Tea and Stunt Driving School

Shortly, I’ll be posting some pics of a lovely high tea I had with some Ellora’s Cave authors and editors. My goodness what a fantastic time I had. The tea and…and…bunch of food I don’t remember what it was called, but it sure tasted divine…were almost as wonderful as the company.

I got to hang out with Jen (believe it or not, we rarely get together for other than signings…we’ve both been incredibly busy writing), Donna (Final Line Editor at Ellora’s Cave), Heather (Ellora’s Cave Editor) and authors: Maggie Casper, Beverly Havlir, Sylvia Day and Lena Matthews. What a fun crew we were!

And lucky for me, I get to go see many of them again tomorrow…

Oh, and special thanks to Heather for giving me a copy of Ellora’s Cave Legendary Tails Volume IV in which Ashleigh Raine’s story, Orgasm Fairy is first up. I was particularly glad to see it because the story opens with a bad erotic poetry reading for which I wrote the bad erotic poetry. I don’t know why I have a knack for cringingly bad poetry, but I do. And to see “Fertilizing The Petals Of Bliss” in print–on page one no less!–was truly amazing. I’ll cherish that memory forever.

That was a lovely tea party.

And now on to how Santa (namely Jason) smiled upon me this Christmas…

I’d thought he might’ve had ulterior motives or perhaps too much procrastination, but he swears he was being thoughtful and y’know, I gotta believe him.

Before I get into details, let me first say that in my family, we more often than not put one or two ridiculous things on our Christmas List. I recall my mom asking for a Corvette, myself for a million dollars when I was in high school…stuff we want but would most likely not get for Christmas from someone.

Well, I’ve had “Stunt Driving School” on my list for a couple years now. Yeah, I want it like crazy, but come on…like I’m really gonna find it under the tree on Christmas morning.

And then there’s Jason…who said he’d looked at my list and wondered what of everything on that list would I never, ever expect.

So…I’M GOING TO STUNT DRIVING SCHOOL AND I’M IN UTTER SHOCK AND AMAZEMENT!

I would say that I nearly fell outta my chair when I looked at the certificate, but Jason almost fell out of his chair for me… See, it was a recliner and he didn’t know that until his feet flew up in the air and his eyes were as wide as saucers. I couldn’t stop laughing at the team effort. I bet if I’d been sitting in a chair, I probably would’ve fallen out of it.

I really, really, really, really, really, really wanna be a stunt driver. Even if I only get to do it once, I wanna do it. Even if I only get to go to the class, I wanna do it. I want the experience. I mean, you read my driving stories an entry or two ago… Isn’t it obvious, I dig driving and wanna do more of it…in crazy situations?!?!

Well…I’M GOING TO STUNT DRIVING SCHOOL!!!!!

I dunno when yet. I gotta look at the schedule and stuff, but still. I’m sure there’ll be an entry or two about it here.

And now, I need to get back to work. I’ve got writing to do!!!!!

(and tea to drink!)

Go fast? And Jay Leno

So, the other day, I went to get a part for my new engine. I needed a water neck. No big deal. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to get one in the first place.

For a little fun during a stupid parts run, I took the Viper.

On the way there, I almost blasted past a cop. Whoops! Thank goodness for Granny in her Camry, whom I was behind, or I’d’ve probably gotten a ticket.

On my way home, however, things were a little different.

Traffic was kind of bunched up on city streets. It seemed like everyone was Christmas shopping and in zero hurry. (And that wasn’t just because I happened to be in a car that hates going slow! People really were driving far under the speed limit in one giant herd.) I passed a blue late model Mustang that was wheezing like it had a supercharger on it. I glanced again and saw a cowl hood. Okay, so this was the moment of truth.

Generally, when another sporty car rolls up on me in the Viper, their first thing to do is spar with me, rev, cut me off, something. It’s usually some hot-headed guy, too.

But this guy–or I should say ‘person’ because unfortunately, I never did see the driver–kept giving me room to get around.

It was weird. I was totally expecting the small-minded, gotta-get-in-front-of-the-Viper, how-ya-like-me-now attitude, but instead, there was this weird respect-like thing.

Personally, when I see anyone driving something that sounds healthy and looks like the driver is a car enthusiast, I always give right of way, lots of room, thumbs up “nice car” if I can, no matter which of my cars I’m driving. But generally, in the Viper I don’t receive the same whether I give it or not.

