Swing your heartache.

I’m not sure how many days I’ve been here, but they’ve been good ones.

Last night was Jazz Night at Clancy’s. Aka, music nerdz unite. Some of us went early to get food before the kitchen closed. Greasy bar french fries, is there anything better?

The band was really good. The guitarist had his groove on.

And of course, first grown-up music nerdz sighting of the night: Holly’s dad. Which is always just funny to me, because the idea of my parents going to anything like that is unimaginable. But Holly’s dad walks in and the singer stops and asks “is that Leon?”

Second grown-up music nerdz sighting: HOWIE. When we were about to leave I went over to where he was standing (directly in front of the stage of course) to have a chat. He is still the same Howie.

I asked him about the band(s) this year, and he said he took his 100+ band and cut it back to 30. “I was tired of making threats” he said simply. And it’s true that half the people were in the band only because a) their parents made them and b) the trip to Hali.

I asked about jazz band and he said they’ve already been practicing for months, which is awesome. Anyone who cared about being in Howie’s bands always cared about jazz band more.

And of course I had to find out about my trumpets. There was a girl who got bumped into concert band and jazz band when I was in grade twelve who is only in grade eleven this year. She was a fantastic player so having just one outstanding trumpeter makes all the difference.

Okay. Band rant OVER.

Today we veg, tomorrow we party and New Year’s Day I am going back across the island sur le autobus avec Robert.

Oi vei.


To Leah, this song will forever unite us and the rest of Stan's combo.

Gout vif et net.

Oh my.

Sarah Smith, you are awesome.

Yesterday was a good start to my trip. Holly and I slept in until noon-ish and then fancied ourselves for a visit with my Nanny and Poppy.

Later on we went shopping for some funsie party items. Made Jell-o shooters (NEVER again). Ate yum food. Drove to Little Port Harmon. You know cool things.

Then we joined at lovely Leah’s (well, the old man’s home). And of course what do we do when we come together?

We Guitar Hero.

I want everything.

I knew I had reached Stephenville when Holly looked at me while driving into town and said “I’m pretty sure Nine Inch Nails is in the CD player right now.”

As our song blasted through the speakers, with Holly and I belting it out right along, I felt an utter contentment. Something I was definitely not feeling last night when the people at the airlines told me my flight was overbooked. Assholes.

Everyone was “counting” on me to bring the friendsies together here in S’ville. And after five minutes on the phone, I had rallied up four cars of peeps. CASTAWAYS, HELLO.

I saw Ashley. We made love in the booth at the restaurant. It was joyous.

And of course we chatted and loved along like it hadn’t been over a year since we last saw each other. Twelve years of friendship can do that for a person.

But this is just a quick update to let you know I made it across the island via bus (barely). That neighbours are bus friends in disguise. And that Stephenville is a fantastic place with the right people in it.

Though they desperately need a twenty-four hour Wal-Mart.

Forgotten celebration.

See amid the winter's snow.

my Christmas was good
filled with presents and great cheer
I hope yours was too

remembered the time
I got a sewing machine
and laughed pretty hard

but now I am old
gifts are just half the reason
I wake up smiling

Happy Christmas, loves
we're another year older
and none the wiser

Franky the snowmound.

I had lost my Christmas spirit. It was going strong for awhile and then it just left me, like a crack mom abandons their baby.

IT’S BACK. Thank goodness. And not a minute too soon.

It started with this morning’s festive activities. I wasn’t going to church but I kind of wanted to something “reflective” anyway. So I bundled up, put some Jars of Clay Christmas tunes on the iPod, and headed out back with my shovel.

I went out with the intent of building a snowman. I ended up spending close to two hours outside trying to break the icy top layer of the hills and get to the good snow underneath. Needless to say after all that effort I was left with a snow… mound.

A couple weeks ago I told my Dad that he was on his own this Christmas. He usually throws money at me and I buy all the presents for my Mom, wrap them and just get him to sign some of the tags. But this year I was on strike, he will soon be on his own I wanted him to try his hand at Christmas shopping.

This afternoon I finally got the courage to ask him what he bought Mom for Christmas (keep in mind this is the eve of Christmas Eve). He replied with “… nothing yet.”

Ugh. My Dad is the kind of guy who will buy birthday presents at the 24 hour gas station the night before. Magazines and peanuts, thanks pops.

