Archive for the ‘Apartment’ Category

Kitchen counter progress!

Monday, June 9th, 2014

Remember when I did my test run on my test plank and colors that looked totally fine looked weird after I poured the resin on it? Here, look for yourself. Note the colors pre-resin:

test-countertop countertop-ripples

And post-resin.


You’ll note the lighter color disappears completely, so I flipped the board over and did further color testing. I had to go really light to get the color I wanted post-resin pour. Which is why you’ll notice the highlight lines on my countertop right now are far too light. They will mellow and the darker tones will darken under the plastic-y resin.

kitchen1 kitchen2

Next: fishies. After that: pebbles. I’ll explain. I wanted something to transition the countertop into the backsplash. I tried a bunch of different techniques, all of which were various types of fail. I finally came across some ceramic tiles that look like pebbles in pale green and dark brown on

pebbles-green pebbles-brown pebbles-brown2

I was so excited when the tiles arrived. Do you know what the glaze is? It’s crystalline pottery glaze! I collect crystalline pottery. I wrote a blog entry on it. It’s all going to tie together! Huzzah! I proceeded to pull the tiles off of the backing because A) there are no straight lines I can put across the back edge, and B) I want to mix and mingle the two colors. After I’ve finished the fishies I will start laying out the tiles at the back edge of the countertop against the wall. Then I will have them go a wee bit up the wall, creating a less harsh line betwixt the countertop and the backsplash. BECAUSE I AM A GENIUS. Hopefully.

Countertop test.

Wednesday, May 14th, 2014

After much deliberation I came up with a look for my backsplash and countertop. If you remember correctly I originally planned to have giant goldfish as my backsplash.


I loved that design, but after I went to Japan I was convinced to go with a less strident look. Now I’m thinking I’m going to do ferns and make the countertop look like a pond. Right now it’s bare plywood so I would spackle and sand it, then paint it and then pour resin all over it. Cricket wisely suggested that before I go all gung-ho on the real thing I should buy a sample piece of plywood and test out all my techniques beforehand. Wise man, that Cricket. I bought a 2′ x 4′ plywood panel and painted it to resemble the pond-y vibe I am going for. Ignore the green dots on the edges – I was trying to make duckweed and failed.

test-countertop countertop-ripples

Pond ripples! Cool, huh? I did that by printing out giant concentric circles, laying acetate over the circles and using a soldering iron to cut out those little islands that comprise the dark part of the ripples. I only burned myself twice, which is pretty darn good in my book. Stencils, they are a lifesaver, I tell you. I tap-tap-tapped the dark islands onto the blue background and then free-handed the light parts. And, if you pay attention, you will notice I recycled my backsplash fish. I used them as a guide to make the ghost-fish you see off to the right there. I might make a ghost-bullfrog too, I’m not sure yet.

Last night (because it was warm and the website I bought the resin from said you should pour it when it’s not cold otherwise it won’t cure properly) I followed the directions and slathered the board with a painted coat of resin, followed by a flood coat of resin four hours later. Here, a video to explain my journey. I’ve watched it more times than necessary. I find it hypnotic.

The first thing I noticed (other than resin is sticky and gets everywhere) is that the middle tones went really dark. The fish almost disappeared except for the highlights on their fins. Gotta take that into consideration. The resin situation did not go smoothly from the start. I mixed up a batch and poured it onto the board. Due to my stellar mathematical skills it did not cover the correct amount. Not even close. Sooooo I mixed up a second batch exactly the same way. However, for some reason this batch was chock-full of tiny bubbles, making it look opaque. I poured it on the unresin-ed half and you could clearly see the edge where the good pour and the frothy pour met. It looked God-awful. I was sad and disappointed. I covered one corner in corn starch to see what kind of look that would be. Maybe it would give it a cool matte finish (corn starch is known to do that to resin.) Then I forlornly went to bed. I woke up the next morning to tentatively check on my resin-blargh.

resin1 resin2

Huh. Everything seemed to work itself out. Wow. Look at that. No seam, the bubbles ebbed, it looks pretty cool. I will wash away the corn starch and see what that looks like. Even though it cost me about eighty bucks in supplies I’m delighted that I did a test board because I learned so much. Alright. Next to spackle forty-some-odd square feet of real countertop.

