The lesson Mary-Kate Olsen taught me, that Ashley never could.

"Yes. Yes, you are."

That is what the flannel wearing, Budweiser drinking, Joe Dirt doppleganger told me when I asked him the simple, yet pertinent question- "Are we in the parade?".

Now in order for you, as the reader, to fully appreciate this scenario, I must rewind a few hours. Earlier that lovely Saturday, my niece Zahra, my nephew Ethan and myself piled into my mint condition 2002 Ford Taurus, affectionately named Talan, and drove to the center of scenic AuGres, Michigan. We parked Talan, and found our spot on the grassy knoll, with a plethora of other classic car enthusiasts. Ok, the truth? We were bored and thought it might be fun to watch and possibly mock the plethora of classic car enthusiasts. So, for a good 30 minutes, we watched and waved as tons of old makes and models puttered through the streets. After a while of this adventure, Zahra, Ethan and I were getting antsy. We decided to go pick up Zahra's friend and be on our way. After making weaving through the crowd of crazies, we hopped in Talan and began our journey. At first, everything appeared normal. Sure, people were still sitting on the curb with lawn chairs and beer, but it was, afterall, AuGres, Michigan. Then.... the further we went, a few things jumped out at me. First, the aforementioned beer drinkers, were spraying water ALL OVER the road. Secondly, they were yelling things like, "PEEL OUT!!!" and "Show us what this Ford's got!!!!" Thirdly, some people were giving us the finger. 

Then, like Kristen Stewart in the Twilight Saga, realizing that she should find better company than vampires and werewolves, it all became clear. Crystal clear. We.Were.In.The.Parade. 

I'm embarrassed. There we were, smack dab in the middle of an awkward sandwich- circa 1963. So- what did we do? We embraced the suck. We swallowed our pride, ignored our obvious ignorance into the quite intricate classic car circuit, and we paraded our little hearts out! We waved. We smiled. I think we even found some random mints in my back seat to throw out the window to the kids. I was like the freaking parade queen and the crowd LOVED me. I was on fire. 

Yes... my car, the great Talan, has seen his fair share of adventure. Talan keeps me on my toes. Talan once decided to take a personal day on the way to Ohio in the pouring rain, in an area of the country that I can only assume was the inspiration for such Blockbusters as The Hills Have Eyes and Jeepers Creepers. Talan has been through the ringer. To assist you in your understanding of the beast,  below is a list of Talan's Fun Facts:

1. The number of famous people Talan has driven. (Michael Salgado, aka the mexican Justin Timberlake)

2. The number of engines Talan has gone through.

3. The number of people that have puked in my car.

4. The number of unidentifiable stains Talan has accrued over the last 9 years.

5. The number of times that Talan has scratched my Britney Spear's Greatest Hits cd. 

Yes, Talan has had his fair share of expeditions, and I can honestly say, that similar Knight Ryder, that car TALKED TO ME. THAT CAR LOVED ME. And I loved him. 

However, if LOST has taught us nothing else, we have learned that all good things must come to an end. Sometimes you have to wake up from that amazing dream you were having about Tyson Beckford. Sometimes you have to say goodbye to that amazing friend. And sometimes, you are half a mile away from home, and some Vin Diesel wannabe decides to try his hand at Tokyo Drifting... into your car.... The same car that once would not release your Maroon Five cd from the player for 3 weeks. 

Yes. Talan has been considered, by the Liberty Mutual Insurance Group, a total loss.

The cold hard facts:

broken back axle. 

The BFF and I were almost home last Wednesday, when out of nowhere, a lead footed male that shall remain nameless, blew through a stop sign and into the side of us. If the BFF hadn't seen him coming, we would have been completely TBoned, and I'm not sure how I would be writing this blog right now. Unless heaven has wi-fi. Which, I'm sure it does. So on second thought, I would still be writing this blog, but I would totally let Jesus do a guest post. =) So, after we waited 2 hours for a tow truck, I got the privilege of going through the issues of insurance. I am now close to purchasing a new (to me) car, and hopefully I will be back on track. 

So, I ask myself.... what do I do? What do I do when I lose the only thing I had left of my dead father. What do I do when something completely out of my control, ruins a goodly portion of my month. What do I do, when life isn't fair? After a week of tears, prayers and fetal positions, I have decided what I do.