He went on to say “Maybe I’ll just put some money in a card.” Here’s where I flip, because one: you don’t do that on Christmas, two: my Mom would lose it, three: my Mom doesn’t need a card of money from my Dad because she could just drive to the bank and get it from their account herself and four: YOU DON’T DO THAT ON CHRISTMAS.

I headed back downstairs resolved to the fact that my parents would probably ruin my Christmas over this when I was suddenly filled with the CHRISTMAS SPIRIT. You can fix this! it said. You don’t have to be the bitch who didn’t fix Christmas.

So I trudged back up and gave my Dad the secret weapon. A present sure to make my Mom teary and filled with love.

Earlier this month a book came out about the midwives of Newfoundland’s past. There was really only a hospital in St. John’s (and maybe Corner Brook?) so midwives were an integral part of Newfoundland’s well-being.

My great-grandmother, my Mom’s maternal grandmother, was a midwife. She didn’t have an easy life. She was raised in an orphanage and was also deaf. When she was very young she was sent to Nova Scotia to a special school for the deaf.

In the end she did what most women couldn’t accomplish until the 1970s. She got her certification for midwifery from a school in Chicago, got married, raised five boys and one girl (my S’ville Nanny), all the while birthing babies across the island (including my Mom).

There’s a section of this new book about my great-grandmother and thus an instant tear jerker for my Mom. I [obviously] never met my great-grandmother, but I am very interested to read about the sort of work she did. I’ll definitely update with a review. :)

And so I am refilled with the Christmas spirit. And to extend that Christmas spirit to you I offer you:

FRANKY THE SNOWMOUND: WITH CHOCOLATE EYES, CARROT NOSE AND A RED GRAPED MOUTH

Auschwhip.

OMGSPLOSION, Meagan, they stole our Yahweh bit!

Terra dos baccalaos.

I SAW THREE SHIPS COME SAILING IN WITH LOVE FOR ALL OF YOU

Michel Gondry
Finally completing my Mom’s Christmas gift after three months!
Dropping Harry Potter English and taking up Intro to French
Medals with Michaëlle Jean’s face on them
Regina Spektor’s Music Box
John Crosbie being made LT-Governor of NL (best person for impartiality EVER)
That clip of John Crosbie when he tells NL fisherpeople that "I didn't take the fish from the God damn water, so don't go abusing me."
Playing an exciting game of Nanny, Nanny, Rich Kid
White Chocolate Peppermint Lattes from Starbucks (Christmas don't end! I want these forever!)
Passing all my classes
My worst grade being the only class in which effort was exuded
Christmas present wrapping = finished
Christmas occurring in four days! :O

It's the Christmas season! Go do your own love list! Or even a Christmas wish list! Something in which listing and love exists! RIGHT NOW!

And even though this isn't lovely, I found this clip of when they announced the cod moratorium here in Newfoundland. I honestly don't think any Newfoundlander could watch this and not be affected. Nor could they ignore the fact that the 90’s were an especially hard time fashion-wise.

I can't help thinking that if Canada believed in assassination, John Crosbie would be dead.

Legacy of Luna.

Once the storm ended I realized that by letting go of all attachments, including my attachment to self, people no longer had any power over me.

They could take my life if they felt the need but I was no longer going to live my life out of fear, the way too many people do, jolted by our disconnected society.

I couldn't have realized any of this without having been broken emotionally and spiritually and mentally and physically.

I had to be pummeled by human kind. I had to be pummeled by Mother Nature. I had to be broken until I saw no hope, until I went crazy and until I finally let go.

Only then could I be rebuilt. Only then could I be filled back up with who I am meant to be. Only then could I become my higher self.

That's the message of the butterfly. I had come through darkness and storms and had been transformed.

I was living proof of the power of metamorphosis.

Head under water and you tell me to breathe easy for awhile.

My Mom is old. She’d kill me for saying that, but she is. My Mom was born at a time when I would have killed to be born. She was a teen in the sixties, spent her twenties in the seventies.

In 1970 when my Mom was seventeen years old, she packed up her shit and moved to Toronto. Considering she spent most of her childhood in Deer Lake I can only imagine the adjustment that must have been.

