For those of you who have followed me since the beginning (which is coming up to 4 years now) I sincerely apologise for this post.You’ve heard it all before, seen the pictures, had the lowdown, massaged my weary soul, told me it’ll all be ok soon.
For those of you who have followed me for less than 12 months, welcome to my hell….
It’s THAT time again.
It happens every year, round about this time. Actually in 2008 it happened….(let me go and check)…on March 9th. I didn’t log it last year; it was far too stressful for me. It’s happened early this year which means only one thing: things are changing. THEY KNOW SOMETHING WE DON’T.
So, my day started like any other (with a strange, homeless tabby kitten on the end of my bed, another cat on the wardrobe and another cat sitting in last night’s leftovers). And at some point between putting salt in my tea and putting air freshener under my ampits, Dan said “Mum….have you seen what’s going on in the garden?”
And then I knew. Right then, I knew.
And because I’m a brave girl, I ran all the way upstairs and grabbed my camera.
I didn’t grab it for me, I grabbed it for Rob – who misses this every single year. It’s such a shame…if we knew when it was going to happen each year he’d be able to book a day off. Alas, we don’t have a clue. One minute the garden is as it always is during winter; silent and sombre. And the next…..
It’s FROGFEST!!!!
For 364 days of the year, there is nothing. (Well maybe the odd one or two lurking around, but nothing out of the ordinary. But on FROGFEST DAY my garden turns into a brothel of epic proportions.
They croak.
Those slimy, ugly males croak and groan like their lives depend on it. The noise is horrendous.
And then they…ummm….ya know….do their thang.
ALL. DAY. LONG.
The nex day? It’s all over. They’ve gone. Disappeared. Vanished into thin air. As if they’d never even been here.
(I want to know how they all know when the right day to do it is? What happens when they wake up? What do they say? Rob said they all have an orange band on their front legs which to us humans looks like an ordinary orange band, but it’s actually a wristwatch. “Go and look” he said. I didn’t, by the way. But if you know the answer…why they all come back at the same time for just 24 hours, please let me know.)
Ok….pictures for those who haven’t gone back to bed.
I hope you’ve enjoyed your little glimpse into the disgusting activity taking place in my garden right now.
When I’ve recovered, I’ll be back.
In case you hadn’t guessed…..I HATE FROGS.
I just came across this great little site on Ordinary Art’s blog. So I nicked it!
You can go there and ask me any question you want. No logging in, no fuss, just straight to the point nosiness. And it’s completely anonymous, too!
What fun!
So….if there’s anything you’d like to know, which I haven’t shared already in these past 4 years, fire away. I promise to be as honest as the day is long 
Here’s the link: click me
On Saturday my son, Dan, was 21.
21? Ohmygod. How can that be? I’m only about 26, aren’t I? Perhaps 27….definitely no more than 30.
Anyway, I woke up early and tidied up, did the dishes, swept and mopped the floor and cleaned the bathroom in preparation for the arrival of a very select few who were invited to share the day with us.
(Ok….I didn’t clean the bathroom. But I did all the rest, so that’s brownie points for me.)
We had a lovely day with people arriving at appropriately spaced intervals until, by tea time, there were just 8 of us, which was perfect for our little shoebox of a house. We ate, we drank, we were merry and we ate cake until my tummy popped the button on my trousers.
(I also sucked lollipops but don’t tell anyone.)
Half way throught the proceedings I received a phone call on my work mobile. I stupidly answered it to discover a boiler had gone down in one of the student flats. Being on 24/7 call, I had to deal with the problem….which I did by saying:
“Ummm…so soory…saturday….nocandoo…blah blah…darling…sweetie. Have a nice night…byeeeeeeee.”
An Indian takeaway arrived at some point after. I’m not sure exactly when because I had fallen asleep on the sofa and apparently I was snoring. I must have been in a really awkward position or something because – for the record – I DO NOT SNORE.
Anyway, I had a wonderful day and night; even though I had to be spoon fed at the end. And I made a mess on Rob’s t-shirt. And Dan’d friend said “Oh my. She snores.”
Dan had a few nice presents, but I have to share one of them.
His friend Emily is an artist and is just starting out and trying to get a name for herself. I saw her work on her website and knew that a portrait would be one of the things I wanted to get Dan. I sent her three photographs….one of me, one of Dan, and one of his Dad. And this is what she did.
I absolutely LOVE IT!
