It's all over for me

On Friday night I had the unpleasant experience of spending time with The Woman Who Knows Everything (TWWKE or Tweekie).

The discussion rolled around to someone’s sister who is 21 and not interested in getting married. Not surprisingly, Tweekies advise to this young woman was "Get a man and get married before you are 30, because after that it is too late!"

Seriously. She said that. With unmarried, 31 year old me sitting not four feet away from her.
So alas, my friends, it is too late for me. I am useless, destined to be on the shelf forever, passed my sell-by date. I may as well leave this cruel world, no man will ever want me (weep weep!)

And to all you young ‘uns out there. Please, for the love of all that is good, find a man NOW. Marry him IMMEDIATELY. Use threats, use force, just please, get him to agree to marry you. It does not matter whether you love him or not. It does not matter if you are happy or not. It only matters that you are married before you are 30!

You might end up like me if you don’t. Financially, emotionally and physically independent. Home Owner. Car Owner.


Only 24 working hours left. 1440 minutes. 86400 seconds.

A fricken long one

I truly haven’t written a word of substance for my blog in ages! I don’t care. I am tired beyond belief, and would like to know who the hell thought it was a good idea for me to STILL be working on the 5th of December, seriously . . . .

I have a little rant about a headline I saw somewhere. I don’t know where it was, and I never actually read the article, so my rant could be totally baseless, but whatever.

"BE A GODDESS IN THE KITCHEN THIS CHRISTMAS" or something equally ridiculous.

1. I can think of maybe a billion places I would like to be on Christmas day, and honestly, the kitchen is not one of them. Who in their right mind wants to spend Christmas day in the kitchen? Anyone?
   
2. I am a fricken goddess and don’t need to be in the kitchen cooking like a slave to prove it. I am taking my small family out to a really expensive restaurant, and paying for it all with the money I earned being a fricken goddess every day.
   

END OF PART ONE

In a completely unrelated matter, I saw an interesting blog entry by someone who I have never read before, don’t remember and will probably never read again. It was something about writing a letter to your 13 year old self, so here goes :

Dear Kerryn,

This is you 18 years later. Weird? Yes. Get over it. Let me tell you a thing or two about how you are going to screw up your life over the next couple of years . . .

To start off with don’t start clubbing and drinking at 14. It ain't worth it.

About the boys. STAY AWAY FROM THEM. M, A and I are all HUGE mistakes. These three boys will take away 16 to 21, and you will never get those years back. Sixteen is too young to be in a serious relationship. Just Say No!

I know you hate Science, but do not drop this subject in Std 8. You will need it, and be 25 and regret not taking it. The decision to not go to university is not a good one. Go and study Mechanical Engineering. You will love it, trust me.
On that same note, FFS study in Std. 9 and 10. Do not coast by. Put your whole self into it and walk away with something to be proud of damnit!

Seek out F. He is an asshole, but you will fall pregnant with a beautiful baby girl. Dump him as soon as you find out you are pregnant. It’s pretty scary to do it alone, but you will manage.

Forgive mom as soon as you can. You will eventually forgive her, but the pain you will go through getting there will not be fun. Understand her, accept her, forgive her and love her. It may not always seem like it, but she truly loves you beyond belief. She will be there for you in the years to come in ways you could never even imagine right now. She totally rocks as a gran, and you couldn’t be who you are without her.

I know you are not confident or self assured right now. I know being a teenager is scary and everything seems so daunting. You are worth so much more than you think right now. Realise TODAY, and not in 15 years that you are an intelligent, beautiful, kind, compassionate soul. Never doubt that. Not for one single day.

When Ciara is reciting nursery rhymes at 18 months, record it, cos no-one will believe you. She is a genius, by the way (as if you would doubt it.)

Take the friends you have right now, Gill, Jules, Kim, Linds, Mandy, Son and Tracy and treasure them every day. You will still be friends with all these people in 20 years, 30, 40, 50. They are the truth. They are what friends are supposed to be about!

Spend more time with Gary. Speak more with him. Be more with him. Don’t ask why, just do it.

So that's it kiddo. Good luck.

Ps. Keep an eye out for something called ‘Google’. Buy as much stock as you can, as soon as you can!

END OF PART TWO

69 more hours to go . . . .4140 minutes . . . . .248400 seconds

END

And counting . . .