My Mom (along with the rest of my family) hate talking about the past, it’s the weirdest thing. When I ask my Poppy about his parents and family his reply is usually along the lines of “Now, why do you want to bring that up?” Either my family has intense secret keeping abilities, or we’re all so forgetful that we actually don’t remember anything that happened over a couple of months ago.

But I always wonder what my Mom was up to for those few years she spent in Toronto before she met my Dad. Who’d she hang out with? What did she see? Where did she live?

It would have been an awesome time to live in Canada’s biggest city. The Beatles had just played for the last time. The focus switched from helping the world to helping yourself. Drugs were rampant, disco was winning.

Sometimes I wonder if my Mother’s adamancy about me living here has anything to do with her stint as a young girl in a big city. It’s definitely a theory that should be explored.

But for now this city is lonely, and when I’m alone I think about what a mistake all of this is. I become restless and uneasy. Am I really spending my best years learning about dead Prime Ministers in my least favourite spot in the world?

I wish for a second that I could be as brave as I come across. Make a decision to leave and run with it.

Make my own secret stories.

Karma police arrest this man.

I believe that karma is a bitch. A mean-spirited, asshole, ridiculous kind of bitch.

Anyone who stepped foot on campus this year or picked up a copy of The Muse has heard of the group “MUN for Life”.

They have been whining all frigging semester about their right to ratification by the MUNSU. MUN for Life’s view is that abortion is wrong and to gain ratification on campus would enable them to receive funding from the university.

Now I think that everyone has their own right to believe in whatever they want, as long as they can justify it. It isn’t anyone else’s place to judge or condemn another person.

But I have to say, I instantly took a dislike to this group. Maybe it was their scary looking president. Maybe it’s the fact that The Muse printed article after article after article about what a little bitch he was being about the MUNSU’s decision to deny the group ratification. Maybe it’s because yogurt boy is a predominant member of the group. Who knows why, but I did!

And this all leads to one thing: DON’T PISS OFF THE LIBERAL MUN STUDENTS CAUSE THEY WILL FIND YOU AND THEY WILL MAKE YOU PAY.

The CBC aired a really disturbing story this week about a landlord housing some people who are receiving psychiatric help. Apparently, the conditions are just outrageous including a stint of almost two weeks where the water was shut off because of a leak instead of just fixing it. Read the story here.

And of course the landlord is none other than the president of the MUN for Life society. JUSTICE IS SERVED.

Now I have no proof that anyone from the MUNSU or even the university played any part in getting this story to air on the CBC. But a great way to nip a conservative’s rantings in the bud? Catch him in the act of something good and nasty and tell everyone you know.

Hopefully all this new found attention will knock the piss and vinegar out of this guy. I’m sick of him making Christians look like a bunch of retards on campus.

Post dammit. I want bed.

WARNING: EXTREMELY MUSHY POST

I always wonder if other people feel as strongly about their friends as I do mine. Over the summer someone commented to me “Man, I know everything about your friends, but you never mention your family, why?”

Simple: my friends are my family.

Leah and I sat on a couch in Starbucks for like two hours on Friday and the time just floated on by. Not a single sentence was forced. No awkward silences occurred. We gabbed and gossiped forever and we probably could have done it all night.

And then reading Robyn’s blog today got me all OH MAN WE ARE CUT FROM THE SAME CLOTH.

Holly and I are feverishly planning my arrival to Stephenville on the 29/30th. We are going to have far too much fun that week (and by fun I mean drinks).

Robert is somehow always the one who (never fails) gets my drunken texts in the wee hours of the morning, and he lovingly takes the time to answer every one of them with logic.

And there are millions of others who I could name who make me feel ooey-gooey on the inside.

And if you are reading this than I love you with all of my heart always! And if you question this love than you obviously didn’t get this link from me so go away.

So here are a few pictures of Christmas’ past and present. As well as the first three being some awesome presents I have received thus far this Christmas. And for the record, the pony’s name is Clip-Clop.

She's not a girl who misses much.

I am in so much pain. Ah. My head wants to jump out of my body and kick my ass. I would so deserve it.

Last night I hooked up with some people I had worked with in Iqaluit. It was all quite random and good times were very much had.

FIVE THINGS I THINK ABOUT WHILE I’M DANCING THE NIGHT AWAY

I wish I had a toothbrush

I should not have downed that drink just to have no hand obligations whilst dancing

Drinking a half a dozen shots in the course of two minutes was not the answer

I wish I could dance like that girl over there

I totally just hit that person in the head

Game update (how’s it going for you?):

I like my men like I like my coffee.

