Boys' Brains: Simply Misguided or Irreparably Impaired?

This weekend I went to a little soiree for a friend of mine who is a bride-to-be. There was a lingerie shower with a dessert and wine theme (yum!) followed by some dancing. When I mentioned the plans to a guy I know, his response was, "Be sure to get some pictures of the girls dancing in the lingerie, and put them in your blog."

Now, did he really, seriously think that we would don our gifts of lingerie and go out dancing in them? Probably not. (I hope.) But for a moment, when those words first started coming out of his mouth, had the fact that he had instantly put together the lingerie and the dancing seem completely logical to him? I am afraid so. Now, I don't think I really need to explain all the different ways that this would be an undesirable occurrence for us, the party-goers. But then again, how can my well functioning brain really relate to the brains of those more deluded people? I don't know that it can. So I will explain a little bit just in case.

First of all, the purpose of being there is to honor the bride. Maybe this comes as a surprise to some people, but girls generally do not want used lingerie. Just ask my friend, Snott. When she got married her older sister handed down some of the lingerie she had gotten back in her newlywed days. Snott accepted it gracefully, got in her car, picked up some speed as she drove away, rolled down the sunroof, and released those babies to the wind. Because she was disgusted. So, if we came wearing and dancing in our gifts, we wouldn't be doing a very good job of honoring the bride, you see. Second of all, the idea of hanging out and socializing in lingerie really is not appealing to us. Maybe this is not widely understood - I don't know. Not only do we not want to see everyone else lounging around and eating brownies in honeymoon-wear, we don't want to be seen, either. That's just not comfortable.

So I was thinking this over as I was eating my dessert and drinking my wine in my clothing which did leave a few things to the imagination, and I realized that this was not just an isolated incident of inanity, no, I have seen evidence of severe brain misfirings in boys before. Perfect example: One afternoon few years ago, I was hanging out with three guy friends of mine when one of them asked me if I had ever kissed another girl before. Instantly, I had the complete attention of all three of my friends. Sadly, I had to disappoint them with a "no". He didn't want to accept this answer, though. "Never? What about a little one? No? Just a really little one? Really?"
Now, this was not the stupid part. This question was fine. The bad-brain part was coming next, when guy #2 expressed his disbelief of my answer. He did not believe that this was possible. You know why? Here's where he demonstrated his disease: Because whenever we girls have our girls' night out, we must get really bored, because there are no guys there. And so then we all start making out with each other. This was his theory.
It sounds like he is joking, right? That's what I thought too, at first. But it soon became evident that he truly believed this. He had given it some thought, and the conclusion he had come up with was: all girls and no guys leads to boredom, boredom leads to turning to each other for making out. And this is a smart guy we're talking about. How can it be that a smart person can come up with such an illogical theory? I'm beginning to think there is something really wrong with the brain area! Can it be cured? I don't know. This could be a serious epidemic. Male stupidity, that is.

When I tried to point out to these guys that they are capable of getting together without making out with each other, and that therefore he should consider that it was possible for girls to do the same, he simply said that it was different. Why is it different? Because guys aren't attractive. And that made perfect sense to him. Sigh. I gave up.

So, I thought for now I'd take a little pity on these challenged fellows, and semi-grant a request. Here is a photo of the bride when she got some lingerie:




And here is when we started selecting what lingerie we were going to each wear for a night out on the dance floor:




But that is all I can reveal. For the rest, I am sworn to secrecy. By the girls' girls-don't-tell-about-lingerie-dancing-and-making-out-together code. Sorry fellas.

Help! My computer is shooting acid into my eyeballs!!

Oh wait.  Computers don't do that!  And if one did, let's face it, it wouldn't this computer from the '80s that I get to work with every day.  Most of the computers here have been updated in the last year, but I still get to enjoy the old total screen freeze followed by an incredibly slow restart process multiple times a day.  hmm... I seem to have gotten onto a different strain of complaining here... where was I... ah yes.  I guess I had a little bit of panic here, because I received this very intelligent email alerting me to the dangers of not wearing protective eye-wear while starting into my computer every day. 

 

The same person that sent out that email about coming into work even though we wouldn't have email because the power would be off for 5 hours - that email that I appreciated so much that I may have commented about it here - sent out a threatening email yesterday!  Are you ready?  It's really mind-blowing stuff! 