I officially have 85.5 more hours of work left until I go on LEAVE.
That's 5130 minutes.
307800 seconds, no 307790, not 307780 . . . . .

Obviously, I can't wait. I seriously need a holiday.

One of the many, many reasons I love my baby

I'm not really one of those "oh listen to the cute thing my kid did" kind of bloggers. I can talk incessantly about her for hours, believe me, and sometimes I do, but not here.

However, this story is so Ciara. She is six (seven in Jan), and still very, very six. She has lots of time to grow up.

I fetch her from aftercare and she is literally BOUNCING with excitement at the tale she has to tell me.

C: "Mom, guess what happened today!!! Giancarlo said the 'F' word!!!!"

Me : "He didn't!!!!" I always say this to express shock and amazement, not to express disbelief. I'm crazy like that.

C: "And we told on to Mrs. T"

Me : "Good, that's a naughty thing to say, and kids really shouldn't be saying that word."

So, the story is told. I'm thinking about what to buy at woolies for dinner, and which way home will get me stuck in the least amount of traffic. Then about five minutes later :

C : "Mom?"

Me : "Yes sugar lump?"

C : "Whats the 'F' word?"

I can only imagine that she had been racking her brain all day about what possible word starting with 'F' could make everyone react so shocked.

She is so amazingly sweet, and innocent, and naive, just the way a kid should be.

I love her for so many reasons, and this is just one of them.

You rock my angel!

It's a mans world . . .

Being a woman in a mans world, I have had to put up with a lot of sexism from a lot of people. It usually just amuses me, it is fantastic to be underrated, you are always surprising people!

The following is a little extract of what has happened to me, how I would have liked to react, and how I did react.


Scenario 1
I answer my phone, with my standard
ME: Hello, Kerryn speaking
POP : May I speak to Kevin
ME : We have no Kevin, I’m sure it’s me you are looking for, my name is Kerryn.
POP : No I need to speak to Kevin, I need some technical info.

How I would like to have responded
1. Hold a moment, and then put them through to Jacob, the gardener, and told him to tell the guy on the phone his name is Kevin.
Or
2. Changed my voice so it was deep and said "Hello This is Kevin".

What I did
I said, I’m sorry I can’t put you through to Kevin because we have no Kevin working here, why don’t you just ask me, and lets see if I can help (I’m so fricken ‘helpful’ and ‘nice’.)

Scenario 2
I have done a proposal, with drawings and rates, and I know what is going on. I go with the boss (Mike) to the meeting with the client. He has just come back from another meeting and does not have any fricken idea what is going on with this project. So I give him a brief rundown in the car, but keep in mind he has never even looked at the drawings (this is not unusual, pretty standard for how we roll).

So we get to the meeting and sit down to discuss the proposal. Mike, rightly, says "I’ll let Kerryn take it from here".

So I give my very professional presentation complete with impressive technical terms and explanations. I use many laymans terms, just enough technical jargon. I have done this exact same thing seven million times before.

The client does not look at me once during the whole presentation, and when I am done, he looks directly at Mike and asks a completely random and stupid question. Mike! who, clearly, handed the presentation over to me!

How I would like to have responded
1. Keep dead quiet and let Mike sweat (this wouldn’t have been fair. He is totally awesome and values me because I am a woman and not despite it.)
Or
2. Said "Oi, over here dude, I’m the one you want to ask - were you not here for the presentation I just gave you. Did you sleep, were you semi comatose, are you still?"

What I did
I said "Excuse me Mike, if I may . . . . " and answered the guys question, and the other four hundred totally stupid, idiotic questions he had after that! I used my authoritarian voice too. The same one I use to shout at the puppy when she wees on the floor.

The client was like a naughty puppy who had just weed on my floor.

Bad boy. Bad, bad boy!

A bit about me . . .

How old do you feel? Usually 6. Sometimes 31. Rarely 84.

What do you believe is the meaning of life? Happiness (and 42)

Why is the sky blue? Because it reflects the ocean, hell I can’t remember!

What is your favorite thing to cook? Cook! Ha, ha, ha - OMG that was funny.

What would your last meal be? Something so fattening, the fat would block my arteries and I would just die right then and there.

What is the youngest age you have memories of? About 4 or 5, not many though.

What is your favorite thing in the world? I think it would be Ummm, I have lots of favorite things hmmmm my house?

