Source : http://newsblaze.com/story/2009112203014700002.ba/topstory.html

Alice Cooper took his stage name from a message his mother received from a Ouija board.

The rocker originally performed under his real name, Vincent Furnier, until his mother’s dalliance with the occult led him to adopt the name of the group he was singing in.

He explained: “My mother did a Ouija board session and asked, ‘Who is Alice Cooper?’ It spelt out ‘Vincent.’ “

Although the ‘Poison’ hitmaker got his stage name from his mother, he got his love of music from his pastor father.

The singer explained: “My dad and I were the best of friends. He dug music a lot. He loved the British invasion in particular. And he listened to our music too. He knew Alice Cooper wasn’t Satan.”

However, the pair eventually drifted apart because of Alice’s rock ‘n’ roll behaviour.

He explained: “He couldn’t condone the lifestyle of sleeping with every woman in Los Angeles and being an alcoholic.”

More Strange News & Facts

I’ve heard stories of athletes and actors performing with broken fingers and arthritis in their big toes and the flu, and they’re made out to be some sort of super hero because of this.  All I can say is, they better fuckin perform through pain.  They make 20 million dollars to perform.  Let’s see if they can work through pain when they make $200 bucks a week.  For 20 million dollars, I’d deliver furniture with a fuckin gaping chest wound!

I had a dream once. 

I was lying on some sort of black tarp.  My head at one corner, my feet at another.  I couldn’t move my arms, I was completely calm and surrounded by bad men.  A few of them took the three corners of the tarp that weren’t at my head and covered me, leaving my face exposed.  The leader of this group look me in the eyes and said,

“You can pay me what you owe, or take a beating to square your debt”. 

The decision felt like it had already been made for me.  I barely had money to pay bills, let alone this crazy guy.  Without speaking, I sit upright and fix myself into a ball.  They cover my head with the tarp and proceed to kick me.  All over, the pain shoots into my neck, back, shoulders, forearms, hips, thighs, calves and ankles.  My joints ache because they’re locked in place.  When I woke up, the pain remained.  My muscles were sore from the weeks work, my joints and tendons hurt from overactivity, I guess, and yep, I’m still broke. 

We offer this leather sofa at the store.  It’s dual recliner with steel frame construction.  This sofa clears 300 lbs.  I was loading one onto the truck one day.  One hand on the dolly the other holding the frame of the sofa.  When I hit the ramp, the weight of the sofa shifted, it slid on the dolly, and wedged my hand between the two metal frames and fell to the ground.  A tremendous shock shot through my whole forearm.  When I pulled my hand free, there was a line where the sofa frame dug into it.  “Was it broken?  Did it break?  Hell I don’t have the money or insurance to find out, so let’s just say it’s ok”.  While the throbbing started and my hand burned in pain, I noticed that all of my fingers moved freely.  Whew!!  It can’t be broken then.  About fifteen minutes later, the pain was manageable, the throbbing continued but I didn’t want to waste any more time.  We finished the day, with as little pain as possible.  I shifted as much weight of our hall to my other hand.  The next day,

For about three months after the swelling went down, I felt pain when I rubbed my hand.  Now there’s a small bump in there that won’t go away.

Another time, we had delivered a sleeper sofa.  Not exceptionally heavy, maybe 200-250 lbs.  We got through the whole delivery with no problems, but this particular sofa has a felt strap that holds the accent pillows in place.  Normally this felt piece is easily torn off but this one was being stubborn.  So I gripped it tight, pulled straight up, and my entire forearm locked up on me.  Pain shot up my arm like convulsing lightning.  Try as I did, I couldn’t release my grip on the felt strap.  It was like a cramp, of which I have had many, only it hurt ten times more.  I ground my teeth and with my free hand had to pry my fingers loose, as I did, the pain rolled back down my forearm and out of my fingers.  I breathed again in relief.  My partner noticed, but the customer didn’t even turn his head.  Was all that noise just inside my head then?  My arm was incredibly sore for the rest of the day, along with the next two.  I thought everything from nerve damage to tendonitis.  Of course, once again, I couldn’t have it looked at.  It hasn’t happened since, so that’s good.

We’re sub-contracted, so when we don’t work, we don’t get paid.  Me and my partner have worked with the flu.  All the aches and pains and accidents don’t matter.  People need their furniture and my bills need to be paid.

