And we’ll have fun, fun, fun

Until Master packs the tent away. :-(

I don’t even know if I can detail much of anything right now. I think back and it’s all one big happy painful blur of fucking fun.

Fucking being one of the key words.

Cuz we did. A lot. *beams*

I need some time to process and separate, I think.

One thing that I’m sticking on and circling around and that makes my heart pitter-patter is this:

He surreptitiously leads the lamb to slaughter.

I’m not sure what part it is that I’m hung up on exactly. I’m not sure I can even explain it.

Here’s the scenario-

There was a fun little POW/Interrogation scene, in which I think us POW’s were supposed to be tortured into revealing secret information (that we didn’t have) and I think it was supposed to be intense and serious and blah blah blah.

Unfortunately, they captured POW’s like me and my flirty little friend who named Fred Flintstone as our commanding officer and who licked the duct tape off and just generally giggled and had a damn good time.

But that aside, at the end of the interrogation the POW’s were to be executed by the firing squad.

My flirty friend avoided the firing squad by virtue of “I don’t gotta do that” limit listing. So, I was the first ‘victim’. I was marched out, naked except for a thin little skirt (and a protective face mask), placed against the side of a building, arms to my side, and faced 3 people holding guns.

Paintball guns.

First, just lemme interject that I did not willingly volunteer for this. I was willingly volunteered by the fucker that owns my ass. I also did not have the option of opting out of facing the firing squad.

In short, I was pretty fucking terrified. I’ve never played paintball even with the protective body padding. Now I was standing, facing three people ready to shoot, completely unprotected and naked and vulnerable and and and…. you know! Naked!

I was really waiting for, and expecting, someone to call “PSYCH! Just kidding. Bubbye!”

All the way through the ready-aim-fire! sequence, I was waiting to be saved.

Especially because one of the three executioners was my own Master.

It was one of those things where I was convinced he’d step in. Or at the very least, hesitate. Check in with me first? Warn me? Protect me in some fashion?

I don’t know.

What I didn’t expect was the barrage of paintballs that came after the ready-aim-fire! I just really didn’t expect to get shot. And not 20+ times either!

And I know, I know, it’s just paintballs. Not even the most painful thing I’ve experienced at his hand.

Pretty fucking painful, though. Some of the hits bled. Some of them blistered. All of them welted and bruised spectacularly.

I know I’m not explaining this right.

Sometimes he just wraps me up in this cocoon of love and warmth and care and concern.

And then he stands me against a wall, and knows, BELIEVES, that I’ll stand there, naked and vulnerable, won’t run, won’t cover, won’t protest– and shoots me with a paintball gun.

Or sits me in a chair, not a restraint in sight, and hammers six nails through my tits.

I won’t run. He knows I won’t run.

Where does the cocoon go? That’s what I wanna know.

I don’t know if I’m more stuck on the why-the-fuck-don’t-I-run or if it’s his fucking confidence that I’ll submit that’s sticking in my craw.

His lack of hesitating? Lack of compassion?

I am not a painslut. I am not incredibly submissive.

I won’t admit to being that well trained either. But I don’t know what else to pin it on.

I’m afraid this is coming across as a negative thought process and it’s really not negative at all. These aren’t BAD feelings. They’re just… perplexing. Interesting (to me). A little confusing. But not negative.

Maybe it’s just another little slip down the rabbit hole.

Anyway. It’s good to be home. And I mean that in more ways than one.

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Gone Camping!

In the continuing saga of how my menstrual cycle is fucking with my camping plans- I *just* started my period today.

I had 3 whole days of spotting, which I’m attributing to the hot parsley water because I have never in my life spotted for 3 days before my period, and no doubt these 3 days will simply add to the regular 7 days that I usually bleed. It was a gift. Thank you, Mother Nature, you whore.

Haven’t I ever been told not to fuck with Mother Nature??

So, meh, it changes some things but as Master likes to say, it is what it is.

I’m not as excited about camp as I was last year. I’m delighted to be getting a vacation. I’m delighted it’s a kinky vacation. I’m just kinda ‘meh’. Maybe that’ll change once we’re there and the atmosphere sinks in. Maybe I’m sensing that Master is also kinda ‘meh’. Maybe we just need to reconnect.