So, I’m driving toward the freeway, the Mustang’s giving me room, I wanna see who’s driving just to give a thumbs up if nothing more, when finally, there’s a break in the traffic and I can squeeze through.

I drop a gear and blast. So does the Mustang. And I’m sure we were both hoping to spar a little on the freeway.

But dammit…I was going east and he was going west. Ah well. I hope we meet again. His ride was damn sweet and probably would’ve smoked me because I’m not real good at speed-shifting the Viper. Ah well. That story’ll happen another day, I’m sure.

Speaking of sparring…I’ve got a few other favorite stories.

Last year, I was in the Prowler, following Jason who was in the ’98 Corvette we no longer have. I was hardly paying attention to much other than driving when a black German car kept speeding up, slowing down, goofing off next to me.

Finally, I glance over, unsure what/who I’m gonna see and there’s this really, really, really, really cute guy rolling down his window. I smile, unsure why other than that he’s obviously some kind of car guy and having fun on a Friday night.

I don’t remember the exact conversation other than that he was surprised that my Prowler wasn’t fast. It’s really not. It’s only got a V6 in it, but because it looks odd, people think it’s fast anyway. He wanted to spar, but then, he asked me out.

And oh my goodness, if I weren’t married, I totally would’ve accepted.

But then, as I shook my head, he said, “You with him?” and pointed toward Jason in the Corvette ahead of me.

I nodded, completely shocked that the guy guessed it…like somehow he just knew. That was such a strange encounter and I loved every minute of it. When Jason and I got to the restaurant, we both had a good chuckle.

I guess car chicks are simply hard to come by and guys will go to crazy lengths to score one sometimes.

Last year around this time, I did a shoot waaaaaaaaaay out some of the canyon roads near my house. I left the shoot and had zero intention of following the directions to the freeway because I didn’t want to take the freeway, I wanted to play in the canyon twisties. I was driving my ’68 Mustang Fastback.

So, I haul ass, 4-wheel-drifting around corners, keeping my car in my lane, of course. Only once did I go over the yellow and I’m not sure if that was because I was drifting or I couldn’t turn the wheel hard enough. My car does not have power steering, but I muscle it down the road at warp speed and in my rearview, I notice a Cadillac that had been following me since I left the shoot.

Anyhow, out of the canyons and into town, we stop at a traffic light. My window was down. Mr. Cadillac called out, “YOU ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” He was truly in awe judging by the grin on his face and enthusiasm in his eyes, but then he continued, “How do I get to the freeway?”

Whoops….Poor guy hadn’t been keeping up with me because he wanted a hard drive, he’d wanted to find the freeway! Sorry!

From that stop light, I had him follow me to the freeway. That was a very fun trip.

And now for my best sparring with the boys story:

I was on my way to Jen’s baby shower, so this had to’ve been 2000.

But anyhow, I was heading southbound on the 101 through Studio City. Traffic was tight, but there was a little room to move. I was in my ’68 Mustang Fastback.

I’m bored in traffic and still have at least an hour left on the road, so I start to weave a little bit. Not cutting anyone off or anything, just trying to change my scenery when a bizarre 20s car…make that racecar…rolls up on my tail.

Stranger than that, I think the driver looks like Jay Leno.

Yeah, Jay Leno is a car guy, so anything’s possible.

But still, me being a car chick and him driving the cooler car, I most definitely feel obligated to get out of his way, even help him get through traffic easier.

So, I keep weaving, leaving him room to get by me, but he’s just not taking it!

I’m still going, waiting, leaving a mile in front of me…

Finally, as the 134 is about to split off, he changes lanes to my right. Then he rolls alongside and with a big ol’ grin on his face, gives me a thumbs up!!!!

Yep! Jay Leno gave ME a thumbs up!

Good golly!!!! I still grin at that memory!!!!!!!!!

Courting Alex

I wasn’t on the list at the guard shack and I didn’t quite know what to make of that. But I’d driven my Prowler, so I at least looked somewhat important and the guard got his supervisor to okay me. That was really nice. It totally felt like good luck had smiled upon me because it’s next to impossible to get on studio lots without a pass these days.

I parked and went to the stage, glad that I’d have some time to read more of Heaven Tree–which I’d started a few weeks ago on West Wing and was still in my bag. I read another ten pages or so before the AD started checking us in.

