Friday, November 26, 2010

Interview on the Inside

Me: Now that our time is coming to an end, how have you seen yourself grow from that kid at CSC?

Been-Jammin': I've grown an amazing beard, my hair is way too long and I am in a major need of some grooming.  On the inside I've grown in the social aspect of my life a lot.  I've never lived this close to so many people for this length of time before.  Coming in to this experience I didn't really know what would be the most difficult aspect, but for me the hardest part was actually living so close to all these people.  All my life prior to this I've had time and space to myself, that is just something that is not possible living here.  I've grown to actually enjoy being with people almost every waking hour of the day.

Me: What has been the most eye opening experiance in france? One that made you self realize the most?

Been-Jammin': My most eye opening experience was the people here at the chateau.  The chateau is full of great people from all over the place.  People from Canada, Georgia, New Hampshire, China, Nepal, Romania, and I'm sure other places have all came together and for the most part have created a great atmosphere for fun and learning.

Me: How have you learned from these people from around the world? Not only about their cultures, but about yourself and what you have / dont have compared?

Been Jammin': I have learned a lot from spending so much time with all of these diverse people.  There are some basic things that we all have in common, like wanting to have a good time, and there are other things that are much different from culture to culture.  Some of the things that we take for granted, like the tram rushing by means little to me, but our Nepali friend thinks it's amazing.  He said it was like living in a future world.  It was fun to learn about some of the other cultures, especially when the topic was food.  Nepali feasts were some of the best times of the trip for me.  Spending time with everyone reminded me that the entire world doesn't revolve around America, even though we might sometimes think that.


St. Avold, France

Recently, I had the opportunity to travel to St. Avold, France to visit the Lorraine American WWII Cemetery where my great uncle, Buddy, is buried. It was an absolutely incredible experience. When I got there, the superintendant had me stand on the central staircase to take what I was seeing in. Before me lay a sea of white crosses. Over 10,000 are in this cemetery. The biggest international cemetery.

He then walks me down to Buddy's grave and has a small ceremony as we lay down flowers and a flag. He then takes sand from Omaha Beach in his hand and rubs it into the stones engravings to make them stand out. He also sprinkled some on top. After a few pictures, we both stood there looking. Remembering everything that these people have done for us.

He then retires himself and walks to the central chapel and starts Taps for me and for Buddy. The staff stood in pride saluting me and Buddy's memory as three gunshots occurred and taps bellowed through the hollowed grounds.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Internal Interview

Me: What has been your biggest challenge in France and how have you overcome it? What has been your biggest challenge in France and how have you overcome it?

Ange: Language...but later. I found smile is enough

Me: so you have been able to get along with people through body language? Can you tell me about one moment that stands out?

Ange: yep!! always with body language.....but actually nothing is too special because they are always fine..

Ange : the society here is nice!!

Me: you went to Milan, how did you communicate with others?

Ange : English

Ange : Italians are more open-minded

Me: What do you mean by that?

Ange : I mean many Italian people can speak English

Ange : but you see, not many French can speak English

Me: do you find yourself feeling 'left out' because it is harder for you to communicate?

Ange : not really

Me: and why?

Ange : because everyone treats me well

Ange : just use your smile and your heart

Ange : you will find people are always nice

Me: Like the boy in Milan?

Ange : (Laughter) everyone is nice

Ange : if you trust them...

Ange : none is born to hurt someone else

Me: Thank you Ange! That was very deep.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Interview with GSU

Me: What has been your biggest eye opening experience here in France?

J-Wow: My biggest eye opening experience here in France has been attending French University. Although there are some similarities between the French and American school systems, there are vast differences as well. For example, today my professor gave back our mid term grades. Instead of giving each individual their grade with a respect to their privacy, she called out each person's grade in front of the entire class. I'm not sure if this is a French custom. Discipline in a French class is far stricter as well, for example we are not allowed to come and go as we please or use the restroom during class.

Me: Has French schooling changed your views on schooling back home?

J-Wow: French schooling has definitely impacted my views on the traditional American school system. Although the discipline is far stricter within the classroom in the French system, I do prefer the social aspect of the French schooling much more. Although Universities in America are known for their social organizations such as fraternities and sororities (of which I am a member of), I think the French university makes more of an effort to reach out socially to all demographics of the student population including the Erasmus students. From my point of view, there does not seem to be such a division between students in regard to race and ethnicity especially in comparison to my university in Inner-city Atlanta.