I always thought it would cost a fortune to have something like this done, but check her out if you’d like something similar. She is so inexpensive it’s ridiculous. Here’s the link.
And in the words of Suldog….
Soon…with more better stuff….
It seems that the older I get the more I worry about how long I have left on this planet. And so I ponder my lifestyle; my eating and drinking and smoking habits, and tell myself it’s high time I grew a pair and kicked it all into touch. I tell myself this almost every day, but then I pause to allow that little mini-me on my shoulder to start mouthing off. It would be rude not to listen, after all.
Every single day I hear of people getting run over by buses, having buildings collapse on them, being diagnosed with incurable illnesses or dropping down dead – just like that – because some major body part suddenly decided to stop working for a few seconds, just for the hell of it. Non smokers, non drinkers, people who chewed lettuce for breakfast and ran 10 miles a day – none of them were exempt.
I stumbled upon a Facebook page the other day, created by a young woman who obviously had a lot of time on her hands. She has linked at least a hundred articles which have been printed by the Daily Mail newspaper, all of which tell us about the things which can give us cancer. Interestingly, she omitted the smoking/drinking links. But amongst those articles are the food stuffs:
bread, pastry, biscuits, peanut butter, bacon, burgers, cereal, cheese, caffeine, canned food, chilli, chips, chocolate, coffee, curry, eggs, fish, lamb, milk, pickles, pork, pizza, potatoes, rice, sausages, soup, tea (to name just a few).
That doesn’t leave a lot, does it?
Hmmm. What about that lovely grapefruit sitting in your fridge? It looks innocent enough.; all pert and juicy. Well, don’t be fooled. Grapefruits can increase your breast cancer risk by a third. Apparently. Even hot drinks and tap water get a mention amongst the liquids to avoid.
Fast forward through the food and drink and you’ll get to lifestyle. Here’s an interesting one…..if you’re a male with a desk job I suggest you write your resignation letter right now because results have revealed that men in sedentary office jobs are 30 per cent more likely to have prostate cancer. Girls… you can go to work, but I’m afraid you can’t wear a bra. And however you choose to prepare yourself for the day, do not use bubble bath, deodorant, mouth wash or talcum powder. Lipstick is the devil in disguise, as is hair dye. And whatever you do, do NOT EVER have false nails.
And get this….a study investigating whether antioxidant vitamin supplements can prevent cancer found that rather than saving lives they seemed to increase overall risk of death.
What about this one. Do not say goodbye to your dog. You need to SELL the dog. Analysis of breast cancer cases by researchers at the University of Munich showed that patients with this type of cancer were significantly more likely to have kept a dog than a cat. In fact, 79.7 per cent of all patients had intensive contact with dogs before they were diagnosed.
It gets worse. Children and teenagers from wealthier families are more likely to develop cancer. And if you don’t have children, don’t even think about it. Fathers are 16 per cent more likely to develop cancer than childless men. So sod going to work, take your coat off and come indoors. Put your feet up!
No…don’t bother watering your plants because using pesticide sprays in the home and the garden ‘could double the risk of brain tumours.
Are you married? Living with someone? Oh dear. Well this will keep you busy….I suggest you drag that suitcase out of the attic and start packing their clothes up. Get them the hell out of your house because unless you are lucky enough to die at the same time in a plane crash, the partner who is left standing at the end is more likely to develop cancer than if they had stayed on their own. Yep….broken hearts cause cancer. Dump them now, before it’s too late.
If you really don’t have the heart to get rid of your man, here are two little nuggets of useful information for you….
Firstly, don’t ever accuse him of not being romantic because he could, in fact, be killing you. Candlelit dinners are BAD. Scented candles increase the risk of cancer. Next time you’re sitting there with your tea on your lap and watching the telly, feel thankful.
I’ve saved the best till last.
Oh yeah.
Oral sex raises your risk of throat cancer. A new study found the sex act can pass on the human papilloma virus (HPV), which can trigger a specific type of throat cancer in both men and women.
And they claim oral sex is an even bigger killer than smoking or drinking.
While I leave you to ponder all of that, think of me, sitting here with a glass of wine and a fag. And stop that tutting. I smell something awful, haven’t cleaned my teeth, haven’t died my hair in months, am wearing no lipstick or bra, I haven’t had breakfast or vitamins and I don’t own a dog. Nor do I own any house plants. I am single, haven’t swallowed in godknowshowlong, I’m skint and I’m not a man. I wasn’t a tall baby, I don’t have a big head and I’m not left handed.
