The Whys

As I was sitting down to write my little blog, all about a subject of earth-shattering importance (and sure to be the best one yet), I made a mistake.

A rookie mistake, we call it in the Mothering business.

I checked on my daughter.

Everyone knows that if you're trying to accomplish something, you don't check on a child that is quietly playing in their room. Whatever horrible thing they are most certainly doing is in all likelihood not life-threatening but will definitely derail whatever track you are on to accomplishing your task.

Yes, a rookie mistake.

I noticed the eerie silence as soon as I sat down to type, and against my better judgement got up to investigate. My four year old was, oddly enough, sitting still and watching a movie, but my nine year old... Well, my nine year old was up to something.

The second I poked my head in her door, I noticed something was amiss. She instantly hunched over as close to the ground as she could get.

Now, I'm not saying that I'm a freaking bloodhound when it comes to finding out what my kids are up to, but... Well, actually I am. I will catch the scent of some mischief from a mile away and follow the trail all the way back to where one of my children has inexplicably emptied an entire new bottle of shampoo into the tub. That's how good I am. I'm like the Columbo of trouble except I work faster and both my eyes look the same direction.

"Sit up a second, Sunny." "Why?" "Um, Sunny, you need to sit up right now." "I don't want to." "Sunny. Sit. Up. Now."

I knew it. I KNEW IT!!! The second she sat up, I realized that she had hacked off half of her hair. Half of her beautiful, blonde, halfway down her back, thick, glorious hair.

The hair that we had been growing out for about three years, since the last time she decided to do some self-barbering.

I'm not ashamed to say it, I instantly burst into tears. Okay, actually I am sort of ashamed.

She looks insane. Literally. She looks like one of those crazy ladies with psycho hair that is sitting in front of the mirror putting lipstick all over their face and saying, "pretty, pretty!"

Like this lady.

Anybody who knows me knows that hair is a big deal to me. Not my own hair, I could give a crap about my own hair, but my kid's hair. I braid it or fix it up cute every single day. I love playing with it and making it fancy and were it left up to me, both of them would have hair down to their waist.

I cried off and on about it for an hour. I'm sort of okay now. Sort of. Thank God I was able to get her in for an emergency haircut tonight... Though honestly, I'm not sure there's any hope. Is bald the "in" thing this season? For her sake, I certainly hope so.

There is a pile of beautiful, shiny, golden hair sitting on my counter right now that I don't want to throw away. Can they just re-attach it??? Okay, that's ridiculous. I just can't believe this, seriously. I'm going through the first stage of grief, I guess... Denial.

Of course, my first question after "the incident" was "WHY???" Just why??? I mean, seriously, why??? Why would you do that??? Why??? I just. I don't. I just wanna know why.

There was no answer.

But there never really is, is there?

In my career as a Mom, spanning lo these 9 1/2 years, that is the one lesson I've learned.

All the random cutting of window screens, making potions out of my brand new Moroccan hair oil, writing on the wall... There is no answer to the universal "WHY???" There is no, "Mom, I wrote on the wall because I was seeking negative attention." There is only, "I dunno." Seriously??? You don't know??? "I dunno."

And that, my friends, is why I shall most likely remain perched on the brink of insanity for my daughter's entire childhood.

We got her hair fixed this evening, but she looks a bit... How do I put this delicately? Well, she kinda looks like Joe Dirt. I don't know what to do about it, her hair is so short I can't even braid the front to make it cute... I guess I'm going to have to just breathe, let it go, and make a point of telling everyone I see or meet in the first sentence, "She did this to herself ya know!!!"

Yeah, that's normal.

I hope you have a wonderful week my friends, and may the kitchen shears of this life never touch the golden hairs of your sanity!!!

White Lightening (aka my STUPID dog)

My dog is not smart.

She escapes all the time.  Like ALL the time.  Aided, of course, by my two children and their careless disregard for my constant screams of "shut the door!!!" and their random decisions to open the window so she can jump out... Why kids, why???

She won't come when I call her.  It's like she thinks that I'm screaming "Sugar!!!" because I really like sweet stuff.  That dog will let me get just close enough to her that I think I really have her and then she zooms off as fast as her stupid legs will carry her. I wish I could describe how frustrating it is, but there are no words... Well, there are words, but my Mommy reads this blog and I don't think she would appreciate me typing them all out for you.

