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Eternal Childhood?

I was sitting around the house last night wrestling with Freckle Dick and Ass Breath. Those aren't their real names, but as far as you know they are. I'm wrestling with them and I had a moment of clarity. I'm approaching 31 (January fourth send gifts) and I realize that I'm still a child. I had a group of 4th graders on a field trip to Coffee Bean where they got to make their own chocolate or vanilla ice blended drinks. I couldn't wait patiently in the back like a teacher and adult should. I actually cut the line and stuck my tongue at the boys behind me.

This has caused me to question if I am an actual adult. Here are some facts to consider.

1) I'm messy and I don't really care.
2) I still play with toys and get excited to see what the have in the toy isle.
3) I am currently sponging off of the income of a working woman.
4) I'm writing this at noon and I am still in my pajama bottoms.
5) I don't get dressed up unless I ABSOLUTELY must. Like for weddings and funerals.
6) I collect bugs like spiders, preying mantids, rollie pollies.
7) I name these bugs and keep them in containers around the house.
8) I pee in the shower, only when I'm alone.
9) I can't swim and needed to wear water wings at my house boat bachelor party.
10) I can't go into the drug store without looking at the candy isle.
11) The word boobies still makes me smirk.
12) I talk about buildings and structures just so that I can say the word "erection."
13) I spend 8:30 to 3pm hanging out with 9 and ten year olds. I'm a teacher you sicko.
14) I like to give rabbit ears to people in pictures.
15) If it's really really dark, that's scary.
16) I'm going to buy some Legos today. Just because I can.
17) If things fall on the floor I usually still eat them.
18) Things that light up are cool.
19) I don't like the taste of Coffee
20) I like the Power Puff Girls
21) I get carded any time I try to get into a bar.
22) I'm not allowed to have a video game system in the house because I used to have "a problem."
23) I drink from the milk carton and spill or dribble 70% of the time.
24) I like stickers
25) I do not comb my hair

And on the other side.

1) I'm married
2) I can drive a car
3) My ID says I'm 30 years-old
4) Sometimes I read books that aren't picture books
5) I have credit cards.
6) I have an anemic but existing stock portfolio
7) I like most vegetables, including onions, broccoli, beets and asparagus

That's about all I have going on the adult side.

I'm going to go have some Oreo cookies for breakfast and reflect some more before I go to the Toy store. Probably in my pajamas.

Pajama Power

I don't think I'm capable of doing anything other than watch movies whenever I'm wearing pajama pants. They have some sort of special power to make you completely unproductive and sluglike. Maybe slothlike is more apt as I don't seem to be leaving a sticky silver trail of slime in my path. I wonder if pajamas tell your brain and body that it's time to do nothing or if the fact that I haven't changed out of my pjs is a result of lethargy. It's the whole which came first the chicken or the egg conundrum. That's enough heavy thought, maybe I can think more clearly if I ever change back into street clothes. That is of course assuming that I can escape the powerful black hole-like pull of the pajamas.

Moving On, Feeling Blue

The day after tomorrow is my last day at the school where I've been teaching for the past few months. It's been a great experience. I love it there. I have to leave my student teaching position because my session is up. So don't believe any of the rumors you might hear about how I gave some of the little girls Mono. I'll be transferred to a different school and I feel as anxious as I did on that first day when I moved to New York to start as the brand new kid in the first grade. Maybe somebody will buy me big size Star Wars figure like my aunt did to bribe me into going to school every day for the first week. I think it was during the first week that some kids in my class convinced me that I should fight this kindergartener. Apparently fight promotion was the entertainment of choice. I was instigated into it like... like the 6 year old I was. I was sold on the idea by some of the black kids in my class who inspired me with the confidence that I could beat up the little kid with no problem because I was white - just like Superman. I know, it sounds more like what might happen in prison. The only thing more embarrassing than getting my ass whipped by a five- year-old, was having to go classroom to classroom to pick out the little kid who beat me up. "This little kindergartener did that to your face? The one playing with the legos? Are you sure about that?" Double shame.

