to have a stuffed bear I was no exception.

I don’t believe I really wanted a Care Bear. I think it was more the idea of blending in. I worked pretty hard at being another face in the crowd and the last thing I wanted was unneeded attention. Not having a brother or a sister telling me I was an idiot all the time left me very sensitive to the ridicule of my peers. If there was ever name calling I usually left feeling confused saying, “I don’t understand how they can’t see that I am fucking awesome. My mom and dad always say that.” But I digress, if having a dippy bear would assimilate me than so be it. I added it to the ’85 Christmas wish list.

So Christmas finally came. Just like any other kid of my age it was a day that capped the year. If the two super powers of the Cold War decided to nuke each other it damn well better be in January because Christmas was not to messed with. That year I felt I was owed a few things. It was great to have a 7 year old sense of entitlement. But that year also came with a curve ball. The much anticipated 5am walk to the den to see the presents under the tree was quickly defused . Yes, the presents were there, the tree was still plugged in and the smell of scotch tape still hung in the air but there was a peculiar being sitting in front of the tree. I stared at it and with more time passing it became apparent that this was what it was. I got a homemade Care Bear.

It just so happened that the year Care bears made their debut to the toy market my aunt took up stitching for a hobby. I am positive that when the wish list was shared she took full advantage of the opportunity and volunteered to make it. For some reason my mom’s side of the family really like to make their own things. Now making your own chair, dress, desk, or canoe is cool but you can not get away with making the most popular toy in America from scratch. I know I sound caddy but let me describe it for you. Keep in mind I was a little dick of a kid. I’m better now that I’m 30.

Fist of all, he (it was a boy) was stuffed with styrofoam balls much like a bean bag chair. When hugged it made a noise that let you know your bear is surely dead. It was also clear that my aunt did very little research on the Care Bears because on the chest of my bear was not a heart or a four leaf clover or a cloud or even a rainbow. It was a truck. My bear had the “Care Bear Stare” of a truck. I don’t know what that would do in a care bear emergency. Maybe tow the cloud car? My God, I think I remember too much about these gay things….

I believe the best/worst feature on my Amish Care Bear was the proportioned head to body ratio. He had a head four times the size of his torso. Looking back on it I guess he would be a hydrocephalic bear but even then, it was a hard pill to swallow just knowing that if any one of my friends saw this my quest to be invisible would be over. Instead of being the nameless face in the crowd I would be an outcast. Just me and big-head truck bear. Oh the woes of an eight year old primadana.

The whole morning I was constantly distracted by my hydrocephalic homemade bear. The joys of new stuff was great but my eye was always drawn back to him. Later that night I retired to my bedroom without the protection of a Care Bear truck stare. Now that I am telling this story, I do feel like I was a little dick of a kid.

A week or so later I was back at school sharing stories of my new loot with my school chums. It seemed that everyone did pretty well but i had to tip the scale and proudly exclaim that not only did I get He-Man, GI Joe, an Ewok Village but I also got a Care Bear. Of course I got the unwanted attention of being the lucky kid with the most crap. It’s what mattered back then. So I wore that crown for a while. A while meaning until Friday. The teacher told us to bring in one thing for show and tell on Friday that we got for Christmas. I think you know where this is going.

I contemplated which toy I should bring in so I could still keep my meaningless position as the shittiest kid in school. I was stuck between the He Man on Battle Cat or my G.I. Joe tank with the bridge crossing thing on top. But I was oblivious to the fact that my Mom caught wind of Fridays events. As an active parent in my school she was what you called a “homeroom mom” and she had other plans for what I was going to show and tell about. When she asked me to show off my aunt’s impressionistic creation of a modern day Care Bear I quickly objected. This resulted in an order to take Truck Bear to school and that was final.

The morning of Friday I shuffled off to the school bus with book bag on back and retard bear in arm but before I got there I made the switch. I took out the books and paper bag lunch and tried to stuff the bear in the bag. No shit, the head was too big. After some frustrating stuffs I got him in and off I went. No one would be the wiser and I had a trusty Go-Bot in my pocket to show. It’s good to be humble when everyone already knows you’re the shit.