Posted by Ivica Miskovic  http://www.aroundglobe.net/2009/11/michael-jacksons-face-on-baby-scan.html

An image captured in a baby scan has been claimed to be the ‘double’ of Michael Jackson.

Working in that truck, I’ve seen some strange things. 

I’ve never seen a semi rolled over.

I’ve never seen a car on fire driving down the highway.

I’ve never even seen rock formations shaped like baboons.

But by far, leaps and bounds over the rest, the strangest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, let alone in the truck, is a story my friends and family know well.  My partner and I were driving back to the store to load another delivery.  We’re on the highway in town, so we’re going about 70 mph.  We’re talking and carrying on, when THUD!!!  Now, one thing went through my head at once; something broke.  I waited for the truck to shake and fall dead but when we were still moving I knew it wasn’t the truck.  In the passenger seat, I turned to my right to see this;

“WHOOOAA!! What the hell??  Is… Is that a foot?  I… Is that a bird!?!”

“Aw hell!  It’s stuck to the door!!”  We can’t exactly stop the truck.  I’m not rollin the window down to let the wind push it in here.  It’s poor little leg is flappin all fast in the wind as it is.  We drive with it, try as we may to catch our breath.  When we get to the store we get a better look.

Poor thing.  I wonder what went through it’s mind.  If it thinks, it must’ve had time to shit itself before-hand.

I wonder, do animals commit suicide?  Maybe this guy just had his run.. maybe he hasn’t been flying long.  Of course, he managed to live this long flying without any problems.

I thought, if this bird hit two inches higher, and two inches back, it would’ve came through the window and landed on my lap. 

What are the odds???  I don’t know if you’ve seen a truck this size, but there had to be a thousand places on it’s side for this bird to hit…

But it hit in the only space on the truck that would prop it up and keep it in place; between the bars that attach the side mirror…

Not to mention the infinite space around the truck through which the bird could’ve flown…

We later scraped it off the side.. held a modest but lovely ceremony to usher the bird on… then left it in the street under the curb..

Over the course of the next couple weeks, we broke down twice; once 30 miles out of town, the next 90 miles out, I may have broke my hand, my partner got the flu and we couldn’t even dream of $300/week…

Rest in Peace, little Omen bird…

There is a world, a world in which we live in, where not everything is as perfect as we wish it was. But the folks over at the Abu Dhabi Future Energy Company want to change that. They will be in charge of the creation and production of Masdar City, the world’s first city to have a sustainable, zero-carbon, zero-waste ecology. The area, will cover 2.3 square miles, and will be powered by a 40-60 megawatt solar power plant, photovoltaic modules will be stationed on all roofs producing another 130 megawatts, with wind farms built just outside of the city’s borders powering the city with another 20 megawatts.

Masdar also intend on hosting the largest hydrogen power plant in the world, stationed in the United Arab Emirates. It’s water supply will be roughly 60% less than similarly sized communities and will still be enough for all 50,000 inhabitants, 80% of that water will be recycled, with the other 20% being waste water being used for crop irrigation. They also have a nice little waste plan, attempting to reduce it to zero, they will use waste for fertilizer and if an extra power source is needed they will use waste incineration. Metals and plastics will be re-cycled or re-used for other purposes.

As for travel, automobiles are to be outlawed within the city borders, instead the inhabitants of Masdar City will accomplish travel through public mass transits and podcars (personal rapid transit). The city will also be surrounded by a perimeter wall channelling out hot desert winds and instead allowing cooler breezes to roam through it’s streets. Educationally, Masdar City will have the Masdar Institute of Science and Technology (MIST), the little sister to Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT). Below are some pictures of what’s to come.

I hope my mom & friends don’t read this. They don’t seem to check the blog and now it’s really for the better. Everything has gone haywire. I have no clue what’s happening and keep wishing I’d just wake up!

Yesterday, right before the end of work the CTPs (who are mostly really nice now) started all of a sudden to ask me about the new shoes and whether I’d broken the ribbon of one. I did – on Thursday morning when I was trying them on because I was eager to figure out what I should wear for the Friday date – but I hadn’t told *anyone* at all. So, that freaked me out good and proper. Then someone sent me a link to a new “ditch the tech” video with me talking about being wounded and some stuff about the Sara lady and loving her and having my mind wiped by Rossum, and then somebody shot me. I mean, her – the me from the future. I got so upset I thought I was going to throw up. My knees were shaking. I just left the office and got in a cab and told them to take me to Central Park where I was supposed to meet Matt.