I, my friends, embrace the suck.

In the movie Beastly, Mary-Kate Olsen plays this crazy girl that casts a spell on the hottie of the movie, in order to teach him inner beauty. And after she does this, she encourages him to "embrace the suck". I laughed when I heard it. I didn't get it, at first. There are many things I would like to embrace- Zac Efron, pizza, also the entire cast of GLEE..... but the suck- the random crappy-ness of life..... I'll pass.

To embrace the suck, sucks. I assure you of this fact. Life can suck. I won't lie to you about that. satan is a total douchebag, and thanks to his clever sales pitch in the Garden of Eden, we are subject to the suck. However, we don't have to fear it. We don't even have to ignore it. Sometimes, we have to embrace it. 

This week, I have been a biotch fo sho- I have snapped at people that were trying to help me, I've questioned God's love for me multiple times, and I wont even start to list the amount of Eminem songs that I have compared to my own life. (You know, because a broken down Taurus is EXACTLY like having a drunken mother and no father)

I've been far from a trusting Christian. If the trusting Christian is Amy Grant, I'm Ke$ha. If patience is Yao Ming, I'm the world's shortest man. Yes, I fell victim to the suck. I allowed it to put me over the edge. However, I've decided I don't want to do it anymore. I instead, have decided to take a page out of Jesus's book (The Bible- perhaps you've heard of it), and embrace said, suck. We just celebrated Easter, and this entire week, I failed to remember, that Jesus didn't simply ignore his doom, or throw a fit about it. He, in some ways, embraced it. Jesus realized what He had to do, and He did it. And it sucked. 

I'm gonna try to be a little less Leanne, and a little more Jesus. 

I'm going to embrace the suck that life brings, because God's got my back, and he can turn the suck into something amazing.... He's taken many gross situations and made them good. He can do it with anything. Except for that new show Mob Wives.... and also, maybe The Situation.

**Thanks for reading! Hope this post wasn't too depressing!!!** =)

College Professors..... and also- Usher.

These are my confessions...

Like Usher's sex addictions brought to the surface, Imma be honest about something- I DO NOT blog well. AT ALL. Shocker, I know! =) I just recently started this technological voyage, and much like Chris Columbus back in '92, I kinda suck at it. However, I have been reading a few blogs. If you haven't read my BFF's blog, you have to. If you've never heard of Jon Acuff, hate your life- then read Stuff Christians Like. And finally- my guurrrllll Jaime. She's awesome. Ok another confession- she's not actually my "gurl" at all. I've never even met her. Buuutttt.... she writes an awesome blog! Jaime and her family are missionaries to Costa Rica , but she's totally normal! I LOVE her writings. She has the humor of Bob Hope, the wisdom of Ghandi and the ability to keep it real like my man Marshall Mathers, ya'll! HOLLA!!! Even though Jaime claims to have the monopoly on the VeryWorstMissionary, I think I'm definitely the very worst something. I, Leanne, am the very worst Sunday School Teacher. Don't believe me? Well, you should. I once compared Esther being picked for queen, to Tyra's search for America's Next Top Model. I once gave the kids a coloring page that portrayed Shadrach in the fiery furnace, looking not distressed at all, but more like a metrosexual hair stylist from LA. I also once ate every pink starburst in the entire pack, right in front of their eyes, because a fight broke out over that delightful strawberry flavored candy. Yea- I'm the worst. However, I think my "epic fail"- my Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction if you will, came last week. I was talking to the kids about Easter and explaining that there are other religions in the world that don't believe the same thing that we do. One of my *whitecoughwhite* students said, "Other religions? Like Mexican?" I almost spit out my Diet Coke.
I swallowed.
No honey- Mexican is a nationality, not a religion.
One of my hispanic students just looked at me and shook his head almost as if to say, "Miss Leanne- this girl clearly "mexi-can't". Somewhere along the way, this girl got some green, white and red wires crossed. I think that happens to me more than most people. Sometimes I get my wires crossed. Sometimes I think its ok to yell at random children in WalMart. Sometimes I call people by the wrong name. Yup- sometimes I feel like my life is the mis-education of Leanne.