 

It seems that he had some free time on his hands yesterday, and therefore decided to walk around the labs and assess the level of safety goggle wearing that was going on.  Of course, he found a wide dearth of goggles on faces.  And then he wrote us this lovely email about it.  He made some witty comments about how we must not find them stylish enough, and then stated that we would "ware" what we have or get new ones, but safety goggles will be worn, by golly.  And then he copied and pasted in the part of the employee evaluation that addresses following the rules.  And every time the word "critical" was used it got bolded for emphasis.  And then there was a threat that would would be penalized on our reviews for not wearing the glasses.  But now that I'm reading more carefully, it doesn't actually say anything about goggles, just about following safety precautions.  So are there really safety guidelines out there that say I need them for staring into a computer all day?  I doubt that.  But that doesn't really seem to matter, because we like to make general, widespread rules around here and apply them to everyone.  It is much easier to say "everyone must wear goggles!" so then you can just expect to see them on every face, then have to discern who actually needs them and who doesn't.  As for letting the employees decide for themselves when they need safety goggles and when they don't... are you kidding?  That's absurd.  We cannot think for ourselves around here.  Unless it's sciency.  And then you are on your own.

 

The email ended with this wily statement, "Perhaps more audits are the answer."  An "audit" around here refers to having one of our own employees go around and look for things people are doing wrong and writing them all down.  It's a source for much stress for some people, but I've never understood the hysteria.  Yes, I'm sitting at my computer without safety goggles, and yes, you are writing it down - now what?

 

So, at this point you are probably thinking, "blah, blah, blah - I get it.  Just wear the goggles and stop complaining already."  The thing is, I can't.  I really really can't do it.  It doesn't make sense!  And I have a real problem with being ordered.  I don't respond well.  But combine being ordered with something that makes absolutely no sense, and there's a big wall that goes up in my brain and I can't get around it.  No matter what happens to me.  It's the principle.  I stand by my "these glasses do nothing for my computer work" principle.  And actually, they hurt it.  Because this is not fine glass we are talking about, this is cheap plastic.  That makes things a little bit fuzzier.  So trying to read and discern fine points on test results while wearing these things is just going to make me squint a lot and hurt my eyes.

 

In the past we've had the occasional tour come around, and we are all ordered to put on lab coats and goggles so that we look all professional.  I have actually tried to argue with them before on this.  The coat, ok, but do we really want them to see my sitting at a desk on a computer wearing big plastic safety goggles?  Won't they just think I'm stupid?  That's what I would think.  We want them to think we are smart, see?  But they didn't listen to me.  So I wore them a few times and after that I picked up on the fact that if you wore regular eye glasses you didn't have to have the goggles.  So when a tour came around, I would run out to my car, fetch my driving glasses, and wear those while I had to.  And yes, I did feel that I had won a small victory.  But this email tells us that glasses will no longer count.  Because they don't have side protection.  Which I will really need, once my computer starts shooting acid in a curving projectile, coming in from the sides of my face.  That's right Mr. Decades Old Computer, I know how you think...

How to have a memorable birthday

Or, "How to distract yourself with people and places and food so that you don't sit around and think about how old you are."

1. Begin the night before your birthday. When someone offers to take you out to dinner, pick the best place you know that you would never pay for yourself. When the waiter asks if this is a special occasion, say yes, and graciously receive free champagne, dessert, a rose, and a photo that they print out for you right there! Just after he has been told that it's your birthday, he will say, "Oh! How old are you?" at which point you will look up from your menu and he will look at you full in the face. He will then abruptly change the question to, "What's your name?" Answer the question as if this awkwardness did not just take place. When you ask if someone would like to share that appetizer you have your eye on with you and they say no, order it anyway. And even though you have your free champagne, order a bottle of wine. Ask for a recommendation, and go with the one that you associate with a nice memory. Return home warm and fuzzy and full. And as little tipsy, cause that wine was good.

