-Ate some tomatoes I picked in the backyard. They’re growing in my neighbors yard, but some branches are reaching over to our side of the fence. They always tell me to “go ahead, take as many as you’d like!”

-Found out my landlord didn’t give a dang about our lottery system and picked a guy from across the street.

-Was very, very upset about the above.

-Met Kunle, the guy across the street aka our replacement here in Apt. 3R, and Kunle = Coole. See HERE, he made all of those!

- Befriended (through the internet) a few people who came to check out the apartment. I apologized to everyone for wasting their time, and some actually replied looking for some internet pallyship. Some were actually interested in following Wanderful. Heck, some where even excited to follow, which is why I’m even sending two of them a postcard or two. Say now, would you like a postcard of your very own? Email me HERE with your address.

-Not something I did, but a note: Honestly, I don’t know if it was because everyone really wanted the apartment or what, but I liked them all so much because they were all GREAT at conversation. I hope that’s what the road trip is like - meet new people, talk to them for way longer than you should. Seriously, some people stayed and talked to us for a half hour or more yesterday. Even Molly, who I knew didn’t want the place, just stayed to chat it up. Good times.

-Was “facebooked” by a girl who reads my website. Hello Anna. Anna I never heard of you before, perhaps you hate commenting. That’s alright though, it gives me hope that all those website visits I receive aren’t just my dad checking it every five minutes to see if I’ve updated. He tells me it’s the only thing he has to look forward to. I know that’s not true, he loves a good meal and a good fart.

-Rode my bike to a lot of places.

-Had a crepe and learned the true way to pronounce it (and by learned, I mean I made it up). It sounds like you’re hocking a loogie, cccchhhpe. Hi, I’ll have the goat cheese, tomato and spinach cccchhhhppe. Thank you.

The first call came about two minutes after I posted THIS on Craigslist. “Hi I’m calling about the apartment for rent?” “Holy crap, I only posted that two minutes ago!” We talked on the phone for a few minutes while I tried selling all the best points of the apartment to her, just in case no one else was interested. Two months ago, as far as I knew, my pal Kate would be subletting our apartment for the three and a half months while Mark and I would be on the road. A month ago she had too many worries about taking over: “I don’t have the money - I have to spend too much time at home or that place would fall apart - I would probably never stay there on the weekends - I don’t even make that much per month.” Okay, I was sad, then angry, then passive - We’re going on a road trip for that long, who says we even want to come back to this place?

So I posted the ad, and changed the title three or four times until it seemed just right “$1080 / 2br - Cute, sunny, apartment in friendly, safe neighborhood - No Broker Fee! (Montclair)” Apparently that was the magic headline. Five minutes after that first call, I received two more. Then three and four, fivesixseven. I took my phone number off the ad, that should slow them down. Well, the ad was posted last Thursday, the 14th. It’s Monday evening now, and I now have a total of 94 inquiries to our Craigslist ad in my inbox - so many I had to make a special label/folder for them in my Gmail account. I emailed everyone back, I couldn’t schedule 94 individual appointments, many I’m sure would be broken, so we decided on two days of apartment viewings from 12-8, this Monday and Tuesday.

Then the questions: How is parking? W/D hookup? (”what’s a w/d hookup?” “Oh that’s a washer/dryer.” “Oooh okay”) Utilities cost? Where does the landlord live? Are dogs alright? (yes, it says so in the ad) etc. etc. The one I took the most time to answer “How are you going to choose a tenant if more than one person wants it?” Well I came up with a list of things I wanted in the next potential renters, for example someone who can afford the place! But some I didn’t state, like my hopes to find a hot chick who likes comic books, then she could date Todd, our 2nd floor neighbor who draws for DC Comics (he corrected me and asked for preferably a hot chick who likes beers). OR I wanted to find another couple, really, a cool couple. They don’t exactly have to be like Mark and I, just someone who could make our home their own once we’re gone and be friends with the neighbors we’ve just befriended ourselves (I’ll miss them!)

Our apartment wasn’t clean in the least bit, which is why I told everyone to stop by on Monday instead of right away - we needed to clean, deep clean. Clean in places we’ve never even attempted to swipe a Magic Erase across in the three years and four months we’ve lived here. That took most of Saturday and Sunday, and also a good four hours of arguing on Monday.