Update 5/18/2014: The corn starch looks not that great. I can’t just pour it on, I would need to get a sifter or something to evenly distribute a fine dusting. So that idea shall be scrapped. Shiny surface it is.

My kitchen. Progress!

Tuesday, April 8th, 2014

All the cabinets are in! Boom! One thing down. Now the rest of this never-ending journey continues – the countertop, the backsplash, the plumbing. I’ll keep you in the loop.

kitchen1 kitchen2

Japan 2014, Part 4.

Friday, March 7th, 2014

One of the many things that I enjoyed about Japan was the fact that everything was the same as we have here, but slightly off. Here’s a picture of the subway. We have subways. Japan has subways. However, either due to drunk or suicidal people, the Japanese have decided to put barriers that stay shut except when a train has pulled into the station and the train doors have opened.

subway-barriers1 subway-barriers2

Advertising for things: we have it, they have it. The difference is their ads are non-sexual. All of them. Imagine that. This was the most sexual advertising I saw while I was there.


I always wondered why the Japanese are famous for their eclectic sexual proclivities and I think if most of the females are dressed like FLDS women and none of your ads show even a glance of side-boob, you’re going to need a whole lot more to get where you’re going in the bedroom. Oh, speaking of advertising, someone asked me if I saw any famous American celebrities in Japanese commercials and I saw only one, this one:

I cannot figure out how Elijah Wood and Peter Rabbit are selling this car, but they are so good for them.

Oh look, cake. We have cake. Wait… are those kernels of corn on top of the frosting?


Transitioning beautifully from corn, the Japanese are really into poop. It’s a thing. I passed more than one store selling golden turds on pillows.


Then I saw this outside a pharmacy. Imagine this outside a CVS here.


I want elves and Pac-Mans cleaning my entrails.

The pinnacle of this was when I saw a book for Snorth. Snorth reads books to children during Storytime in various libraries, so I glance at books wherever I happen to go seeing if they might be good for her. My first day on my way to the Ghibli Museum I passed a bookstore that was selling a book about a sentient toilet with a Dali mustache who travels through the forest where various anthropomorphic forest creatures void themselves in him. I didn’t buy it and I regretted that for the duration of my travels. I went on a quest to find the book near the end of my trip. I will reveal the result of my journey in my ultimate or penultimate entry (because I’m trying to remain chronological). I’m building toilet-book suspense. Will I find the book? Won’t I? Tune in to find out.

Kyoto! It is a really charming city. It’s a little like a fairytale. During the war the Allies decided not to bomb Kyoto at all to maintain the architecture, so it wasn’t damaged at all. It’s an excellent walking city. In fact, our Frommer’s book gave us a walking tour that I would recommend. We did most of the walking tour our first day there. We started at the Sanjusangendo (SAN-JOO-SAN-GEN-DOE) Temple, home of the 1,001 Kannon (don’t worry, I didn’t know what that meant either). It’s a Buddhist temple built in 1164. It has really nice gardens as well (YAY PINE TREES).

sanjusangendo3 sanjusangendo2

Sanjusangendo is the longest wooden building in Japan. It needs to be really long because it houses a giant statue of the Goddess of Mercy, flanked on either side by 500 golden human-sized statues of her as well (that’s what the word Kannon means, Goddess of Mercy). If you’re wondering why each statue clearly does not have 1,000 arms as intended, I found this explanation:

1000-armed Kannon are equipped with 11 heads to better witness the suffering of humans and with 1000 arms to better help them fight the suffering. Note that the actual statues have only 42 arms each. Subtract the two regular arms and multiply by the 25 planes of existence to get the full thousand.

To me this sounds like the sculptors were like, “Are you serious? 1,001 statues, each with 1000 arms? No. Forty-two arms. We’ll make it a divisible number or something. I’m not carving a bajillion arms for eternity.”

I wasn’t allowed to take photos, but other people have so here’s what it looks like in there. It was beautiful, rows and rows of glimmering figures in the dim light.

Sanjusangendo_9508 Sanjusangendo_Thousand-armed_Kannon

Standing in front of all the golden statues were twenty-eight profoundly disturbing Buddhist guardian dieties. They were disturbing because they were human-sized and while they were carved out of wood, their eyes were made of crystal so they totally resembled human eyes. Most of them had intense expressions and ripped muscles, so the shiny eyes became even more off-putting. I believe they were constructed to put the fear of God in people, and I was certainly afraid. Stop looking at me, Wind Guardian! You too, Thunder Guardian! You’re making me uncomfortable!