Life really couldn’t be any better for me, could it? I envisage being on this planet for at least the next 100 years.
Follow this link for a list of all articles printed by the Daily Mail of things which give you cancer.
Well, they’ve been back for a week and the video footage is coming out thick and fast.
If you want to stick around and have a little peek at what Dan was getting up to in LA at the NAMM show, then watch the first video. The main man is Rob Chapman, aka the Monkeylord.
He’s a bit of an awesome dude.
I’m sure you’ll spot Dan in there too, but if you’re not familiar with his face then he’s the one Rob calls Dan.
Clever huh?
The second video is a bit of Hollywood footage.
Actually, it’s more of a guided tour of their Hollywood hotel room with a bit of silliness thrown into the mix.
“Mum…. just click the play button, ok?”
(If you’re a muisician, interested in the latest gadgets, or want to to see what NAMM is all about, there are a lot more videos. Follow the link at the end of these two.)
Well, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I keep looking at the date of my last blog entry (not the one under this one which is all about Haiti…I didn’t write that one) and it’s so far back in the calendar and in my memory that it could have been written last year. It almost was.
So…
Dan is back from LA. For those not in the know, he went over there for 10 days. That may not seem like a big deal to a lot of people – after all, it’s just some guy getting on a plane, isn’t it? People do it every day. But for me – for us – it was different. None of my family has ever left Europe; in fact my brother has only ever left the UK once and my Mum just twice (in 64 years). And I haven’t even been to Wales. Perhaps that’s where some of my excitement stemmed from? For so many years I’ve wanted to fly the ocean and see what’s over there, and the fact that Dan was doing it filled me with pride and love and envy.
He did some incredible things and met some incredible people too…some famous, some not so famous. I’m not name dropping here (although admittedly I’m like OHMYGODYOUWENTTODINNERWITHHIM?) but I am just so pleased and happy for him to have experienced something so awesome at such an early age. At 20, I was planning weekends in the local pub for God’s sake.
So, while he was away for 10 days and hanging out with people I only ever see on CD covers, I had the house to myself. Which was mightily strange. Again. And by the time I got used to it, he was back.
I think I’m gonna lose him. Not completely; I’ll never let that happen. But his dreams are bigger than the house and to see him so….wired….is incredible. The US of A beckons him with a big curly finger.
I’ll cross that bridge when the tide comes in.
I cooked a roast chicken last night. Dan was sleeping off jetlag, or something. I dished up most of his dinner apart from the roast potatoes. He loves a roast but hates it microwaved, so the roast potatoes I put in a dish and covered over with a clean tea towel to be finished off in the oven when he woke up.
My cat Barney is a bit nuts. He sleeps in the bath sometimes and in the basin at other times. Occasionally he gets on top of the wardrobe.
Last night he slept on the potatoes.
Dan had pizza.
Work is mental. I could rant about it for months. I’m booking up the building with next year’s students and it’s so popular I could book it three times over. People think I’m easily bought and that if they give me little presents I’ll give them a room.
Last week I had chocolates. Today I had special fried rice with chicken and prawns….all home made with a spoon to eat it with.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring.
I’ve been playing Farmville on Facebook. I could do a whole post about that…about how some people make their cows and pigs and sheep stand still and face them all in the same direction and line all their trees up like soldiers. Others let their animals run wild and are so laid back they’re almost horizontal. Their chickens haven’t even got fences. Can you believe that? I reckon that these dating sites have a lot to learn. You can look at someone’s farm and discover far more about them than you would reading a self-penned 200 word profile.
On that note, I have to go and harvest my apple trees
Adios!
Fusion posted this on his site today. I’ve copied and pasted it. Please feel free to do the same.
Elderly and abandoned, 84 Haitians await death.
PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti (AP)– The old lady crawls in the dirt, wailing for her pills. The elderly man lies motionless as rats pick at his overflowing diaper.
There is no food, water or medicine for the 84 surviving residents of the Port-au-Prince Municipal Nursing Home, barely a mile (1 1/2 kilometers) from the airport where a massive international aid effort is taking shape.
“Help us, help us,” 69-year-old Mari-Ange Levee begged Sunday, lying on the ground with a broken leg and ribs. A cluster of flies swarmed the open fracture in her skull.