Education. The key to not being a dumbass. I think this quote should go on every school wall in America.  There are so many types of learning styles and teachers, that I have decided to make a handy dandy list of my Top 5, and what they do. I've also cross referenced them with specific TV shows they are most like.

You're welcome. 

So- LET'S DO IT! 

1. LOST- aka Dr. Denny

Doppleganger: GLEE's Sue Sylvester

Theme Song: "Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett

Nemesis: The Review Sheet

This teacher lives a life of mystery. Much like the island of the unknown, you can almost NEVER guess what this professor is thinking, so you can forget knowing what's going to be on the test. 

I've never cried after a final exam. Ever. Until Educational Psychology with Dr. Denny. I studied for 7 hours straight, and I was still only 50% sure where the test was even being held. Like the plane crash victims followed Jack Shepard into the jungle, I blindly followed my fellow classmates to the library in search of "practice tests" to prepare myself. Three hours later, I was only certain of one thing. No matter how many times you try to smuggle the answers out the front door, they catch you. Yes- this type of teacher takes pride in their element of mystery. The beauty of the unknown, my friends. 

2. America's Next Top Model- aka Mr. Davis the science teacher. 

Doppleganger: Al Boreland

Theme Song: "Big Bang Theory" intro music

Nemesis: A full roster

At the beginning of this semester, there were 50 students all wanting to pass this class. Now, only twelve of you stand before me. But statistically speaking, only one of you will make it to final exam week. Let me remind you of what you are competing for- 3 over-priced science credits and the satisfaction of a job well done. It's good to be a winner. 

Yes, you know this teacher. You and fifty of your closest friends set out to tame the beast, knowing that similar to Survivor: Timbuktu, only a few of you would outwit, outplay and outlast. I never understood why the teacher wanted to make science even more difficult than it already was, but I didn't think about it for long. I was too busy filling out my drop/add slip. SO LONG SUCKA!!! I'll be taking this class at HCC. 

3. Buffy the Vampire Slayer- aka Dr. Richter.

Doppleganger: Dopplegangers are evil

Theme Song: "The Devil Went Down to Georgia"

Nemesis: Satan. DUH!

I've never been attacked by a vampire. That has never happened. Though, if he looked anything like Angel, I'm not 100% sure that I would fully spurn his advances. 

CONFESSION: I've never had a Dr. Richter class, but I've had a plethora of psychology major friends tell me the exciting hijinks of the man in high waters. Anyone that has been in parochial schooling, knows the teacher that I am referring to. The one that thinks satan is behind everything that goes wrong, when in reality, most of the time, it comes from Billy in the back row. "Daily Battle"- that is how Dr. Richter describes life. A bit much, in my opinion. Apparently, students in his class are warned that "the devils in the details". I cannot say I wholly disagree, but let's not go overboard, Buff. Not EVERYTHING in life is a drag out fight between good and evil. I mean, even though I would look completely badass, I'm not going to walk around with a stake in my pocket at all times. Either way, I would put Buffy on the side of good. Her outfits in seasons 1-4: different story.  

4. Super Nanny- aka Mr. Partridge. 

Doppleganger: Mel Gibson with the voice of Rocky Balboa.

Theme Song: "Soul Survivor" by Young Jeezy ft. Akon

Nemesis: Freshmen Boys

Super nanny converts unruly toddlers. Mr. Partridge converts unruly freshmen. I secretly think my college put Frank Partridge in all of the 100 level history classes, to keep down the Abercrombie wearing, "Dashboard Confessional" listening, douche-bag freshmen riff raff.

Mr. Partridge, in his no-nonsense, ruff voice, would earn class respect, but at the same time, whoop your ass if he had to. Yes, he would tell you that you were "making his ulcers bleed", but everyone knew that those were tears of happiness and a job well done. Well, you know, a job well done, my second time taking the class.