I never imagined that I would be the type of woman that would want to harm an animal.  But now, I daydream about shocking the ever living hell out of my dog with a training collar when she runs away.  Yes, I said it!!! I want that dog to pay for making me chase her around the neighborhood like a crazy person all the time!!!  Oh, you can judge me now, but I promise you would feel EXACTLY the same if you had to deal with a runaway pitbull four times in one day... It will turn you into a monster, into someone you don't recognize.

Yes, that dog actually got out four times the other day. FOUR TIMES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  During each episode, I got to chase her around the neighborhood for 20 minutes, almost caught her about 10 times, had her literally in my grasp only to have her slip away, and had my kids running around all over the place trying to "help" me while simultaneously driving her farther away.  And it was 98 degrees outside... The temperature, not the band, unfortunately.  Even though they suck, I would have much rather listened to their overly sincere mushy caterwauling than been chasing that STUPID dog all over the place.

Also, just to put a cherry on top of this sundae of embarrassment, you must understand how truly ridiculous I look when I "run."  I am panting, sweating, and kind of jog-walking (the only thing remotely close to running that I can manage)... Just picture my chubby little legs chugging along, propelling my sweating little self slowly forward...I figure I look a bit like a human storm cloud because I am soooo grumpy.

When Sugar decided to jet out the front door for her fourth neighborhood adventure of the day, she decided to venture into the open gate of the directly across the way neighbor, just to mix it up a little bid.  Inside she found a little girl, who was over visiting her Gramma.  She was about ten or so she made quite a show of being frightened by the dog as it zipped by.  "Don't worry," I panted as I chugged by, "she's just a puppy. She won't hurt you." The little girl just stared at me, standing there with her arms protecting her body, perched on one leg like a flamingo.

You would think I would have finally had Sugar trapped in that yard, but alas, she darted between my legs and went right back out of the gate to make lap two of her neighborhood victory tour.  This time, she just made a short trip up the street and right back into the same gate, once again "terrifying" the child within...  But this time, the girl's brother came into the backyard to observe.  He stood there watching, barely able to contain his glee.

As I stomped out of the yard after my STUPID dog yet again, the mother of the frightened/amused children poked her head out of the door.  I apologized for my ill-mannered pet as I went by, explaining that she won't listen and is just a puppy, and the woman, such an understanding soul, said testily, "Well, I'm just worried about my daughter. She's afraid of  big animals."

I silently rolled my eyes as my 35 lb "big animal" went streaking by me again, looking as happy as it is possible for any of God's creatures to ever look. 

I ask you, if you were the mother of a child frightened of a vicious wild dog (aka "big animal") roaming the neighborhood, wouldn't you take her inside or at the very least CLOSE THE DAMN GATE???

The answer to this is no, no you wouldn't.

By the time I made my way up and down the block after my STUPID little white pitbull, not only were the two children outside, but the mother, father, and their baby had appeared to watch the big show that some sweaty, red-faced lady was putting on for FREE in the neighborhood!

Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that someone would come out of their house just to watch me chase my STUPID dog. 

I still cannot, for the life of me, figure out why.  I mean, if you're going to have some fun watching a neighbor in distress, at least have the common decency to do it from inside the house, safely behind your curtains.

I have two theories for this inexplicable behavior:

Theory One: They were hillpeople who had never seen a chubby frazzled stay at home mother chasing a dog before.

Theory Two:  They were city folk who had never before encountered a dog on the loose and were charmed by it.

Either way, they just stood there, slack jawed, on the lawn staring at me as if I was the sideshow at a circus.

The lady put her baby down on the ground as she watched me, mesmerized... Then when Sugar made her way by for approximately her 10th loop, she snatched her child up, scared to death, sure that Sugar was going to snap up the infant in her mighty jaws.

Listen lady, 

IF THE DOG IS SO DAMN SCARY THEN WHY DID YOU BRING YOUR BABY OUTSIDE WITHIN BITING RANGE AND SET IT DOWN ON THE GROUND???????????? JUST WHY???

There is only one possible answer for this: That lady didn't like her baby very much.

You'll be happy to know that I was able, eventually, to catch my STUPID dog, with the help of my super cool neighbors (thanks Javier and Heidi!).