My Friday love list is in the form of American politics tonight.





Now I realize people are probably like "but Sarah, this isn't what American politics is about! It's about bombs and ridiculous policies and terrible legislation!" and to that I would say "sure is, cowpoke." But honestly, only in America could you get away this.

Can you see Stéphane Dion sitting with Chuck Norris. . . EVER?! Now that would be gold.

As for the dancing ladies, well the whole "sex sells" theory has really climbed by leaps and bounds.

And just because I hate her and absolutely everything she stands for, a little Ann Coulter tune:

Decession.

For my distance class, the prof leaves discussion points or whatever on a message board to simulate a classroom setting. Except he can't spell. Or use correct grammar. Or figure out how punctuation works. It is ridiculous.

And for the record I checked to see where he was from (who knows, maybe English is his second language), and he has degrees from MUN and Manchester University in England. Where I think it's safe to say that they speak English.

A small excerpt:

"Lets start with a brief review of stoessingers book "Why Nations go to war. This book differs from most books on war in that most books about the causes of way look at things like religion, economic and other reresources, politics, or a combination of these, as a cause of way. And there is certainly no doubt that these play a major role in why nations go to war. However the text takes a different track. Stoessinger pointas out that while these are important - in the end it is still the leaders of any given nation that must in the end make a decession to go to war and so they must share some of the balme. And he looks at certain individual leaders, and more specifically at their chacteracter flaws. and throughout the book he gives a numbers of case studies to prove his point."

At least I don't have to worry about spelling or phrasing when I'm writing my essay tonight. HE WON'T KNOW THE DIFFERENCE.

P.S. I am now this far in that game I mentioned, helpsies please!

Ransom captive Israel.

THIS IS MY 400th POST, CELEBRATEEE! :)

In addition to my brother’s Christmas gift (Bounce sheets) I sent him a tree that he could put up. I know he can be bahhumbuggy like the rest of the Smith family and I wanted to extend some of the Christmas cheer that I had been feeling as of late.

He sent me a couple pictures to show that he had indeed assembled and decorated it (and you know it's in the Arctic by the tinfoiled windows).
It made me think of a really good idea that I should have thought of earlier. How nice would it be if I got us webcams and we could set them up and go on speakerphone on Christmas morning? My parents would honestly die.

I’m going to mention it to Darryl and maybe if he likes the idea he could order one direct from Staples or something (so it could get there in time).

UH OH, new game challengeee! Maybe we should team up on this one. After a half a day's play I am this far:

Sleigh bells in the air, beauty everywhere.

We bury those things.

Tonight I was really missing my kiddies from the daycare I worked at in Iqaluit. I think about them a lot, over the course of four months you can make some really tight bonds.

So in hopes of curing my heartache I dug out the CD with all my pictures from the summer on it and started to flick through them. I didn’t take a whole lot of pictures, but in the last couple of weeks that I was there I took more and more hoping to keep something to remember everyone by.

I got to the photos of my last day at the daycare and there is easily a hundred pictures. That morning we took the kids to the RCMP station for a tour, it was one of those rare nice days and we made the trek with about fifteen of the kids in tow.

I got some beautiful shots at the RCMP station of the kids. A wonderfully nice (and awesomely hot) guy greeted us when we came in “Hey kids, ladies, I’m Constable Doug and I’m going to show you guys around today.” Well Sheena and I pretty much melted right there. Uniform. Cute smile. Blonde hair. Yum, yum, yum!

And show us around he did “Well kids, this is the drunk tank!” Insert big eyes from me and a “No, uh, it’s just for bad people.” This guy obviously hadn’t caught on that these were four and five year olds.

Man was he awesome though, I kept snapping photos of him left right and center. Hot, stable job and extremely nice to small children… MARRY ME. Sheena kept telling me to ask him to meet us at the Storehouse that night for our leaving town bash. She kept nudging me and going “nooo ringgg!”

A combination of me being chicken, plus already going out with someone kind of stopped that idea. And of course the fact that I was leaving the next day.

