I'm Still Here

Wow, I haven't written since November 11th. That was a long time ago and given the subject of my last post you may be assuming that I've been busy hibernating, but in actuality quite the opposite is true. I haven't stopped doing stuff for a month now. It seems pointless to post photos on here since I'm fairly certain that everyone who reads this blog is also a friend of mine on Facebook, but I'm doing it anyway. So here's my month in photos.

I decorated my house

I made a ton of Christmas cookies 

I made a wreath

It snowed

I got a new computer

I went to the zoo

Ok, it's true there are some pictures of my actual Christmas, but they're still on my camera waiting patiently to be transferred onto the computer. Maybe they'll surface someday.

Hibernation

I'm feeling very impatient with our weather right now. Currently, it's 67 degrees on November 11th. This should not be.

The problem is, weeks ago when it actually got cold and I had to wear a coat, my brain went into winter mode. Now the weather wants me back into summer mode and I can't do it. Once I'm in winter mode, there's no going back.

It's at this time of year that I get excited about winter—the possibility of snow, the Christmas music, and most of all the guilt-free anti-socialness. But when it's 67 degrees out, it's not so guilt free.

The great thing about cold weather is it's an excuse to not have to talk to people. Don't get me wrong, I generally like people. But I also like to have excuses to be alone. Maybe it's too cold to go to the store, so I just scrounge up some mac & cheese for dinner. Or maybe the roads are too dangerous to go out for lunch so I'll just stay at my desk and watch Hulu.

This may be unhealthy but just like the bears, I like to hibernate. Except when it's 67 degrees outside, hibernation just makes you a jerk.

New-Fangled Computers

What I'm about to tell you will unfortunately reveal the full extent of my dorkiness. But I'm going to tell you anyway, because it's really important.

Sometimes, on Saturday nights from 9-11pm, Scott and I watch Svengoolie. Only when we're not doing something cool, like bowling. What is Svengoolie, you ask? Svengoolie is this guy on Channel 26 the U who has been around probably since before I was alive, dressed up like a vampire. What he does is show old, sort of scary movies and kind of talks about them. Sometimes he sings dumb songs about them. Sometimes he does weird little skits about them. And always, at the end of the show, people throw rubber chickens at him. Also, he's from Berwyn.

I know, this sounds ridiculous. And it is. But I like the movies he shows. Oldies like The Tingler, House on Haunted Hill, and Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein. And sometimes if you're lucky, they show a newer movie with swear words that are dubbed by Svengoolie himself. It's pure joy.

But the best part about watching Svengoolie is this commercial they show every time. It's for an exclusive Svengoolie t-shirt. The whole thing is ridiculous, but the best part is the old lady who shows up about 30 seconds in. I laugh till I cry every time.

Of Old Ladies and Bare Butts

In an effort to get into better shape, I joined a gym where I swim every day after work. Swimming is pure joy for me, but apparently nobody else my age feels this way. Once again, I'm swimming with old people.

Don't get me wrong, I don't mind swimming with old people. Most of the things I enjoy doing involve more old people than young people. And I understand that the pool provides the perfect exercise for their fragile bones.

A quality that I really admire in old people is their confidence. Gone are their self-conscious younger years. This is their time to do what they want, who cares what anyone else thinks? I can't wait till I'm old.

But this no-nonsense attitude makes for some ... special moments in the locker room. As a result of their old person freedom, they're not so concerned about covering up when changing in and out of their bathing suits.

Now, a young person can make the bathing suit change pretty quick, before too many people come wandering by. But old ladies, they take their sweet time. They need to sit down. They need to very carefully put on each article of clothing. And they'll probably want to chat, which is detrimental to the quick change.

One time, I walked by the hallway in the locker room that houses the little bathing suit dryer. Lo and behold, I got an eyeful of old lady bare butt. This woman literally stripped down at the dryer and threw her suit in. It takes at least a minute to get ones suit dry. One minute. That's a long time when you're baring your butt for the world to see. Thank heavens she at least had the decency to cover up her front with a small gym towel.

Not quite as extreme, but still funny, one day I was attempting to make my quick change after a swim when an old lady came and sat on the bench next to me, preparing for her long change. I went about my business, trying to get finished as fast as possible when the old lady complimented me on the lovely pink color of my bra. I had mixed feelings. I appreciated bonding with this old lady over pink things. I just kind of wished the pink thing wasn't my bra.