One man had already died, and administrator Jean Emmanuel said more would follow soon unless water and food arrive immediately.
“I appeal to anybody to bring us anything, or others won’t live until tonight,” he said in the morning, motioning toward five men and women who were having trouble breathing, a sign that the end was near. Hours later, an elderly woman succumbed.
The dead man was Joseph Julien, a 70-year-old diabetic who was pulled from the partially collapsed building and passed away Thursday for lack of food.
His rotting body lies on a mattress, nearly indistinguishable from the living around him, so skinny and tired they seemed to be simply waiting for death.
With six residents killed in the quake, the institution now has 25 men and 60 women camped outside their former home. Some have a mattress in the dirt to lie on. Others don’t.
Madeleine Dautriche, 75, said some of the residents had pooled their money to buy three packets of pasta, which the dozens of pensioners shared on Thursday, their last meal. Since there was no drinking water, some didn’t touch the noodles because they were cooked in gutter water.
Dautriche noted that many residents wore diapers that hadn’t been changed since the quake.
“The problem is, rats are coming to it,” she said.
Though very little food aid had reached Haitians anywhere by Sunday, Emmanuel said the problem was made worse at the nursing home because it is located near Place de la Paix, an impoverished downtown neighborhood.
The hospice, known as “Hospice Municipal,” is in the Delmas-2 neighborhood, near a rundown soccer stadium, stuck between the port and Bel-Air, traditionally one of Haiti’s most violent and dangerous slums.
Thousands of homeless slum dwellers have pitched their makeshift tents on the nursing home’s ground, in effect shielding the elderly patients from the outside world with a tense maze of angry people, themselves hungry and thirsty.
“I’m pleading for everyone to understand that there’s a truce right now, the streets are free, so you can come through to help us,” said Emmanuel, 27, one of the rare officials not to have fled the squalor and mayhem. He insisted that foreign aid workers wouldn’t be in danger if they tried to cross through the crowd to reach the elderly group.
Violent scuffles erupted Saturday in the adjacent soccer stadium when U.S. helicopters dropped boxes of military rations and Gatorade. But none of this trickle of help had reached the nursing home residents, who said some refugees have robbed them of what little they had.
Dautriche, who was sitting on the ground because of her broken back, held out an empty blue plastic basin. “My underwear and my money were in there,” she said, sobbing. “Children stole it right in front of me and I couldn’t move.”
The area was an eery corner of silence within the clamor of crying babies and toddlers running naked in the mud. Guarding the little space was Phileas Julien, 78, a blind man in a wheelchair who shouted at anybody approaching to turn back.
During moments of lucidity, Julien said he was better off than other pensioners because the medicine he was taking provided sustenance. A moment later, he threw his arms out to hug a passer-by he mistook for his grandson.
Also trying to guard the center was Jacqueline Thermiti, 71, who couldn’t stand because of pain but who brandished her walking stick when children approached.
“Of all the wars and revolutions and hurricanes, this quake is the worst thing God has ever sent us,” Thermiti said.
Initially, Thermiti and others believed their relatives would come to feed them, because many live in the slums nearby. “But I don’t even know if my children are alive,” she said.
Thermiti was surprisingly feisty for someone who hadn’t eaten since Tuesday. She attributed that to experience with hunger during earlier hardships.
“But I was younger, and now there’s no water either,” she said.
She predicted that unlike other pensioners, she could still hold out for at least another day.
“Then if the foreigners don’t come (with aid),” she said, “it will be up to baby Jesus.”
One of the struggling residents had died by nightfall Sunday, when Associated Press journalists returned to the nursing home. Tsida-Edith Andre, about 90, had been too old and too weak to hold out through the afternoon heat, said Nixon Plantain, a hospice cleaner who was planning to spent the night there.
Next to him, Michele Lina, 22, was spoon-feeding boiled rice to her paralyzed grandfather in a wheelchair. Plantain said she was the first relative to have come with food. He helped Lina give out tiny mouthfuls to others.
That food, along with a carton of water bottles brought by an AP reporter, was the only aid the residents received Sunday, Plantain said.
The cleaner-turned-caretaker tried to pour a trickle of water into the mouth of Mesalia Joseph, one of a small group he said probably wouldn’t make it through the night.
“Don’t give me any,” Joseph mumbled, saying she was too hungry to drink.