Me: And lastly, how have you adapted to these French schools and how have the students adapted to you?

J-Wow: Overall, I don't think it took too much trouble to adapt to the French school system. I knew some students who had actually studied at my home University before I came to Strasbourg so I had an idea of what I was getting myself into. The French school system requires a lot more self-discipline than the American school system. I don't have a lot of coursework like I am used to having in America, but I will have a large project or test at the end of the semester. So even though it may not seem like I have schoolwork, I really have to be preparing ahead of time for final exams or projects.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

French Culture / Being a Minority

Although this didn't happen this week, I did have a lot of time to think about things and this moment came into my head. When I was treated as a minority. And learning about French culture and how at first, they are not very friendly if you do not speak their language etc. My thoughts on this moment came from last night, but the action happened a couple weeks ago. I still count that as "this week" though, because this is when it all dawned on me.

Gym Class Hero
As I leave the Chateau de Pourtales, I do not what to expect at all. This will be my first time out without anyone. Something that can be hard for anyone, inclusive of myself. I start the long walk from my home away from home, sweatshirt on, hood up, and my iPod blaring music to get me excited for my first moments in ESpace Gym in the center of Strasbourg city.
I have been there before, but never to lift. I just went with a couple of my friends to get my I.D. badge and register with their only employee that spoke a little English. That day took about half an hour. With my broken French and her broken English, we created some very humorous moments for those trying to get a workout in before work or before dinner.

I reach the bus station and look at the sign to see when the next bus would come. A 20-minute wait and I was on my way. It was weird sitting on the bus alone with people speaking only French around me. I felt powerless. I felt that I couldn’t do anything. A woman has already yelled me at in French because my French is nowhere near perfect. I pride my self in my ability to speak Spanish, but French is not a strong point.

As I reach ArĂȘte Observatoire, I get off my lonely and long bus ride to catch a tram to my gym. The tram was absolutely packed. I am wearing a backpack and am one of the only people doing so. I felt even more out of place. I was also wearing clear American style- Abercrombie and Fitch, Oakley sunglasses… I was not feeling like I belonged. The whole ride to Homme d’Fer was awkward. Many of the people were staring at me as I jostle from side to side, not knowing when the tram was turning or making stops. It was embarrassing and made me feel like I should just turn back. I was more than halfway there, so I had to continue on.

I make it to the gym, and have yet to speak a word of any language. I was completely immersed into my iPod. I walk up the stainless steel stairs and was greeted very friendly at the desk by the ESpace staff. I hand them my card and go to the locker rooms, which were also very different compared to back home and the gyms there. Europeans have a completely different view of the human body and aren’t ashamed of changing, basically, in the wide open. This was a shock to me. In the United States, many of the views are that of your body should be kept covered and “safe”.
I walk out to the gym and look into the mirror. I’m wearing clothes that no one else at the gym was. Almost all of the people at the gym were wearing long training pants made by brands such as Puma or Adidas. No one, on my first day, was wearing shorts and a light t-shirt like I was. They paid attention to their appearance, unlike what I was. As you can imagine, I was not feeling very good about myself. I felt completely isolated from everyone. I could not speak their language, dressed differently, did different exercises, and was not social like all of the French who were there. The only really good part of all of this was that I got a decent lift in. Everyone once in a while, someone would walk up to me and ask if I was done with whatever I was using at that point in time. I would look at them, fake a smile, and give them thumbs up and point to whatever. I would put my fake French accent on and say, “Go for it,” like my friend, Jagat, does.

Some of the guys there thought me as a comedic topic for their conversations. I could easily tell they were making fun of something I was doing. It wasn’t hard to notice the subtle looks, points, and laughing coming from the different corners of the gym. From my first experience, I really didn’t know if I wanted to continue my training at ESpace. I persisted and came back a couple more times before I was complete accepted by the French bodybuilders. It wasn’t the smaller people that befriended me; it was the bigger, more socially “picky”. That really made me feel good and want to continue to come. Every time I go in, smiles, hugs, and high-fives that I taught them back home greet me. And when I leave? Laughter engulfs the gym as the bodybuilders shout, “Expendables! Stallone! You get them Mr. New Hampshire-Chase!” That always makes me feel

All in all, I would do it again. The experience of being completely isolated from everyone and that feeling of being a minority was hard, but very good from a learning perspective. I can now relate better to people who are treated badly just because of their skin color or accent, because I was too. It is hard.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Zoo-Who? No.... ZULU!