Toilet Coverer

Last weekend, while on a little getaway with friends, an interesting and disturbing topic came up. It all started when I yelled at the boys to put the seat down after they used the facilities. We (the girls) needed to explain to them the painful consequences of a toilet left wide-open. Namely, that we will fall in.

This lead to a long and strange analysis of why girls don't check the toilet seat before sitting down and the conclusion (by the boys) that girls should be taught, from a young age, to check the toilet seat.

Clearly, that is ridiculous, but it did get me wondering why I don't check. Certainly there have been times when I have noticed the seat up. But there have been plenty of other times when I was oblivious and fell right in. Or worse, when the entire toilet cover was down, making for an awkward surprise.

Incidentally, I married a man who's very dedicated to putting both the toilet seat and cover down. I thought this was overkill. I mean really, who puts the cover down every time they go to the bathroom?

For the first couple months of our marriage I rolled my eyes at his excessive toilet covering. In an act of wifely defiance I refused to ever put the cover down. Then one day I dropped my tooth brush in the toilet. Now I'm a coverer.

The Boring Date

So I've been married a couple months now and it's great and fun and all that jazz. But also, it's kinda boring. I don't feel bored because I so enjoy being with my husband, but the things we do together could more often than not be classified as "boring." Things like sitting on the couch doing nothing, going grocery shopping, cleaning the house. They're all boring things that I did before I was married, but now we just get to do them together which is great.

However, I think some people are expecting constant fun and excitement in marriage. These people are going to be disappointed. So I decided before any of you get married, you should take your significant other on a "boring date." It's sort of like a marriage test. You may or may not want to tell your significant other about this "boring date" or the reasons behind it.

I remember my first boring date with Scott. I was at his apartment and we'd made some average joe type dinner and we sat down to eat at the table. We just sat there, eating, not really talking, kind of staring into space. I realized that when we got married there would be many more of these moments. And I was totally OK with that. Successful boring date!

It's kind of like this bit of genius from Best in Show:

So don't be afraid of the boring date. Stay in. Sit together like old people. Clean the bathroom. Take an hour to discuss where you want to go for dinner only to end up staying at home. It'll be worth it when you're married and fully prepared for the boring times ahead. 


Boring Date. Tell your friends.

Welcome to The Club

Scott and I joined Sam's Club last week. We only really did it because they were running a promotion where we got a $20 gift card for joining. And when the yearly fee is only $40, that's a pretty good deal. So last night we made our first real shopping trip to Sam's.

For me, shopping at Sam's is a bit of an emotional roller coaster. I feel excited that I can potentially get a lot for my money. I feel angry because I can also potentially waste a huge amount of money. I feel disgusted by the 120 pack of Ho-Hos. I feel nauseous when I see the gallon jar of mayonnaise. And I feel a little terrified when I see how easily we spent $100.

So I'm trying to be very careful with my Sam's shopping. Many things I want to buy come in such large quantities that I won't be able to finish them before they go bad and I'll just end up wasting money. This must be avoided.

However, lots of the stuff I can buy there will last forever. Take our laundry detergent. I paid about $15 for a 140 load pack of powder detergent. That's almost 3 loads a week for a year.

Or our garbage bags. We purchased 150 garbage bags for $9. We only use maybe one bag a week right now. At this rate, we will literally have these same bags for 3 years. These are the bags I may use to dispose of the leftovers from my 30th birthday cake. Or our childrens' diapers. We'll have survived (or not) the end of the world in 2012 before we use up these bags. The world could be a completely different place in three years, but one thing's for sure: we'll still be using our 150 ct. drawstring Sam's Club Tall Kitchen Bags. And that makes me feel ... a little weird.

Disastrous Me

So apparently I'm kind of a disaster. Not in a very serious sort of way or anything. Just in a way that I tend to create small disasters whenever I do something. I didn't really realize this about myself until I married a non-disastrous man. He doesn't spill stuff or knock stuff over or drop food on the kitchen floor. It's weird.

My worst offenses are in the kitchen. If I'm just cooking something in the oven, it's no big deal. Maybe I spill a little over the side, but nothing too disrupting. Stuff on the stove is a little more of a disaster. I may fling a little beef out of the frying pan or swish my pasta around a little too vigorously, requiring some post-cooking stove top cleanup. (Sidenote: I really like stirring things and sometimes I just get a little too excited about it.)