What living person would you want to meet? Bono, and maybe Kylie - dunno.

What dead person would you want to meet? Leonardo da Vinci - that old dude totally rocked.

Where in the world would you like to live? Fiji

Who has the most influence on you? Ciara - no doubt

Would you rather be single forever with a great family or be with your soul mate and have no family? Single with a great family absolutely!

What is your favorite scented candle? Scented Candle - do I look like someone who has scented candles?

Have you ever read the bible? Yup

Who do you dislike most in the world? Mugabe & Bin Laden

What is your ideal date? Lots of laughter, great food and just a bit of alcohol

What is your favorite shape? A trapezium (WTF kind of question is this!!)

What color do you feel represents you? Seriously, what colour represents me? How about the blacking-blueish colour one gets when punched in the eye?

Would you rather be honest and poor, or a liar and rich? Honest and Rich

What is your ideal ice cream creation? I just buy my ice-cream in a six pack from pick ‘n pay. I like the Magnums. And MOO.

What is your favorite thing to do? Work avoidance by blogging and answering pointless questionnaires.

What is your favorite junk food? Steers, hmmm steers

What is the longest you've gone without talking to anyone? Ha ha ha - if there is no-one for me to talk to, I talk to myself. Me, not talk, now that's fricken funny!

What is your favorite board game? 30 Seconds. Although I’m getting quite fond of Rumble in the Jungle and "Up-a-bit"

What is your favorite book? I can’t really answer this question. Many books have left me with many different feelings. I can tell you my least favorite is the one I am trying to read now. It is THE MOST BORING BOOK EVER, but I am committed to reading it now!

What toy have you always wanted and never gotten? A Porsche Cayenne, but I’m still young.

What item could you not go without during the day? Food!!

Do you consider yourself smart? Oh poor person who wrote this. Of course I do, in fact I consider myself to be a fricken genius

How old were you when life was the hardest? 12 to 18

Is there anything you have to do every day? Umm brush my teeth?? Is this a real question? How about take a shower, or eat or shit. Um, ya, there are lots of things I have to do every day

Do you curse in front of family? I say "fricken" and "darn" quite a lot

If you had to get back with an ex who would it be? Oh Lordy no, none of them ever. Or could it be someone else's ex? Cos then I’d take Orlando, or Julian.

When was the last time you felt truly loved by someone? Every day!

What character trait would you change about yourself? Me, nothing, I am the very picture of perfection. Okay, maybe some humility wouldn’t hurt.

Which of your five senses would you give up if you had to? Smell - I think it would be the easiest to get used to.

What do you do when the power goes out? Play games by candlelight, then when Pudding Pot is sleeping I read by torch.

Would you rather spend the night out or in? Hmm, probably In.

I just had a heated discussion with a colleague about racism, and the fact that he is one, a racist, I mean.

I am shocked that people like him exist in this world still. It’s always an "us" and "them" thing with people like that and I am so tired of it.

I grew up during Apartheid. It was only abolished when I was 16 years old. The first democratic elections were held on my 18th birthday, and it is the only year I never voted.

I have a vision of "us" and "them" too. But in mine the "us" is those of us who believe in a future for South Africa, for people of all colour. Those of us who teach our children about acceptance and love and kindness. Those of us who have the power to change this country and to make it into something beautiful and free and fair.

"They" are those that diminish the beauty of this country by their viscous words and actions. Them who break the law daily and buy that car radio system out of someone's boot. Them who are so quick to blame ‘the blacks’ for all the badness in the country, when it is those very same people who are creating the DEMAND for SUPPLY, which means my house getting broken into.
Those who hurt, and steal, and abuse. Those who have no place in my world.

I was accused of being a naive liberal who isn’t realistic. Me, who spent R70000-00 on security in her home. Me who drives like a Meerkat. I am not realistic about the state of the country. I know the faults of South Africa, I know how much hatred is seething below the surface, but I have hope. I see the goodness in people.

I see that Ciara has noticed the difference in people. She has noticed that her skin is peach, and her friend at schools skin is brown. And that is it. She sees no class distinction. There is no superior and inferior. She sees nothing more than the only difference, which is on the outside.
I see the hope in that. I see the future in that.

I leave you with the words of Steven Tyler:
"If you can judge a wise man by the colour of his skin, then mister you’re a better man than I".