114530994_5b892ec9fa Sanjusangendo_statues_kyoto

It’s such a long building that they hold archery tournaments in there. And in January people with chronic headaches can line up outside and be touched on the forehead with willow branches in an attempt to be healed.

Now, here’s something you’re going to hear over and over again. Sanjusangendo burned down in 1249 and was rebuilt in 1266. I cannot tell you how many buildings I visited that had burned down and been rebuilt. I visited one that I think burned down eight times. Hey! Japan! Here’s an idea: don’t build all your buildings out of wood and paper. You have rocks. I saw them all over. You have an impressive clay culture. You can make bricks. You know what bricks are known for? Being not flammable. I know you get earthquakes and the wood probably flexes in a way that works for you, but at least build part of the building out of stone or something so you don’t have to start from scratch each and every time. I’m exhausted just thinking about building these colossal structures over and over.

After leaving Sanjusangendo, we walked a bit down several streets until we got to a house that belonged to a potter named Kanjiro Kawai, and when he died  in 1966 it was turned into a museum of his work. This is important. If you go to Kyoto, you must go here. Not because of the pottery (I didn’t much care for it, too thick and heavy and rough-looking for my taste) but because they kept the house intact and chances you will not be able to walk around a typical two-story Japanese house otherwise. It was so exciting for me to go into a home done in a style that has been the standard in Japan for centuries and centuries. I loved it.

potters-house1 potters-house2 potters-house3

Because space is such a premium, it was amazing how the house was laid out. It was labyrinthine. In the backyard Kawai had built a really impressive series of kilns to fire his work (there was also a dirt kiln built under a covering to protect it from the rain, that was cool too.) Regardless of my feelings for this guy’s work, he clearly cared about making pottery and his care for his craft really shows. It gives you warm fuzzies to be there.


After we left Kawai’s home/museum, we trekked up the side of a mountain. Ugh. It was rough. I am not an athlete and I had to pause several times to lean against something and catch my breath. The only problem is the entire side of the mountain is covered in graves, so more often than not I was leaning up on a family’s tomb. There are cemeteries everywhere in Japan, tucked in corners. I think that because they cremate their dead, there’s no worry of contamination if there’s flooding or something like that, so the graves are right next to apartments or restaurants. First we walked past an enormous crematorium with tons of flowers outside.


And then the mountain of tightly packed graves. You better know where your family plot is because otherwise you ain’t gonna find it ever.

cemetery-1 cemetery-2

After finally making it to the top of the mountain we came upon the Kiyomizu Temple, but we knew that was going to be covered in our organized tour the following week, so we gave it a casual pass-through. We then walked down the mountain down a great touristy road. It had all kinds of fun stuff to check out – snacks specific to Kyoto, green tea ice cream, souvenirs, fans, yukata and pottery. The Moomins is obsessed with pottery so we had to check out the main pottery shop which was two floors of pure awesome. I would have bought a great many items except the prices of things in Japan are depressing. Here, I took some pictures in the store:


Okay, these are little soy sauce dishes. Very wee. Plain. Basic. There’s 100 yen to 1 dollar, so if you move the decimal point over you’ll notice that the entire front row is $115.00. Why? That was pretty much the case for the whole trip. I would see a teapot I liked, nothing special or extravagant, and I’d say, “I would like to own that! It would be a lovely addition to my home!” and it would be $9,000.00. Seriously. Not an exaggeration. It kept me in check because about 90% of the things I wanted forced me to contemplate selling my car to pay for it, so, not surprisingly, I didn’t get them. Have another example:


That lumpy small rinkydink sake cup that looks like an elementary school kid’s project is $336.00. Yeah, no.

After walking for several hours we started heading back to our hotel room. On the way we passed one of the restaurants specializing in only crab which I christened “crabatoriums.” The Moomins decided after looking at the stellar plastic food examples with claws sticking out of them that she wanted crab for dinner and it’s her vacation too, so even though I’m not heavy into crab I was like, sure, let’s do this. We walked in and realized that this was four restaurants, one on each floor, each one serving a different type of cuisine. We had to mime walking sideways and clicking our pincers so the maitre d’ would understand which restaurant we wanted. We probably looked super-smooth. After we had Marcel-Marceau’d enough, they said they understood and they told us to leave our shoes with the shoe-keeper and go into the elevator to the fourth floor. This was the sign in front of the shoe-keeper’s booth.