When we have parties, everyone is at least an hour late, so hopefully these renters would be, too. NOPE! 12pm the bell rings. Super cool couple! They’re who I want to rent the place too! A good looking and charming duo, young, yet she has some cool grey streaks in her hair, I like young people with grey strands. He’s from Argentina and teaches music: guitar, piano, you know. He’s got a great accent, too. “Okay, well I’m hoping to find a cool couple to take our place.” “Well, if you find a cooler couple than us, let us know.” I thought she would be right.

The next couple came up as the first were leaving. And for the next few hours, couples and roommates of all shapes and sizes came to visit the apartment. Now I didn’t know what to do. A really nice guy with a cool name (Engelburt), two guys who attended MSU and really, really loved the place, a girl who looked around for a minute and said “What would you say if I gave you the security deposit today?!” A couple who had just finished a two month road trip in Central America and talking to them really pumped us up for our own road trip. One guy who I will call Highway Clown (because that was his email [his girlfriend’s email is Bra Girl]) actually farted while talking to me, and that was totally alright with me. They all loved the place. And I loved all of them. Everyone was on their best behavior, everyone was super friendly. “Oh! I liked her!” “You like all of them, Katie.” Mark was right. How could I choose? How would I know the right person when I like them all and want to have them all as my friend. Damn, they were just so charming. Many of them were apartment hunting vets by now, some searching for as long as seven months. They knew what they were doing.

When we moved into our apartment, it was empty for three months beforehand, I don’t think our landlord could find anyone who wanted the plain white walls, ugly brown carpet and dirty unmopped tile floor. But post THIS link to some Flickr photos from our lives in the apartment, and we had more responses than we ever imagined. Each person who came to view the apartment wanted to know, “How will you pick” And then it dawned on me: I would just take all the names and hold a lottery drawing to find our replacement. I gave the three minute apartment tour, let the people walk around, ask questions, look through all our drawers, closets, and even test out how strong the flush is on our toilet. Then I’d tell them “If this apartment is in your top three, sign this email list. We’ll email you on Sunday, and ask if it’s your number one choice (thus giving them a week to find others to compare it to), if it is, you’ll be entered to win A YEAR LEASE IN AN ORANGE, PINK AND GREEN-ROOMED APARTMENT!”

Well, after the first excruciating (yet fun) day of apartment viewing, we have 23 people who are serious about renting our apartment. Most of them were really happy to hear we aren’t doing a first come, first rent basis. One girl told me “I take the train home from the city everyday at 6:30pm, most of the time they call me while I’m on the train to tell me the apartment has already been rented.” But our place is a real steal (cheap, pets allowed, pumpkin patch in the backyard!!!) and really special to us - we have raised our dog Mister in this apartment, thrown as many different parties as I could imagine (Welcome Home from Iraq, Mark! Terriarium Party! Tie-Dye & Cheese Party!), argued, laughed, cried, and really grown as a couple and as two individual people here. So whoever gets the place, I want them to really want it, and I want it to be fair.

Also, no single hot chicks came by, not one! Sorry Todd. Maybe at the next viewing.

You don’t understand the amount of work I’ve been doing these past two weeks. And stressing, oh boy! So much stressing about the road trip - well, let’s be honest here, stressing about getting a sponsorship from T@B has taken up at least 5 hours of my day everyday for the past few weeks. And probably 2 hours of dreams per night. One evening I dreamt that we finally had a T@B of our own. Oh I was so happy! When I woke up and it wasn’t real, well, it was a huge disappointment to say the very least. Anyway, who wants to move into my apartment!?! We’re going to miss it, that’s for sure. But it’s time to move on, and a T@B would be a great apartment replacement for these next three and a half months. Here, read all about the apartment HERE! The rent is cheap and affordable! I’ll be back soon with stopkatie updates, don’t give up on me! And don’t forget, while I may be having trouble finding the time and inspiration to update stopkatie, Wanderful is going to be the greatest blog reading experience of your life, so just hold on, less than three weeks before we take off - I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

Edit: HOLY SMOKES! The amount of responses we’ve received from that craigslist ad, I never expected so many! If you are interested in viewing the apartment (to rent, or just to meet us, why not?!) visit the craigslist ad and get times, dates and address.