Last week JJ, Situation, and I went out to see a Zulu dance. What is Zulu? Well, when we got there, we had absolutely no idea either! The place was packed, mostly with females and a couple college boys... Us... That struck us as a little odd. The next thing that completly caught us off guard was the man in knee-high pink socks, short suit-shorts, a suit coat with a multicolored tail, and a pink, glowing feather duster.

"He has got to be a part of the act..." I whispered to my friends, who nodded slightly, hoping it was correct. We went in and sat down...

Now, to give you an idea of Zulu, this the definition- a member of a South African people living mainly in KwaZulu-Natal province.
• the Nguni language of this people.

That's all you will find, in words, on what 'Zulu' is.


We jump up at this half dressed African man walking down the auditorium steps singing in perfect pitch what we have never heard before. Yells... But in tune. It was amazing.

Stomp, stomp, stomp, sto sto sto stomp... Shhhh, shuffle, clap, clap....

The wave of musically driven sounds of feet and shoes hit our tender ears as the man continues to sing in part African, part English, and part French as a video is played in the back of the auditorium. A rather large women walks out, holding a pair of shoes on her head as she points a video camera to her mouth... Singing loudly towards the audience.

This night was powerful. There were many hidden symbols and it is all very hard to put into writing. You would have just had to have been there... Hidden symbols for aids, for the poorness of certain individuals that can't even afford shoes, for just... Trying to find happiness in dark times with the help of each other. A family so to speak.

I could be writing this blog for hours about the things we saw that night. It was very interesting...

Men climbing through the audience chairs (with people in them) all the way to the top... Climbing and struggling as the bring this long paper roll up with them. The struggles of mankind for equality... The visual symbols were astounding in this night of Zulu dance.

If you are interested in more deeper meaning... Let me know. I could try and explain what I saw, but it will be very hard. Try to find a Zulu dance of your own! I challenge that to you.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

A Poem That Speaks to Me...

I wrote this poem and right now it really means a lot to me.

I hope you enjoy it.


I decided to write a poem
About a man that died
Although I didn’t know him
I still teared up and cried

For he was a hero
A man of his time
Yet some thought of him as a zero
But he never committed a crime

He helped everyone he could
Yet to him that wasn’t enough
Inside him was nothing but good
But his outside was so rough

He, as a child, was poked at
Made fun of all year
Alone at lunch he sat
His eyes beading down tears

I decided to write a poem
About a man that is dying
Although I didn’t know him
I still sat here crying

School idols thought it was fun
To poke at this kid
Yet to him he was just done
His life, so he hid

But he hid on the inside
Closing his walls
His happiness had died
As he ignored their calls

He is older now
Being been through so much
Going against his vow
He believes he’s been touched

I decided to write a poem
About a man that could die
Although I started to know him
That man is I

I have been blessed by true friends
Friends who really care
They are with me till the end
Letting me breath fresh air

They rescued me
From the walls I created
Allowing me to see
All the emotions I’ve so hated

As I see in a different light
I now know why I’m here
To advise people in the right
And to help them not to fear

I decided to write a poem
About myself as you see
I’m still getting to know him
Yet now,

I am free.


Wednesday, October 6, 2010

It Really Makes You Think...

This past weekend we made the trek up to the Struthoff concentration camp. This is the only camp in France. It took the place of a gorgeous ski resort. When we arrived and got all settled and things, we made our way to the front gates of barbed wire and iron bars. We had to walk through the actual gate that the prisoners actually went through during WWII. For me, walking through it made my stomach knot up. It was hard.

Our tour was very informative, although most of it was pretty easy to see on our own as we looked around the camp. One of the hardest buildings we went through was the crematorium and prison/execution rooms. In the prison section, they had these small rooms... Too big to stand in and too small to sit comfortably in. The Nazis claimed they were used to heat the prison, although there is not a single piece of evidence to support such claims... The Waffen SS would put 3 to 4 people in these extremely tiny rooms. Most would die excruciatingly painful deaths due to the contortions of their body for so long and lack of nourishment.