Anywhere else in the world, the act of walking into a building, surrendering your shoes and stepping into a tiny elevator going to an unknown floor feels SO VERY SKETCHY. I said, “If this was happening in New York or Prague or someplace like that, this evening would end with us in bathtubs full of ice missing our kidneys.” But this is Japan and crime isn’t even remotely close to what we’ve become accustomed to. We arrived at the fourth floor where the waitress took one look at us and led us to a Western table and chairs. Then she handed us the menu which blew my mind. You think you like crab? You better. It’s in everything.









This is my lovely mother doing her best pincer impression while showing the cover of the menu.


And these sumo-wrestling crabs were on the placemat.


We ordered something reasonably-priced (no need for the $100 Crabocalypse) and the crab was delicious. It tastes very similar to the fake crab used in California rolls, but much more delicate and nuanced. I had a crab don, which was warm vinegared rice, cooked egg shavings, salmon roe and pieces of crab. I’m going to try and make it at home. I found a photo online of what it looked like. In addition to being yummers, it was nice to look at.


Outside the crabatorium was a fire pit with couches around it and a tea kettle hanging down (not unlike what you see in the pictures of the potter’s home above). The Moomins said, “Hey, you’re redoing your kitchen and you have a ton of space above the stove… Why don’t you hang a tea kettle there? It will a cool vertical visual for people to see when they come in.” Since I’ve been to Japan and seeing all their amazing design I’ve reevaluated my fish backsplash idea. I think I’m going to take my mom’s advice and do something with a hanging tea kettle and possibly a giant fish-type thing like you see in the photo, and make the backsplash be something plant-y so it doesn’t fight with the fish/tea kettle situation. I need to make some drawings and get back to y’all on this.


Next, a temple fair and the Nishiki Market.

Kitchen evolution.

Saturday, January 11th, 2014

I’m so happy, my kitchen is gettin’ done! What makes it even better is if there’s one thing I dislike, it’s complicated instructions and manual labor. Neenernator’s honey-booboo and his friend the carpenter are working on it for me, which makes it as close to magic as I’ll ever get. I leave for work, kitchen unfinished. I return home, kitchen more finished. That’s my Harry Potter experience, people. See, look:

kitchen-w-doors1 kitchen-w-doors2

(The blue is a protective coating. The cabinets are actually white.)

I’ve started working on the backsplash design. It’s going to be a mosaic with goldfish. Over the goldfish will be the pattern of the water ripples. The ripples will be silver tile, but when a ripple crosses over a fish, it turns gold. Here’s the rough sketch I came up with for the oven ‘n’ cooktop wall. You can get an idea.


I’m not going to fuss with that until the boys finish doing whatever they’re doing, hooking up sinks and putting on door handles. But there’s nothing wrong with getting a head-start.

Addendum 1/23/2014: I’ve worked a bit harder on a look for my backsplash. Now there are drop shadows. The fish are smaller. I think it’s better.


New kitchen! *hyperventilates into a bag*

Saturday, December 28th, 2013

Oh God, I hate change so much. But Neenernator finally convinced me to redo my ugly kitchen that I’ve been living with for seven years. In case you don’t know, it is an homage to gray Formica. Countertop? Formica. Backsplash? Formica. Each and every cabinet? Gray Formica on the outside, peach Formica on the inside. Neenernator’s boyfriend is a spectacular handyman, so he and his carpenter friend are breaking down everything and replacing it with non-hideous cabinets and appliances. This is the Formica tomb.

kitchen1 kitchen2

(That one wooden door was where I thought about getting new cabinet doors, did one, realized how hard it is to do, and said, “The hell with this.” That was about four years ago. And I left it like that because it reminded me of a rapper’s gold tooth and therefore made me feel like a baller.)

Now my kitchen looks like this:

kitchen-empty1 kitchen-empty2

And after my recent $10,000 trip to Ikea, my kitchen will hopefully look like this (I took pictures of a sample kitchen with the same cabinets and handles):

handles1 handles2

And I’ve only considered crying about four times! Change is not a good thing for me. This is what I hear in my head when I deal with change.