So much for getting dressed up and all the big date excitement! I got there early, and just sat on a bench, and stared at the traffic and all the people going in and out of the Plaza, and I so desperately wished I could be any one of them – just not me.

Then Matt showed up. He was carrying flowers again, but when he saw me, he immediately understood something was wrong, so he just scooped me up and held me tight and petted my hair. Then we left the park and the carriages and slowly walked to the first nearby restaurant and sat at the bar and he ordered me a glass of wine so I could calm down and start speaking again.

I told him about the video, about seeing myself die, about how the person in the video knew I’d broken the ribbon, which possibly means that everything they’re saying is true. And, oh my God, I still can’t wrap my mind around the meaning of all that!

Matt got really quiet, then he held my hand and told me that he won’t let anything bad happen to me, that I need to trust him, and he won’t leave my side. I started crying again, so he put my coat on and gently took me outside. We walked just a few blocks and then we were at his building. He’d never taken me to his apartment before, though I knew he lived somewhere close to the park. Inside, it was more of a loft: very bare and eclectic, with a lot of dark antiques and it felt so very posh and effortless that I just wanted to stay there and never leave.

He poured me another glass of wine, we talked some more, and he was assuring me we’d get to the bottom of everything together. Then we were kissing, and I started crying, and he shushed me and led me to his bedroom.

Maybe I came across as too easy or too pathetic, I don’t know. Afterward, he got up and said something about being sorry. I wanted to ask him why he was sorry, but drifted off before I could get the words out.

When I woke up I was on the couch at my place, fully clothed. For a long moment I thought it had all been a dream, but my back hurt horribly and I felt disoriented, and I’m afraid it was all real and that I got my heart broken. I tried calling him and left six messages (pathetic, I know!), but no answer. I also called Liz and texted her and she hasn’t replied either.

I think you know the rest: Robert Hunter, who is apparently Sara Kingsley’s colleague or boss contacted me and asked me to meet him. I am now at his place, where his sweet wife May made me tea and let me use her laptop. They have two very well-behaved children. They’ve offered me to stay with them until all this gets sorted out. Robert will take me back downtown to pack a few things, then I’ll talk to Sara tonight on the phone and figure out what to do.

Thanks to all of you for caring and looking in on me. I keep wanting to give up, because if all this horrible stuff is going to really happen anyway, then what’s the point of trying to fight it? But the videos said we could make a difference and that we should help Sara, so maybe that’s the next thing I have to do. I don’t know. I don’t know anything.

Um…  I guess the Dutch do things a little different.  If this happened in the States there would be a lawsuit tomorrow.  After I watched this I just felt dirty.  I mean, it’s borderline disturbing.  Thanks to Alex for the heads-up on this one.  Or should I say damn you for ruining my weekend.  I don’t know, I’m so confused right now.  I’m just going to curl up in a corner and cry for a while.

Now this is a great suggestion – turn off the box!!!

Yes, this one is all about turning the TV off and doing something else, something better with the time you claw back from the idiot box. That might sound strange to people today – but I enjoy the fact that I don’t watch much television anymore. So much time is wasted in front of the television and there is plenty of other things to do.

To quote a television ad which I believe advertises the virtue of getting out in the world and fishing, etc, ‘that ain’t living.’

Reclaiming time from the box is a great idea.

See also:

www.tvturnoff.org

A response to reading ‘365 Ways to Change the World,’ by Michael Norton

Peruvian police say they have broken up a group who they claim killed people in order to steal their body fat.

Officers say a gang in the remote jungle had been killing people for their fat, draining it from their corpses and offering it on the black market for use in cosmetics.

Eusebio Felix Murga, director of Criminal Police, told a news conference in Lima that the criminal organisation which trafficked “human fat” had been disbanded.

Pictures from a Peruvian police handout video show officers in Huanuco province leading suspects to the spot where they allegedly buried their victims, and unearthing and measuring buried remains.

However, medical experts have expressed doubts about an international black market for human fat, as in most countries it could be obtained so readily and in such amounts from people who are willing and ready to donate it.