2. Arrange for your birthday to fall on the Friday before a Monday holiday. Also arrange to have this Friday off, and do whatever you want all day. Ideas include:

a) Attend your first pilates class. Because you are there on a work day, you will be in a class with women over the age of 60, and one like-aged man. Not only will you look young in comparison to these women, you will also find that you are really good at pilates! (This is what you tell yourself.) Looking around the room during the stretching exercises, you will observe how much more flexible you are than the rest of the class. Soon you will think, "What's wrong with you, you old hags?" So, you need a towel for support during this exercise, do you? Ha! I scoff at your towel!" You will learn to avert your eyes from the old man, as he is freakishly limber and therefore does not make you look as good. The next day your entire torso will hurt every time you cough, and you will realize that maybe you are not the pilates genius that you thought you were.

b)Nap. Just because you can.

c) Allow your mother to take you out for a manicure/pedicure. If you can spot the overly aggressive manicurist when you walk in, avoid her. And then please tell me how you knew to do so. Or else, find yourself bleeding when she is only on the second finger, and spend the rest of the time tense and on edge. Find yourself constantly hurting your fingers for the rest of the weekend, as they have all been ripped raw. Even as you type this, that first finger especially aches. Wonder if you can write a post without using the letters p, l, and o. No, but at least your toes are nice.

3. Gather some of your favorite people together to keep you company that night. Begin with some good food. Then make them play a childish game with you, because it's your birthday. Don't be afraid to employ questionable tactics in pursuit of victory. For example, say you can't reach the ball (due to your petitness) before a gentleman with longer arms can. Use your bumper car to crush his scoopy-thingy. For the rest of the night, chuckle evilly to yourself every time you drive by him and he is still trying to repair his broken scooper.

4.Don't leave the matter of a cake to chance, but take it into your own hands, and seek out the best cake you can find. So what if it is declared to weigh more than five cheesecakes. You deserve it, because nothing is more important than you. And cake. And chocolaty goodness.

5. Because you still have a long weekend ahead of you, take off for a different city the next day. Visit good, old friends, and let them spoil you with homemade food, margaritas, and ice cream. Play with the children you meet, and marvel at how one little person can look so much like two people who are so different. Allow a friend to drive you back to your college town - which is like your other hometown - where you reunite with all of your old favorite places to see and eat. Allow your little brother to treat you to a meal, even though he is a student. Take in a historic site that you never made the time for when you lived there as a student yourself.

6. On your last night,a few hours before your 6:30 a.m. flight takes you back to work, wake up and remember that you had contact with a victim of the stomach flu a few days earlier. As you hug the toilet bowl and beg it for mercy, think about all the people and places you have visited in the past three days, and wonder if you should tell them you may have brought them a stomach virus, or just let it be a nice surprise. Then remember that you have a window seat waiting for you in a few hours, and wonder what lucky individuals will have the pleasure of sitting in the two seats next to you. Begin devising a plan for collecting as many barf bags as possible before the plane takes off.

Ah yes, sweet birthday memories...

A note on yesterday's post...

Dear Fam Int,

 

Hi!  I noticed you were over here visiting me yesterday, and I thought, "hmm, why does that name sound familiar?  Ah yes!  I just quoted you!"  And so now I'm not going to type your full name, because frankly, it is really freaking me out that moments after I did that yesterday, your little eyes reached out from Chicago and zoomed in on it.

 

You sound like quite a prestigious place, you and all your doctoring, and I would like to sincerely apologize for the time you wasted in visiting this site.  I hope that when you used your scary magic mind powers to figure out your name had just been put out in space, that you didn't think, "Great!  Publicity!" only then to find my unscientific blabber on this dinky site.  Oh yeah, and I hope that you weren't offended that I said that reading one quote of yours made me a more dumb person.  I meant that in the best way possible.  And I hope you especially enjoyed that part about my coworker's fascination with menopause. That part was just for you.

 

So...uh... go back to making people well again.  No hard feelings, right?  I like your city!  You guys have the best pizza. 

mmm... pizza...

Reading just made me dumber

Here’s something I read regarding arguments, from David Ransburg, a therapist at the Family Institute at Northwestern University:

“When we’re in a ‘flooded’ emotional state, access to the part of the brain where logical thinking resides is inhibited, and IQ drops noticeably – perhaps by as much as 15 points.”

Well that’s just great. When you most want to be sharp and indisputably right is the exact time when your brain is going to go all to pot, and you are going to be at your stupidest. And now that I know this, I will undoubtedly be more aware of the stupid things that come out of my mouth, causing me to get more angry and argumentative, thereby causing further stupidity. It’s an endless cycle of dumbness. I will have to only get into arguments with people whose IQ’s are at least 15 points lower than mine to begin with.