It’s gonna be fine. Everything is gonna be fine. Deep breaths.

Meet my earthly possessions!

Sunday, July 28th, 2013

I was cleaning my dining room table the other day and it occured to me that if I described the items I was putting away, it would really give you a window into my life. “Eclectic” seems appropriate. “Odd looks from strangers” also works. Here we go.

I bought some mugs. Six of them. But not any mugs, oh no. Edward Gorey mugs. I love Edward Gorey. Type his name into Google Image Search and you’ll see piles of his illustrations. I bought two of each mug.


There’s The Doubtful Guest (far right mug, wearing the scarf), the main character in a book of the same name. It’s about a guest who won’t leave.

dg1 tumblr_lluj394jFL1qkb2g8o1_400 Doubtful-Guest-5

The other two are from The Gashlycrumb Tinies, which is an alphabet book about children dying from various unfortunate circumstances. The far left mug is the cover of the book, and the middle mug is my favorite child/death, Neville.

gashlycrumbtinies ghorey neville+ennui

So that’s one thing on the dining room table. Then there’s the pigeon mask. You know that horse mask that’s all over the internet?

horse-head-mask-1 horse-head-mask-3 horsemanhurricanesandy_616

That one. Well, there’s a pigeon mask just like it! It’s only 24 dollars! And now I own it.

pigeon1 pigeon2

See that second picture where’s I’m pointing? I’m also winking and smiling because I don’t understand how masks work. I realized that after I took the picture.

The last thing was the pyrographic bunny. The Moomins just got back from Africa where she said she saw this little guy and said, “Jessica needs this.” And she was right. This bunny looks CRAY.

psycho-bunny1 psycho-bunny2

What drug do you think this bunny is on? I’m guessing PCP. Or meth.

My collection of things, which already had a Bosch Christmas ornament and a fossilized wasp’s nest, now includes mugs with children kicking the bucket on them, a pigeon mask and a wigged-out wooden rabbit. I have never been so proud.

Fun bits.

Friday, November 9th, 2012

1. Alcoholic spirits are called that because when they distill them, the alcohol (“spirit”) is separated from the fermented base (“body”). When you drink liquor, you are drinking the ghost of potatoes or wheat or corn. Incidentally, “Potato Ghost” would be a cool name for a vodka. Thank you, Modern Marvels.

2. I went to go vote in my district for the first time even though I have lived in White Plains for six years. The last time I voted in my old district. I found out I needed to go to a church down the street from from my apartment. Lovely church. Built in 1923. Everything was going great until I saw their sign.

Does everyone see that?

What’s… what’s with the itty-bitty “h”?! There’s a full-size “h” four letters before! I’m really glad I don’t see that every day because that would really chap my rump. Stupid tiny “h”.

3. It’s really great that I am not a thin fashionable woman because I would spend all my monies on clothes. For example, these sequined pants. Sequins in cool stripes on a nude background. They are SHNAZZY. If I wore them I would feel like I had the backdrop to “Solid Gold” wrapped around my legs.

The internet is made of cats, who am I to fight it? Meet Dolce.

Monday, June 4th, 2012

Cricket and his family went on vacation for three weeks, and Cricket’s father has a cat that lives in their basement, prowls around outside, kills them “presents”, etc. I offered to watch said kitty for the duration of the trip, so now I have a cat named Dolce in my apartment. Cats are extremely weird animals, has anyone else noticed that? I get the midnight crazies, cats are crepuscular (most active at dawn and dusk) and so Dolce gets this insane need to zip from room to room yowling and attacking my plants and my bedskirt. That’s fine. It’s the odd emo things she does that I don’t get. Here’s the deal: I feed her. I give her fresh water. She eats and then follows me from room to room meowing. When I go to pet her, she shimmies away and continues complaining. WHAT DO YOU WANT, CAT? I am giving you food, cleaning up your poop and trying to pet you. What the hell is wrong? I’ve just started ignoring her feelings and aggressively loving her against her will. Hey Cat, if you keep complaining I’m gonna pick you up and give you kisses and squeezins. Too bad. Deal with it.

Here’s a picture of Dolce with her typical expression which is, “Meh.”