Unfortunately for me, I can't get the image of those dull, staring eyes out of my head. They will haunt me for a thousand eternities.  

You guys, am I being overly dramatic?  Okay, I am... But still, is that not the weirdest thing ever???

Well, that is my little story for this week... I do so hope you enjoyed!  I mean, at least I was able to spin that tale of humiliation into a yarn of pure comedy gold, right? Haha!

Have a wonderful week, and may the little white pitbulls of your life only have three legs so they are easier to catch.

Forgive me!

My darlings, I will not be posting a blog this week...

I have decided to take a week off for "summer vacation." I'm sure you could all use a break from me!!! Haha!!! I'm sorry for leaving you hanging this week, but my little brain is getting mushy from the heat and being so unbelievably busy the past few months... I'm worried that if I don't let it cool off for a week, smoke will start coming out my ears!!!

Anyway, thanks so much for reading my nonsense, and I have some really weird stuff all queued up for you for next week, so GET READY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Love to you all, and may the vacations of your life take you, at the very least, out of your house (unlike some bloggers you know)!!!

It's All About The Girls

Second open mic night status: Complete.

It was fun!!! I didn't even bomb, so yahoooooo!!!

Prior to heading up to Billings I was a pretty cool cucumber.  I was thinking to my little self, "Ya know what, self? This isn't so hard... It's just a little open mic night and it is totally no big deal. I am not even a little bit nervous."  I might as well have been wearing a black leather jacket with the collar up, smoking a cigarette, and leaning up against a motorcycle while rebelling against something for no reason, that's how cool I was. 

Then we got to Bones Brewery early.  This gave me an amazing opportunity to stare at the stage while playing the many scenarios in which I could humiliate myself on a constant loop in my brain.  Oh brain, how many times will you betray me this way???

I sat there with my wonderful, supportive, and beautiful friends, getting so nervous I couldn't feel my hands... Have I ever mentioned that when I get really nervous my hands get these weird zinging sensations and kind of go numb? Yeah, it's a really great coping mechanism.  It helps me focus on the fact that I am freaking out so much that I can't feel my hands anymore. It's sort of a zen thing.

Thank God I was the third person onstage because if I had been on any later I might have needed a paper bag to breathe into.

I don't really remember much of being onstage, much like the last open mic... I assume this is also a coping mechanism. Sort of like how amnesia protects your brain from information it can't handle.  My lovely friends told me I did a good job, and even though they have to tell me that because they're my lovely friends, I am choosing to believe it.

I feel like I had a better handle on things this time and my material was better. Also, my outfit was pretty awesome thanks to Gina's sassy black shirt and some super strength spanx. I was absolutely determined not to use my notes and I caved and ended up looking at them...

Oh don't look at me that way! I know! I know! I shouldn't have done it, but I panicked and looked at them.  I'm like a note addict, and even when I don't want to use I do it anyway because I just can't help myself... I need a read of those sweet, sweet notes.  Ug.

Now I didn't mean to keep you waiting... I mean, I'm sure you're all in the throes of suspense just hoping I'll talk about what song I walked out to for this open mic... When I left town I still had no idea what song I would choose, so Gina and I used a very precise and careful selection process to determine the perfect song.  And by that I of course mean we went through our iPods until something struck our fancy.  We landed on the song "Crazy Bitch" by Buckcherry.  I'm sorry Mom, I know you don't approve, but it's a catchy tune!!!

Do you think they had it? No they most certainly did not.  Okay, that's fine.  I would have tried to pick a different one, but at that point I was too nervous to talk to anyone about anything.  Instead, I just comforted myself with the thought, "It doesn't matter.  What matters is not accidentally passing gas."

I spun the music roulette and would you care to know what song it landed on???

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper.

What the hell!?!  Another song about girls??? I WASN'T EVEN WEARING MY BIRKENSTOCKS!!! Listen, I know I am a girl, but really, that's all we can come up with?!? Plus, how did they know I wanted to have fun??? I could have been there to tear some sh*t up for all they know.

I suppose I shouldn't complain too much.  I mean, I did get the chance to go onstage and attempt to crack wise.  I've gotten to do it twice! My dream come true!  So, regardless of the fact that I apparently come across as some sort of powerhouse of girl-dom worthy only of gender-related music, I had a fabulous time at my second open mic.  I'm so damn lucky!