Walking into one of the prison cells made my heart feel like it was 2,000 pounds. There were scrapes in the wall, the floor was discolored in areas, and you could tell of some attempted escapes. There was only 1 successful breakout recorded at this camp.

The next room almost made me want to throw up. It was the execution room... The floor was slanted inwards towards a floor drain... It was for the blood. They would fire 1 shot into the neck of a prisoner, so that they would suffer for a while before they died. It was very hard to think about. We also looked into the operation room, where 'doctors' would perform medical experiments on live and dead prisoners. Some of the pictures we saw of this were very hard to look at... They would experiment with all sorts of chemicals on and in the body, as well as other things...

We also visited the crematorium. I shouldn't have to say much about that... It was difficult to look at.

We left with spirits not so high, but very informed with eyes wide open at what really happened during these hard times. I feel like my outlook on life has shifted a little. It was a good, but sad experience.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

My New E-Class Benz

This week wasn't as eventful as the other weeks. Although we did have a trip to Stuttgart, Germany. We had the opportunity to visit the Mercedes Benz museum as well as visit the inner city of Stuttgart. The Benz museum was just how I expected it... A lot of cars and a lot of history on the cars. With the many car shows I've been too... It wasn't too too exciting. We had lunch at a pretty cool Swabian restaurant. I had this thing that reminded me of American macaroni and cheese. It was pretty good! We then got a souvenir from the restaurant... Throwing the pitcher of beer we ordered at Vinny and headed out the door as waiters and waitresses looked at us and chuckled at our obvious attempt at taking the pitcher. The trip back was long, but very entertaining. Vinny loved how he could enjoy beer on the trains. At one of our stops, we started singing German drinking songs and busting moves to the Macarena and electric slide, along with some other American hits. What a time... We ended up in a dangerous part of Strasbourg, Vinny and I ran over to the playground at an apartment complex, jumped the fence, and played on spring toys until our bus finally came, some half hour later.
In conclusion- the trips too and from Stuttgart were our entertainment on this long and rainy day.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Something New.... Hmm.. 40th anniversary parties?? I think so!!

<Cue 007 Theme>

So, I'll make this one shorter than the last. We went out to dinner like normal with the Big Boss Man and the gang. Normal night, or was it...? We had a normal french dinner of tarte flambee and some bread and wines. A nice dinner outing. It was about to get better...


Morning came. Far to early it seemed. "You've got to be kidding me," I say in disbelief as I listen to the yelling of men in the courtyard below and the cranes running, which woke me up far too early. Things need to change, I think to myself. I wake up and do my thing and walk to the balcony of our room. A gigantic tent had just been erected in a matter of hours. Lights were in place, a huge sound system was being tested... This'll be a good night... I slyly think to myself as I rush out the door to our first class...


View from the Chateau
We return to the Chateau, late, as we say people in designer suits and girls decked out in Prada and Gucci. I could have sworn Louis Vuitton was there as well. This party was off the hook! Music had been blasting down the road, light shows with lasors to build it up even more. I have got to get in...

Everyone, on the way back to the Chateau, had been joking around about crashing the party. So many comments filling the air about how funny it would be if someone did... How much they would be "The Man"...

Lasers... For real...

I had to get in...

I rush to my dorm room and grab my own designer suit bought from London, England and throw it on. I run to my mirror, do a quick pamper of the hair and face and run to the other rooms. "I'm going in guys, wish me luck!"

So that was it... It was now just the four body guards and two guest list checkpoints in my way to make it down into Chateau history. I act cool and collected as I got into line. Pushing near another group of people in front of me to look more in character. I only had a few seconds to come up with a name and story before someone came up to me and asked me, "Bonjour, comment appelez-vous? Souhaitez-vous champagne?"

"Um, oui merci. But, me french is, how you say? Very bad. Je suis Romanian. I am Svris."

"Ah, oui. Merci."

That's me in between the waiter in the white and a bodyguard of a couple in the grey.
I grab my champagne glass and walk forward. My heart is absolutely racing. The hardest part is yet to come...  