I wish I could remember how the rest of the day went but all I really remember was the show and tell event. If I had something extravagant to show off I would have been excited but I figured just a Go-Bot was nothing to raise your arm up so high that you would need to support it by your other arm behind the head. You know what I’m talking about. I sat through fifteen Care Bears, a few G.I. Joe’s and some Cabbage Patch dolls. So soon enough I went up to give a brief description of my robo-motorcycle but there was a look of confusion on my teachers face. I knew there was a problem about the time I got to “what I got for Christmas was…”. My Mom had informed the teacher ahead of time that I had a homemade bear that I was supposed to show the class. Ms. Simms (the teacher) asked, “Where’s your Care Bear, Billy?”. Sold out by the woman who gave me life.

I have had many embarrassing events in my life. When I was 16 I picked up my homecoming date and stepped in dog poop, only to track it into her parents house. I was running to class in college and tripped with my hands tucked in my book bag straps. My God, I spent an entire day mistaken for a retarded person at the Special Olympics. But that show and tell was my earliest memory of embarrassment. The long walk from the front of the classroom to my book bag is still as clear as yesterday. When I pried that huge head from my bag there was a gasp in the room and my efforts to be out of the lime light was ruined. Had I been quicker on my feet back then I would have told the class he was in fact a real Care bear. His name was Truck-Dar and was the evil sibling that didn’t live in the clouds with the rest of the bears but down in the fog….where he ate the bears that accidentally fell….. and he was a mechanic which explains his truck on his stomach….. and he was very smart….because his head is so big.

Well, I guess that would have made it worse. No, I stood up at the front of the class while Ms. Simms gave my monologue about how my aunt made this with her own hands. I looked around the class while the guys in the back held their heads down laughing and the girls curled there lips in disgust. And that’s when I began to feel bad for my Hydrocephalic Care Bear. Even at my weakest moment I thought, this was made for me. I began to drift from the fact I could be labeled as the kid with the freak bear and started taking pride in the fact that this was for me and me alone. I think that is pretty remarkable for an 8 year old only child.

I sat down at my desk and kept the bear with me the whole day. I no longer felt ashamed and found myself defending it to any snickers or jokes. That night the bear took guard on my bead to ward off any night terrors. He may be a deformed Care Bear but damn it, he was my deformed Care Bear.

Thanks Aunt Eileen. He was the best bear a guy could have. And he didn’t let the thing in my closet get me either.

16

A Tribute To Richard Condie

I have been meaning to do this one for quite some time. After my tribute to the artist Stephen Gammell, there has been so many hits on it I figured I should branch out to other artists I really like. So today I will be tipping the hat for Richard Condie, an artist who not only had a unique animation style but really captured the art of humanity. Growing up I would catch these cartoons from time to time and the absurdity of the characters kept my attention but it wasn’t until recently did I get the sociological lessons not only the characters played but the plot and setting too. They are smart, funny and at times bizarre but never dull.

Condie, a resident Canadian graduated from the University of Manitoba with a Bachelor of Arts degree and worked as an accomplished sociologist, musician and performer for a number of years. It wasn’t until 1971 when he was “fooling around” did he find his artistic outlet in the form of animation. Soon he made the short, Oh Sure thanks to a grant from the Canadian Counsel and it was later purchased by the National Film Board Of Canada. I’d say that was an ego boost to have your first film picked up.

I’m going to share some of my favorite shorts that Condie created. You have to keep an open mind because they are a little far out but that’s the magic. I’m so tired of the message of the story being handed to you. It always means more to me when it is hidden behind sentence fragments, strange voiced sound effects and characters that had to be created through drugs. Here’s the first one which is a later creation Richard did in 1991. The Apprentice:

I’m going to honest with you, I have no clue what that was about. But I do know I like it and that is all that matters. How often do you get to watch a cartoon and see a dragon burp up a dude’s head? Not often my friends and that is where the magic comes to life.

Condie’s creative animations also found a spot advertising for the Canadian Customs and Exercise Department warning travelers not to smuggle opera singing bird/gerbils. Now if the US government would get on board with ads like this I promise that the amount of smuggling, embezzlement, and international law bending would come to a halt. At least I would stop.

This one is my absolute favorite and the most memorable. It’s a great message about the absurdity of nuclear war, loving your spouse and sawing your cat. I love this to know extent and is the main reason I wanted to share Richard’s work with anyone who may have missed it. Here it is, The Big Snit:

“Always shaking your eyes!”

Since 1971, Richard Condie really has put Canada on the map for animation. His awards and accolades over the years have been in the hundreds and he has even been nominated for an Oscar and a Genie as well as many international film fest awards. There is no doubt he is one of the greats and once again, Canada has provided America with true comedy.

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