Oh, and here's a picture of me!

I hope you have a wonderful week my friends, and may the roulettes of your life land exactly where they belong.
  
 

Xylophones and Boob Jokes

 Hi my friends!!! Guess what?!? I'm going to another open mic night this Thursday!!! I'm super excited!!! However, I am also in the midst of a pretty wicked fear spiral which I will most likely remain in for the foreseeable  future.  Just picture me swirling in a giant fear drain screaming, "heeeeeeelllllppppp!!!" 

I made the colossal mistake over the weekend of re-watching my video from the last open mic and I am now totally freaking out... Did I make a giant pink ass out of myself last time??? I just don't know anymore.  I am questioning everything from my choice of outfit to my hideous giggly voice.  Ug!!! Why, oh why, did I watch that video again???

Anyway, I've added more boob jokes.

My goal is to try and do my set without benefit of my notes, which scares me absolutely to death. My mind could go blank at any moment and I could end up standing there going, "Uh......" and staring off into space until they flash the red light at me.  It's not like I've never frozen onstage before, there is precedent for this worry... But that's a story for another time.  Suffice it to say, that little incident is still a "hilarious" family joke that shows no signs of dying no matter how many years have gone by.

I have my outfit picked out (super important), my bits written (mostly), and now I'm desperately trying to figure out what song I want them to play when I walk onstage... They let you pick the music you walk out to onstage! How cool is that???  Of course, I didn't know that when I did my first open mic so I didn't have anything picked out.  The only song I could think of off the cuff was the theme song for the podcast (Rock n' Roll by Hillbilly Herald, best song ever), which of course they didn't have, so I asked the dj to play anything by Snoop because he's my favorite.

So what song did the dj pick out of the many amazing Snoop songs??? Gin and Juice? Lodi Dodi? Drop It Like It's Hot?

Oh no, he played "Girls" by the Beastie Boys. Seriously??? I freaking HATE that song!!! It is so damn cheesy. Why??? Just why??? Because I'm a girl? Or is it because I look as if my main interest in life is girls in the morning, evening, and various other times of the day as indicated by the lyrics??? Not that there's anything wrong with that, but for crying out loud, I don't look nearly interesting enough to be into the ladies.  I look like nothing less than what I am, which is an old married lady with a couple of kids.  Who apparently enjoys super irritating xylophone music from the 80's.

I submit the song below so that you might understand how wretched it was to walk out to.  I feel that I can safely say that this is about as far away from the coolness of Snoop as you can get. 




So, that complaint being filed, this is the song that I have decided I would dearly love to walk out to:



Considering all of the material I seem to be drawing from this particular body part, I think it's appropriate, don't you???  However, I'm not holding out hope that the dj will have this song, so I am pleading for the help of you, my blog friends...

What song should I walk out to?  I can't walk out to anything country because that is just so not me, but anything else is fair game.  Please help, oh please!!! Just leave your suggestions below in the comments section!!!

Thanks friends!!!

I hope you all have a wonderful week, and may the theme songs of your life never be played on the xylophone.

Business in the front, party in the back.

There is just something about a good mullet.

Something amazing.

I mean, there is absolutely nothing you can do but admire a choice so bold.  I know, there is a segment of the population that is somewhat horrified by them but I, quite simply, am fascinated.  Not ironically.  Because, to borrow a quote from "Mullet Junky," "To a true mullet connoisseur, the mullet is not viewed as just a haircut. It's a phenomenon...a culture...a rare breed that can transform interest and curiosity into obsession."   

Truer words were never spoken.  At least when it comes to the proud heritage of the mullet.

It takes a very special person, a rebel, if you will, to rock a "Camaro crash helmet."  


After all, this is a haircut that went out of style at least 20 years ago, yet men & (sadly) women across this great land are still clinging to their "Kentucky waterfalls" with the same sort of fierce pride guys devote to their underpants from high school. 

Personally, and I feel comfortable going out on a limb here, I believe I have seen one of the most magnificent (yet slightly disturbing) mullets that has ever graced this fair earth. Surely it must have been at the height of mullet mania, when I was a mere child? Oh no, no it most certainly was not. This mullet was spotted in approximately 2000, when I was living with my (super cool) friends in an apartment (magical times) in Laramie. (I feel it is important to give the location, as some of you may be Laramites and could potentially spot it for yourselves.) 