Curled in a fetal position, she seemed to have already given up.
———————————————————————
I read this today and it really effected me. The magnitude of what these people are going through is horrible. There are many ways to donate, Oxfam America is one, please help if you can.
Where does the time go? I can’t believe a whole fortnight has passed since I last logged in here. I wish I could tell you that I’ve been up to my eyeballs in work or other such fun things, but I can’t. The days have just merged together in one long wet, cold, snowy lump.
On a happier note, today I want to talk to you about Dan, my son.
Since the age of about 7 or 8, we always knew that Dan would end up working with computers in some way; my brother spent weeks and months and years with him, teaching him everything he knew. Dan juts lapped it all up. At 13 he had the opportunity to showcase his skills at school, and he excelled. At 14 his wpr was over 120. At 15 he was more of a classroom assistant in the IT class than a pupil. At 16 he received an award for outstanding contribution. At 17 he surpassed my brother.
The six week summer holiday which followed the end of his High School years were spent preparing Dan for college. He started his first term as excited as I’ve ever seen anyone who is about to embark on their lifelong dream.
Unfortunately, the course wasn’t challenging enough for him. He was being expected to sit through classes and be taught things which he already knew. Even the tutor thought that Dan needed to skip the first year and go in on the second. A request was put in to the powers that be, but it was refused. And even though I tried my hardest to explain to Dan the importance of ‘getting things on paper’ (even if he was more than capable of doing the work without the official qualification) he couldn’t handle it. So he quit.
He then spent 12 months in his bedroom; sleeping at extremely odd hours, eating breakfast for tea and supper for breakfast. I worried about him. We all did. We searched high and low for a college which offered the kind of course he wanted, but there wasn’t one within commuting distance of our home. I felt he was becoming a bit dispondant. He rarely went out. People commented on the amount of time he spent on line, saying it was unhealthy. I didn’t know what to do.
And then one day he was offered an apprenticeship to be a junior web developer. He grabbed it with both hands, thinking it could be an alternative way of getting his foot in the door. The company was based out of town so it meant leaving the house at 7.30am and not getting back till 7.30pm. He was paid a pittance. But he did it. When, after a few months, the senior web developer left and they asked Dan to take over the role, he was ecstatic. But then he discovered they wouldn’t be giving him a pay rise and that he would be expected to do the work of the senior on a junior’s money.
He quit.
Headstong? Wherever does he get that from?
Another few months passed by with Dan spending time in his room. All I ever heard was the tap tap tap of his keyboard. I started to worry again. What was out there for him? How was he going to find a web developer’s job with no formal qualifications in that subject? What would happen to him?
He ended up – out of financial necessity and continual nagging from me to just ‘do something’ – taking a call centre job, working for Toshiba. The money was good, but he hated it. He wasn’t able to use any of his skills. He eventually quit that too.
One day he was offered a temp job with the local newspaper. He lasted a day.
As a parent, when your child has a dream, you want more than anything for that dream to come true. But how could Dan’s dream ever come true? How could he get a job as a web developer without the evidence to back it up?
A few months later a vacancy came up with a local firm and Dan applied. I didn’t think he’d have a hope in hell’s chance to be honest because they were asking for this, that and the other, and I thought he wouldn’t be able to prove himself. But he took along a portfolio of work (work he’d been doing in his bedroom, in the dead of night, for all that time), and after long discussions with the boss, he got the job. I was over the moon!
Dan was given numerous clients from right across the board. He worked hard. He loved it. But then…….
“I want to leave” he said to me one day. “I just can’t do it anymore; the hours, the prices they charge to clients, everything. It’s all wrong.”
“DON’T LEAVE!” I said. “This is your chance! To prove yourself! To earn some money! To get where you’ve always wanted to be!”
“But I want my own business,” he told me. “I want to work for myself.”
(Did I mention headstrong?)
And with that, he quit.
That was three or four months ago. And he’s been developing websites, in his own room, ever since.
He’s also been branching out, merging his love of music with his love of website development.
Yesterday, Dan flew to LA for 10 days, and I can’t even begin to tell you how proud I am of him.
He is there with this person
and meeting this person for dinner
and then he’s spending a few days with this person
and then coming back to do all sorts of crazy things which I’ll undoubtedly tell you about another time.
He is 20 years old.
And I am so, so proud of him.
The motto of this story?
(a) Don’t worry about your kids. Often, they will find their way.