- via itn

Four people were arrested in Peru in an investigation into the killing of people for their body fat, which was perhaps sent to Europe to be used in cosmetics.

International authorities said they are looking for at least five other people in the alleged ring, which would lure victims with a job offer and kill them. Body was fat was extracted and sold for about $60,000 a gallon.

The disappearances of 60 people have been linked to the alleged scheme. Peruvian investigators said one of the suspects has been killing for human fat for more than 30 years.

They said they suspected the body fat was being sent to Europe, although no hard link was developed. Some of the at-large suspects are Europeans.

Such fat is regularly used to treat wrinkles but it is usually extracted from another part, such as the stomach or buttocks, of the patient's body. One doctor told The Times of London to use fat from another person could result in a risk of “life-threatening consequences.”

via Fat killers – UPI.com.

An image captured in a baby scan has been claimed to be the ‘double’ of Michael Jackson.

Parents-to-be Dawn Kelley and William Hickman were looking at the ultrasound scan of their unborn baby when they realised it looked like the late pop singer.

Mr Hickman, 29, a window cleaner, said: “I showed my daughter Ami, who’s six, and she saw it straight away, so I thought ‘well if she can see it too it’s not just me seeing things’.”

Mother-of-six Miss Kelley, 34, went for her 20-week scan at Sunderland Royal as normal last month, but doctors could not see the foetus’s stomach or diaphragm.

A few weeks later she was sent to Grindon Lane Walk in Centre for a closer look.

The more powerful scanner there is normally used to examine internal organs so the images it produces much more detailed.

Mr Hickman said: “We were looking at the pictures again, and I just saw Jacko there.

“None of us are really Michael Jackson fans. I mean I like him, but we’re not crazy about him or anything.”

via World around us: Michael Jackson’s ‘face’ on baby scan.

A “devoted husband” who said he killed his wife because he thought she was an intruder has been freed by a judge, who told him he bore no responsibility.

Brian Thomas, 59, admitted killing Christine, 57, in their camper van, but blamed his rare sleep disorder.

Jurors were told they could reach only not guilty, or not guilty by reason of insanity verdicts on a murder charge.

The Swansea Crown Court judge told the jury to declare Mr Thomas, of Neath, not guilty over the Ceredigion death.

The High Court judge, Mr Justice Davis, described Brian Thomas as a “decent man and devoted husband”.

The judge said that from his understanding of his character from what had come out in court he may go away with a sense of guilt about what happened but he underlined a second time: “In the eyes of the law you bear no responsibility for what happened.”

Mr Thomas's brother Raymond called him a loving husband and a family man and said: “Justice has prevailed”.

Raymond Thomas, speaking on the court steps, said: “This is absolutely wonderful.

He went on: “Family and friends are truly delighted by the outcome today. They were a loving couple and always like that together.

‘Highly unusual’

The case, which followed Mrs Thomas’s death in the coastal town of Aberporth, was described as “highly unusual” by prosecuting barrister Paul Thomas.

Jurors were told at the start of the trial that they could reach only two verdicts for the murder charge – not guilty, or not guilty by reason of insanity.

The court heard that tests commissioned by both the prosecution and the defence were carried out on Mr Thomas as he slept following his claims of a sleep disorder.

Both sleep experts agreed his behaviour was consistent with automatism, which meant at the time he killed his wife, his mind had no control over what his body was doing.

But the jury has been told there are two types of automatism: insane automatism and non-insane automatism, which they will have to decide between for their verdict.

In court on Friday morning, however, the prosecution told the jury that it was no longer seeking a special verdict of not guilty by reason of insanity and that there would be no purpose in sending Mr Thomas to a psychiatric hospital. …

via BBC News – Camper van ‘dream killer’ Brian Thomas freed by judge.

It's not what it looks like! Trust me.