I wasn’t on the check-in list, either.

Okay, now I was starting to doubt my sanity. I’d been booked as ‘street atmosphere and art gallery patron’. And that’s what they needed. I couldn’t’ve coincidentally pulled those two categories out of my imagination. Yes, I was on the right stage for the right show.

But I wasn’t on the list and there wasn’t a voucher for me.

That was a big problem. No voucher, no paycheck. Big problem. But the AD told me to hang out while he got it figured out. The best part of that expedition was that a lot of people learned my name. On sets, it’s rare for ADs to know and remember the names of background actors, so I figured I was either in for trouble or a great day.

As it turned out, I wasn’t on the list, there was no voucher, but I had indeed been booked on the show. Whatever. Once we were all sure I was in the right place, I was given a voucher from someone who hadn’t shown up. By this point, I was somewhat late getting to wardrobe.

I’d thought I was in for hell with wardrobe, but they actually fell in love with my clothes. That soooooo rarely happens, but it has been happening more lately and I don’t know what I’m doing now that I wasn’t doing earlier. Whatever. They gave me a different sweater and gushed about my art gallery stuff. (Funny how the shirt they’d liked for the art gallery was a shirt I picked up literally the other day at a thrift store because I knew it’d be perfect for extra work…guess I was right.)

The production needed some upscale cars so I volunteered my Prowler. Remember, I was late, though, so I had to practically run to get my car and then get out of the structure, off the lot, back in through the main gate and over to New York street.

Apparently, no one in New York has a Prowler.

I was apologetically told to go put my car back in the structure and walk back to the set.

Thus, I was even later. By the time I got to the set, the AD had already set just about everyone. He looked at me, considered the scene, scratched his head, then gave me a cross to do when the scene was about half over.

Great! I was in business. There was nothing left to do but wait.

During that time, Jenna Elfman came onto the set. She is sooooooo tall and gorgeous. I’m so jealous… Anyway, as I was standing there in lalaland, I hear that unmistakable voice–one I’d only previously heard through television speakers–say, “Lisa.”

My heart did a weird flippy-floppy thing. Why the hell was Jenna Elfman saying my name? How did she know my name? Lots of people who didn’t need to know my name had learned my name today, but why was Jenna saying my name? I thought I was going to die, but I looked up with raised eyebrows, ready to do whatever she needed.

She obviously wasn’t talking to me and I was glad for it. She did look surprised when I looked up so attentively, but the real Lisa approached and life went on as I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Coincidence had already been weird that morning, this was weird enough on its own.

We started rehearsing the scene. I waited halfway through and went to do my cross, but Jenna and Hugh (I never learned his last name and I’m sorry for it.) were side-by-side on the sidewalk and skinny little me couldn’t even fit through so I just crossed behind. It seemed to work, but it ‘felt’ wrong, so I went up to an AD and explained.

I knew I was in weird territory, but I carefully phrased my concern, “Could you please let Jenna and Hugh know that there’ll be extras making crosses against them? There’s not enough room on the sidewalk without cutting between them and the camera.”

On the next rehearsal, I was able to get through. It was awkward, but Jenna and I didn’t do any funky dance steps and I didn’t get yelled at afterward, so I assumed all was well.

We shot the scene several times and then it was time to go in for coverage. I waited and read more of Heaven Tree while they got the stuff before my cross.

Okay, now this was a unintentionally big moment…

While shooting coverage of where my cross happens, there was a false start. They were still rolling. Hugh and Jenna were resetting. I was down the block and my cross was at the top of the take, so I literally ran back to my spot.

…Thus endearing myself to all the ADs. One in particular (the 1st AD, I’m guessing) promptly thanked me from the bottom of his heart.

But I’d just been doing my job. I felt weird being thanked for doing my job. Whatever. That was cool. I was the golden extra during the rest of the takes involving me–there weren’t many–and then I read more of Heaven Tree. (This is why I always carry a decently big purse–great for hiding paperbacks, my palm pilot and a notebook.)

Once the exterior was finished (We were on New York street where Seinfeld used to shoot. Once upon a time, I actually parked my car on that street while it was still dressed for Seinfeld. It has been fun to see it morph since then.), we were allowed a one-hour walkaway lunch as usual when shooting on the lot. I got a grilled cheese sandwich at the commissary. Yum.