On a side note...
Remember the coworker I have who likes to read and talk about menopause? Even though she has not experienced it yet? One should not turn to her during the day and ask if it suddenly just got hot in here. She will not make one feel very good about this statement. It is especially unfortunate to mention a thing such as the heat when one is approaching a birthday.

Some stuff I learned this weekend

Alternative title: Some stuff you don't care about, but I've got some time to kill.

 

1)  "Flying Dog in Heat Wheat" beer, you are not only fun to say, but you taste good too.  yum.

 

2)  Spat-, Stat-?..., whatever you were, you were an even tastier beer, but because you were not named by a 13-year-old boy, I will probably never remember what you were called.  You with the mature, adult name, we may never meet again, unlike FDinHW, who I'm sure I'll be seeing around.

 

3)  Remember when I said before that my niece bit a kid at school for trying to take her cookie?  And I was secretly a little bit proud of her?  Well, she has extended the over-protectiveness to other food groups, and even towards her beloved favorite aunt.  At the age of 21 months, she punched me in the face when I tried to take a piece of fruit from her bowl.  This wasn't any little baby shove, no, this was a PUNCH.  In my face.  I learned that for her, "NOOOOOO!!!" means no.  Or I will punch you in the face.  (Coincidentally, I punched myself in the face this weekend in my sleep.  I know because it woke me up.  Over all, not the best of weekends for my cheekbones.)

 

4)  My brain has the ability to completely shut itself off without asking permission first.  And then, what's a girl to do?  Nothing.  She has no brain, remember?

 

5)  I am not too ashamed to count priming some walls as my work-out for the day.  I will even be chanting "paint of fence" in Mr. Miyagi's voice in my head while doing so.

 

6)  I am also not too ashamed to follow a day of fake exercise with a day where I count standing on a soccer field, verbally instructing for an hour and a half as my work out for that day.  I will then celebrate all this working out with much feasting.

 

7)  I still like kids.  I mean, I never thought I really disliked  them exactly, but I haven't wanted to spend time with them like I used to.  See, I've coached soccer teams in the past for...hmm... maybe 8 years all together?  (That's like, half my life, by the way.)  First three years were in college, and I absolutely loved it.  A few years later, I changed jobs and had the ability to make plans after work for the first time ever, and I coached one team for another 3 years.  I still loved it, but by the end, I was ready for a break.  After a year's break, I got talked into helping another team.  When I quit with them, I was worn out, burnt out on kids and even more so on their parents.  And most of the time, rather than enjoying it, they were just driving me crazy.  And I can't say I've missed it since.  But last week, three of the girls I had coached in that middle stint tracked me down, and asked if I would play with them before their school tryouts.  They were in 6th grade the last time I worked with them, and they are sophomores in high school now.  And while it was flattering that they remembered me, and not in such a way that was all, "ew!  she was so weird!  I'm so glad I never have to see her again!", I wasn't looking forward to it.  I used to have so much I wanted to teach them that there seemed like there was never enough time, but now, my brain feels dead on ideas.  I think my brain is rather uninspired in general these days.  But once I got there, I had a lot of fun!  And it was great to see them all (kind of) grown up, too.  And not only did I have fun with them, but I realized I kind of liked running around a field and kicking a ball.  (I stopped playing as well, and hadn't been missing that either.)  Also, even though they were so changed - there's a big difference in an 11 year old girl and a 16 year old girl - it was good to see that some parts of each of them were unchanged.  For instance, the two tomboys who used to think all the other girls' talk of boys was yucky and stupid are now ALL ABOUT their boyfriends, but the goofy one is still goofy, and the one that is a nerd for soccer is still a nerd for soccer.  And I loved that.

 

8)  A 15-year-old who slides into a big pile of dog poop, getting it all down her sock and shoe, can handle it with more grace than I can as I watch it smoosh all around her leg.

 

9)  I am not nice.  Per this statement by teenagers: "If we make JV, you should come coach us!  Because Mrs. so-and-so is too nice."

 

10)  It is not possible for me to ask for personal advice from a coworker-friend without seeing a coworker-non-friend's head peak up over some lab instrument, closer to me and my conversation than she needs to be, and ultimately have her pop up from her hiding place, and deliver a lecture about what I need to do based on how things are done "in this country", revealing without embarrassment that she had been eavesdropping all along.  sigh.

