There were no parks in Laurel Lake, but there were Parks.

When someone dies, pretty much anyone who does, folks will usually say some mostly nice things about the deceased. It's just seems to be the way we act in the face of a death. The more sudden the passing, the more tragic, violent or senseless, the younger the victim of an unexpected passing, the exponentially increased degree to which folks tend to say these nice things. It is little surprise then, to see nice things being written on Facebook the last day or so, about a 17 year old New Jersey boy named Troy Davis Park. What is a little surprising, is exactly what folks are saying about Troy and to what extent. People (lots of kids, but some adults too) are indicating that Troy touched other people's lives in special ways. Not just the old "Oh Troy, was great I'll miss him" but more along the lines of "Troy was the one that helped me/us get through, hang in there, crack a smile". It seems Troy was very sweet and very sensitive. Sadly it's often those sensitive kids who can't take life's many painful realities, without it eventually wearing them down.

Troy was the son of a childhood friend of mine, David Park, and his wife Denise, younger brother to their son Edward. Sadly, this young man who I had never met, son of a friend I hadn't spoken with really, in nearly three decades, passed away a few days ago, from suicide. Death, so heart-wrenching under most circumstances, is more so still when it's just a young kid. Suicide in a teen is just unthinkably tragic to a parent, and yet it's so very common. Death of a child, at their own hand, really stretches my ability to even wrap my head around how I would survive it, let alone be of any use to anyone! David Park, my old friend, seems to be one hell of a guy, or maybe he's still in shock, but the words he's shared and way in which he is expressing his family's thoughts and feelings, makes me understand where Troy may have gotten some of his style. It all leaves me even more sad if possible, sad for the Parks obviously, sad for Troy's friends and family, sad for this little world of ours that can use all the sensitive, sweet, giving people, it can get, but sad too that Troy will no longer be here to experience this obviously loving dad and family.

I grew up spending summers at my Grandparents "Summer House" in Laurel Lake New Jersey. Bought before I was born, the little cabin, would eventually be expanded to be a bigger little cabin. Laurel Lake was a summer resort created around a man-made lake in the 1920s for Philly folks to get away. Laurel Lake is a little tiny town next to Millville, a pretty small town itself. Just down the road from Vineland, about an hour and fifteen minutes south of us, not even all the way "Down the Shore", just "Down the Lake". My childhood summers centered mostly around goin "Down the Lake". It was never called or thought of as anything other than goin "Down the Lake"! My childhood wasn't the best, but Laurel Lake was always a treat, it was a different place and a relaxed vibe. It was about playing in the water, running around in bare feet, hitting the Flea Markets with Gram, playing in the woods, breakfast on the porch, and possibly best of all hanging with The Parks!

My grandmother Cass, Gram as I've always called her, knew The Parks' mom from church or something. Louis and David and I met through the two of them, I may have been 8 or 9 years old, when we started hanging around together. They lived maybe a bit more than a half dozen or so blocks from our house, but they were full-time Laurel Lakers. That meant they swam and fished, and caught all sorts of animals. Lou and Dave rode dirt bikes, Yamaha YZ's, and I thought that was the coolest. I was scared to try driving one myself, though I wanted to badly. The brothers just lived what seemed a simpler "country" life. I vividly remember the boys catching fish with their bare hands in a local creek, and teaching me to brush the surface clean and drink from those same creeks. I recall catching salamanders at the old "Plummer's Dump" and their catching Snapper Turtles to make soup! Gross to me then, and now too! But I also thought the guys were pretty cool and industrious. We traded Charlie's Angels collectible cards, showed off dumb shit bought at the Flea Markets, and a couple of years later we played many games of Uno, and drove our bikes all the way into Vineland to the Cumberland Mall to chase down Empire Strikes Back Kenner action figures! We left with more than a few "blasters" under our tongues (The Parks will know what that means!). In the summer when I was about 13, we listened to The Wall by Pink Floyd, ran around like nuts, talked about girls, had "Halloween in Summer", and played Truth or Dare, with a couple of local girls. I was scared to death, but wanted to kiss one of those girls in the worst way. That's the second thing that these kids did that I wished I could mimic. Laurel Lake held a sense of adventure for me, and I was only sad back at home in "Philly". I was, from a young age, pretty depressed really but didn't know it was that at that time. I was picked on in school and in my neighborhood, bullied quite a lot. Being a skinny little guy, I didn't feel real able to hold the bullies off, and often fantasized about it being over. I don't know that I thought of actually killing myself at that time, but I do know I thought of killing others, and of harming myself, and wished the pain would just go away, even if I wasn't prepared to take the ultimate step myself. I didn't feel that way in Laurel Lake, and thought I might like to stay there forever. I hoped to attend Millville Schools, with my friends, where their son and nephew Troy Park would later attend. I wished I could stay down there with my simple country friends who didn't judge me or act like tough guys and just wanted to have a good time all summer being kids, riding dirt bikes, playing Uno, and maybe even kissing girls!