You grow up and you realize that nothing much changes. You go through your twenties and then you hit 30 and you have this powerful desire to find a place that you can feel is your home. Maybe I never had such a place having bounced around for so long in San Francisco when I was a small fry. Going to my next location for student teaching should be this minor thing. It's nothing that should warrant so much anxiety. It's hard for me to make changes and break emotional ties. I feel like I've just now made a home for myself there. It will be really hard to leave the kids who I've worked with every day for the last eight weeks. I hope none of the kids start to cry because then I'll might start crying and it's hard enough to teach 9 year-olds how to evaluate algebraic equations under normal circumstances. I'm gonna end this blog before I start getting all Doogie Howser with this post. Perhaps it's too late. Yeah, it's too late. It's always easier to leave at the end of the year when the kids are moving on to a new grade and a fresh batch of misfits, malcontents, savants, idiots and budding intellectuals show up and look at you to tell them what to do.

I don't even have my lucky Dukes of Hazard lunch box to give me that all important mystique and street cred that you need when you're the fresh fish at a new school. At least I'll do my damnedest to try and avoid getting drawn into a fight with a blood thirsty kindergartener. Unless he starts up with me. Then he's dog food. Now even the big ones are small enough to throw. I also hate having to be charming and witty and competant all over again. asdfhkl, he wrote, as he just hit his keyboard in sleepy angst. hjasgohi

Wish me luck in getting a mentor teacher who isn't a head case. Oh good, the ludes are kicking in. G-night.

krankiboy

Happy Family

This is a picture of me.



My lovely Wife of One Year...



Our Two Dogs: Freckle Dick and Ass Breath...




And here is the Artist whom I commissioned to do our portraits in honor of our anniversary.



And this is the sassy little street-smart orphan girl we just adopted. She still shoplifts and drinks out of the toilet but we're making progress.

Concession Speech

November 03, 2004
Concession Speech
by Adam Felber
[Former candidate Felber, flanked by his family and supporters, steps up to the podium in the bright autumn sunlight. Cheers and applause are heard.]
My fellow Americans, the people of this nation have spoken, and spoken with a clear voice. So I am here to offer my concession. [Boos, groans, rending of garments]
I concede that I overestimated the intelligence of the American people. Though the people disagree with the President on almost every issue, you saw fit to vote for him. I never saw that coming. That's really special. And I mean "special" in the sense that we use it to describe those kids who ride the short school bus and find ways to injure themselves while eating pudding with rubber spoons. That kind of special.
I concede that I misjudged the power of hate. That's pretty powerful stuff, and I didn't see it. So let me take a moment to congratulate the President's strategists: Putting the gay marriage amendments on the ballot in various swing states like Ohio... well, that was just genius. Genius. It got people, a certain kind of people, to the polls. The unprecedented number of folks who showed up and cited "moral values" as their biggest issue, those people changed history. The folks who consider same sex marriage a more important issue than war, or terrorism, or the economy... Who'd have thought the election would belong to them? Well, Karl Rove did. Gotta give it up to him for that. [Boos.] Now, now. Credit where it's due.
I concede that I put too much faith in America's youth. With 8 out of 10 of you opposing the President, with your friends and classmates dying daily in a war you disapprove of, with your future being mortgaged to pay for rich old peoples' tax breaks, you somehow managed to sit on your asses and watch the Cartoon Network while aging homophobic hillbillies carried the day. You voted with the exact same anemic percentage that you did in 2000. You suck. Seriously, y'do. [Cheers, applause] Thank you. Thank you very much.
There are some who would say that I sound bitter, that now is the time for healing, to bring the nation together. Let me tell you a little story. Last night, I watched the returns come in with some friends here in Los Angeles. As the night progressed, people began to talk half-seriously about secession, a red state / blue state split. The reasoning was this: We in blue states produce the vast majority of the wealth in this country and pay the most taxes, and you in the red states receive the majority of the money from those taxes while complaining about 'em. We in the blue states are the only ones who've been attacked by foreign terrorists, yet you in the red states are gung ho to fight a war in our name. We in the blue states produce the entertainment that you consume so greedily each day, while you in the red states show open disdain for us and our values. Blue state civilians are the actual victims and targets of the war on terror, while red state civilians are the ones standing behind us and yelling "Oh, yeah!? Bring it on!"
More than 40% of you Bush voters still believe that Saddam Hussein had something to do with 9/11. I'm impressed by that, truly I am. Your sons and daughters who might die in this war know it's not true, the people in the urban centers where al Qaeda wants to attack know it's not true, but those of you who are at practically no risk believe this easy lie because you can. As part of my concession speech, let me say that I really envy that luxury. I concede that.
Healing? We, the people at risk from terrorists, the people who subsidize you, the people who speak in glowing and respectful terms about the heartland of America while that heartland insults and excoriates us... we wanted some healing. We spoke loud and clear. And you refused to give it to us, largely because of your high moral values. You knew better: America doesn't need its allies, doesn't need to share the burden, doesn't need to unite the world, doesn't need to provide for its future. Hell no. Not when it's got a human shield of pointy-headed, atheistic, unconfrontational breadwinners who are willing to pay the bills and play nice in the vain hope of winning a vote that we can never have. Because we're "morally inferior," I suppose, we are supposed to respect your values while you insult ours. And the big joke here is that for 20 years, we've done just that.
It's not a "ha-ha" funny joke, I realize, but it's a joke all the same.
Being an independent candidate gives me one luxury - as well as conceding the election today, I am also announcing my candidacy for President in 2008. [Wild applause, screams, chants of "Fel-ber! Fel-ber!] Thank you.
And I make this pledge to you today: THIS time, next time, there will be no pandering. This time I will run with all the open and joking contempt for my opponents that our President demonstrated towards the cradle of liberty, the Ivy League intellectuals, the "media elite," and the "white-wine sippers." This time I will not pretend that the simple folk of America know just as much as the people who devote their lives to serving and studying the nation and the world. They don't.
So that's why I'm asking for your vote in 2008, America. I'm talking to you, you ignorant, slack-jawed yokels, you bible-thumping, inbred drones, you redneck, racist, chest-thumping, perennially duped grade-school grads. Vote for me, because I know better, and I truly believe that I can help your smug, sorry asses. Vote Felber in '08! Thank you, and may God, if he does in fact exist, bless each and every one of you.
[Tumultuous cheers, applause, and foot-stomping. PULL BACK to reveal the rest of the stage, the row of cameras, hundreds of unoccupied chairs, and the empty field beyond.]