As I blearily walked out to get my mail after waking up one afternoon, I saw a red flash in the corner of my eye. I turned my head, not sure what might meet my eyes... It was spectacular. Breathtaking, really. Surely it couldn't be real? My bleary eyes must be deceiving me. I rubbed them and looked again. Oh no, this was no trick of the light, but a genuine, 100%, lady mullet. A femullet, the rarest of all.  Not only that, but it was bright red, a dash of blonde, and a whole lotta wonderful. It had all the makings of a kick ass "achy breaky mistakey." Short on the top, spiked lovingly with gel, slightly longer sides smoothed seamlessly into a waist length extravaganza of curly awesomeness the likes of which I can never hope to see again. Friends, I can only wish for you a sight such as this. It was one of those moments in life you think to yourself, "Right here, right now, all is right with the world. I'm exactly where I was meant to be."
 
In writing about this, I felt it important for me to gain some insight into what goes on under a mullet. The inner workings, if you will, of the courageous few, the mullet-havers.  For this, I had only one place to turn: my very own brother.  Yes, shockingly, Dan was in possession of his very own mullet for over a year.  To be fair, he was a little kid, but still, his skull was covered in mullet for a time.  I asked the obvious question, "Why?!? Just why?!?" and he replied with the only answer he could have, "MacGyver."

"MacGyver." These days, it's just a whisper on the wind.  The ghost of mullets past.  I can't help but think that MacGyver's hair was sort of like Samson's.  It was the source of his power.  He could make a bomb out of gum and a paper clip, but only because of the proud sandy mop atop his noble head. It showed his every emotion. Intelligent but fun, serious but sensitive... No other style could have such range. He would have been nothing without that "nape drape."

Mullets were slow to die, but die they did.  At the urgings of many a wife, I'm sure.  I like to think that whenever a mullet man's wife finally nags him into divesting himself of his sweet, sweet "Canadian passport," MacGyver's is looking down from heaven, a tear slowly running down its sideburn.  

So, my friends, next time you see a "Tennessee top hat," don't scoff. A good mullet is hard to find these days.  It must be treated as the rarest of flowers.  They are to be treasured and admired, for who knows when next you may see one? 

I hope you all have a wonderful, exciting week! May your neck be ever warm, and your forehead ever cool.

Cirque Du Sadness

My initial instinct is never to attend any fair/circus/other type of traveling freak show that comes through town.  NEVER!!!  For what good can come of an evening spent amongst the modern equivalent of gypsies?

Obviously I developed a severe case of circus madness a few weeks ago, because I decided it would be a good idea to take Daisy to the big top. Sunny was off staying overnight with the grandparents, so poor baby sister needed a treat, right? Really, how bad could it be? Daisy would stare, transfixed, at the magical sight before her, leaving me free to chat with my friend.

Smash cut to me, five minutes in, grumpily comforting my four year old, who was sobbing dramatically in my lap because I didn't have cash to buy her a $5 freaking snow cone at the dumb circus.

To be fair, how could she help feeling that she NEEDED that snow cone? I mean, those (barely) glorified carnies were circling us like sharks, waving stale popcorn, snow cones, cotton candy, and clown noses at us.  I can only assume the ploy is to get our kids to use their power of whining to con us into buying that crap. I must say, for the most part it seemed to work. I was surrounded by a sea of sticky faces, light up whatevers, and giant red noses. Seriously?!? People were actually okay with letting their children look like the scariest, most disturbing creatures on the planet: clowns.  Ak!

I've found that the acts and performers in these small traveling circuses generally have a certain air of sadness about them. I mean, let’s face it, if you're not with Ringling Brothers, you're probably just a girl who’s mad at her parents or a dude on the lam who knows how to juggle.  Or possibly a person who owns a giant yellow snake and wants to see the world.

Much to my delight and the utter boredom of my second born, this particular circus had not only an air of sadness, but also a "who gives a shit?" attitude.  As I was watching all I could think was, “Dear God, this is a disaster. Please let me remember every moment, so that I may snarkily blog about it later. Also, please make Daisy stop begging me for things. Amen.”  