I wonder what the things were that made Troy feel hopeless, but I don't question that there were things. I felt hopeless quite a lot, and still do often times. I struggle with depression and anxiety, and always have. Life can be a real bitch at times and I have to sometimes remind myself that it can also be a joy. When my own kids struggle with life's let-downs it breaks my heart. I wish I could make it all better, or at least pretend that it wasn't gonna keep on throwing them curve-balls. I try to be honest with them

though, while encouraging them to reach out to me, or to someone else trusted, when feeling overwhelmed, but just reach the hell out! Reaching out to others has saved my ass MANY times. I don't know if Troy Park was able to reach out in his hurt, but I know that whatever lead to Troy being gone today, would have likely been gone itself, if he could have just hung in there again, a little more, a little longer, one more time. They say "this too shall pass", but that goes for good things as well as bad. Things will just keep on changing, so don't expect that what you're feeling now is what you'll be feeling later. Hang through the shit and LOVE the great times. Hug the folks who matter, and tell them that they do. It might be something that does your heart good later, or theirs!

I lost my younger brother 2 years ago. Heart attack at 37, SO sad. It is something that I just simply will NEVER rebound from. We were close, he meant everything to me. The one really great relief to me has been knowing that I told him again and again, how much I loved him and that he mattered in my life and how I couldn't have made it through without him. I told him if anything even happened to me, I needed for him to know those things. I didn't know that he would be the one gone, and so soon, and I would be so comforted to know that he knew those things. Tell the folks you love, that you do, seriously TELL them damn it, tomorrow might be too late. It might be all you leave them with to weather your being gone. It made my brother a bit uncomfortable, all that feelings stuff, but in comforts me now, that he knew, that I did, that I do!

It sounds like Troy Park loved his friends and family and they loved him lots. I'm not sure if Troy was in touch with that, that it was enough to get him through, but it will be the one thing that helps get them through.

David Park asked that kids hang in there, and get through, and don't give up. To reach out to the adults around them, for themselves and for the adults too! Some folks need No-one, it's just a fact, some need only a few people. There are those of us, probably most of us, who need people. We need to love and to be loved. Different amounts and in different ways, but all averaged in, lots of folks nees lots of love. Assume the worst. Assume the folks around you need MORE love and support! Kids, your parents may not know how to express these things to you, they may not even know they need to express them, but they may. Parents, you should know this by now, talk to your kids, love you kids, talk to your kids about loving your kids! The time is now! Adults we have the luxury of having been kids, we've been there. If we try hard enough and REMEMBER what it was like, we have an advantage, use it! Kids, see what I just wrote? You've never been an adult, a parent, OLD, as you love to think of us. We HAVE been kids, and teens, and have experience, we may have something important to share with you, a reason for riding your back. Yes at times life is hard, too many times and too hard too often, BUT there are times it's not and times when it's even great, so Hang in there! Life can be great and satisfying and fulfilling at times, but not if you are dead!

Hang in there parents. Hang in there kids. Love as many of each other as you can, and tell them, it's like a stock-pile of love and goodness against the hard times. Your love just might help someone get through a tough time.

Lou, Dave, I love you guys for that summer that was quite special, at a time where I seriously had at least some thoughts about taking my own life. I wish I could do something to take away some of your pain, but I can't. I hope maybe I've done something to help your stock-pile of love. Hang in there, there will be good times again.

Rest in Peace Troy Park

Mike Paquin

South End will never forget!