I have continued my re-adventure with two more downloadable games, “Noby Noby Boy” and “Zen Pinball”. “Noby Noby Boy” is difficult to define as a game. It is more like a toy from another country. A strange toy that makes no sense to us, but fascinates us with its oddness. In “Noby Noby Boy” the character (Noby Noby Boy) that is being controlled is a worm like “boy” that can run around, be stretched, can jump, and can eat. He moves around by using one analog stick to control his head and another one to control his butt. He can be stretched on command by moving the analog sticks away from one another. Jumping can be for the head and/or the butt by taping R2 and/or L2. When he eats he gets thicker and the more he eats the bigger stuff he can swallow. He starts off only being able to swallow soccer balls, shrubs, fairies, and other random small things. Then after a few minutes of gorging he is able to swallow cars, houses, flying saucers, and other random big stuff. My favorite part of this “game” is the pooping mechanic. Depending on how long Noby Noby Boy is a certain amount of stuff will stay in him. When the room inside of him runs out one of the things he has eaten explodes out of his butt and flies across the level. Pooping can also be done manually by holding in the R2 button. Be careful though because when too many big items are pooped out rapidly Noby Noby Boy’s entire butt will pop off and land on the other side of map. Once this happens each end can still be controlled, but to attach the butt back onto the head the head most eat the butt. To say it simply this game is weird. “Zen Pinball” on the other hand is a much more traditional game. It is just another pinball game. The boards are well designed and fun to play. There are tons of options on camera angles, the angles the boards are at (which changes the speed the ball rolls), and sound setup. The online functionality is easy to use. There are leader boards to look at and people to challenge. I got my ass kicked.

These two games could not contrast any more than they do. “Noby Noby Boy” is full of crazy new ideas and little structure. “Zen Pinball” has a firm foundation is in decades of pinball tradition. It is filled with options but gives no new types of gameplay to the world of pinball. What these games do share is that they are both fun, they are  just fun in different ways. The two games give an enjoyable variety to the world of gaming.

Here is Psalm 109:8: Let his days be few; let another take his office.
Here is Psalm 109:9 Let his children be fatherless, and his wife a widow.

Well, I’ve certainly learned a thing or two lately. Among them, not to post my picture on the internet, or where I have lunch or the like. The CTPs told this information to some woman named Sara Kingsley, who tracked me down and accosted me on the corner of Suffolk & Grand, just as Matt and I were going back to my place from having lunch at an Asian bistro. She was standing in front of Two Boots, and actually recognized me, called out my name and came over to me. Some rather tall guy was with her, and they both looked like they were from a James Bond movie – all impeccable coats and gloves, and ironed everything. Anyway, while she didn’t seem totally crazy, Matt helped me get away very quickly. The woman introduced herself and started telling me how they have reason to believe I’m in danger, etc., and Matt (fast thinker that he is), said something like “Oh look Alex, you’re running late for work” then he hailed down a cab in under 30 seconds. Go, Matt! Lucky too, since catching a free cab is like winning the lotto.

We disengaged quickly, then slid into the cab, told the cabbie my address, and started giggling madly. It really felt like I was being rescued, so I think I might have kissed him a time or ten Back at my apartment, Matt told me that he was getting worried about me, and that the thought of anything happening to me was like someone punching the wind out of him. He looked at me so intensely, took my hands in his, then started saying something, but interrupted himself and said it was too soon for such words. The thing is, it is soon, but I know what he wanted to say, and I think I’m falling in love with him too.

I’ve only had four relationships and the only one in NY so far was with this Irish guy who was more or less of a jerk. Like, when I told him I don’t have sex with people before I have feelings for them, he had the gall of asking twenty minutes later whether I had feelings for him yet. Smooth move, exlax! Anyway, Matt is the exact opposite – a perfect gentleman at every turn, takes such amazing care of me, and most importantly, he dropped everything today and arrived at my place less than 1/2 hr. after I’d called him.

Yeah, and about the morning – some crazy person claimed they were me from the future, contacting me on Twitter. Yup, the future tweets, folks! You heard it here first. It’s utterly ridiculous, but that, together with apprehension over telling my bosses about the intranet being compromised, just sealed the deal on calling in sick. I really don’t want to go to work tomorrow either, but I feel really dishonest lying, plus I can’t ask Matt to take a second day off, and if I stay home alone I’ll only brood and freak out more and probably spend too much time on Twitter.

Tomorrow night, Matt and I are still planning on having our sushi date and maybe going for a movie. Anything good out? He said he would show me a whirlwind time and is meeting me at the entrance to Central Park, right where the horse-drawn carriages are. I mean, sure, I’ve watched Sex & the City a few too many times, but is he perfect or is he perfect?! If you want to sweep a girl off her feet, involving carriages and sushi is always a good plan.