“Ladies and gentleman, children of all ages, welcome to “The Most Fair-to-Middling Show On Earth!!!”(that's not what they said, but they should have)

I have to say, despite my reservations, it started off pretty strong with a tiger show that included some super cool white tigers.  Unfortunately, they mostly looked bored and hungry. They had their mouths open the entire time, just hoping their trainer would accidentally fall in, I assume. They were probably extremely embarrassed to be seen taking orders from a chubby dude with a mullet who was encased in sparkly spandex like the world's fanciest sausage. I’m sure they just wanted to get it over with. It takes more time to attack and eat the guy than it does to just do what he wants so he’ll leave them alone.

So far, it might sound like this circus was pretty small time... But it wasn’t!  This circus had three rings, baby!!! In Ring 1, of course, was the jugglers. Cool!!! As the world's clumsiest woman, I am fascinated by jugglers for two reasons: they can throw a bunch of things up in the air, and they can catch them when they come back down. Too bad these jugglers could only do one of the things.  I'll let you guess which one.  In Ring 2, was the world's least funny clown. He fell down a couple of times and showed his underpants a bit without much rhyme or reason... But on the plus side, he was very dapper and sorta Frenchy, dressed as a sailor, and was actually pretty attractive for a clown (which isn't saying much, really, but ya know)... Or at least he was until he came around spinning those dumb clown noses and I realized he was about 40 years older than I originally thought and was missing a few teeth.  And finally, Ring 3.  It contained a couple who was dressed to the nines.  Their big performance was changing clothes.  Seriously. They put a hula hoop over themselves and when it came down they were wearing different outfits.  Astounding! If only I could buy one of those things for my kids, my mornings would be go a lot more smoothly.

At some point, a multitude of scantily clad women started climbing ropes. Acrobatics are pretty freaking awesome, right? In this case, however, a few of the ladies had some struggles with actually climbing up the rope... The little poor gal in front of us was a full 30 seconds behind the other ladies climbing, which just made her shame all the more apparent.  She did eventually finally claw her way to the top of that rope though.  At which point she looked around, caught up with the act already in progress, and was able to perform for a minute before sliding back down (she was much better at that part)... I feel like I should actually be viewing this as a life lesson, though:  Never give up, never!!! You'll get to the top of that rope eventually, girl! And when you do, you may look sorta foolish, but you can probably still figure out what’s going on.

One of the acts was just a lady who juggled a ball on her feet. Really, the most amazing thing about it was that she was able to jam her large form into such a tiny outfit.  It was also amazing that they chose to face her butt end towards the audience.  Why??? Is it not as exciting if you aren’t running the risk of accidentally seeing her nethers?

There was also a sort of "amazing" gymnastic-y type dude... He climbed up on a tall tower thing and balanced on one hand, then the other, but couldn't quite balance on his head, which was supposed to be his grand finale. He kept sort of wavering scarily and then having to grab the stand with his hands to keep from falling. After a few minutes, this got pretty boring.  So I delighted myself with a little game I like to call, "sock or penis" in which I try to figure out if this man has stuffed a sock into his skin tight outfit, or if that’s all him (if you know what I mean).  In case you're wondering, I'm pretty sure it was a sock. Or maybe a roll of quarters.

Though it may seem like the sock would be the “big” finale, it most certainly was not… The big finale was my favorite thing, the elephants!!! They are soooo freaking ADORABLE!!! I guess I’m just a sucker for wrinkly grey skin and wise old eyes. They held each other's tails and walked in a circle (not terribly impressive really, unless you're an elephant), and they danced! Danced!!! With their little feet in time to the music!!! Oh my lord, I just about lost it. It was awesome!!! However, the truly amazing thing about the performance was that the elephants just couldn't seem to stop crapping. And more amazing still, was the fact that at a certain point a man was sent in to catch the crap as it fell from their rear ends and toss it out of the ring before it hit the ground. Now THAT is a juggling act I can get behind. Literally. And a finale I shall not soon forget.

In conclusion my friends, though my instincts about not attending traveling freak shows were generally correct, the circus really can be a good time.  Not for children, mind you, they’ll be bored out of their gourds, but for sarcastic and jaded souls such as myself, oh yes.  An evening full of tattered satin and shattered dreams, count me in!

Well, I hope you all have a wonderful week, my friends! And may the elephant poops of your life always land on your shovel!