But by far the worst kitchen messes come with baking. Mostly because baking typically involves mixing some light, powdery substances that much too easily go flying out of the bowl and onto the floor, counter top, and/or me. Times ten if I'm using a hand mixer. Luckily, I got a couple aprons as wedding gifts.

But a couple weeks ago I found myself a new disaster waiting to happen: the garden hose. We moved into the house we're renting about a month ago and this hose as been sitting outside the back door untouched since then (and for who knows how long before we moved in). But this weekend I noticed that our flowers outside were looking a little sad after awhile without rain, so I thought it would be a great time to fire up the hose, while Scott neatly and quietly took care of some handyman jobs in the house.

I made my way outside and found the hose unplugged from the spout. No problem, just twist it on. When I felt it was sufficiently twisted, I turned the handle slightly and the water started without a problem. Then I felt a little moisture on my ankle and noticed that the hose was spraying a bit where it was attached to a second hose for extra length. It didn't seem to be leaking too much, so I turned the water on full blast. well, I apparently hadn't secured the hose to the spout quite enough and water began squirting out at me. No biggie, I turned the water off before I got too soaked.

That's when our neighbor (Howard?) noticed the disaster I was causing and came to my rescue. He helped me tighten the hose and even commented that washer in there must not be doing it's job which made me feel a little less dumb.

So with the water on and excessive leaking under control, I squeezed the nozzle on the hose and, happy day, water came out full force. Then I stopped squeezing. But the water didn't stop. No worries, a broken nozzle could be dealt with. So I went on my way watering my flowers, but didn't get too far on account of the 10 different knots that the hose was in. Despite this setback, I managed to water all my flowers.

I dragged the hose back to the door and attempted to untangle it, but considering it was wet and muddy I just ended up with wet, wet muddy clothes and a tangled hose. I finally gave up and went inside, leaving this mess in my wake:

Meanwhile, after we signed the lease on this house, I suggested on a number of occasions that we get one of the hose wrapper things, or at least something to hang it on. But Scott always insisted that we didn't need one. Strangely, even after my hose incident, he still insists we don't need one and that he can teach me how to properly roll the hose up. I'm pretty sure I can change his mind.

Cheap Weddings

During my wedding planning days, I was constantly coming up with great wedding blog topics. I planned to write about all my brilliant money saving ideas, do it yourself projects, and about how weddings aren't about spending thousands of dollars on food and napkins and favors and stupid little things that nobody's ever even going to remember so why don't we just focus on the getting married part!! But now that it's all over I'm less inspired.

However, I thought I should just share with the world that I had a cheap wedding and that's ok. Well "cheap" might be relative, but in wedding world where the average cost of a wedding is $24,000, mine was quite reasonable. The wedding industry doesn't want you to think that this is possible, but it is. And here's how:

Rule #1. Pray. You're gonna need it. Also God makes stuff happen, so that's cool.

Rule #2. Don't listen to the wedding industry. It is seriously evil. It will make you pay double (or triple or quadruple) for everything just because it's for a wedding. It will also try to convince you that if you don't do things the "right" (most expensive) way, you're wedding's going to be a terrible embarrassment for you and your family. But it won't be. Do whatever you want. My reception was movie themed and I served popcorn and movie candy as appetizers. Tacky? Maybe. Delicious? Yes.

Rule #3. Don't listen to other people. Unless, of course, they are your finace or parents or whoever is helping pay for the wedding. But beyond that, just take everyone's opinions with a grain of salt. And there will be opinions. Hundreds and hundreds of them. From people you barely even know who think they know what your wedding should be like. They will criticize your brilliant ideas and tell you that you really need to include this one really little detail because it's sooooo important and everyone else does it. This was the #1 cause of any breakdowns I may have had while planning.

Rule #4. Go to Hobby Lobby. Seriously, I love that place. They regularly put their wedding stuff on sale and just going in there is inspirational!