Before we left he got every kid an RCMP hat and we took a group photo. As I was trying to get the kids situated he came up to me and said “I can take the picture if you’d like to get in with the kids” and he held out a hat towards me. I could see Sheena and another girl I worked with freaking out because he was singling me out.

But of course the only thing I managed to get out was “um, no that’s okay.”

I was looking at photos of him tonight and smiling to myself thinking about that day, when suddenly I stopped. Constable Doug. Constable Doug. Constable Doug.


"People in Nunavut reacted with shock and grief Tuesday to news that an RCMP officer was shot and killed in the Baffin Island hamlet of Kimmirut. A man was arrested by Kimmirut RCMP several hours after Const. Douglas Scott, 20, was fatally shot while on duty late Monday night. Police have yet to identify the man who was taken into custody in Iqaluit on Tuesday. Charges have not been laid as of Tuesday[. . .]"

I wonder if subconsciously I remembered and that’s why I got so upset when I read about his death.

Tookie.

There have been camping trips in rural areas and picketing in major cities. There have been countless parties and gatherings as well as numerous drives and talks. There has been fights, laughs, tricks and treats, plays and concerts, bingo games, playground visits AND PRETTY MUCH EVERYTHING ELSE IN THE PAST SEVEN YEARS. Man, we've done some stupid stuff. But we've always done it together. :)

I have always had fourteen inches on you, and that will never change. But everything else we've shared and that's a pretty cool thing.

HAPPY 19th BIRTHDAY, HOLLY AUCOIN!

Administration of justice.

I had my Criminology final last night. It was rough. See, you are allowed to use the Criminal Code and your notes to find answers. Which sounds awesome, but it doesn’t really help if you don’t know where to look as the Criminal Code of Canada is a death wish.

There was a choice of two essays we had to do. Basically they give you a scenario of a crime and you have to lay down a lawful sentencing. Well I got totally distracted reading the first one as the criminals being described were named Mr. Jones and Ms. Smith.

I honestly thought it was a joke, but then I realized those names were probably chosen because they’re so common. But the next scenario had a Mr. Willybottom (or something like that) and Wild Bill. FREAK-EH.

I honestly have no idea how I did on that exam, but I’m averaging an 88% going in so I have a lot of room to work with.

A couple people have mentioned that I didn’t do a love list yesterday; well to be honest I wasn’t feeling the love. I do love lists to help me focus on the positive things of the week because I tend to be consumed with the negative. I just couldn’t pull myself out of the sludge yesterday.

But who knows, Enrique Iglesias might find his was into TLBTC to share some lovin’…

Casus belli.

For those who’ve got their heads stuck really far up their... toques, I thought I would mention that today is National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence against Women.

Now you might be thinking “Wow Sarah, that sure is a really long name for just one little day. Jesus only gets one word (Christmas) to describe His day, what makes this so important?” Well let me tell you without going into detail about what really happens because apparently truth makes everyone uncomfortable!

National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence against Women began almost twenty years ago here in Canada.

Before Columbine there was École Polytechnique. 18 years later flags still sit at half mass on this day, mourning the fourteen women who lost their live.

“Lépine then separated the nine women from the approximately fifty men and ordered the men to leave. Speaking in French, he asked the remaining women whether they knew why they were there, and when one student replied “no”, he answered: “I am fighting feminism”.

One of the students, Nathalie Provost, said, “Look, we are just women studying engineering, not necessarily feminists ready to march on the streets to shout we are against men, just students intent on leading a normal life.”

Lépine responded that “You're women, you're going to be engineers. You're all a bunch of feminists. I hate feminists.” He then opened fire on the students from left to right, killing six and wounding three others, including Provost…”

First off, doesn’t this sound like it could be out of some archaic book describing a scene taking place in like the Middle East? But it was almost the nineties, just west of us in Montreal.

You guys know how I feel about gender-bias, in any form. This just seems unfathomable.

I just want everyone to remember for a second. All of this, just for a second.

Still rockin' and sockin' after all these years.

These are the magical things I do/use to help calm myself down during finals. Anyone who is acquainted with me knows that I become mega-super-don't-talk-to-me-lest-you-die-bitch during finals. These are my helpful remedies that sometimes aid the mental pain.