I didn’t exercise for about a month. Not that I’m super-exercise lady or anything, I just like to get in a run at some point everyday. But now running is back in my life, yay for running! This is what I consider a long run. See, nothing too bad. Today I was mapping out how far I ran, which is pretty much the same thing I run everyday, and I realized that now Google maps has a ‘walking’ choice when getting directions! How exciting for people who are not lazy and actually go walking/running yet do not have a fancy step counter. This makes a difference because when using driving directions you cannot trick Google Maps into letting you drive down a one way street.
While running:
Number of times I ran into a spiderweb: 3
Number of times I tripped: 3
Number of times I fell when I tripped: 1
Number of boo boos from that fall: 2, one on my hand, one on my knee
Number of times a possum ran out in the street and I yelled “BOO!” at it to see if it would play dead: 1
Number of times that possum played dead: 0
Number of times it ran back from where it came: 1
Number of times I was glad it didn’t play dead because then a car would have run it over: 1
Lesson learned: Don’t go running in the dark.

No, no that’s not Yoko.

Is he an adorable little Japanese boy, ready for his first day of school?

Why no! That’s Mister Cherry Wanchy II! Showing off a bunch of dog products we received in the mail today from one of our first road trip sponsors, Doggles!!!

When we first put the gear on him, we laughed and laughed and laughed. Then we were freaked out by how much he looks like child. And then we realized how great this will be for the road trip. Perhaps we can teach him to walk on his back legs, and then trick clerks at the front desk of hotels we check into: “Why, what an adorable and hairy little child you have Mr. and Mrs. Wanchy!” Oh yeah, Mark and I decided when we get married, we’ll just take Mister’s last name. I’ll be Mrs. Katie Wanchy and he’ll be Mr. Mark Wanchy with our child Mister Cherry Wanchy II.

Hanging out with his main man, Mark. We were surprised that Mister was so accepting of the sunglasses. We were sure he’d be ripping them off right away. But he’s cool with it, along with that hat, backpack and t-shirt too. Some people make fun of small dog owners for dressing their dogs up, but they don’t know! They don’t know that Mister freaking LOVES wearing this stuff. When we first opened the package this afternoon and took everything out, Mister knew right away it was a present for him. He sat for us while we tried it all on him. He loved it all. We even have a travel sleeping bag! And a reflective harness and HATS WE HAVE HATS!

This is less “Japanese school boy” and more “Coo”.

In return for the dog products, we promised to feature photos of Mister wearing the gear, and posts mentioning Doggles on the Wanderful blog. I think Mister is going to do just fine showing this stuff off.

And that’s all! Yaaay!

We have a bunch of product sponsors, actually, and we’re really excited about them. But what we want (need) now are MONEY SPONSORS! Or else I’ll be sponsoring the road trip with all my savings Either way, I can’t wait. It’s only a month away!

I’m going to keep up with my promise to update stopkatie at least twice a week. I think I could do more. Let’s make it 3 times a week! That’s a promise! This post is sort of cheating though, because I’m just reposting a photo essay I shot for Baristanet yesterday. I had a really good time taking these photos, asking people if they’d like to be in ‘the newspaper’. Most people said yes, some said no. It was mostly the white people who said no, damn you white people, you need to loosen up!

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

You can read the captions for each photo by looking through the photos on the Flickr set “Make it rain“.

He fixed our broken typewriter. When I picked the typewriter up, we talked for three hours straight. Two hours of that conversation were focused on Cuba and his childhood. It was a good time but boy, was I tired after that. Now the typewriter works better than ever! I was excited because I had it fixed as a present for Mark. Mark kept talking about how much more often he would write, “if only I had a typewriter”. Even with typewriter wishes on his mind, it was quite a surprise for him to receive our old 50lb typewriter, all gussied up, one random Friday night. Now he’s typing up a storm! I’ve been using the typewriter too. There is no exclamation mark - can you believe that?!?!? How is Mark expected to exclaim if there is no exclamation mark?? Really, does anyone know a trick for that? Maybe I can google it. There is also no ‘1″ but I learned from my friend Louis that a lower case l works in the absent 1’s place. Using the typewriter is interesting and it takes twice as long for me to type. I am starting a club for old people who want to get into blogging but can’t figure out how to use the internet/computer. We’ll get together once a week (where at? Betty’s house? What about the community room at the senior center? Or a VFW?) and we’ll typlog — which is just blogging but on a typewriter, duh. This idea came to me when I read something I wrote on the typewriter, and realized it reads like a blog. Dammit blogging, why are you always with me?!? Here it is, with commentary in italics:

I am supposed to shower and then go ‘pick up the kids’ but instead I am here. I think because I hate having to comb the big knots in my hair.
Here is a list of things I should do:
-Wash my hair every other day.
Since writing this, I’ve been very close to washing my hair every three days - progress!