Entry the Tenth

I haven't got a lot of time, it has been the busiest week of my life . . . . . . until next week.

I have a few thoughts.

Number One:

This is Henry VIII

Not This

Secondly, what is with cyclists? Why do they insist on using The Worlds Narrowest Road at 7 o'clock in the morning. And I'm not talking about the poor dude whose only means of transport is his rickety old bike, I am talking about them of the 48-speed-super-duper-look-at-my-nifty-little-shorts-that-reveal-my-manpart persuasion. They can go to my nice quiet neighborhood and cycle all they want without the risk of being run down and bleeding to death while disgruntled motorists laugh and point.

I really, really don't get it. They give me road rage. I have bad, bad thoughts sometimes.

And finally - Umm, I have no final thought - to anyone reading - have a fricken fantastic weekend!

Entry the Ninth

I am a member of one of those dating sites where you get to have fans and favorites. I'm sure that any singles know exactly what I'm talking about.

Anyhoo. I 'meet' this guy on-line, lets call him Richard. Richard and I swap e-mails for a couple of weeks (I ain't no slag). We meet for coffee for a coupla hours, e-mail some more. Things just seem to fizzle after that without any animosity.

One day I am sending a business e-mail to another Richard and I see his name. I send him an e-mail simply saying "Hey, saw your name in my contacts and was just wondering how you are." He replies that he was just thinking about me the other day and is glad that I mailed, because he was going to mail me soon too. Can we get together for dinner soon?

Going well so far, no?

We arrange dinner, and he fetches me from home and we go to an okay restaurant. He isn't feeling well, so it is a fairly quick dinner. He drops me off at home, and all is good.

The next day, fairly late in the day, not stalkerishly 6:30, I SMS him to find out how he is feeling and to say thank you for the dinner.

SIDENOTE : The dinner was not fantastic. We went to a seafood restaurant (I don't eat seafood) and the service was very slow and the place was TOO dark, noisy and crowded. The conversation was "first-date" strained. But it didn't totally suck, and he seemed like a really nice guy.

And what do I hear after that? Nada, Nothing, Zip, Zilch.

But no, that is not the end of the story.

After this episode I hide my profile from view. My subscription has expired, I wasn't really into any of the conversations I was having, and maybe my feelings were a tiny little bit hurt.

A few months later, I vow - I am going to try this thing one more time. One more three month subscription and then I am done. Never to try Internet dating again. So I make some edits (my picture remains exactly the same though) and resubscribe.

One day, while checking out who has added me to their favorites, who do I see is a FAN of mine - Richard (who will now just be referred to as Dick).

WTF??

This is the message I composed, but never sent:

Dear Dick,
Thank you for adding me to your list of favorites. Clearly you think I must be SO desperate that I did not notice that you chose to treat me with utter disregard. It is your prerogative to not be interested. I am fully aware of that sometimes guys are "just not that into me". I get it, I really do. Perhaps I was just a little hurt at the way you treated me, but I assure you, it took me 5.5 seconds to get over that.
But who the fuck do you think you are to even add me to your favorites? Do you think you have the right to go around acting like a first-grade prick and expect people not to notice? Seriously, who does that?
Perhaps you realised that the 21 year old blond was really only after your money? Or that the 19 year old who "just wants to party, and have fun" is a total piscat who will shag the first guy who buys her a drink.
That perhaps that I am one of the 5 real woman on this site, who isn't after anything more than your company?
Just like it is your prerogative to not be interested, it is my prerogative to tell you to fuck off. I am no longer interested. You had your chance, you blew it. Deal with it.

I am no longer a member of that site. And my Internet dating days are done. I just can't get that into it.

This is a seriously long entry, so I am going to leave you with this one last question:

WTF?

Entry the Eighth - All I want for Christmas . . .

Being in the position of not needing a man. Financially, emotionally or physically. I, however, wouldn’t mind having someone around to be my plus 1, or to argue with me about which super hero would win in a battle of super heroes.

So seeing as I can afford to be a little picky, I have compiled a list of non-negotiables.

• Ciara will always come first. Always. I am not a perfect parent, and she is not a perfect child. Disagreements or ‘problems’ will be brought to my attention and discussed in a calm and tactful way. There will be no accusing, insinuation or demanding. If that happens - the door is the long rectangular thing with the handle - See Ya!