5. Burn Notice meets Masterpiece Theatre- aka Dr. Lexie Wiggins aka "Sexy Lexie". 

Doppleganger: You don't need one when you're that awesome

Theme Song: "Fresh Azimiz" by Bow Wow

Nemesis: Professors that use text books

Dr. Wiggins was my history teacher. He was pretty much the man. I don't think the CIA ever burned him, but it was only because they knew better. He knew everything there ever was to know about the Civil War. Mostly, because he was there when it happened. I remember many fun times in a Wiggins class, but my favorite was the time he wore one of those "mock turtleneck sweatshirts". I mean, there's really no way you can top that. Right? He also wore a golfing hat alot and opened doors for the ladies... He was pretty much a pimp.

I know for sure that I've missed many other types of teachers, but  for now, this list will have to do. What about you? Any crazy teachers that you remember? Any favorites? Mine was Mr. Mckeen my history teacher in high school... He might deserve his own post =) 

  

BB Guns and Beyonce.....

"I think she's gone crazy. No really. I think she might kill the boys". That's what our family friend, Hip told my sister Lenice, one Saturday afternoon. And the fact of the matter is..... Hip was correct. I had gone crazy. Not like Ricky Martin, "livin' la vida loca", "cool and sexy" crazy. No- I was less Ricky... more, Jesus at the temple when the people decided to have a garage sale. I like to think I'm a pretty calm person. Ok, that was a lie. I at least like to think it takes alot to make me truly angry. I tend to view myself as one of those big dogs that sits there patiently as the little kitten bites at her ear. You see... I'm adorable, because I don't eat the kitten. Well, usually I don't eat the kitten. In this particular incident, I didn't have a desire to simply eat the kitten, I had a drive to DESTROY said kitten.

I want to tell you that after you have been shot approximately 733 times with an air soft gun, that the BB's feel as if they are little heavenly kisses from Zac Efron. I want to tell you that the metal ones from my dad's old Daisy BB gun, are more bark than bite. I want to tell you these things, to comfort you at night when you crawl into your safe bed, in your safe house..... but I would be lying to you- and I don't want to do that.

It was a nice day for a big ribeye on the ole' grill, that Saturday. I'm the grill master of our house, you see. And when I grill.... I grill. Lenice, my nephew Ethan, Hip and his 2 teenagers, Sienna and Isaiah, were all over from some delicious grub. Per the usual, Hip was barking orders at me from the porch. 

"Low and slow, Leanne", he would say.

"That's what she said, Hip". I would reply.

"Don't burn those wings, Leanne!!!", he would yell.

"I will cram these wings straight up your ass, Hippy!!!!" I would yell back. 

*Let me just say that I could write an entire blog post on men and their ability to do nothing, yet criticize EVERYTHING. Buuuttttt- I digress.*

Well, things were nice that day. Lenice and Sienna were inside, making pasta salad and Ethan and Isaiah were outside, in Lenice's car, "jammin'" to some tunes. I was attempting to grill dinner with welts the size of dollar coins all over my body, compliments of a certain nephew and his new found buddy the "air soft 5000". Ok. Within that past week, I was a victim of every type of terror you could imagine. I'm out mowing the lawn- DRIVE BY!!! I'm reading in my room- "Aunt Leanne, I need a hug. PSCYH!!! Sneak attack!! Yes, I had been hit more times than Tupac, Biggie, and 50 cent combined, but I still had all of my original teeth, so I was confident I would pull through. I was also sure that my act of grabbing Ethan by the throat and threatening to go "Rodney King" on his ass if shot me again, was sufficient. It had been hours since my last beating, and like Nagasaki after the attack, I was starting to put my life back together. 

Then, it happened. It was all quiet outside. Too quiet.  The only sound, was the soft bass of lil' Wayne's latest hit blaring on the radio. Suddenly, lil' Wayne became louder... Hmmm.... I turned around just in time, to see my nephew, ala Cuba Gooding Jr. in Boyz in the Hood, quietly roll down his window just enough for the gun to stick out.  I was frozen by fear. I saw the blood lust in his eyes. I saw his finger on the trigger. I knew it was over. With a smile that would have sent shivers up Hannibal Lecter's spine, I was met with a swift, single shot to the thigh. 