-Brush my teeth and wash my face every morning
This one too! Wow, working from home makes me have bad hygiene.

-Update StopKatie at least two times a week
Let’s start with once a week. Come September, you’re guaranteed 7 times a week.

-Force a poop out every morning
This has been going smoothly.

Those are simple requests, but I can’t seem to do them like I should.
Boooooo Oh WELL.

So that was that. Really, if I wanted to, I could write crap like that on stopkatie 10 times a day. Is that what you want? I can give it to you. Mark’s birthday is on Sunday and I still haven’t gotten a present for him. I wish I had waited to give him that damn typewriter until now! But what was I supposed to do with a 50lb typewriter until then? Well whatever, I have a present in mind — and it’s not going to be handmade because I spent every night for a week last December making him journals for Christmas, and I see him use them NEVER!

One day, back when I was 16 and working at IHOP, my family came in to visit me. I don’t remember if it was a special occasion, but I remember my parents, my brother, Grandma Popples and my dad’s brother’s family all came along.

There was an older woman named Anne who ate at IHOP everyday. She lived in the ‘Old Lady Home’ that was conveniently located across the street from the shopping center the IHOP is in. The ‘Old Lady Home’ is what we called those big, brick L-Shaped apartment buildings for senior citizens, like the one Popples lived in. Anne always ordered some weird meal, so weird our boss had to make a special category in the computer with a list of all her regular meals. She spent a minimum of four hours a day at IHOP and I heard a lot of stories about her life: She grew up in Brooklyn and raised her children there as well. One of her two sons died when he was very young (fell down the basement steps, he didn’t die from that, but x-rays found a tumor in his brain). Her other son barely came to visit but seeing him and his wife was the light of her life. No grandchildren, oh how she wanted some grandchildren, I’d say 80% of all her lonely complaints were about how much she wanted some grandchildren.

On the day my family came in, Grandma Popples was beaming, a dentures smile from ear to ear. She was having a good time hanging out with all five of her grandchildren (well, I was serving them, but I think she liked knowing the waitress). Anne asked me if I knew the family and I told her they were my family.
‘So that woman is your grandmother?’
‘Yep’
‘Oh, she is just so lucky. She looks so happy. Hmm… mmm.. sigh‘
Anne stopped talking and stared at Popples for so long I just walked away. Popples always talked about the ‘Old Lady Home’ Anne lived in, as though all the people who lived there won the lottery while she was stuck living in the apartments in the middle of Keyport, with no Stop & Shop shopping center in sight (Stop & Shop was also located in the shopping center with IHOP which was a half mile away from where she lived, but she never drove). But while she was wishing for 24/7 access to a grocery store, Anne who lived in the “good home” was wishing she had Popples’ life.

I always thought Popples had a rough life. Bob (my grandfather) left their lives when my dad was 16. She raised three kids and took care of her mother on her own. No vacations, no car, no house, and a father-in-law who would steal the eyes from your head. Then last week, at the wake, my Aunt Sandy told me about how Popples had a rough life most of her life, that is, until retirement. Ah right, I never thought about retirement. When Popples retired I was 10 years old. So 63 was really freaking old, and how could an old person have a good life after the age of 50 (says myself at the age of 10)? That random thought I stuck in my brain forever. But Aunt Sandy changed that thought when she told me how after retirement Popples had the best apartment she ever lived in. She spent years taking care of and hanging out with Steven and I (apparently it’s fun to hang out with grandkids!) She went on vacations to Florida, Mexico and Las Vegas with my family and day trips to Atlantic City and more with her BFF Jane (whom she met because of me, I might add, for I was friends with Jane’s granddaughter, Emily, first.) Yeah, Popples was living the life, and I never knew it. She had a nice clean, white pair of Keds whenever she wanted, strolled about town showing them off, enjoyed Chinese food, showed off her grandkids, spoiled her grandkids, beat her grandkids with wands from the blinds, hung up signs in our house about how “the sink is not a dishwasher - the dishwasher is a dishwasher” (piglets she would call us), drove around buying groceries with Jane the BFF (who has a car), did so much laundry the people on her floor complained that she did the laundry too much (she really loved cleaning). etc etc etc etc..