• Looks are less important than personality. Although there must be a mutual physical attraction. I am no super model, but I expect you to be. Har Har just kidding. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

• You must have a personality. An identity free of peer pressure or work commitments or what your mom says. I expect you to state your beliefs with strength. However, things change, especially one’s perspective. Be prepared to listen to differing opinions and often agree to disagree. Your opinion is not the only opinion.

• You must be at least as intelligent as me. I don’t plan to dumb myself down ever again. I don’t do it for Ciara, so don’t expect me to do it for you. I am reasonably intelligent, although somewhat of a absent minded dork :-)

• You may not take yourself uber seriously. I am the worst "laugh at others" person - ever (if it’s funny I mean.) I laugh just as heartily at myself - often. If I laugh at you, don't be offended. Take it in the lighthearted way it was intended. A kick-ass sense of humour is a total must. I don’t do serious and brooding very well.

• I don’t do the whole cooking and cleaning thing. That is why they have Woolies and Sara. So that I don’t have to do it. If you are looking for someone to be your housekeeper / nanny / personal cook / general dogsbody, I am not your girl.

• Buying me flowers or gifts when it is not my birthday or Christmas makes me feel weird. I don’t like it - don’t do it.

• I don’t do the whole "Romantic Night Out". Lets just grab some burgers and spend the night shaking our booties*. That's a lot more fun, really.

• I don’t hint, insinuate or try to make you guess when something is bothering me. Don’t do it to me.

• Technically minded is a preference, but not a must. I don’t get artsy-fartsy, so I don’t see much in the way of general conversation. But whatever.
  

Well, that's it. Not to much to ask for. Surely there is someone out there for me?

* This can mean whatever you want it to, baby!

Entry the Seventh

I had a very interesting weekend past. I say ‘interesting’ instead of ‘bloody awful’, because I like to think of each thing that happens in my life as a learning curve instead of a ‘disaster’.

So, Sunday comes around and I decide that maybe I should assemble the lawnmower in my garage so that we can finally put away the panga’s we have been using to travel from one end of the garden to the other, and maybe find that dog that has been missing for a few days.

I open the box to be pleasantly surprised that the only "assembly" required on the actual lawnmower is to lift the handle into an upright position and tighten.

I flex my muscles Johnny Bravo style and bask in the brilliance of me.

Then I see that the plastic-grass-catching-thingie (yes that is the technical term) needs to be assembled. No problem. I mean it is just a plastic-grass-catching-thingie. Right?

Instruction (1) Place both pieces, so that the hooks and screw openings line up.

Yup, okay, but it doesn’t line up. Let me push it a little here. No, still not working. Let me poke here. Fuck that, this is not working. Let me move on.

Instruction (2) Hook the clips into the openings. If this is difficult, use the small end of the spanner provided.

Yeah, now we are talking. A Spanner!

So I push and try to clip. Nothing is working. Ciara - get me a screwdriver. Now using screwdriver to try and push the bloody clips into the hooks.

Bam! I stab myself in the thumb with the screwdriver and start bleeding all over the bloody place. I am using all sorts of interesting and fancy words. My mother pipes up with the useful comment "I was just going to warn you that that might happen." Well thanks a bloody lot. I mean, you couldn’t have warned me, say, before I stabbed myself in the frickin thumb?

Long story short (okay, that ship has already sailed), the blood loss must have caused an epiphany.

I suddenly realised how to use the small end of the spanner and got the thing assembled in about 10 minutes after I stopped the blood flow and bandaged myself up.






Footnote : I love my mother very much, and after her helpful statement, she did say things like "That was really sore" and "Are you okay, will you still be able to mow the lawn?".

Entry The Sixth

I am in a really good mood right now.

Not only becuase I just got an e-mail about how I can make my woman happy happy and cause green jelousy in all the chaps with my new extra large shlong, but because it is almost time to go home. Which leaves me only 50 working days until I get to go on leave.

I am so happy. Becuase I am so tired. So very, very tired.
(Sound of me weeping softly onto my desk)

Entry the Fifth - To vigilante or not to vigilante

I love Dexter. No not the weird little kid with a funny accent. The Sunday-night-after-the-eight-o’clock-movie Dexter. He is a cold blooded serial killer, but he is hot, and he only kills bad guys. And he always gets it right. Always.