I lost one of my childhood best friends yesterday and I’m reeling quite a bit. Robbie McCracken was one of a kind, a regular nut-job, and was a dear old friend of mine,  at one time “my best  good friend” to quote Forest Gump. Someone who weaved oddly in and out of my life for over three decades, since I was roughly 10 years old. Always Robbie, never Rob, Robert, Bob, or Bobbie, at 42 years of age, he passes away still just Robbie, a kid-like name for a guy who was always a big kid-like man.

 I’ve experienced quite a few losses the last couple of years, too many really, two in the last two months alone. One, Wade, was a customer of mine and a casual friend for a couple of years, who I was just recently getting to really know well. He was young just in his early 50s, but had lived a pretty full life, and quite frankly as sad as I’ve been about his loss, and I have been, he was not a life-long  close childhood friend in his early 40s! Frankly, the many looses these last couple years are getting quite old, and  this one like the loss of my brother, digs pretty deeply. Can we just stop all this dying shit now? Please?

I had something of a crazy childhood, so losing all connections to it, might sound like a good thing, yet it’s not.  I for whatever, reason find it quite discomforting, and a real loss of my own identity, in addition to the loss of these folks in my life. I find myself the last couple years, without my little brother , my main side-by-side companion for all of his 37 years, and now a close childhood friend. The two of them where the only ones there at a VERY crazy time in my childhood, that most folks wouldn’t even believe, I feel like it ceases to exist now that no-one is there to remind me it all happened.  I am just a bit shell-shocked.

Robbie and I grew up in the Philly Southern Suburbs, on the “bad side” of the boro of Collingdale PA, in what came to be known as “The South End”.  Delaware County, PA,  is the oldest and arguably the most working-class of Philly’s surrounding counties. Some parts of our surrounding area are middle class, some even have true wealth, old money . Much of Delco however is working class and/or poor even. Collingdale certainly being towards the lower end of the socio-economic scale of the region.

South End, as the area, and residents, are now fondly called by those who grew up there, was named for a gang, that was named for who knows what? You see, even as a kid I understood that we were not at the South End of Collingdale, nor even the South End of our County, so where the South End name came from, I may never know, but South End it was, and WE ARE! The gang, founded around 1980, by Robbie’s older brothers Terry and Daryl, had only a couple dozen members spread among itself and the South End Junior. The gang and neighborhood built quite the reputation in the early 1980’s.

Collingdale is something of a Hood today, but even in the 70s it wasn’t exactly Beverly Hills! The lower end of Collingdale, closer to Darby, was considered the bad end of town (wrong side of the tracks as it were), though it was less a tracks dividing line, and more about Roberta Ave, in my opinion. The old Pusey Ave. School was at the corner of Roberta and Pusey, and seemed for whatever reason, to be about where OUR end of town began. I can’t think of ALMOST anyone from beyond that point, who was ever considered South End, except for John Dowling and his sister Charlotte. Johnny was killed in South End and Charlotte dated Daryl, so they are South End through and through, Roberta Ave. be damned!

I remember when we younger kids formed South End Junior, on the heels of South End, picking nick-names, probably around 1981 or so. I can’t recall a hundred percent who was actually “in” the gang, but I know there were less than a dozen South End Juniors in the beginning. Jason Aikens ~ Little Toes, after his older brother’s nick-name Tommie Toes. Mikey Montanaro, Robbie, Myself, just can’t remember who else was in that first group. Maybe Pat Mullen, The Casey Brothers, possibly Johnny D, not sure he was hanging with us that much, just yet.

The Warriors was playing on cable constantly, and the S.E. Hinton books were being taught at Collingdale Junior (the horrible movies weren’t even out yet!) and us kids wanted to be like those characters. Robbie wasn’t any kind of leader type, he was actually pretty shy in most ways, but being Terry and Daryl’s little brother, he was sort of the central point of our little group. The McCracken house seemed to be where we all gravitated to. Watching the exploits of the older guys, we were in awe of their hijinks.

We all ran around, one or two of us most times, sometimes a few at a time. EVERYONE came together just on rare occasions, like when Terry got “snuck” in Darby. I can recall that whole night like it was yesterday, coming up out of the woods onto that street, maybe as many as 40 or 50 of us, and the Darby kids shitting a brick. Terry saying “wait till my little brother gets here!” and those kids freaking when they found out that “little” brother was Daryl McCracken, he being our neighborhood bad-ass! Getting messed with by older guys when I moved for a short time to Darby, and telling the two kids “I’m South End, Daryl and Terry McCracken are like my big brothers” and the Darby kids being like “well ummm yeah, sorry, nevermind, have a nice day kid”! I will not go into the many stories of South End that I can remember, at least one story is simply too sad to share with strangers, you weren’t there, you couldn’t understand. Southenders will already know it ~ Rest in Peace Johnny D!