I can't tell you 100% for sure, what happened after that. I guess they say that's how the rage blackouts work. All I remember is running over to the car as fast as I could, while Ethan rolled up the window. I swear to you all, as I got to the car and began pounding on the window like an angry mother gorilla, Ethan and Isaiah just laughed. The angrier I got, the harder they cackled. Without regard for human life, or for my sister's driver side window, I continued to pound on that car with the fervor of one, Stewie Griffin , beating up the "Bird is the Word" record. I screamed every word in the book. I mean, literally- I stood there... In the driveway... grill utensil in hand, crying.. SCREAMING every profane word I knew.... at my nephew. 

Yes, dear friends... Hip was right on. I had gone crazy. And you know what? To this day, I don't remember ever being that mad. Before then, or after then. Until recently.
I work at an office. We do workers' compensation billing. However, if you were to walk around our building a time or two, you might get the wrong idea. There are a select group of girls that like to dress as if they are providing workers' compensation.... for Hugh Hefner. It.drives.me.INSANE!!

Hey Beyonce- I'm so beyond glad that you've embraced your inner "bootylicious girl", but pull your skirt down a few inches, you're embarassing yourself. So, because, if I see one more girl like this, I might explode, I have decided to draft the following letter. I will be walking around the office tomorrow, (fully clothed) posting this "friendly reminder" to all the trashy cubicles. What do you think?

Dear [skanky] co-worker-

   Hey! I want to start off this document with a disclaimer. This letter, does not come from a place of jealousy for your "HOTT" body. I assure you. This letter, instead, comes more from a place of concern- for both my eyes, and the guy in cubicle 18, that is smiling alot with a bunch of 1's in his hand. 

I like your outfit. I do. I think, that it would look really nice if you were Jesse from Saved by the Bell's character in Showgirls, or Nicki Minaj. But there is a harsh reality that I am forced to introduce you to. This isn't Nebraska Avenue. This is a job. I know you probably think I'm Amish, the way I wear clothes. Pants that Abercrombie didn't have to paint on this morning. Shirts that aren't one centimeter away from an NC-17 rating. You know me- I'm old school. I like to keep it classy. 

I'm honestly not sure if you are trying to look seductive, or if you're just going to the Rhianna concert after work. The truth is- I DON'T CARE. The Laker's cheerleaders wear more clothes to their job. Just Sayin'. So because I'm nice, and want to feel like I'm going to work, not a nudist colony,  I made you a nice checklist for your cubicle. Please detach the bottom portion of this letter and keep it with you. The directions are simple. Before you come into work, read the 5 questions below. If you answer, "YES" to any of these inquiries, add one item of clothing for each yes answer. 

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ 

1. If you turn on a KE$HA song right now, are you completely prepared to be an extra in one of her music videos?

2. If you saw Britney Spears right now, would she say your pants are "Toxic"? 

3. If someone put a FOUR LOKO in your hands right now, would it look right at home?

4. Are your *coughstrippercough* heels so high that you might actually trip and fall, break an ankle then be able to file a workers' compensation claim?

5. Would Sir-Mix-Alot wanna get witcha and take yo picktcha? too much?  

Howabout you? Any skanky girls in your office? Feel free to vent....... 

"Takin' Out the Trash".....

Let me see it.
No, wait. You look at it first, then tell me what it says.
No!
Ok seriously, give it here- Ah! After you look and tell me the verdict.
No. Ok. Stop. Let's not do this at all.
But we have to. You've already peed on the stick, just let me see it and I will look.
No! I'll look! Ahhhh!!!!
Ok, AWESOME!!!! There's just one line!
Yay!!! You're not pregnant!! Ok, congrats. Let's go, we'll celebrate! I'll buy you Chick-fil-a.

No, that wasn't an excerpt from last week's episode of the Secret Life of the American Teenager. It was a real life, real white trash moment that I had, in a Target bathroom with a friend at college. My super strict, super Christian college, I might add. NO- before we go any further, I was the one assisting with the test, not taking it. I have been unwanted pregnancy free for 26 years, and holding.
Nope. This was just another day in the life of Leanne "LTRAYNE" Little. You know me.... I like to keep it classy.

I'm sure its hard to believe, but that's not my most white trash moment. Not by a long shot. No, that, my friends, is simply the tip of the WalMart clothes wearing, flip-flops in any weather, no bra to the gas station, iceberg. I once got a HORRIBLE migrane and threw up all over my aunts' really rich friends' bathroom. Not just any bathroom. A nice bathroom. A bathroom that would be worth more than I would go for on the black market. I once yelled " I LOVE you more than any man I know!!!" to the Chickfila attendant that gave me an extra handful of honey roasted BBQ sauce. I also, once asked the lady in the Walgreens Pharmacy drive-thru to grab me a 20 oz diet coke.