SARAH'S TEN TIPS TO REDUCE EXAM STRESS IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER

1) Brightly Coloured Hi-Liters
These are like the Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots of studying. Nothing encourages me more when trudging through Canadian government policies and legislation like a shiny pink line! Seriously. Throw out that yellow no-good-doer and pick up a rainbow pack of loveee.

2) Low-Key Christmas Tunes
Nothing inspires a person to keep going like the reminder of Christmas break. I choose to do this through different methods. The first being, low-key Christmas tunes. And by low-key I mean no ROCKIN’ AROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE WITH ALICE COOPER, but a lovely, reminiscent, thought-provoking album like Songs of Christmas by Sufjan Stevens. O Come, O Come Emmanuel!

3) Christmas Trees: The New Study Buddies?
The other motivating Christmas factor is studying around the Christmas tree (or Menorah for all my Jewish homies). I am so focused when the bright lights of my family’s tree are shining down on my WHY NATIONS GO TO WAR text. Makes me feel tingly.

4) Tea!
I loves my tea, but during exams I go from a couple cups of tea a week to at least three a day. It keeps me warm from this new winter cold, and the five or so minutes it takes to make a nice steeped cup is the perfect amount of time to clear my brain of study-fuzzies (without forgetting where I left off).

5) Snackage
It’s nighttime and you’ve been studying all day. Those nachos have been calling your name. Don’t be scared to answer back [Meagan]! I always keep Nutra-Grain bars on hand for both yuminess and easiness. And my popcorn machine has been working overdrive lately. Meals never really exist for me during exams, just random snatches of food.

6) Stay off the MSN
Not that this is any sort of challenge for me anymore. I swear to God if one person signs on with a personal message as long as a novel describing their whole effing day in detail, I will find them, and I will shoot them. But yeah, I know a lot of people find MSN to be exceptionally distracting so quit it. Cold turkey. Take up letter writing on fancy stationary instead.

7) Cue Cards
Yup. I’m a loser. I willingly (and happily!) use cue cards any chance I get. Marland’s classes are usually definition-heavy, so nothing helps more than having little hand sized cards that tell me what things like “Crown Agencies” or “Brokerage Theories” are. It’s unbelievably helpful (especially for the people who get them after I’m done with them! My POSC 2711 ones are library worthy, so if any of you out there ever take that class, you could pass with studying my cue cards alone, seriously).

8) Ze Frank
I’m sure some can recall my complete and total mental breakdown that I had last year during exams. I went frigging crazy. It was the first time in my life where I actually had to study my little heart out if I wanted to pass a class. Ze Frank was my three-minutes-a-day-break-from-reality. And wasn’t I just giddy when he posted a vlog with tips on how to study better. Ze always helps.

9) Warm Slippers
So I have the coldest feet in the history of the world. It’s kind of pathetic. Nothing distracts me more than when my cold feet are radiating cold while I’m trying to study. I go with the classic Nanny-knit-me-these slippers, though really any kind will help.

10) BREATHE
I lose focus sometimes when I think about all the things I don’t know rather than the things I do. I actually know a lot.

I can tell you how many years you’d spend in prison for breaking into a dwelling home. I can tell you what section of the Canadian Criminal Code you’ll find the Charter of Rights and Freedoms in. I can tell you what pork-barreling is. What party Gilles Duceppe leads. What happened during the Sponsorship Scandal. I can tell you facts about many different mass murderers and serial killers. I can almost tell you about radical theories and constructivist theories and liberal theories, though not very well.

We’re smart! All of us. I can’t think of a single person who reads this blog who isn’t. So cut yourself some slack and breathe. Will you really be on your death bed thinking: “I can’t believe I missed the question on gerrymandering!” Doubt it.

Sea lion woman.

Sun. Sun. Grass. Grass. Nice. Nice. WINTER.

Wow. Yesterday’s explosion of weather was seriously intense. I can’t recall a time when we’ve entered the winter season with such suddenness.

Friday night we walked to the concert downtown and skipped about on all the hilly roads. Saturday morning we all just gaped from our windows at the 20cm of snow that sat (unplowed) on our streets.

The lights were flicking on and off all day yesterday, so it wasn’t a surprise when around nine it went out with a beep of the fire alarms.

My aunt (who was stranded here the whole weekend because the TCH was a death wish), my Mom and I broke out the candles and played Scattergories by candle light. Yeah, awesomeness runs in the family.

FEIST NIGHT.