 I don't even remember  actually "meeting" Robbie. He recently said we were friends since we were like 3 years old (a complete exageration, lol, but it's all good). We probably met through Mikey Montanaro, who lived right around the corner from the McCrackens. Mike and I met at about 8 years old, through our dads, and a front porch job. I probably would have met Mike a year or two later, but not that soon as those 2 or 3 blocks were long distance at that age! Mike and I became best of friends, hanging out and getting in trouble, lighting fires, stealing soda from the meet market, vandalizing stuff, yeah like most South Enders we were "bad kids".  I think Mike introduced me to Robbie, we all three became friends and did the odd-man out stuff that kids do, and founded South End Junior together. Hell Mike had the big C with a cross jailhouse tattooed on his skinny little 13 year-old arm! We hung out together, tortured one another, and cared for our little group, like a true dysfunctional street family. There were things about each of our home lives, that clearly made us feel safe to have each other in and around our houses without any fear of judgment. When I moved at 14, Mike and Robbie were the only friends from Collingdale who I kept contact with, still saw, and who came to visit me in my new life in Clifton. Life for me was much more how it’s supposedly meant to be in Clifton, but truth be told, all I really wanted was to get back to South End!

I got calls when John was killed, when that craziness at Kelly’s Deli went down, and when Robbie’s house burnt to the ground. Lots of drama for a kid, but Robbie never wavered in his love of South end through it all.

 Robbie was simply one of my two best friends for several years before I left Collingdale, and was my one strong link to South End after I did. I would ride my bike back to town to hang with him and/or Mikey Mont, even after my dad told me to stay the hell out of there! When his family lost their house, we hung-out at the Motel in Springfield where they lived for a while, going to the Springfield Mall and chasing girls. I tried to set Robbie up with the friend of a girl I was seeing, but the girls said “no way, he’s  "goofy mug"!” I never did tell him that story. Yeah I guess he was a bit of a goofy mug, but what would you expect from a freshly displaced and nearly burnt up South Ender? When he moved to UD, we hung out a bit again, going to the same school for a short time. I lived in Clifton and his family belonged to Clifton’s Pool, so we would see each other in summer. When I became a partier he would come up and we partied in the apartments in Clifton. It was one hell of a walk home to Collingdale together in summer of 1985, me bad- tripping out badly and Robbie not knowing what to do with me as I acted like a loon for two hours. He was a little under the weather himself actually, but I won’t share that here. We managed to always run into each other or keep in touch over the years and decades. Catching up with him was often weird, as he was such a nut, but the connection of our childhood was quite strong. Growing up in that same crazy neighborhood in such similar unconventional households, bonded him, myself, and Mikey Mont. We could and did share some stories that NO-ONE else was/is able to relate to at all. We both dealt with clinical depression and other issues and could totally still just shake our heads, that “earth people” would never get what it was like to be like us.

I saw Robbie a couple weeks back. I went over to meet up with him with some Phillies shirts. He was in Broomall working on painting a house for an old friend. He was proud, he wanted to show-off the work he had done so far. We walked through, looked at the job, and talked a while. I busted his stones about something, and we stood on a lawn talking about trying to just have one’s life together and folks expecting more out of you than you think you even have to give. We laughed and ran down some of the crazy stuff, and he said something along the lines of “and they expect me to be NOT depressed?”.  He had health issues and seizures, along with the depression. I know cause he told me, that Robbie didn’t expect to grow “old”, but I don’t think he expected to be gone quite so soon. Robbie’s smile and easy going nature, actually masked a great internal struggle and pain that so many of us hide so well. We two knew and appreciated the truth of those hidden things and those crazy times in the “South End” of the big C, and trying to seem “normal” out there with all these earthlings. We had a few moments that day, that I will cherish, as it’s the last time my friend and I will ever share those things. Did he give me a hug? I can’t recall, it wouldn’t have seemed important at the time.  We didn’t know it was the last time we would see each other, you usually don’t. Had I had any idea, I would have gave him a real big hug and told him I really loved his crazy ass, and I was gonna miss him big-time, and he deserved better, and he had a great-big old heart, how I was grateful he had been my friend, then and now. I would have told him how to me he was always gonna BE the Fucking South End. FOREVER!