Next up was the art gallery, so I changed into my fun outfit. Earthy green and beige, but lots of drama in the styling.

I was assigned a date and then told where to stand. The scene was going to be shot in three or four separate parts. We were right in front in the middle. That was cool.

During the second part, we were given a cross to the opposite side…where we were given certain marks to make sure we were in frame.

During the next part, we were given another cross all the way to the other side past where we were in the first section and then instructed to make our way back around and follow two of the principles to take their place looking at a painting when they left. We landed in the front again.

At some point my date noticed. I had been oblivious because my feet were killing me for having been standing on them all day.

I really took in his observation and realized that it was probably because I was the golden extra. The AD knew he could count on me to cross in the right place at the right time so he used the hell out of me, making me drag my date along. Which worked great.

I explained it in a nutshell while we waited do do another take, “This morning. False start. They were resetting. I ran.” My date chuckled knowingly, then rolled his eyes, “This really is your fault, then. We could be in deep background, with our backs to the camera, but no, you had to go and do a good job. Great. Just great.” We quietly shared the laugh.

Our crosses got rearranged a little as far as timing…And then there was the one where we were supposed to go when Josh Randall sat down…

…but he didn’t sit down.

I was terrified, but quickly faked it and walked through with my back to the camera while pantomime-talking to my date.

It ‘felt’ good and we didn’t get yelled at afterward, so we did it the same way every time. That was fun. The scene was great.

And then we were released. Great experience. The crew was wonderful. They still had another scene to do with Dabney Coleman. Long day for them. I was only there for eleven hours. I wish I could have more gigs like this one. I really do.

Pushing my envelope…with geese and stripes

I’ve decided to embark upon a new project…along with all my current ones as Rina Slayter and with Ashleigh Raine.

I’m gonna write some short stuff for a change. Yeah, as half of Ashleigh Raine, I’ve written some stories less than 15k, but I’m talking ultra-short here.

The other day, I was dinking around my files and ran across a great opening sentence (I’d put it here, but then there’d be nothing to discover when the story gets posted) that I’d filed away. It wasn’t going to suit a novel. No way. But flash fic…oh hell yeah.

So I wrote it.

And because I type so fast, I wrote, edited and got through my second draft in about an hour. Another couple passes and I’ll probably end up killing its magic rather than growing it.

That little experiment taught me that while I call myself a novel-writer, I can also write flash. But anything in between and readers will need a clothespin for their nose so they won’t have to smell the crappiness of my work. Funny, huh?

Actually, not really. It took me some hard thinking to figure out how I could possibly write ultra-short so easily. I’d assumed it’d be agony to go from novel down to flash, but really, it wasn’t.

Because I write my books scene by scene. They’re micro-stories in themselves. They don’t stand on their own, but they are mini-stories. Applying that skill, plus the fact that most of my scenes chime in between 1 and 3 thousand words, it’s really not much of a stretch (or in this case shrink) to stay under 1K.

My greatest nemesis at this moment is finding the time to churn these things out. I’m up to my eyeballs in workload and backlog at the moment, but perhaps in the New Year, I’ll have some to post to my website.

I’ve already started a list of story ideas, characters and opening sentences that’d work for ultra-shorts. I can’t wait for a moment to really work on them!

And today marks the first day I’ve gotten the nerve to wear my geese with stripes shirt. I wish I had a camera handy so that I could snag a pic of it and post it to my site. The shirt fits great and there’s geese…and stripes…on polyester. What more could a girl like me ask for?

Windfall

I believe this is a new television show airing sometime in the new year. I don’t know for sure, though. All I know is that I almost don’t want to post my experience on this show for fear of coming off like a whiny bitch, but I feel some of it was justified. But, I ain’t gonna lie, some of it was also PMS.

I found the location okay. No surprises there. I was early and opted to sit in my car until closer to call time. When I got out of my car, good grief, it was freezing cold outside. I think that was the beginning of my grumpiness, but I didn’t let it hamper my day because I knew the weather would warm up eventually. I grabbed some breakfast and looked for holding…But there wasn’t one. There weren’t even chairs and tables set up around catering. That was weird, but whatever. I ate standing up. No big deal. It wasn’t the first time.