I walk forward as the group in front of me starts to chat with the bouncer. I take a couple steps forward with them and nod to the conversation, pretending I am with them. Eventually the bouncer smiles at us and waves us to the door.

Two more bouncers were at the door, guest lists in hand. I play it cool and look around. Please get distracted... I think to myself as I walk forward.

No luck...

"Name?" is said in a large angry voice. I look up and start to speak, but it was to the person to the right of me. Perfect. The bouncer turns around to grab something as I walk in with the group ahead of me. We walk towards a table to the left to sign in. Another guest list? I casually walk in and at the last second, spun to the right and entered the party. 

That's me standing tall facing inwards between the blue door way next to the bouncer.
I had done it. I was in! I had no problems once I was in. Free sandwiches and things on toothpicks. What the life. I had single handedly entered a three guest list party, super formal at the age of 18! The youngest "assistant CEO millionaire who was looking to create good ties with this 40th year business" was my story. 18 years old and a millionaire. Everyone who talked to me bought it. After a couple of drinks and sandwiches, I make my way to the door. Tipping the bouncers and winking at the lovely girls that had been eye balling me all night long at the tables.

The next James Bond, ladies and gentlemen.

The names Ronnie...

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Wait... What happened?

Tap, tap, tap... The keys on multiple keyboards in one room cry out. A swarm of these cries around the ears of the 4 or 5 people in Room 122 at the Chateau de Pourtales as homework is frantically being worked on before our deadlines just moments away. 

*POP* "New E-Mail from Dad"

I click on the Growl notification on the right side of my laptop and read the subject line to myself.


"They finally got back to me about shirt sizes," I thought to myself as I opened the message. I looked over the e-mail 2 or 3 times before turning around, eyes shifted, and forehead crinkled.

"What?" everyone in the room states in an almost harmonic tone. I tell them that I am thoroughly confused and read them aloud the email of which I had just received.

"Call we know about greece we need to help you
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry”

“Greece?” everyone says as they look at me with utter confusion and humor.


Not even two minutes later, my iPod sounds off as I receive a text from a very good friend of mine.

“What the hell is going on Ronnie?!?! Are you okay??”

I repeat this to my friends and they look back at me and giggle a little. I ask her what she was talking about and she replies with the same Greece story that my parents told to me.

“Ronnie, call your mom. She is flipping out.”

I call my mom and she starts speaking at a million words a minute. Trying hard to keep up with her, I answer her 3,000 questions and look at my friends, all staring in my direction, as my computer speakers blare the voice of my mother down the halls of the Chateau.

“No mom, I have never been to Greece… No mom… I haven’t even left France yet for any trips on my own… Wait what?...”

My confusion comes to a pause.

“I was in an accident in Greece and I asked for $5000? Mom, I was never in Greece!”

‘Nanny said you called her and told her this about an hour or two ago,’

I reply to the numerous texts bombarding my phone as things slowly start to get figured out and come together. My mom’s voice slows as she starts to come to the realization that I am not anywhere near Athens and that I am completely safe from any harm.

“So you sure you are ok?” she tells me over my Skype call to her phone.

“Yes mom… But, can I still have that $5000?” I throw in just seconds before she starts to say her good byes.

“Are you kidding Ronnie? We just had a heart attack! Maybe if you were in Greece and…”

I cut her off.

“Will you pay for my ticket to Greece, so that I can be?” I reply with wit to lighten the mood.

I hang the phone up and turn to my friends as everyone bursts into laughter of disbelief and complete confusion.

Most confusing night ever.

Moral of the story? 

-Don’t go to Greece.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Overcoming Challenges