I love you Rob, I’m gonna miss you lots man, Rest in Peace my friend.  South End Baby.

Blame it all on Dr. Seuss

A month or so back, someone on my friends list, posted something on FB blaming everyone else for what's wrong in the world today. I lean a lot more to the left, so I am admitedly especially annoyed by the right-wing stuff, and I do think this one was right-sided. But I don't let them lefties and those Demers off the hook either. WE is the problem folks, I have seen the guilty party and she is me!

 

They used some kind of Dr. Seuss parody to blame it all on O'Bama Lama Ding Dong or the Democrats, and I thought, as usual "way to let most of the actual guilty parties off the hook!". Anyways, as always, I probably could have spent MORE time on it, tweaked it, and "perfected" it, ad naseum, but then I never would have actually POSTED the darned thing! It was extemporaniously, off the top of my head, train of thought. It's now been tweaked a good bit and I still ain't completely happy with it, but it will have to do. Maybe I'll edit it gain later. Call it a work in progress! So, without further ado........

 

 

Here we sit broken hearted, who's at fault, WE are, retarded! It's not our doing, we're not to blame, pass the buck's our favorite game. Can't blame me I didn't vote, but I spew the party line each day, by rote! Demo-craps, Republi-dicks, it's all THEIR faults, just ask the Hicks! New parties too, the Green, the Tea, now THEY'RE to blame, just don't blame me! If only SOMEONE solved these problems, someone who could really solve 'em. Someone honest and not jerking, who'd stand up for me and MY hard-working! Big tax breaks for US and OURS, but not for THEM, their break's too large. Some social services for ME and MINE, but not for THEM, that would be fine. I'll do who and what I like, but not with you you dirty dyke! And don't you check me out you fairy, YOUR kind of sex is Hetero-scary. And that's why THEY should lose their rights their kind of living just ain't right.

 

I'll stop you all, who ain't like me, do what I do, then you can stay "free". What I choose to do is cool, double standard though, so that ain't for YOU! And through it all, I'll be forgiven, all you sinners though HELLFIRE just for livin. And all you countries keep your people, a better life HERE, that sure sounds like Evil! Well maybe they can stay a while, to do our work and move those piles. They can toil in our kitchens, and eat our scraps so why they bitchin!  They can fold our clothes and vac the floor, as long as they use just the back door. As long as you're not Red, Brown or Yellow, I'll welcome you to my club fellow.

 

LOTS of guns for everyone, guns ain't the problem, don't take our fun. Fully-auto would be best, let's all wear protective vests, we'll recreate a NEW Old West! Take our guns, NO spread them round, we have to confront the underground. Heaven knows we need more arms, or certainly we'll come to harm. Best to keep our families safest, from theft and rape and those other races.

 

We could elect the just right Prez, maybe a chick, but not a Lez. And if they changed the game about, the Blue OR the Red would kick them about! A white one, a black one, a girl or a guy, it don't matter we'de spit in their eye. A straight, or a gay, or a Transexuo-somethin, it don't really matter who where, or what they are humpin! They really are just a focal point for our blame, we're not looking for change, just more of the same!

 

That's it, I've just solved it, I'll lay down the big answer, let's start blaming THEM all,  even nudie-girl dollar dancers! Blame foreigners, patriots, blame Muslims and non, blame Christians and Jews, blame your dad and your mom! Blame non-smokers, and drinkers, and those who toke pipes, blame anyone you can think of, then run for your lives. Blame wars and depressions and the people YOU chose! Blame lovers and haters, blame virgins and ho's! The lame same old Blame game's got us into this mess, so let's blame some more, that's the path that seems best! 

 

Come to think of it now, it's YOU who's to blame! Whatever your politics or whoever your name. It's YOU and it's THEM and THEY, it's THE MAN, it's Satan who's hatched a nefarious plan. Come join the Blame Party, everyone take a turn, we'll all blame EACH OTHER, then fiddle while we burn! Well I am off the hook, I've painted the picture, it's YOU who all did this, you Missy or Mister. Why bother to fix it, blame your bro or sister!  