We were checked in and for some reason the PA hadn’t grabbed my voucher from the office. Okay. Fine. No big deal. I stood by and waited in the wardrobe line.

I was playing a waitress. They didn’t like what I’d brought–nothing new there–so I had to change. Once again, no big deal.

We were herded onto a people mover and taken over to the set. We were all a little worried when we saw that our holding was a dirty, empty storefront, but then glad when we were put to work immediately. I personally never went into holding for longer than the time it took me to put down my backpack.

Now here’s where I started getting a little iggy about this shoot. The crew talked down to the extras. Not just me or certain people, all of us. I was placed next to a table as though ready to take an order. That was fine. I nodded, smiled. I was ready. But then the crew decided that all the tables were in the wrong place on the sidewalk. Why on earth should I be standing next to ‘my’ table if it’s going to move and if there are an army of people walking around. I was in the way, so I took a few steps back.

I was then instructed to stand by my table again like I was an idiot with a short attention span. I didn’t bother explaining. I just did as I was told and then promptly moved away when the table moved again.

Then, I was wondering if props had either a tray or an order pad for me. We were getting close to rehearsal, so I just grabbed my little spiral notebook and pen from my purse and figured I’d make do. Finally the prop guy brought me pad and pen, that was cool. But he also asked me what I was doing standing there. “Uh…I’m ready to take an order,” I replied, wondering why he’d asked, but whatever.

I stood near the table unless people were around. The same AD gave me the ‘get by your table’ look a few times, but if there were too many people, I didn’t go there.

Finally, I guess he was frustrated with me and he reiterated that I should stand there and take an order, but then said that there wasn’t much else I could do now that all but my table had been moved away. I replied, “I could walk into it.” And he seemed surprised–like how could an extra know to do something as smart as that? I dunno. By this time, I’d had enough of the way I was treated and seeing the way others were treated, too. I just wanted to be done with the shoot.

We did a bunch of takes and then they said we could go home. We all replied, “Yeah right, uh-huh.” To which he said that we would, indeed, be allowed to go home once we got back to base camp. So we all piled onto the people mover and were driven back. Those of us who needed to, changed back into regular clothes and waited at the back of the wardrobe truck.

But no one came.

Apparently, we’d been told that we were wrapped, but no one else had been told that.

They’d decided to use us in the other scene.

Some of us did get to go home, but most of us didn’t. A little communication could’ve helped this show a whole lot. Just because we’re extras doesn’t mean we don’t have the right to know what’s going on especially if it relates directly to us. We’re people too. We understand if you want more out of us. You’re paying us for 8 hours, might as well use us as much of that time as you can. We understand that completely. But if you tell us we can go home, reiterate that–causing several of us to line up other stuff to do with our afternoon–but then tell us we have to work…we’re not gonna be thrilled.

So, I stood around–remember, there were no chairs–waiting until they finally decided to use me. I had to go to wardrobe and get another sweater. That was fine, but by the time I got to the set, things were changing. When I walked in, I followed a PA who told me to go talk to an AD. When I went to talk to the AD and make myself available, he started yelling and complaining and I turned right back to the PA and said, “I’m not gonna walk into that.” He broke in and told the AD myself and another woman were ready to be placed and he yelled back, “I don’t need ’em. Get ’em outta here. Get ’em outta here now. Go. Now.” He waved, shooing us away.

And I really didn’t want to be there in the first place! Especially by now. I was ready to kill someone. I didn’t deserve to be yelled at–especially for following directions. The PA then led me to a room and said he’d get me a chair. The other woman had brought hers from home. I sat on the floor while I waited. No big deal, right? the chair came and all was well.

Except that the room was about 55 degrees. I shivered. We were instructed to ‘stay close’, so I couldn’t go outside and warm up. Finally, the PA took pity on me when the scene changed and put me in. Yeah, it was warmer, but not by much. Thankfully, I was playing a patient, so I just used my shiver and made it bigger.

After that, we were allowed to go outside. Most of us were looking at our watches, calculating when we got there vs. when lunch should be. It’s usually right at 6 hours from call time. Well, 6 hours was in about fifteen minutes.

And what did they do? They finally let us go because otherwise, they would’ve had to feed us.

Nice.