 

 

 

The best Christmas card I received this year:

I miss you, ML.

shameless nepotic behavior

I am a big sister.

Not the kind where I sacrifice my time by volunteering to help a small, lonely child who just wants to know that somebody cares. Nah, I'm the kind where you don't have any choice, because your parents saw how wonderful their first offspring was, and knew they needed more. Next thing you know you have a little sister who loves to tell on you, even if she has to make up a story, and a baby brother who smashes all your doll house furniture while you're at school with his wee chubby fists.

My little brother has entered a video contest for POM Tea. I have no idea what the winner of this contest gets, but I do know he would like some support on youtube. So if you feel like distracting yourself at work today (and really, who doesn't?) then check it out over here. That's not my brother doing the award-winning acting, it's his long time friend, Winston; my brother seems to like the behind the scenes work.

You can also see the other contestants here. And if you don't feel like going through those, just trust me that the more of them I looked at, the better Brock's and Winston's video seemed. So you know what you should do next? Give them some positive feedback. So the judges will think "hey, these other people like this video, we should too!" That will work. You will be the Obi-Wans and they will be the Storm Troopers.

And if you give him negative feedback, he will get very angry! And let me show you what that looks like:



Don't make the long-haired tyke mad, or he will beat you with his security-baton.
You have been warned.

I'm like a ray of sunshine, here to brighten your morning

Do you ever have one of those mornings, when you look at your watch, and you realize that your alarm clock is somehow no longer set ahead of time like you thought, and you are going to be late for work? But maybe, just maybe, if you leave right away, you'll only be a couple of minutes late, and no one will notice, and you won't have to use 15 minutes of your vacation time because you are 5 to 10 minutes late. So you don't dry your hair even though it is 9 degrees outside, and you head out the door, but it's dark in the hall because the lights are out, and you don't have a ladder or even a chair to stand on, and even if you did have a chair, you are still too short to change the lights, so you are fumbling around trying to squint to find the right key, and you drop your water bottle and it spills all over your hard wood floors, your socks and shoes. So you give up on not being late, wipe up the floor with the towels you just washed, change socks and shoes because after all, it's 9 degrees outside, and then you hear creaking from above and you realize the creepy man who lives upstairs from you is on his way down to your door to see what's going on. And you kinda notice as you refill your water bottle that it is now broken, but you use it anyway, because you are a thirsty person and sand comes out of the faucets where you work. And you finally make it out the door and past creepy man, although you notice you are suddenly jumpy, as you have had a creepy man lurking behind you and watching over your shoulder this morning, and you drive to work and just as you are making your final turn in, your water bottle falls over and spills all down your pants, because you broke it, stupid. But you know that at least they keep it nice and cozy where you work - oh wait, they don't. Which is why you used to walk around inside in a hat, gloves, and down coat that looked like a slightly shorter version of this. And you get there, and you realize that yes, they have noticed that you are late, and as you set what's left of your water down, you knock it over and it spills all over your desk. And then you fill out the little piece of paper requesting time off, because you were late, and when it asks why, and says, "give details", you take this literally, just for spite. Because, hey, they asked.
Alexander, I feel your pain.

Also, a friend has written to me to complain how depressing it is that she hasn't gotten any "lovin'" in two days.
And to this, to this I don't even know what to say.

I'm not the only idiot out there

uh, just kidding, Blay.

Being a person who is all for delegation, I am letting someone else write about how they embarrass themselves. I don't know if I've formally introduced Blay, but she has been a friend since the teen years (you know, about 5 years now), and I believe I've mentioned her here before. Those of you who know her know why I call her Blay, and those of you that don't know her should, because she's a lot of fun! She is another friend, like Lob, who I believe I chiefly bonded to in high school because we had these things in common: 1) we ate. you know, real meals. that wasn't normal. 2) we were lazy. And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. And not only is she fun, eating, and lazy, but I've discovered that she's also great for coming through in times of crisis. And I don't just mean the little stuff, like realizing that we should always sit together on awards day, so that we would never again be the only individuals left in our respective pews by the end of the ceremony, I mean the big stuff. It's like her mind is especially keen in picking up stupid behavior. I don't even have to explain. But then she can retract her brain from thinking in dumb sympathy with me, and be the voice of reason.