<Read in a 50's mystery story narrative voice> 

It was calm, windy night. The last night in Frankfurt, Germany. September 5th, 2010. The stars were out, shining oh so bright. Man, what a life! First year students traveling half way around the world, experiencing new cultures and a new way of life from another perspective.
 We hear cries from the street below, calling out… In English? Snooks rushes to our city side window, leaning out and yelling, “Yah Americans!” The room bursts into a gleeful laughter, as faces turn red and tears fall down. “Let us come up!” We hear from the streets below. As eyes dart from person to person, we stare at Snooks in suspense. “Our boyfriends are up here, sorry!” A sigh of relief overtakes us all at her comment. “We’ll be right up!” Panic rushes into our room. I get everyone organized and lead the girls into the bathroom, having them lock it from the inside. Slam! Slam! Slam! We hear on the doors as I stand up to keep everyone calm. 
       “Ronnie,” Tap, tap, tap… “Let me in,” I walk over to the door and open it. Low and behold… Two late 20-year-old men stand a little down the hallway, staring me down. “Hey! They’re in here!” and rush towards our room. I can feel the panicking people behind me in need of a leader. I step up… “You need to go downstairs,” they reply to me in words that I should not repeat here. They back up a step as I move a little bit closer to them to prove that I am not messing around. My adrenaline jumps, as my muscles tense, heart pounds, and veins shoot out of my skin. “You need to leave,” I tell them, never diverting my eyes from theirs. More backtalk comes from them; I can sense some fear in their voices as they start to shout swears down the hall, now pushed up against the elevator. After sometime of back and forth’s, my group mates pull me back into the room and tell me that it wasn’t worth it. I take a couple minutes to myself to cool down and check on the girls inside - safe. I smile at them, letting them know everything is all right. 

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Peacin' to France!

So, orientation is over... Thank you so much. I am not nervous at all to go over seas. I am so pumped and excited, you have no idea. I know people will miss me terribly, but I will (probably) come back home sometime in December. Having homework loads of 5 hours or more sometimes a night was hard. I am going to admit it. Staying up until 2AM or even later to get that pesky Rosetta Stone over with for calss the next day made everyone cranky and angry. All the professors were really understanding of our problems with technology or our problems finishing assignments. We recieved a couple of extensions that were really helpful. Thank you everyone!

We are all saddened to be leaving home and separated from our fellow global beginnings students, but will always be keeping touch. I will miss everyone deeply, but will be having a good time, so everyone should keep their spirits high!

The week was insane, but we all made it through and became masters at life. Bed head and all!

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Next Question Please?

        I am very interested in seeing how the street fashion in France has evolved. It is getting a little angering, though, at not being able to find to much information on it. I am still trying, but might have to rephrase my question. High class fashion has always interested me and most of it comes from Europe and especially France and I really want to see how it has changed due to immigration and more Americans coming and etc. I also want to see how just normal people dress (street fashion) and how that effects their stature and things compared to everyone else. Older people... Younger people... Politicians... The like as well.

       In America, something that shows we have money here is an Armani suit with like... Gucci shades and italian shoes. But, in France, what shows money? What shows power? These are all things I am trying to find out, but am having some difficulty. I know that sneakers are not fashionable, unless Converse, in France and most of Europe. Many and almost all wear high class shoes and thus, shop less. This makes prices of certain clothing more expensive than others by more than what we feel here.

       I was also wondering about their fashion on jewelry. In the Caribbean, gold jewelry is THE thing. What is it in France? All these things I would love to know and find out. This is why I would like to know how their fashion has evolved and raised or lowered in class wise.

And I'm out!

Monday, August 23, 2010

Diary Entry 1

            Dear Diary,

My first real entry will be about the Global Beginnings program that I am enrolled into. I am so ready to get on the plane and explore the world and see what France has to offer me and I to France. I have already been to Europe, London, and so I know a LITTLE bit about what Europe brings and its likes and dislikes. I was only there for a week though.. With such a long stay in a foreign country, I definitely feel like being completely (basically) independent for so long will make me a far more mature and far more knowledgeable person.
            The most challenging part about it, will just getting accustomed to their way of life and fitting in. You do NOT want to be an outcast from the French society for the duration of the three and a half months. You want to be able to blend and be a part of their culture. That will really help me learn about their lifestyles, culture, and some history even.
            The most fun part was noted above. I really think the most fun will be living like them. Their fashion, food, crazy lifestyle… Completely different from what we are used to. I found this out from my brief experience in London. People in Europe can be a lot more well-mannered and seem very wealthy and knowledgeable by how they present themselves. Knowledge is power as you all may know.
            I hope to gain a brand new outlook and perspective on life and come back with wonderful and interesting stories of my life as ‘The French Bicep’. 

Getting ready to leave for France. HI MOM

Writing 105

Ronnie’s at the club, hooking up with Grenades… that is a bigger-ugly-chick & also Landmines.. which is a thin-ugly-chick .. and um, lovin’ life.