(b) There is more than one way to skin a cat
(c) Sometimes, they know more than we do.
(d) It’s alright to share our happiness. Isn’t it?
I know it’s a day early but we have to be prepared for these things, so the planning for my New Year’s Resolutions has already begun.
I deliberately bought just enough cigarettes yesterday to last me right through till New Year’s Day morning, whereupon I shall wake up and say “Yay…I’m a non smoker” and then proceed to kill someone.
I have half a box of wine left which I intend to guzzle greedily throughout the day, after which I shall kiss the empty box goodbye, take it to the garden, throw it in the chimenea, and put a match to it. As the flames go up I shall be chanting this:
Oh, wine.
I think the comma may be in the wrong place, but nevertheless, it has to be repeated at a considerable speed for several seconds. It will help, apparently.
I’ve signed up for Gillian McKeith’s ‘Bootcamp’ and will be sent daily emails for two weeks in which she will order me to get off me big fat ass and do something which requires more energy than tapping on a keyboard or picking my nose. She recommends 40 minutes of exercise at least 3 times per week, but preferably daily. So my mornings will start with a brisk stroll (I won’t have to worry about trying to walk quickly; it’s a natural occurrence in this neighbourhood). I have no idea what else she will recommend till the morning, but I’ll let you know.
I’ve just shopped online at Sainsbury’s and bought sixty quids worth of stuff which Ms. McKeith recommended for someone like me: mung beans, lentils, kale, pak choi, blueberies, miso soup, puy lentils, quinoa, whole grains, nuts, seeds, figs, prunes and vegetable bouillon; together with enough fruit and veg to sink a ship.
(Shit. I forgot the toilet roll.)
Apparently I also needed B Vitamins, rosemary, ginger, nettle tea and organic cod and salmon.
So, I’m all set and raring to go. Wish me luck, please, because I’ll need it.
On a final note…
This time last year (on New Year’s Eve) I had a broken foot. I had plans, but they all went pear shaped. You can read about what happened HERE.
So this year, I shall try again to capture my New Year’s Eve Firework Photographs. If I succeed without falling over a fridge or flopping my tits out or falling down the stairs, I’ll post the photos in the morning.
Wishing you all a healthy, happy, invigorating 2010
With Love,
Question Four – the white room – reveals your thoughts about death/dying.
Because this has taken me forever and a day to do, and you all pretty much get the idea about word association, I think I’ll leave it up to you to analyse youselves!
Your feelings about death and dying could range from being absolutely terrified about it, to welcoming it with open arms, and anything else in between. You could be scared initially then feel a kind of acceptance. You could be sad, you could be curious. Perhaps you don’t accept it at all and will try to find a way out. You could, even, treat the entire thing with humour. Some people will ask questions, others won’t. Some will wait to be shown what to do, others will just get on with it. Some will try to treat it as an extension of life whereas others will see it as the end.
Have fun!
(And thank God for that!)
JD
(a)Trapped.
(b) Blinded.
(c) Safe.
(d) I’m hallucinating.
KARL
a) I guess there must be some source of light otherwise I wouldn’t know it was white.
(b) If I had 3 steel balls: I could lose one, break one and eat one. (it’s a diver joke)
(c) I’m hoping it’s quiet too, so I can get some rest.
(d) I’m guessing that since it has no windows, it won’t have black curtains.
D
(a) I have finally been sectioned
(b) Peaceful
(c) That someone at some point will show me the way out – maybe
(d) That I’m unconscious on an operating table having an out of body experience
FLOWERPOT
(a) Help!
GRUMP
(a)How did I get in here?
(b)I would like to explore the room to see if there is any tea making equipment.
(c) Sing a song and see what the acoustics are like.
(d) Measure up for new curtains and door openings. What an over sight to fail to put a door/window in here.
RONNIE
(a)Panic
(c)Think umm… must be here for a reason …but why …
(d)Oh well vodka is white or clear, now where is the diet coke?
HARDIN
a)If there’s no way in, how did I get in here?
(b)What are the walls made of?
(c)Am I going to die of asphyxiation?
(d)Why didn’t they put a hot tub in here?
SULDOG
(a) Trapped.
(b) Do I have a marker? Can I draw on the walls? Can I at least entertain myself?
(c) Better yet, do I have a saw, or a hammer, or anything that I can use to break down the walls?
(d) Stupid walls!