It’s like living with a ninja. She makes almost no noise when she walks around, so periodically I’ll jump when suddenly next to my foot I hear, “Meow.” Oh, hello Dolce, I didn’t see you there. Don’t mind me, I’m just going to mop up this piddle that is now under my chair as soon as my heart stops beating in my ears. The other night I was walking to the kitchen and I walked past my jacket sitting on my couch.

I got some almond milk, turned around and OH MY GOD DEMON JACKET!!!

I’m not going to lie: I shrieked like a wee girl seeing an icky bug. I highly recommend not owning only black clothing if you’re sharing your living quarters with a black cat. Too many places for kitty to blend in and scare the crap out of you. Only have light colors or hot pink everywhere so you can keep track of where that thing is.

I still love her, though. I tried to take pictures with both of us together. Dolce really hates flash photography in her face, so in most of the photos she tucks her head into her armpit, or she has the expression below. “SO BRIGHT!! NO LIKE BRIGHT!!”

I took one where I’m giving her smootchies. I think her expression says it all.*


Cricket returns in a little less than two weeks, so basically I have to not kill this cat for about twelve more days. I think I can handle this.

Addendum: Additional Meh to get you through your day.

Imma smack Martha in her dumb homemaker mouth.

Tuesday, December 6th, 2011

As The Moomins has gotten older and I acquired my own place, I have taken on the responsibility of Thanksgiving in order to alleviate her stress. She does a myriad of other holidays, so taking one off her plate doesn’t deprive her of festivities. I make the turkey, green bean casserole, stuffing, mashed potatoes and some desserts, and The Moomins makes a few things and the requisite Jell-O mold that is at every Eastern-European Jew’s holiday dinner. “Oh, is it a holiday? I shall boil some gristle and tendons in celebration!” But I’ve never made gravy. It seems daunting with many opportunities for greasy disgusting failure. Then, I was in CVS in October and I saw the latest Martha Stewart Living magazine on the rack.

Lookit there! “Foolproof Gravy,” it says! That sounds not-scary. I opened to the table of contents, where I was pleasantly greeted with this:

I can shake a jar! And she said, “Promise!” Martha wouldn’t lie to me. So I bought the magazine and went home.

A couple days before Thanksgiving, I actually took a glance at page 82 with the gravy instructions, expecting them to be relatively simple and uncomplicated. What greeted me was, sadly, quite the opposite.

What the hell, Martha? I thought we were cool! I don’t have seventeen hours and a staff of ten to make frikkin’ gravy! I don’t even own a whisk! You suck so hard, Martha.

However, I would not let this gravy situation ruin my Thanksgiving. I took out a bunch of steps that I found unnecessary, and sho’ nuff, my gravy was delish and everyone was thrilled. Here’s my recipe.

1. Buy a box of organic chicken stock from Costco’s. Make sure you get stock, not broth. Also, get organic stock because otherwise they add secret naughty things into it, like dextrose and MSG.

2. Put about a two cups in a clean take-out soup container from a Chinese restaurant. Add about 1/2 cup of flour to it. Put the lid on tightly and shake like hell until there are no lumps of any kind. Your arms will feel like Rosie the Riveter. This is a good thing.

3. Take the turkey drippings and pour them into one of those gravy-separator thingies. Wait about ten minutes. The grease will rise to the top. Pour as much of the non-grease-juices as you can into a small pot on the stove (about three cups). Add the contents of the Chinese soup container. Slowly low-boil the mixture over the stove, stirring constantly until it reaches your desired thickness. For me it took about seven to ten minutes of boiling until it got to a pleasantly festive viscous consistency.

4. Add a tiny bit of pepper maybe. Don’t add salt. Some people don’t like too much salt. Some people have high blood pressure. Let people add their own salt. Serve. Done.

It was delicious, everyone was happy, and I didn’t have to interact with giblets. A win-win, I think.

Addendum: A few hours after I wrote this, I saw a pertinent blog entry on mimismartypants.

Thanksgiving at my house was awesome, except for the part where Martha Stewart was a lying skank. That thing about soaking the cheesecloth in butter and wine and draping it over the turkey breast results in nothing but a shrieking fire alarm, frightened cats, and an oven full of smoke. Luckily this all happened before any guests arrived, so LT just pulled the whole cheesecloth mess off with barbecue tongs and threw it in the sink. Quit trolling, Martha. People (me) actually believed that cheesecloth nonsense. I’ma gonna get you back, lady.