 

Why won't YOU see it, all you sons, and YOU mothers? OOPS, I showed my true colors, like YOU I just blamed OTHERS! 

Of fools and tools!

Okay, so for years, on Facebook, MySpace, and by email, I've bitched about the dumb stuff that folks post and re-post. I'm not the first to point out that Bill Gates ain't gonna give you shit for posting squat, but still it goes on....and on and on and on. Anyways, I'll get back to that specifically, later. In the mean time, one of my least favorite things, along those lines, but not exactly the same, is when women post tongue in cheek little double entendres that are supposed to be funny little comparisons to men or our ways. You've all seen them, some are even funny. I know, I know, most women say it's totally kidding, blah blah blah. However I've found many ladies actually don't think that much of the guys they know, are related to, date, and even Marry! So it's kinda tongue in cheek, but kinda an indictment too, and kinda a little bit of something or other else, but mostly annoying, at least to me! And me is who's important here, since this is MY blog, I guess I'll bitch if I want to, bitch! Speaking of all this, one came through on FB the other day, this one didn't slam guys so much, just compared us to shoes! lol.

I chose to add my own two cents (well, maybe more like two DOLLARS! lol.) In doing so, I could have written something much shorter for sure. I also could have fine tuned it for hours to make it flow better etc. (One problem with being a  perfectionist is sometimes we'll never do it at all, while forever waiting to do it JUST RIGHT). So I said screw-it, and went off the top of my head ~ I RANTED! Warning, don't think me much of a women basher, I wasn't even worked up, it is just a small pet peeve kinda thing and so I peeved. It was simply me very much wanting to show to the Nth degree that men could/can play the same game if we want! Boy it didn't go over all that well though, lol. I was  apparently taking the female post way too seriously and my response touched on some stuff that just didn't apply! Funny how that works when the analogy is on the other foot!

It was simply about busting balls and being funny........


The Ladies said...

Men are like handbags: You should always have more than one- in different shapes & colors. Use your favorite one every day and keep the high maintenance ones in the dark until you need them. And when you get sick of one, you can donate it to someone else to enjoy for a while!

Ranting Mikey responded....

Why buy the box, when you only want to store your tool for a while?

Women are like tool boxes... There are all kinds of boxes for all kinds of men. Different sizes, different colors, different uses, and different degrees of being the right box to be used. Some boxes are good for a lifetime, but some are just right for one or two jobs and then they are often gotten rid of. A lucky few guys have many boxes, where they can choose the correct ones and trot 'em out for just the right job(s), then tuck them back safely away where they belong..... Some guys only need one small box, that they'll only use once in a while' if at all. Other fellas have a box with a whole lot of holes that open, cause they always need somewhere to throw their tools. There are big boxes, small boxes, and all kinds of box sizes in between, but most are good for someone! Different colors, different qualities, and some boxes that were just cheap trash from the beginning and should be thrown away rather than passed on to another unsuspecting consumer! Gotta watch where you find your boxes guys, and wher ethey were made! A man can put things in his box, and that will probably give him great satisfaction, putting a tool where it belongs. Sadly many a man has found other people have been messing about with one of his boxes, maybe even his favorite one, a man can usually tell shit's not back where he left it! Some gents have a real fancy "professional" box, that allows them to put all kinds of things all kinds of different places (boy oh boy, those boxes are something else!). Some guys get tired of a box and get rid of it, or dudes gets old and just can't work with their tools and boxes like they used to, but still keep them around out of an old fondness! Some are faithful and loving to their boxes, even when the box has always let them down. There are those who even decide to trade boxes with another handy man, hmm to each his own (box, or someone else's as it were).  Unless a gentleman is quite fortunate and gets the very best of boxes, that always serves him well and rarely pinches him in it's hinge, and happens to have been just the exact one for him, it might just be easier to go somewhere and rent the right tool for the job and then give it back. I mean really for as infrequently as many boxes really serve most guys' needs, is it worth paying all that money to get the box, buy things for it, house the box, take care of the box and make sure it's safe, and then right when you want to use it, it often seems stubborn and unable to do it's job? Man how does a box get a headache anyway?

There was that old saying about not buying the cow when you can get the milk for free, so maybe we guys started it! But the girls turned that around and got us back, by saying they need not own the Bull, just to get a little sausage. Well, I say there's one back atcha ladies, don't be such Tools! lol