Anyway, I'm not doing her justice right now because it is past my bedtime. So I'll cut to it - here's Blay's Christmas story:


Special Christmas Memories

Ah, Christmas. For those of us who live far away, this is a wonderful time for family and friends to reunite and cherish the short-lived time together. This year, in particular, was special to me because of my new daughter, who arrived into this world 2 months prematurely and would certainly have perished had she been born, say, 50 years ago. She couldn’t eat on her own and gave us the fright of blood in her stool when she was only 3 weeks (or negative 4 weeks) old. I’m proud to say that she is now a gluttonous 17 pounds and a super happy 9 month old. I could go on and on bragging about what a great drooler she is or what an exploratory palette she has, but we’ll save bad mommy stories for another time. Today, I would like to share a tale of Special Christmas Memories.

Since my husband and I are on a holiday rotation, my parents were excited to have Christmas with us this year. For Christmas dinner, we went all out with the goodies – turkey, ham, greens, mashed potatoes, creamed corn, sweet potato pie, etc etc. My mouth is now watering. What was I saying? Oh yeah, so we had this fantastic spread and my parents invited their dearest life friends. One family was comprised of Uncle John, Auntie Ellen and their 24-year-old son, Jonathan. We’re not actually related to these people, but refer to them as Uncle John and Auntie Ellen because that’s practically what they are to me. Uncle John went to college with my mom and they have been family friends since. He never had a daughter and has always treated me as his. The other group was the Sellars, who are also lifelong friends of ours – we used to do our annual Sky Valley trips together every winter. For those of you who are unfamiliar, Sky Valley is the GA “ski slope.” Basically, you get out there in your sweater (yea, in GA in the wintertime, you don’t necessarily even need a coat). You ski perilously down small slopes which are essentially just sheets of ice made by an ice maker (which they refer to as a “snow blower,” but I swear they only make ice). Anyway, you get the point – these are friends, but practically family. Then there’s my mom, dad and 27 year old brother. Well, Annabella had a fun day and just needed to be given a bottle and put down so that we could start the culinary festivities. I took her up to my bedroom where my mom had graciously purchased and set up a crib and sat down to give Annabella her bottle. For any of you who have babies or have ever put a baby down, you know this can be one of the more boring moments. Unless, of course, you’re one of those people who watches your baby in amazement at what they’ve become and reflect on the miracles of life while feeding your baby the nutrients it needs to grow. Whatever. For me, this is a time when I have to sit in dim lighting, almost perfectly still, making little to no noise and wait for the baby to drift off into her slumber while I try not to fall asleep myself. Add to that the smells of the delightful treats downstairs wafting up into my room and you have one bored, hungry lady looking for conversation or food. Enter my husband. He comes to check in and I grab him in conversation. Ladies and gentlemen, what is the best way to keep a captive male audience? I used the wisdom of women through all time and talked to him about sex. Here’s how it goes:

Brian is about to leave the room when I desperately call out: I had a dream last night that we had sex.

Brian (turning, with interest): oh yea?

Me: Yea, I was in the bed and you had just come in from swimming or something. You had no shirt on and you looked really sexy. And then we had sex.

Brian: Cool. Oh yeah, and next time you tell me something like that, you should make sure the monitor’s off.

The monitor refers of course to the baby monitor. This is the moment when your heart sinks, your stomach gets that incredible knot and you pray, nay, you beg God that the receiver downstairs is off. Brian leaves to go downstairs and I am stuck upstairs wondering, wondering, wondering. Finally, I put Annabella down to sleep and walk downstairs. And the worst possible outcome awaits – the baby monitor is on full volume. I can hear Annabella’s breathing in the monitor so there’s no question any words whispered would be heard. No one said a word to me – the dinner prayer begins and I whisper to Brian

Me: So…?

Brian: Yep. On.

Christmas dinner ensues with not a word uttered about my dream.


I would like to add here that when she told me this story in person, she said she had been putting a lot of emphasis on the word "sex" - I do believe she was flirting with her husband. Also, I would like to make it clear that her family and guests were all sitting around the dining room table, quietly, with the monitor on the table. Turned all the way up. Her brother was apparently amused, while every one else pretended nothing had happened. That always makes it worse, doesn't it? When no one acknowledges that your clothes just fell off or something? Oh, that reminds me... I know a story Dolly needs to tell...