So I guess this is my obituary for Grandma Popples’ and my way of letting you know about her passing. She’s been a character on Stopkatie for the past seven years, but this is definitely not my last Grandma Popples post. I was shocked when she passed away, although I can’t say I didn’t mention it to Mark earlier that day, when I told him I was glad to know he and Kaity would come to the funeral if she passed away anytime soon. And then she died that night. And my heart was broken and I’m confused, I haven’t even had the proper time to mourn and I wish I could have asked her more questions and heard more stories. I’m pretty sure all the stories will start coming back to me though. I can’t wait to remember why my dad threw all his baby food out the window when he was 2 years old…

Apparently there are over 50 posts on Stopkatie mentioning Grandma Popples. Click here for a list.
Now, some random Popples photos, I will scan more from my childhood later next week:

This one is in a cab in Mexico.

One time in Mexico we went to a mall together. In the mall, she stopped by the Rx place they had. “Do you speak English?” lowers her voice “Okay, I had a friend who came here a few years ago, she has a stomach problem and she is in America right now, but she wanted me to bring back medicine, it was the only medicine that works to stop…..diarrhea.” I thought this was so funny because “the friend” was really her, she just didn’t want anyone to know, not even the Mexican drug store employees she would never see again.

Popples and Jane, drunk as usual.

Popples, kicking ass and taking names while playing Sega.

Popples used to get pissed when we used the decorative reindeer towels after showering. One time she hung this sign on the towels - signed “Grandma”.

Popples with my dad and Uncle Ricky Unknown baby.

Our apartment is Ant City. Actually no, it’s Ant Country, and it’s on a continent with those other ants who have taken over the garbage cans in our backyard. Last year I decided I would get the ants early this year and spray long before they come out. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about feeling pity for their little faces, crying for help just before I kill them with my index finger. Instead we never cleaned our apartment and couldn’t spray with all the valuable belongings we left all over the floor. So spring came, and so did some ants. I would spray them and they’d disappear for a week. Then the cycle would repeat itself. With each spray down, I noticed the ants reacting differently to the poison. Usually they just die right there, spread their legs out and die looking like little black snowflakes. But now they walk it off!! And then attempt to return to their home, who knows where, it seems like they have 500 entrance ways into our apartment! All I can do is use !!! with all my sentences because it’s driving me mad! You know, yesterday I woke up and found a huge trail of ants, marching from our bedroom door to the sink full of dirty dishes. We’re out of spray so I bunched up some napkins, poured bleach on ‘em and smushed all the ants down with a snowplow-like motion. Killing ants and cleaning up the mess is not what I want to do when I first wake up, but this is how I must live my life.

Honestly, the ants, they’re pains in the asses when they’re crawling on me and when they’re in huge groups, grossing me out, but one or two aren’t so bad. I wouldn’t bother crushing their exoskeleton if I only saw them every so often. But instead the Raid knockoff spray we bought works as steroids for those ants, making them stronger, faster, and multiply more efficiently than ever. Mark pointed out that his hands smell like Raid after he kills an ant, and it’s true! The ants smell like nail polish! They’re living with the poison, those crazy bastards! And they’re probably poisoning Mister by walking through his dog food. Dammit ants, why did you have to take it this far? And that is why Mark and I bought the ultimate ant killer, the kind where you have to leave the house for a week after spraying it (not that the box says to or anything, I just don’t want to take any chances). We’re spraying tonight. Goodbye ants, say your prayers. Seriously.

Question: Todd, are you living in Ant Country? You must be! Or maybe you sprayed and that’s why we have so many ants now! Damn you. JK Todd I know you don’t read this. But if you do, you can use the herbs we’re growing on the porch, four types of basil, rosemary, cilantro, thyme, tarragon, sage, mint and lavender. Okay, I admit it, those last two aren’t actually growing yet, might have bought some dud seeds.