Rule #5. Ask friends and family to do stuff for you. Ok, this one's a little bit hard because some of us don't love asking people to do things or don't have a wonderful family who's always ready to help. Luckily, I am blessed with a great family and group of friends who were excited to help. I had my uncle's band play at the reception, my cousin and uncle sing at the ceremony, my bridesmaids put together my flowers and designed my invitations, my mom printed all of our invitations and programs, my friend Laura made my cakes, the list goes on. It was a team effort. But I much preferred working with my friends and family instead of random people that I don't know. It gave everything an intimate feel and saved money!

Rule #6. Do your research. This may be time consuming, but if you want to save money it'll be worth it. I looked at plenty of over-priced reception venues before finding the one we settled on which I randomly discovered on a caterer's website. I looked into wholesale flowers and found I could order them very reasonably from the grocery store. I perused paper sites and ordered samples to try out for my invitations. It's some extra work, but I was really happy with everything I found. And the internet can tell you how to basically do anything.

Rule #7. Don't be afraid to do things the "wrong way." Most of all the little wedding traditions everyone holds so dear are actually kind of dumb and certainly optional. If you don't get any meaning out of them, don't do them, but you're going to need some confidence. If you're the type to give in the peer pressure, this cheap wedding stuff might not be for you. I had my reception at a park district senior center. It even said "Senior Center" on the huge sign out in front. But I sucked it up because it was a really nice place and very reasonable. I didn't have an open bar. I didn't do a bouquet or garter toss. I didn't do everything the church wedding coordinator told me to do. I had a rather casual movie themed reception. I bought popcorn at the dollar store. Yes, I broke many, many "rules" but people had fun and I got married and that's all that matters!

Rule #8. Be yourself. I got lots of comments about how our wedding was so "us" and I really like that. It wasn't some impersonal event that a wedding planner put together. It was clear that we carefully picked each detail and our personalities came through in it. And most of the time the reason it was so "us" is because we didn't do what was typical. Just do what you think is fun.

So there you go. That's all I could come up with for now. Cheap weddings. Don't be afraid of them.

The Real Toy Story

Last night, my husband (!) and I went to see Toy Story 3. It was great, of course, and I almost cried at the end. Then I felt really stupid for almost crying at the end because it's a movie about toys. Inanimate objects were making me cry and that's embarrassing. They were also making me feel guilty for leaving all my beloved toys in a box out in the garage. How could I allow these stupid movie toys to play with my emotions like this?!

So, to save you all the embarrassment of almost crying at a movie about toys, I'm going to summarize the Toy Story trilogy for you in very basic terms to make it as emotionless as possible. Warning: may contain some spoilers.

Boy gets toys
Boy plays with toys
Toys get lost
Toys get found
Boy grows up
Boy gives toys away
Toys get new owner
The end.

Ok, hopefully that put some things in perspective for you. I suggest that you see Toy Story 3 because it's good and lots of fun, but don't get sucked in!! Those toys aren't real, they don't have emotions, and they're not sad when you leave them in the attic or donate them to a daycare. Also, Ken is not that gay.

Taco Taco Bo Baco

Last night I was doing some Sweatin' to the Oldies (let's not get hung up on this) and one of the songs that they were dancing/sweating to was The Name Game. If you've never done Sweatin' to the Oldies, they basically just have a cheezy band cover a bunch of old songs while Richard Simmons and his crew dance about to them. They also make the songs drag on and on so they're about twice as long as the originals.

So they were singing The Name Game and once they were finished singing the original version, they started throwing in random names to make the song as long as humanly possible and maximize its sweating potential. They went through a few weird 80's names and then came to "Taco." At first I thought nothing of this. Then I had an uncontrollable craving for a taco. While exercising.

Bad move Sweatin' to the Oldies! No doubt they've led many hopeful weight losers astray with their nonchalant mention of tacos during their work outs. I can't believe Richard Simmons himself didn't catch this horrible blunder. But it was the 80's and maybe everyone's mind was more on Taco the artist and not taco the food.

Barbie Is not My Role Model

I would like to clear something up. Lots of people get all worked up about Barbie and her unrealistic appearance and superficial little careers and enormous boobs and so on. They say that she's a role model for girls and they're negatively affected by her unattainable figure and fancy career choices and that's why we're all fat and self conscious and insecure. I say no.

I spent countless hours of my childhood playing with Barbie and never once considered her a role model. She's a doll. Something I could dress up in ugly 80's dresses and give atrocious, non-reversable haircuts. Not something that gave me my self-worth or influenced my feelings about myself. I really didn't care if my Barbie was a flight attendant or doctor or garbage woman because seconds after I opened her, her "career" clothes were tossed into my ever growing mound of Barbie clothes and she was instantly as naked as the day she was born.