Posted by Adam Felber at November 3, 2004 02:43 PM

I'm too angry to write anything funny. So just read this and know that I'd have said something similar but get so angry that it would turn into a rant and end in death threats.

Thanks Adam. I'm going to go back into my fetal position now and swaddle myself in denial and bitter self-righteousness.

Thanks from John Kerry

Here is a letter Kerry sent to his supporters. It meant something to me to receive it.

Dear Krankiboy,

Earlier today I spoke to President Bush, and offered him and Laura our congratulations on their victory. We had a good conversation, and we talked about the danger of division in our country and the need, the desperate need, for unity for finding the common ground, coming together. Today, I hope that we can begin the healing.

In America, it is vital that every vote counts, and that every vote be counted. But the outcome should be decided by voters, not a protracted legal process. I would not give up this fight if there was a chance that we would prevail. But it is now clear that even when all the provisional ballots are counted, which they will be, there won't be enough outstanding votes for our campaign to be able to win Ohio. And therefore, we cannot win this election.
It was a privilege and a gift to spend two years traveling this country, coming to know so many of you. I wish I could just wrap you in my arms and embrace each and every one of you individually all across this nation. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.

To all of you, my volunteers and online supporters, all across this country who gave so much of themselves, thank you. Thanks to William Field, a six-year-old who collected $680, a quarter and a dollar at a time selling bracelets during the summer to help change America. Thanks to Michael Benson from Florida who I spied in a rope line holding a container of money. It turned out he raided his piggy bank and wanted to contribute. And thanks to Alana Wexler, who at 11 years old and started Kids for Kerry.

I thank all of you, who took time to travel, time off from work, and their own vacation time to work in states far and wide. You braved the hot days of summer and the cold days of the fall and the winter to knock on doors because you were determined to open the doors of opportunity to all Americans. You worked your hearts out, and I say, don't lose faith. What you did made a difference, and building on itself, we will go on to make a difference another day. I promise you, that time will come -- the election will come when your work and your ballots will change the world, and it's worth fighting for.

I'm proud of what we stood for in this campaign, and of what we accomplished. When we began, no one thought it was possible to even make this a close race, but we stood for real change, change that would make a real difference in the life of our nation, the lives of our families, and we defined that choice to America. I'll never forget the wonderful people who came to our rallies, who stood in our rope lines, who put their hopes in our hands, who invested in each and every one of us. I saw in them the truth that America is not only great, but it is good.