Anyway, Mark and I have been working hard for the past few weeks, getting together a proposal for sponsors to fund us on a great big road trip! The road trip will have an accompanying blog with the most stuff you’ve ever seen! So while you’re like “oh man, Stopkatie never updates, I hate her” I’m really like “hey guys, look we’re putting together a website with a daily blog and photos and postcards and film and it’s all updated while we’re on the road experiencing it I’M SO EXCITED!” So far we’ve had a decent amount of feedback and interest, so that’s cool. And oh man! My bosses are insane and great because they’re helping me cross off one of the items on our wishlist, an iPHONE WOWOWOW! That’s just great, JUST GREAT! Of course I’ll be waiting until he new iPhone comes out in July, and I’m sure they want me to wait too in order to save them $200.

We worked on it for months. You can read the proposal at www.Wanderful.us. Todd, if we hear you jumping up and down, whooping it up and singing happy songs, we’ll know you read this blog. We know you want us out, just admit it Todd, WE KNOW! Just kidding folks, we don’t really think our neighbor hates us. Well, Mark thinks he does, and I’m oblivious, so he probably does.

A reader had a good question in a comment, last post: “holy crap, you have three dogs now?”
No, I have one dog now and that is Mister. You see, Biscuit was only here for a short time, most of Steven’s first semester, and just a few weeks of his second semester. Towards the end he just stopped living at his dorm and Biscuit went back to live with him. Domingo, Mark’s parent’s dachshund who was mentioned in my last post, was just with us for a week while his parents were in Florida. Domingo was sooo handsome and had white teeth — not like Biscuit’s stinky acid breath. Now there is another dachshund in my life, and her name is Doodle:

Aw, yes there she is, isn’t she adorable? She isn’t mine, Steven and Kaity picked her up almost two weeks ago. Oh, if you’re into that bandanna, I made it and you can purchase a personalized version for your dog by clicking HERE!!! Another one with her excited father:

The first week she was around, I didn’t really get to see her or play with her, but this past weekend we had plenty of time to get to know the Doodle because we puppysat her. Not that she is intentionally doing it, but she bites like crazy, I don’t think many puppies understand NO in their first week, but they sure do understand tone. Doodle doesn’t give two shits about tone, you’re yelling at her? Good, she’ll bite your finger harder. We let her roam around the porch with us while we ate breakfast on Monday morning. Everything she could do wrong, she would. No Doodle! No don’t eat that ant! No Doodle! Stay away from Mark’s coffee! No Doodle! Stop chewing the chair! Of course I know she’s not doing this on purpose, she is a puppy, but it’s as though she thinks “what can be worse than the last thing I did” and she does it! So she’s earned herself a new nickname: “Evil”. Steven came up with a theme song he plays for her on his guitar… the Jaws Theme. EVIL! And although she was a little devil all weekend, I couldn’t help but forgive that little muffin when I saw her cuteness sleeping (’her cuteness’ is like ‘her highness’ - if you see me use the word ‘cuters’, it’s a noun that works singular or plural). When she bites, she looks like a dinosaur, so I’ve been calling her Raptor Face. She also has piranha teeth. Since she is too wiggly to take photos of, so I don’t have many good ones. I do like this one below, it looks nothing like her:

Kate’s family owns a house in Cape Cod. Earlier this year I invited myself up there and set the date for late-May. Well, the end of May passed and that means so did my Cape Cod trip. Here’s how that went:
We arrived in (on?) the Cod (that’s the new ‘the Cape’) around 2am on a Saturday morning. Kate already told us all the furniture was ruined when the ceiling fell in, soaking wet. The plumbers didn’t winterize the house correctly, those jerks. All the blankets were safe inside some Tupperware bins in the attic - only we found out the workers who fixed the ceiling didn’t feel like finishing the installation of the ladder to the attic. Luckily Mark is a tall, skinny man who was able to float up those steps and search the attic for blankets. I think after that we went to sleep.

The next morning we walked down to the beach, but really it’s a bay.

Mister braved the 5 hour ride up to the Cod - here he is reaping the beachy benefits. He enjoys the beach, but prefers to stay at least 10 feet from the water. He learned what the word “bath” means a few weeks ago and is more anti-water now than he ever was before.

They’re talking to an ex-nun named Marylou. She has a great Boston accent, and pronounced Mark’s name “Mahk” - which is my favorite word when said with that accent.

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