See, I told you I didn’t want to come off as a whiny bitch, but it happened. This was the worst show I’ve been on in a very long time. Yeah, I was PMSing and I hadn’t had enough caffeine, but still, just the down-talking to the extras was too much to put up with. Everything else was completely forgiveable. And the PAs were absolutely wonderful. In general, it’s usually the boredom that makes a show bad. This time, it really was a few key people in positions of authority.

Word Constipation

One of the ways I know I’m a writer is that ever since I was in high school, if I didn’t write in my journal if not on a story, I’d start to get antsy–sort of like when you’ve had waaaaay too much caffeine in too short of time and your hands start to shake.

Well, for me, my hands shake like I gotta get all the words out. They may not be good words, necessary words, interesting words, but words nonetheless and they have no business being locked inside me when they should be on a page somewhere either physically or electronically.

I’m experiencing this phenomenon today, right now as a matter of fact! If I’m not careful, this entry could end up being several thousand words long. Lucky for both of us, I’m at least reasonably careful.

And I really don’t have much to say, I just needed to get my fingers in motion and get out some of these gol’darn words!

Let me also explain that writers block is much different than word constipation. I never get writers block. I just plain don’t. I’m willing to write a million words of crap until I find where I’m supposed to go. Cutting is easier than adding. Plus, if you already have your book plotted, you know where everything needs to happen and how its going to happen, so there’s no reason to stare at a blank screen, wondering…you already know. I never start a book without at least the first half plotted and the ending decided upon.

Writers block steals time. Word constipation happens when there’s no time to write. See, by having writers block, you’re already sitting there, ready to go, but nothing’s coming. Word constipation happens over time, and there’s plenty coming, but you’re not sitting there, ready to go…no matter how much you want to be!

I know, I know, I should be doing something useful…like writing another novel [I’ve pushed the current one onto the back burner because it needs to simmer a while longer] or building another ugly shirt, but hopefully not as ugly…or even updating my website. Well, I did build a sitemap. That’s something, isn’t it?

Funny how I’ve been getting time in short blasts like this one while I drink my tea, but I can’t find a long enough chunk to get anything else accomplished. Oh well, I suppose that’s the real root of my word constipation. But I’m working through, feeling better now that I’ve written this entry about nothing.

Oh wait!!!! I just thought of something that I’d wanted to post up here. A little about process and why I do things the way I do them. And I learned this from being on a panel at LosCon and then thinking through my own processes.

When Jen and I write as Ashleigh Raine, she’s better at emotional stuff and I’m better at action. We’d just taken that as a rule and worked with our strengths and weaknesses. I can write a damn good demon brawl or car chase, while she can write the big, beautiful climactic hero and heroine admit to each other that, yes, indeed they are hopelessly in love.

As I said, we used to just see this as the way things are and work with it. Well, while listening to Barbara Hambly at LosCon as she mentioned hand-writing certain things because it forced her to slow down and really get into the work, I realized that she was on to something.

I write much faster than Jen. A few posts down, I wrote about being able to write at least 2300 words in an hour. She’s not quite as fast…which is why she captures the emotion better. While writing a car chase, if you put in too much emotion, the scene grinds to a snail’s pace. While writing a climactic love admission scene, if you hurriedly skim over the emotion, there’s not enough depth and the reader doesn’t buy that they’re really in love and might even throw the book across the room because of that.

So, I did a little experiment to see if typing speed had anything to do with all of this.

It did.

I wasn’t surprised, but yet I was. Also, to see if there was much difference, I paid more attention to my thought processes and how I was juggling characters and plot while the words were going onto the page. But, I found that writing action by hand made it–for lack of a better term–suck. Everything came out even flatter than an emotional scene at full speed typing. And the emotional scene was beautiful.

I have since resolved to write everything at full speed for continuity–and because I don’t really write romances unless I’m writing with Jen–then, I’ll print the manuscript and do my editing while paying extra attention to the emotional scenes to the extent of perhaps rewriting them by hand on the printed copy. That seems to be my best course of action for improving my writing. Hopefully, someday, it won’t be so complicated, but at least I’m aware of this particular weakness and am working toward correcting it.

And in the mean time, Ashleigh Raine has a story coming out in a few more weeks in which one of my other strengths is showcased: BAD poetry and alliteration. Click here for an excerpt. But be warned that although campy, the language is strong and not suitable for people under 18 years of age.

Aaaaahhhh… I’m feeling much better now…

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