What I would like to say about Vigilantism is "Yay for them." But I am not an impulsive kind of girl. I am not the type to look only at one dimension of anything.

To fully express my view on vigilantism I would have to write a long, long, long blog. Because it is complicated. But let me break it down as much as I can.

1. I could never do it. I truly don’t think that I have the capacity in me to murder, no matter what evil thing they had done.
2. I would like to think that I could protect myself, and my family to the point where I could take someone else’s life. But I have never been in that position. I have never experienced that level of fear.
   

The biggest problem with vigilantism is that mistakes can be made. Innocent people can be harmed, or killed.
It’s all good and well to Cheer every time a vigilante puts a drug dealer or child rapist in his grave.
But what if they get it wrong, what if it is your child or brother or sister who is incorrectly gunned down? What if they make a mistake and it affects you? Directly? In you home, where it hurts the most?
Sadly, with a mostly ineffectual policing system, as we have in SA, vigilantism is rife, and probably needed.

So, ultimately, what am I for?
I am for a stronger, more armed, more trained, better paid, better equipped, larger, more involved police force so that vigilantism wouldn’t be necessary.

Entry the Fourth

It finally happened, that question I have been dreading since I brought that little being into the world almost 7 years ago. Ciara suddenly asked me the question. I was, for only a moment, going to lie. But I didn’t, I braved the unknown waters and told the truth, in all its gory ugliness. I told the truth.

We were busy serving the chicken for dinner on Saturday night, and that is when it happened. She looked up at me with her lovely large blue eyes and asked me "Mommy, is that a real chicken?"

I was momentarily flustered, I blushed, I needed time to think, what would I say?

"Do you really want to know the truth?" I said, trying to buy time.

Perplexed that I would even ask such a question, she said "Yes".

"Yes, my angel" I replied, with a hint of sadness in my voice "this is a real chicken."

Her beautiful blue eyes filled with tears. "But mommy" she cried, "there are only a few chickens left in the world"(1).

I smiled the reassuring smile of a mother and said "No, my sweet angel, there are millions of chickens in the world, and it really is okay if we eat them. That is why God put them here on the planet. To lay eggs and for us to eat."

She wiped her tears away, and said "Okay mom." She sniffed, and then shifted gears so fast I was almost knocked over. "You know what? When we were in the butchery the other day, guess what I saw on the floor - CHICKEN BLOOD."

Oh, I how I am looking forward to the "Where does beef come from?" question.







(1) We watch Animal Planet quite a lot.

Entry the Third

You know, 99.9% of the time I enjoy having my mom live in the flat behind my house. My mom rocks. She is probably the coolest 66 year old ever, and she always has my back.

The other 0.1% involves coke. The drinking type, not the snorting type.

I buy coke, I leave it in the fridge. And on the exact day I am dying for a tall glass of sugary goodness, I will get home to be confronted by an almost empty two litre bottle of coke. Not an empty bottle, no, because if it were empty, she would have finished the coke. But if it has a teaspoon left, its not, technically, finished.

Now, take my word for it. Having a teaspoon of (flat) coke is not equal to the experience I had been fantasizing about all day.



footnote : How sad my sex life obviously is, if I have been fantisizing about coke all day.

Entry The Second

I've deleted this post.
It was insensitive and directed at one particular person I work with.

Hindsight is 20/20.

Entry The First

I have been given a mission. A quest if you will.
My good friend has embarked on a campaign to revive a long lost word.
While some would argue that the word is long, and lost for a good reason. Others would say it is a simply marvelous word, and must be used at all occasions whether appropriate or not.
The word, ladies and gentleman is "Hullabaloo". Yes. Feel how gently it rolls of the tongue.
For those less knowledgeable than myself and my supremely knowledgeable friend, the definition of hullabaloo is a great noise or disturbance.
An example of one of the many wonderful places you can use the word hullabaloo.
. . .At the next rugby game you attend wearing your cargo short pant and "lions" T-shirt. Enter the box and exclaim, "My good man, what is all the hullabaloo".
When you have recovered from the extensive surgery caused by the beating you took, when the drunk dutchman thought you were swearing at him, you will have a good story about the time you caused such a hullabaloo . . .

Enjoy your experience of using new and ever exciting new words and expressions.