If anything, I projected my dreams onto my Barbies. Sometimes I'd make them singers. Sometimes I'd make them moms. Sometimes they'd be marrying Ken. And most of the time they were all three. I dressed them up the way I wanted in outfits that probably didn't match. I made them live out the little pretend life I chose for them.

It never once occurred to me that Barbie was skinny. Or that I should ever even look like that. Or that I should be a doctor because my Barbie was. She was just my doll that I could put lots of dresses on and make all pretty. That's what dolls are for. It's the people on TV and in movies that make me feel fat. Real actual living people. Not a doll.

I often wonder if the people who think Barbie is evil ever actually played with them as kids because they clearly have no understanding of the fun of Barbie. I suppose it's possible that they're just the Lisa Simpons of the world who, as 6-year-olds, sat around analyzing the affects their Barbies were having on them, finally deciding they were causing feelings of inadequacy before moving on to less offensive toys. This sounds like a depressing, boring childhood.

So everyone needs to just calm down. It's just a doll. Barbie was never such a destructive force until we made her one. Let's just let her be a toy instead of some big commentary on our society. There may be some young girls out there who have been adversely affected by their Barbie dolls, but if this is really happening, it seems to me that would only be pointing to a deeper issue. One that can't be fixed by something as simple as taking away a kid's dolls.

Ok, I will end my rant now. Let's just talk about how fun Barbies are. All my old ones are still in my mother's garage. I had a Little Mermaid one whose legs turned green after I took her in the bathtub with her fin on. It was worth it.

Then there was the one whose hair I cut so short (maybe by accident) that I started using her as a Ken doll instead. This sounds disturbing, but it's not. A little girl never ever has enough Ken dolls, so we do some crazy things out of desperation.

More recently, I've collected a few of the My Fair Lady Barbies. Scott bought me two of them a couple years ago for my birthday, shortly after we started dating. That might be when I knew I was going to marry him.

These are special to me because as a child I was obsessed with My Fair Lady and all I wanted was an Eliza doll. Apparently they were impossible to find in 1987, so I never got one. Now I have four. And it's heavenly.

Creepy Easter

Here are some things that creeped me out this Easter:

This hilarious picture from Awkwardfamilyphotos.com


And this lamb cake that was left on our free food counter at work:


It's been there for probably 4 hours so far today and nobody has touched it except for when I pulled it out to take a picture and ate one jelly bean. This, of course, is unheard of as most food on that counter is gone within an hour.

When did Easter get so creepy?

Special Delivery

Tonight I came home to a package waiting for me at the front door. It was some super cute shoes I ordered last week. Then, much to my horror, I noticed something sitting on top of my package: a baggie filled with dog poo. There was also a note that read:

It is against city ordinance to let your dog run around with out a leash. And leave turds in everyone's yard.

After laughing at the word "turd" for a few minutes, I realized I was going to have to remove this bag of poo from my package. The worst part was it wasn't even closed. It was just an open bag of poo sitting on my shoebox. I gingerly picked up the bag and placed it onto another package sitting next to mine, belonging to our famous, creepy, insane downstairs neighbors.

See, they're incredibly annoying and they just so happen to have this incredibly annoying dog. He barks all the time and they never bother to put him on a leash so he just roams free around the neighborhood. And apparently poos. Well, I've left many angry notes on their door in the past so I'm glad someone else is getting in on the action. Even if it does mean a bag of poo on my new shoes.

I'm A Mac. With A PC.

I did something disturbing last week. I purchased my first non-Apple computer. This is disturbing because for almost twenty years, I've been a loyal Mac user. When I was about ten years old, my mother purchased our first Mac—a Macintosh Performa 630CD. Yep, it had a CD player. And like a 32MB hard drive. Pretty cool.

Anyway, since then we've had a couple other awesome Macs and I bought myself an iBook in college. Then one day, disaster struck and my iBook died. It's seriously dead. I've tried reviving it a number of times with no luck.

So I've been without a laptop for some months now and it's been painful. Once you get used to a laptop, it's hard to go back. So when my mother informed me that her work was selling some Dell netbooks pretty cheap, I was tempted. So tempted that I really wanted one. Mostly because they had a purple one.