So here -- with a grateful heart, I leave this campaign with a prayer that has even greater meaning to me now that I've come to know our vast country so much better and that prayer is very simple: God bless America.

Thank you,
John Kerry


Yes. It's clear that even in defeat he's a greater, wiser man with more integrity and heart than the Retard Cowboy will ever have. If I wasn't so angry I'd cry like a little girl. An angry little girl with an assault rifle (they're legal, you know for hunting). It's all so ridiculous. I'll be here in the fetal position if you need me.

I found this ballot stub on the ground on my way to school today. While it's not the most brilliant writing, I do agree with its sentiment.  

And the Fascist War Mongering Religious Zealot Planet Killers.  

He also had a killer afro and a red sequined bo-tie. Yes, that is a blood stain on the left of the handout.  

How to Handle a Bush Re-election

I know it would be horrible. But it could happen. He became president last time without even getting the majority of votes and the Wheels of the Greasy Republican Machine continue to run overtime as the religious zealots jump in to help lend their support to make sure that same sex marriage is banned. I picture the Orc army scene from Lord of the Rings where they relentlessly rip down all the trees to stoke their fires and forge their cruel weapons. It seems that the religious fanatics feel that fucking around with the Constitution and preserving the "Sanctity of Marriage" is much more vital than the environment, the economy, foreign policy, honest leadership, accountability, and having a leader with the ability to form complete sentences composed of actual words. Let's hope it doesn't go to the courts to decided this one. We know who owns those folks. I'll give you a clue. It rhymes with Porge Tush. Three or more Supreme Court justices will be nominated by whoever "wins" the election.

It's Ketchup vs. Oil and I know which one I want on my all american burger.

So I have decided to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Boyscout style.

IF Bush gets a second term as President to see what else he can crash our country into.

Bush said it himself "People misunderestimate me." Well I shant.

IF BUSH WINS THIS IS MY REACTION PLAN: And I pray to the Dancin' Baby Jesus with all my heathen heart that we don't have to use it.

Step 1) Sit in stunned silence for about seven minutes trying to process the senseless and horrific event that has just taken place.

Step 2) Curse the Midwestern Voters for being ignorant, intolerant, incestuous bastards. This isn't entirely true but you have to blame somebody.

Step 3) Refuse to pay any taxes until Bush is ousted, impeached or publicly spanked at the U.N.. There's a 65% chance your money is either going towards the war in Iraq or to one of them fancy wagon wheel tables for Airforce 1.

Step 4) When step 3 fails because too few Americans have the balls to stand up against the Man, immediately buy as much stock in Defense Contractors and Weapons Manufactures as you can. Spend all your money on cigarettes. You'll need the smokes to use as currency when Armageddon rolls over us like an unstoppable black Tsunami and you must bribe you way into the underworld sanctuary.

Step 5) If you are of Draft age (which lately seems like anywhere from 18 to 59 years-old) burn off your fingerprints with acid and then fake your own death. Something original like a blimping accident.

Step 6) Learn to live off the land. I hear Montana is beautiful.

Step 7) Join your local millitia so you know how to fight when the North Koreans and the Chinese attack us.

Step 8) Become comfortable using the phrases "Nuclear weapons, Schmuclear weapons." and "God is on our side 'cause we're Americans, right?!"

Step 9) Stop Drop and Roll.

Step 10) If step 9 somehow fails to remedy the situation, you have only three options.

1)The hard way:
Try and lead a rag tag band of rebel forces against the Empire (hint) befriend the Ewoks so they'll help you to combat the Storm Troopers.

2)The quick and tasty way:
Enjoy a hot fudge cyanide sundae or a poisoned dessert of your choice.

3) The easy way:
Get that Lobotomy you've been saving up for. "Look at all those pretty clouds. Say, that one looks just like a mushroom... Cool."

Halloween Part 2 of 3

Apparently when there are costumes involved I have quite an active social life. I revamped my mad doctor costume into Doctor Love, with ravy flashing hearts and all. It's comfortable to dance in scrubs. I don't get these guys who dress in full rubberized demon body suits. They look like some villain from the Spiderman comic books. Tagged along with some friends to the big new club in L.A. Godskitchen at the Henry Fonda. Very cool set up, lots of wander room and different places to crash and cozy up.