It’s been a long, hard, stressful year for us. We’ve had to put a lot of things on the back burner just so we can stay afloat, and that takes a toll on things. I feel disconnected from s&m. Service is still strong, but camp isn’t really about service. So I’m a little nervous, a little worried.

I’m sure it’ll be fine, no matter what. I know that I can’t come away disappointed because that is not possible! Y’all really should put Twisted Tryst on your bucket list. It’s absolutely an amazingly fun experience.

So, we’re leaving Wednesday morning, possibly even Tuesday night, coming back on Sunday or Monday. It’s going to be good. Bloody or not. *grumble*

~~*~~

I have a new collar coming. It should be delivered today. It’s one I can’t rip off and throw at him when I’m mad and want to tell him to shove the whole slavery gig up his ass. I’m curious to see if that’ll make any difference to how I feel when I’m wanting to shove the whole gig up his ass.

I’ve heard a lot of talk about the getting-used-to process of eternity type collars so that has me a little apprehensive. Sometimes having things around my neck, especially rigid things, makes me feel all choke-y. Hopefully, we measured correctly and got the right size.

I dunno yet about wearing it when we’re at home, around the kids, etc. They’ll know exactly what it is. I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse, to tell the truth.

They already know what kind of camp we’re going to. Not specifically-exactly what kind of camp, just a general idea of it being adults-only and “one of those weird things you guys do”.

Anyway, I’ve got lots of packing and sorting and planning to do so until next week (unless I get online from camp!), y’all have a great one!

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Guess What?

Go on. Guess!

I think I’m starting my period.

Sometimes I get off to a reallllllllllly slow start, and I’ve been examining the toilet paper for signs of color and I think I’m seeing a smear of color.

Fer realz!

No really though, I am starting. So what that means is I’ll be finishing up by next Thursday/possibly into Friday, which is pretty okay. Plus, I’ll be way over the worst of it before we even leave for camp. My biggest worry was that I’d be starting as we got there and for the first two days, I don’t go far from a bathroom because it is fucking Red Niagra Falls in my panties.

TMI?

Too bad. Deal.

But this will work out just fine.

Of course when I read this comment this morning: “You could wind up oh so lucky with a bloody tampon shoved in your mouth. :)”

…then I had a little moment of “oh golly gee, I hope I’m on my period at camp!”

Because that is just disgusting enough to be hot as fuck.

In other news–

Buppy is doing pretty well. He went potty on the floor that first day but hasn’t since. I don’t know that he’s housebroke necessarily, I’m just taking him out everytime he moves, just about.

He sleeps a lot. A LOT. He seems quite content curled up on your lap, snoozing away.

He loves his walks, though. For a tiny thing, he can sure give a pull on the leash! I’m trying to figure out how to train him to use outside time on the chain as potty time, because he isn’t quite figuring it out. He seems to think outside time means walk, and walk means potty, and chain time means stand at the door and whine.

He plays fetch like a pro, plays tug of war, barks at the door, plays with the cats- who have already gotten over having a dog in the house.

The worst thing so far is that he gets growly and snappy with Babygirl. All she has to do is come near him and he’s unhappy. I’m trying to make friends by letting her feed him his treats and having her hold or throw his toys when we play. He must have had some bad experiences with little kids though because he does not like her AT ALL.

The best thing so far is that he parks himself under the highchair at mealtime. He’s done earning his keep already.

Lessee…

Babygirl is sick. She kept me up til 1 am last night, just crabbing and kinda urpy. She made some noise a couple times after that, fussing and crying but not really waking up. Of course Master rolls me outta bed at Early O’clock this morning and by the time he’d had his breakfast and coffee and was out the door, it was just another 45 minutes before Baby was up for the morning. Awake and sporting a fever, snot running down to her neck and coughing, crying, pale. She’s been a delight all morning long.

I. am. so. tired.

Blech. More later. I can’t type with her wiping snot on my leg. ~gag~

Brb!

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Time’s a’wasting!

The window is closing and still no blood. I even sucked down some god-awful hot parsley water. I’m on the brink of turning my vagina into a garden in a last ditch effort to kick start it. I thought I saw a tinge of pink on the toilet paper, and I thought I had a cramp, but I think that was just wishful thinking.