I’m having tea and off to an early bed now. Here’s to a magical tomorrow with zero craziness!

Don’t get your pants in a rile. This one-two blog entry is not going to be the norm. Watch as my ability to update start to weaken. But that’s later. For now, I guess we should smile and be happy…

…Except for one little thing. I live in an apartment, with three other guys. For the sake of their identity, I’ll nickname them. There’s Gopher. Beanstalk. And Pan-Fried.

Not very flattering, yet there they are. Alright. Let’s see. Some context. I am a college student. I know. Dirt poor and don’t know what to do with myself. That seems to be the general mode of thought. Anyway, I’m living with three other guys. Beanstalk is cool. Don’t talk much, but still pretty cool. If we were to give everyone a role in a Western, he would be the mysterious silent stranger. Action speaks louder and all that.

Pan-Fried is, to put it lightly, loud. He would be the town drunk. Not that he drinks or anything. But still, he likes to yell, and scream for little tiny reasons. I suppose this makes him the “fun one” of the bunch.

…and then there’s Gopher. What to say about Gopher? He’s…well…a bit conceited. Let’s put it that way. I know, I act like I’m the sh*t, but this guy thinks he is the sh*t. If anything he’s the town mayor who manages to get kidnapped, shot or both. What would possibly make him into some sort of holier-than-thou jerk? Well…

Let’s put everything into context. Way back when, in the beginning days (all those months ago), he started to take on the role of head cook. Like his way is and will always be the best way of cooking. Raw broccoli? Unheard of. Eating from a can? Not traditional. And when someone does start to cook, he likes to push them in the right direction. By offering tips. Like turn on the fan. Or use more water and all that. As if he was going to eat it. Nothing too big right? Yeah, no. Seeing how he thinks he is the head cook, he expects the other people clean up after him.

This means he would volunteer himself to cook and thinks everyone else should help. Like prepare food. Take out trash. The like. Again, he thinks he is the head cook. Doesn’t help his case when he keeps repeating that he cooks and we pay. Yeah. Slightly more and more annoying. I suppose it all came to head before Halloween. He cooked chili. After commanding (“You pay.”) Beanstalk to pay for the ingredients. And after all that he invites about 6-7 people over to partake in this delicious feast of chili. And where was I? Out exercising with Beanstalk.

So. After we came back, hungry and tired, we encounter the crowd of people. And him telling us there is no more chili. Yeah. What? Took some time, but I got over the fact. But later on, he cooked chicken noodle soup. Yeah, no big deal. Except he saved some in a jar and left out in the open for several days. Then after a week, he told us that whoever he was planning to give it to didn’t want it. He said something along the lines of “You guys eat it or whatever,”

Fast forward to now. About half a month has passed. No one touched the fated jar. Being the curious monkey, I took a whiff. It did smell like chicken noodle. But two things were off. One, it fizzed as I opened it. And some steam came out too. Those things should have warned me to stay away. The freaking liquids were separating! But, being the fool, I took it out and tried a bite. And back out it came, right into the trash.But the taste. Man. It was as if Gopher was brewing a beer out of chicken stock and some noodles happen to fall into the jar.

So naturally I dumped it. Naturally he wanted to know what was going on (the garbage disposal and all that). I told him I was cleaning up after him. I guess not the best way to start a conversation, but I was getting fed up with his sloppy behavior. And lo and behold, I should have asked to dump it. Let me repeat that. I should have asked to dump out nasty brewed soup. As if he wanted to eat it. His reason? “It’s common courtesy.”

Common courtesy, my a**. It was sitting in the fridge for the better part of two weeks. It freaking fizzed. It was spoiled, if I want to assume that another life form didn’t form within its cold womb. Of course I’m going to dump it. Why would I even need to ask? If I see moldy bread, I’m going to dump it. Seriously. I really want to wait til the trash is full and ask him if I can dump the trash into the dumpster. Because I want to be courteous and there might be some tasty mold in there for him to nibble on.

Signing off,

~Chewie23

Hello Dear Readers. I realize it has been a long while since my last post. That is because you do not give me money to write this blog, so I can be extremely negligent and you cannot fire me.

But enough about you…I wanted to alert you all that I am now writing for another website, which you may enjoy. Please click here to see my work on nerdbastards.com and be sure to give me great compliments and encouragement so that I feel special and important!