So I did it. I bought a PC. I had some moments of doubt and painful guilt, but I got through them and was satisfied that I paid less than 20% of what a new Mac would have cost me.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not giving up on Macs,. I fully intend to get another one when I'm not also trying to pay for a wedding. Plus, my wonderful future husband (and not a Mac enthusiast like me) has assured me that someday I will have another Mac. And to appease me in the meantime, he fancied up my little PC to make it look, quite successfully, like a Mac. Brilliant!



Meanwhile, after this ridiculous iPad business, I don't feel quite so guilty about punishing Apple. When they're ready to come out with a tablet that can multitask, use Flash, and doesn't sound like it should be sold in feminine needs aisle at the supermarket, I'll be all over it.

Subject Line Stress

For the past year or so I've basically stopped using subject lines for my emails whenever possible. Anytime I email someone who I know will open my email no matter what, I just leave it blank. There's such pressure to come up with a creative, clever subject line, that I just gave up (because that's how I roll). I also occasionally have to come up with subject lines for our newsletters at work which causes even more anxiety. I just couldn't take it anymore.

But this blank subject line business has started to make me feel boring and lazy, so I decided to go back to subject line writing. Only this time I decided my subject lines would be painfully literal ... not creative or clever. Oftentimes, this means that I don't even decide on a subject line until after I've finished the email so that I can come up with the most accurate subject line possible. Gone is the pressure to trick people into opening my email with a witty play on words or clever phrase. What you see is what you get.

I'm sure you're wondering, Couldn't this literal subject line writing someday become as stressful as the clever subject line writing? The answer is yes, maybe, but it's not as likely so quit bugging me!

So for now, I'm no longer feeling overwhelmed by subject line pressure and, I have to say, it's made me pretty happy. Now what to do about my blog post title anxiety ...

Cabin Fever

Over the weekend, I enjoyed my first trip to Galena, IL. The downtown was cute, we did a little shopping and some eating and some walking around. The most fun part, though, was the cabin we stayed in.

Our friend Matthew works for a fellow who owns a cabin in Elizabeth, IL, outside of Galena and we got to use it for the weekend. It's super cute and quaint, sitting on a dirt road. But most importantly: it has a hot tub.


Highlights of the weekend:

- Creepy Cows. On our first evening there we went on a night walk and ran into a herd of creepy cows. Maybe it was more the darkness that was creepy. Either way, they were in a field next to the road and soon we saw the silhouette of one of them coming towards us. Then we realized the entire herd was following us as we walked. I've never been so creeped out by cows.

- The Guestbook. The cabin had a guestbook with comments by others who have vacationed there. It was filled with stories of people getting locked out of the house in bikinis and meeting weird people, but the best stories were those of "Sue & Allen." Sue & Allen made at least 6 appearances in the guestbook and each one got longer and more disturbingly personal. We learned that they came to the cabin to get away from the busyness, "love each other" ("more and more and more ..."), and share many "special hugs." And each time, Allen lectured the reader about the need for peace and quiet and getting away. Thanks, Allen.

- Hot Tub. Yes, the hot tub was great, but it was even greater when the guys moved a small TV outside so we could watch What About Bob? in the hot tub. However, I do not recommend sitting in a hot tub for 2 hours.

- Trailer House. I was particularly entranced by this abandoned house with a trailer attached. Or was it a trailer with a house attached? I'm not sure. At any rate, it was abandoned and hillbilly and awesome.


Here are some other special moments:

Garbage Sled

You know what's great? When something you pick out of the garbage turns out to be awesome.

Last spring, I went on a garbage picking extravaganza with some friends of mine. It was truly amazing and I plan to do it again this year. But anyway, during our garbage picking I grabbed this old wooden sled. It wasn't in the best shape, but I figured it could be fun.

So Scott and I decided it was time to fix this thing up and get it going. We sanded down the rustiness and spray painted the metal blades a lovely, bright red:


It looks pretty sharp and we just have a little more painting to do. Then we took it out and gave it a try. I thought the blades might just get stuck in the snow, but it turned out to be fabulous. We went pretty fast and it was nice and smooth, unlike those dumpy plastic things they have today.


I know, I'm pretty cool. And I didn't even fall off once!