I’m willing to extend the time to Friday, but then that’s it. Then I’ll have to go to the mooncups or whatever they are, though I tried that once and it was uncomfortable, plus I leaked all around it. No doubt I didn’t insert it right, though I swear I’ve had LOTS of vaginal object insertion practice.

I know you’ve enjoyed this much contemplation on my menstrual cycle. Thank you for listening. :)

I’m starting to get the butterflies regarding going to camp. It’s the same-old, same-old. I get all angsty that he’ll want to do something hard and mean and I’ll wimp out. And then I get all angsty thinking he’ll want to do nothing and treat me like a fragile china doll.

I have no clue which would be worse.

Fact is though, he’s going to do what he’s going to do. Accept it and move on. Meh.

We had a little verbal exchange last night that has left me feeling very unsettled and very… angsty.

Angsty is the word of the day apparently. I do it so well.

We were watching a video of some girl getting beat on and he said something to the effect of “I want to find a girl I can do that to.”

*blink blink blink*

Wtf am I, chopped liver??

I *know* that he meant someone who could take it at the level of the girl in the clip, but you know- I used to be that girl. It’s not my fault that I’m not that girl now. And if he wants that girl back, bring her back. Unless it’s just easier to find someone already there.

It just threw me for a loop and of course I’m going to obsess over it. I do that very well, too.

It kinda makes me want to just give up. Bah.

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I can haz mah pr0n nao?

So, remember about 3 years or so ago when I was selling cd’s of our clips?

Well, seeings as how it’s all been lost, I don’t suppose any of y’all still have that cd? And, if so, could I buy it back from you?

I’m a sad, pathetic, porn-less slave. Take pity on me. Before he gets the bright idea of remaking them all.

Please.

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Buppy, Blood, Bspam and Blaziness

That’s Buppy.

Buppy looks nothing at all like the picture I posted last week. Either my memory/observation skills are that bad or the shelter gave us the wrong dog.

Either way, he’s adorable.

We couldn’t come up with a name that fit. Am wanted Hercules. I wanted Leonidas. B-man wanted Turd (yeah. He’s 15.) Jes didn’t care. Master wanted Jack. And Babygirl called him Kitty.

Probably because our cats are bigger than he is.

In the meantime of no-name, we called him Puppy. He responds to Puppy. Maybe Puppy was his name before. Who knows. Anyway, fascinating story as this is, when Babygirl finally acknowledged that he was indeed a “buppy” and not a kitty, Buppy it became.

~~*~~

So, I have to ask all of you a favor. I need you to help me pray for my period.

I know, I know, it’s an odd request and slightly squicky, but for the first time in my life (since that unplanned pregnancy 5 months after having Jes wherein I conceived Am) (and since I conceived B-man on the day my divorce was final) (Okay, so for the 3rd time in my life), I NEED my period to start. Preferably NOW. At least sometime between today and Thursday at the latest.

Pray for blood. I’ll even take PMDD, wicked cramps and passing clots if I gotta. I just need to start so that I’m finished by next Wednesday which is the day that we leave for Twisted Tryst!!!!! Woot!

Otherwise, I’m due to start the day we leave. Which would put a serious damper on my fun activities. A SERIOUS RED DAMPER!!

If I started taking birth control pills now, would I be able to hold it off? Or would I just start spotting because I’m starting mid-cycle? This is an emergency of epic proportions. I need to bleed now, or I need to not bleed until September. No inbetween bleeding.

Chant with me. BleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleedBleed

~~*~~

Just a quick note about comments: If you posted one that never shows up, let me know. I’m currently getting a wave of spam here on the blog (like 100 to 200 a day). Most of it is being caught by the spam folder so all I have to do is empty the folder. However, it’s not uncommon for a comment to end up in the spam folder, too. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to read through 200 comments looking for the one that shouldn’t be there. I’m just dumping the folder without looking. So give me a head’s up, or else forgive me for deleting and know that it’s not intentional. I loves ya. Honest.