Okay, enough plugging the venue. On to the highlights.

1) Going out dancing for the first time in over two years! Y.E.A.R.S. I'm happy to report that there wasn't too much rust or dust on my funky groove machine.

2) Friends brought some weak-ass drugs. I'll just say they were 97% less potent than the worst I've ever had. But Penny and I and John and Jackie Kennedy still had a lovely time. Shame about JFK getting shot and spattering Jackie blood and all.

3) By pure coincidence we ran into two of out friends, which at a big place when everybody is in costume is remarkable. Especially because my friend Ned (honkey) was wearing a massive fro, some facial hair and a bowtie. He was Rufus Peabody of course. It's great to have somebody there to use their afro wig to fan you on the dance floor.

4) In the VIP room Penny and I were couch spooning and we had this hot girl in a skimpy little girlscout outfit with her boyscout w/boner date. She was like our own personal go go dancer. She shook her cookies quite well.

5) Then there was a great set by SANDER and two professional dancing girls who were barely dressed in leather Indian Princess gear. One was eh, but the other was one of the most beautiful females I've ever seen including magazines, tv and movies. We (yes even the women) were all mesmerized and couldn't look away from her. Had I been on something potent, I would have rushed the stage and pinned my pulsating heart on her. I wanted her to sweat so it might hit me in the face. Her formula was hot squared, times ten. Drooling complete.

6) I don't remember much after that except for going to the seating area to rest and finding what looked like the lost and found of Asian guys. They were all crashed out, most of them asleep as the beat pounded away. Then one by one their wives and girlfriends came to collect them, as if they were lost articles of clothing or coats from the coat check room.

7) Cute girl dressed as Punky Brewster went out of her way to chat with me. Cause I was after all Doctor Love. DJ Jenette, I think it was. That made me think about Punky Brewster. I think it's "odd" for an old single white man to adopt an eight year old girl. But maybe that's just me.

Halloween Part 1 of 3

Double Fisting Friday

There is a saying that says you should always dance with the girl that brought you. This is especially true if that girl is Vodka. So I was Mad scarred up and bloody Dr. Krankiboy. Penny and my friends insisted that I also bring a wire hangar to make a political statement. I did. But it wasn't the crowd pleasing conversation piece I'd hoped it would be. It was hard to carry a machete, wire hangar and a cocktail all at the same time, so I prioritized and hung the hangar on the ceiling fan. I couldn't get my act together to go as a Punk as I had planned. Plus looking like a poor wastrel druggie youth can get expensive if you're only resource is vintage clothing on Melrose Avenue. They're not giving away those spiked collars and anarchy shirts for free. Next year, perhaps. So yeah, mixing your alcohols can be bad.

A few large Vodka and cranberry drinks - Yummy. Okay Vodka is gone... Rum and cranberry, Oh! And some of that Pineapple liquor. Sweet and Tangy. Okay, now the rum is gone. How about Coke and cherry flavored liquor... Sure and while I'm already making one drink why not double fist it and drink a mostly Tequila Margarita at the same time. Sure it looks like a fine plan on paper, but in practice, not so much.

Some things I do remember:

1) The party was huge and elaborate
2) The more I drank the more everybody liked me.
3) I took a picture to pay tribute to our women in uniform. Naughty Girlscout Penny, Naughty Nurse Marin and Naughty Pot Brownie...uh, didn't get her name.

4) Dogs at the party were dressed as devils and angels and were not happy about it.

5) Big Gay German guy hitting on Marin only to get to her boyfriend who was dressed as a Dork/Nerd. "Your boyfriend is very cute even dressed up as a dork he's quite cute..." Was this bi Germanic photographer trying to hook up a menage? Who knows? I got the hell out of there to find a drink since I was already down to holding just one and 2/3 drinks. Not a good time to sober up.

6) Down at the fire pit (Fire pits are fucking awesome!) my friend told me he'd pay me ten dollars if I could get the girl dressed as a Girl Gone Wild (Mardi Gra beads and a "Censored" sign over her t*ts) to show me her t*ts. I had pretty much talked her into it after explaining the "bet" that my dorky friend offered up. Then I think I saw something shiny or dork's girlfriend came over. I don't usually get sidetracked when somebody gives me a challenge. You know that kid that would always take you up on a dare for money. That was me and still is to some degree.