~~*~~

My house is a wreck. My god. I was so so tired yesterday. Just one of those days where it feels like someone sucked the life right out of me. I even took a two hour nap when Babygirl went down for hers, and I rarely sleep midday. So, I did nothing and it shows. It doesn’t take but a couple of hours of not being diligent with the housework before things start to pile up. Apparently, we are slobs. *nods*

I apologized probably 10 times to Master for being so useless. He poo-pooed the thought and told me that everyone has days like that… SOMETIMES. He really stressed the SOMETIMES. Obviously, today had better be better than yesterday. Maybe I should have y’all pray for energy AND blood.

I’ve also been sucking ass at cooking the last few days. I dunno, sometimes I just lose interest. I get so tired of trying to think of meals, of cooking the same thing over and over, and of the expense of groceries that I start avoiding the kitchen. I need to get my shit together.

I also need to lose about 30 pounds by next week Wednesday.

Set achievable goals!

~~*~~

Annnnd she’s awake. My time here is done. Later taters!

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Facebook me!

So I JUST signed up for Facebook. Me and the Man. We’re sharing. Cuz we’re close like that.

Leesa, that’d be why we aren’t friends there. Yet. Because I just got it.

(In the vein of being behind the times, there’s this great little movie that I watched the other night called Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Have you heard of it? As ufo movies go, it’s a’ite. You should watch it. *nods*)

So, anyway. I’m clueless. Now what do I do with it??

And who are all these people that Facebook is telling me to friend?! I don’t even know who they are!

(I’m completely wired tonight. It’s friggin midnight and I’m jittering. I had a Mt. Dew. He went to bed and left me out here all alone to jitter without irritating him.)

But back to Facebook. I’m excited! I’m networking! If I could just figure out how…

Oh! We are Scottnkaya. Someone be my friend before I have to eat worms.

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Breast Cancer Awareness

I don’t know anyone who hasn’t been touched by cancer in some way. For myself, I have a grandfather who passed from cancer, a sister in law who passed from cancer, and Master’s mother passed from cancer. One of my favorite readers lost a wife to cancer not so awfully long ago.

Yet, people shy away from talking about cancer. It’s painful. It’s scary. It, perhaps, makes people wonder if they’re next.

As I rapidly approach my 40th birthday, I can’t stop thinking about my first mammogram. I’m apprehensive, nervous. Not of the pain (srsly. come on. Me and boobie pain are like THIS >.<), but of the results. According to BreastCancer.org, "in 2009, an estimated 192,370 new cases of invasive breast cancer were expected to be diagnosed in women in the U.S., along with 62,280 new cases of non-invasive (in situ) breast cancer" and "Breast cancer incidence in women in the United States is 1 in 8".

I don't like those numbers. For a long time I believed I wasn't at a big risk for breast cancer because it isn't hereditary in my family. And then I found this out: “90% of breast cancers are due not to heredity, but to genetic abnormalities that happen as a result of the aging process and life in general.”

90%.

I *really* don’t like that number.

So when I was asked to help participate in a little bit of social awareness for breast cancer, I didn’t hesitate.

It’s not much. You don’t even have to donate. You don’t have to walk or wear pink or post pictures of your tits (though if you wanted to do any of those things, that would be AWESOME, too!)

The folks over at Aren’t We Naughty are pledging a donation to the Breast Cancer Foundation. All they– all I– am asking you to do is to go to your Facebook page, and like these folks right here: http://www.facebook.com/awnstore

Then tell all of your Facebook friends to do the same.

The more people who like them and what they are doing, the bigger the donation will be.

Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy, my friends!

Also, if you go to Aren’t We Naughty and take this fun little quiz, you get a 1% discount in their online store for every correct answer. :D

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Redefining the World, One Word at a Time

I LOVE THIS!

Paintoy was one of the very first bdsm porn sites that I got myself a paid membership to way back before I’d ever had so much as a paddle on my ass. I knew even before I started that I wasn’t interested in slap and tickle, fake moans and feather floggers. If there weren’t screams, genuine tears, and marks that rose up, then no thanks. Paintoy delivers alla that, and more. A lot more. It is definitely my favorite for extreme bdsm content.

However, I didn’t come here to plug the site. I came here to plug the site owner. Because he made that picture and posted it on Fet and it just tickled me pink. :)

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Casa de cunt

It’s been a busy couple of days at teh casa de cunt.