7) Had conversation with a Cowgirl struggling with the fact that it was her 30th birthday. I gave some insight and wisdom in between checking out her ten-year-old boy ass.

8) Tall gay men were starting to increase in number.

9) Lestat the Vampire was our generous host.

10) Chubby girl dressed up as a French maid flirted with me heavily and hit me with a riding crop. That makes six consecutive Halloweens in a row this has happened.

11) Girls dressed as Krispy Kreme Donut girls were give out free tastes of their holes. Struck me as a bit dirty.

12) Got a bit carried away and began molesting my wife/Girlscout at the fire pit, paving the way for everybody else to start macking on one another. I blame the combination of alcohol and knee socks.

13) Girlscout drove Nurse, Dork and Mad Doctor back home.

14) Tapped my first Girlscout cookie in some of the drunkest, "what the hell happened last night" sex I've ever had.

15) Dork sends me email apologizing for "being a dork."

And that was just Friday's Halloween Fun. There are two more nights of parties left... Time for me to reinvent myself as Dr. Love. We are off for a night of crazy dancing at God's Kitchen.

Halloween Hijinks 

Looks like we won't be winning Alabama.  

I love going down to the hospital to see the brand new Halloween babies coming into the world.||  

Brain Power

Klicky McKlick Klink the link below.

BRAIN POWER

Send this above link to as many swing state voters as you can. Don't forget to use "strategery" to try and win the game.

I'm krankiboy and I approve this message.

Hedgehogs are Sellouts!

An open letter to Hedgehogs:


You and the Sea Otters are two of my favorite animals. I admired your cute little features and above all your integrity and disdain for materialism. This is why it pains me to see you chasing the almighty dollar. The monkey sold out long ago, so has the dog and the cat and almost every other animal under the sun. Talking pigs, hamsters, you name it they've all cashed in on movies and TV ads. But now you?! It breaks my heart to see one of the few animals left with integrity selling out to "the man."

You're better than that Hedgehogs. You're better than that.

Hedgehog Sellouts

Who will be the wind beneath my wings?

Fraught with Distraught,

Krankiboy

The Finest of Feline Art & "Da Bible"

Powerful and evocative.

I am pretty sure that this is one of the omens mentioned in "Da Bible." Not "The Bible." I'm referring to the brandass-spankin' new blackalicious Bible that I'm currently working on. Who better than me to update the Bible and give it that urban edge and hip-hop flava that's been missing for so long. They've remade some great films why not the Bible too? There will be the King James Edition the Old Ass Edition and soon, the Krankiboy Edition. Look for it at adult bookstores, wherever fine paperbacks and adult novelties are sold.

Here's an excerpt to give you a taste. This is from the book of Tyrel chapter 16 verse 12. Lamar "Yo, playa, if people start thinkin' they damn cat be painting art and shit up in this here mutha-fucka, this nigga know the mutha-fucking enda world be comin'!

The book of Genesis is really going well, I think I've been able to keep the language crisp and zippy, while still staying true to the purity and meaning of the Bible. Also the scene where Eve sucks-off the snake for the rock of crack works even better than that apple of knowledge shit in the Old Bible.

http://www.freddie-street.com/guide/wcpaint.shtml

Some Retraction Action

In my post about the former Friends' writers assistant I may have been a bit hasty... So I have to make an apology to the writers' assistant who is suing the friends writers. I spelled her name Amani Lyle. It should be A-m-a-a-n-i Lyle. My bad. I still think she's a can't hack it, no-sense-of-humor cry baby. I wouldn't really hit her with my car, because if I didn't finish her off she'd sue me. And I like to hurt people with words, not with automobiles.

Below is a link to all the nasty things they said. I don't doubt that they did and said most of these things. It's a writer's room. I've worked in rooms where they hung a Polaroid picture on the wall. One of the writers found near a tennis court. It was a nasty shot of some old man giving a super suction blow job. If you made a bad joke pitch or wasted to much time, the exec producers would sometimes make you kiss it. It was all in good fun. Maybe that's because I never had to kiss it.

Click the title of this post to enjoy the 8 pages of raunchy and amusing deposition that details what was allegedly done and said in the Friends writers' room.