Not that I could pinpoint any one thing that’s kept me busy. It’s been a cumulative sort of busy. We went to a little renaissance fair for a couple of hours and he bought two rabbit furs that make for amazing sensation play. I know my vegetarian friends will shudder at how I think it’s erotic to have a dead animal rubbed over my freshly whipped and hotly welted skin, but there it is. It feels fucking fantastic. :P

~~*~~

Then we had Jack and Jill and another Domme and another sub over for a cookout. I grilled out chicken, made a spinach-strawberry salad, steamed veggies, a potato casserole, and for dessert, I grilled pears and pineapple, served with a raspberry drizzle (that was more of a raspberry splosh than a fancy-shmancy drizzle) (The grilled pineapple was yum, the pears were meh)(The chicken was dry, the casserole was a hit) (The salad was nom).

We had a great time. Keeping company with other kinky folks is pretty fucking awesome. It just kind of boosts things up.

~~*~~

We went to an outdoor wedding reception garden party which was awesome. There were flowers everywhere. It was so purty. And there was a chocolate fountain.

A CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN.

So I convinced Teh Man that fruit dipped in chocolate was still healthy diet foods and he let me have some. Idn’t he a doll?

~~*~~

I also had a house to clean (for that super-super part-time not-really-a-job job that I have) but it was an easy one to do. Not nearly as filthy as some of them that I’ve done. She said she’ll have another house for me in a week or two.

~~*~~

Speaking of jobs, I have a possible line on a real part-time cleaning job that he (we) can’t seem to decide if I should try and get it or not.

It’s office/factory cleaning, about 20 hours a week, afternoons, M-F.

My hesitation is over Babygirl. I’m incredibly reluctant to put her in daycare having had a bad daycare experience when my girls were babies. I’m VERY distrustful of babysitters. Not only that, but since the job is just minimum wage and a daycare charges about half that per kid, I’m not sure that the little financial gain is worth the worry of Babygirl being there.

His hesitation is mostly domly-spoiled man stuff. He doesn’t care about the money, and though he shares some worry about daycare he’s never had a bad daycare experience (or any experience for that matter) so that’s not his main concern. He’s pretty much thinking of “the time and energy to go clean for a couple of hours every day will have to come from somewhere and how much you wanna bet that somewhere will be ME”. Because it can’t come from Baby, and it really can’t come from the cooking and cleaning I have to do here, sooooo…..

Not that having a job and raising kids and doing your own housework while still being a service-sex slave isn’t possible. I know most of y’all do it and do it well. It’s just the very reason he pulled me out of work in the first place was precisely because he didn’t want to share that time and energy anymore than he had to.

So, you’re probably wondering why we’re even considering the job at all, huh?

Well. I don’t rightly know, to be honest. It’s hard, I guess, to turn down easy money. But a decision has to be made shortly or I’m gonna lose it anyway. He keeps going back and forth on it. We’ll see I suppose.

~~*~~

Master adopted me a chihuahua from the humane society.

I know, right? Whiskey-tango-foxtrot, Chuck?

See, what happened was Jes came home the other morning with a stray dog that was sitting on the side of the road. I called in to report a lost pet right away and within a few hours, the owners had called and were making arrangements to pick it up. In the meantime though, we all got a serious case of puppy fever.

It’s been almost a year and a half since we put Master’s baby down. He’d not even seriously considered getting another dog until he had that little stray pattering about the house. He almost suggested that I not even call it in to report it, but of course that’s not the right thing to do. The dog was obviously someone’s pet that got lost and not a real stray. He was trained and too friendly. Had the owners not called though, we’d have kept it, I’m sure.

Anyway. The dog went home and Master suggested that I browse the humane society’s website, which it just so happens I was doing even as he spoke the words, and we zipped on over there to meet the pooches.

Master’s always been partial to bigger dogs so that was the game plan when we went in. Meet the dogs, play a little bit, see what they have that meets his wants.

And then we left having adopted a chihuahua. There is just no telling, yanno?

I don’t know his name just yet. He’s definitely not keeping his shelter name. It just so happens to be the same name as one of my childhood abusers. So, yeah. NOT. I need some time with him to get his personality. He’s a long-haired one, looks something like this, only I don’t think he had all that white on him:

We don’t have him home yet. He has to get his vet stuff finished. He’s not a puppy, he’s 6 years old. He was transferred from another shelter where he came in as a stray because he was set to be put down, and I guess sometimes before they euthanize, they’ll give them a chance in another location.

I’m a little worried. His age, plus the fact that he was a stray and then a shelter dog- I’m thinking housebreaking might be a job. But he’s not anti-social, he walked on a leash. He was friendly, he didn’t bark much, didn’t seem to care about the shelter cats, and he passed all of his testing. No food aggression, no aggression apparent to kids.

Anyway, I’m already planning ways to block him in the kitchen at first. That’s not as easy as a babygate in the doorway; we have a semi-open floor plan. But I definitely want him off the carpet and away from the baby for awhile. Baby thinks puppies are the neatest thing since fig newtons.

~~*~~

We didn’t get that house I mentioned last week. It went to the people before us. Which was okay since right before we were notified, Master poo-pooed the idea of moving anyway. He went on to talk about how he moved here precisely because he wanted this isolation, which, since we haven’t talked about our future M/s plans for so long, was kind of nice to hear. I’d kind of thought he’d maybe moved away from his interest in the whole ‘cunt in a cage’ concept, but apparently not.

Not that we’re incredibly isolated anymore either. When we moved here, there were a scant 3 houses down this road. In the last two years, the builder has added 4 or 5 more. There’s a fair bit of traffic these days, including people just strolling or biking along. But not all is lost as we still have the acreage that came with the house which secludes us a little bit.

So, yay for that, even if I didn’t get my 7 bedroom, double living room, 2 garage, Victorian monster with the wrap-around porch. I still have a 5 bedroom, 3 bath, with a deck and a terrific future cunt cupboard under the stairs. *beams*

~~*~~

I was just talking to Jill about the ebb and flow of the more noticeable activities of M/s, and had remarked that Master was in the flow portion of the ebb-n-flow. He’s been stricter, harsher, firmer.

I’m not complaining. I’m enjoying the fuck out of it.

I think he’s enjoying the fuck, period.

The other day, the planets, stars and moon aligned and we had no kids for a short time. At first neither of us were aware of the gift that I had fallen in our laps. All of a sudden, he came stomping into the living room, looking all pissed off, looked at me innocently sitting on the couch reading a book and snapped “What the fuck are you doing?”

Which just about had me pissing in my panties as I searched my mind for just what exactly the fuck I was apparently supposed to be doing.

“Um. I don’t know?” was my intelligent reply.

“We have no kids here. Get your ass in the bedroom. Why aren’t we fucking?”

“I don’t know!” was my much happier (and hella relieved) reply.

So I went and we did and it were grand.

Then, a day or so later, it was my turn. We were laying in bed reading our books and it dawned on me that we should be fucking so I turned to him and said “Hey. You wanna fuck?” and by way of answering he whipped the sheet off his body and pushed my head down to his dick.

I took that as a yes.

Then we had incredible, amazing, sweaty, hot, upside down sex that made my eyes roll and my toes curl and made him collapse on top of me and giggle (yes. I know. He GIGGLED. A manly-domly giggle but a giggle nonetheless) as he said “That. Was. AWESOME!” (just like that kid on the tricycle at the of The Incredibles).

And then just last night I was in the shower when he came in, yanked the door open, pushed me down to my knees and spurted all over my (freshly washed *sigh*) face and hair. And then he left.

Then I whined because it got in my eye and my eye got all stinging and bloodshot, which he thought was funny so he tried to take a picture of it and I couldn’t keep my eye open for the flash of the camera so he was pinning me down and trying to pry my eye open while flashing the camera directly in it and I told him he was gonna blind me and that was *for sure* against the rules of bdsm and he’d be kicked outta the SSC club if he didn’t stop- and then I saw flashbulbs for ages.

The picture is fucking hilarious, but also fucking hideous and no, no you cannot see it.

~~*~~

Also, it looks like we’re gonna make it to Twisted Tryst. I’m trying not to get my hopes up too far, and he’s being real careful to temper all talk about it with the disclaimer of “but things come up and we might not..”

However!

We’re fucking going.

The End.

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