However, NONE of these moments, no matter how K-Fed-tastic they were, no matter how much WetNWild hooker red lipstick they applied, could ever amount to, what the Little Family will forever refer to as the "Mall Incident of 2006". Yes, tensions were high that day, that my sister Lisa, the two nieces, Arielle and Zahra and myself strolled into the ole' Sears and Roebuck.

My father, the great Larry L. Little, had been in hospice care, and we knew that the end was near. For someone with the personality of applesauce, this would have been a tough time, so you can imagine how intense things were with my two "spirited" nieces.

As the story goes, we were in search of funeral appropriate attire for Arielle and Zahra. While REL and I looked around one area, Zahra and Lisa scoured the teen section. OK. Now, I would be re-miss NOT to warn you right now... FIESTY. NIECES. ON. BOARD. These aren't your precious Zach and Cody, ride a skateboard through a hotel lobby, siblings. They would be more Kardashian, less Bobbsey.

After a while of shopping, REL and I made our way back to Lisa and Zahra. When I came on the scene, I knew something wasn't right. Judging by the amount of steam coming from Lisa's ears, and the screams of adolescent rage resounding from inside the dressing room, something was about to go down. As I walked into the fitting room, I was greeted by a shirt, that had, in some random Harry Potter turn of events, sprouted wings and was flying towards me. I ducked. Phew! That demon possessed V- neck barely grazed my shoulder. However, before I could whip out my wand and render future flying fashions inaffective, I realized that the clothing was not possessed at all. No, it was my 15 year old niece. Zahra began to hurl clothes out of that dressing room like freaking hall of fame pitcher, Charles "the chief" Bender at the bottom of the ninth. I knew something needed to be done. A simple calm voice would not suffice. I needed to act quickly. As "Lose Youself" by Eminem began to play in the background, I knew that even though my palms were indeed sweaty, I only had one shot.... One opportunity... I sneaked closer. As Zahra picked up another cashmere grenade, I moved slowly, as to not alarm the beast. I had almost inched my way to the door of her lair when she looked up. OH NO. RED ALERT!!!! She had made eye contact, locked on to her target, and she had her Fazer on Kill....
What happened next, could have (and should have) been taped and used for a variety of things:
1. America's Funniest (but also saddest look into the future of this country) Videos
2. When Animals Attack
3. WWE SMACKDOWN
4. River Monsters Unhooked
or...
5. her Jersey Shore audition tape.

Zahra, with the force and determination of a mother rhino, stormed out of the Sears fitting room, pushing past myself and Lisa on her way out. Oh no, I thought to myself.... THE BEAST IS FREE. To my, (and Sears) dismay, there was only one thing standing in the way of Zahra's full store rampage. One final front. One last line of defense. A General Custer's Last Stand, if you will.
Arielle.

As I quickly sprinted towards the door, I looked up just in time to see Zahra, with the fervor of a day after Thanksgiving shopper, SHOVE Arielle into a rack of LEI jeans. You may wonder how I know they were LEI jeans. Well, when you see apx 137 pairs of them flying off the rack in perfect unison, you take notice. I knew this wasn't good. I put down my Auntie Anne's phenomenal lemonade, and took action like that bald, stocky body guard from Jerry Springer. You know, the one that everyone can recognize, but NO ONE can tell you his name. Suddenly, I became the ring master. I attempted to separate Cena and Hogan into their respective corners. However, I wasn't able to pull them apart until they both got in a few quality jabs. When Andre the Giant and Sugar Ray Leonard finally calmed down, we had drawn quite the crowd. We were receiving more disapproving stares than the time Ethan ran his motorized scooter into that ENTIRE rack of bras at WalMart. Apparently, a Little Family Showdown Throwdown, is something of a spectacle. I just wish I could have charged some Pay Per View type admission to the event. If so, I wouldn't be paying 100+ dollars a month in student loan payments, I can assure you of that fact.
Well, when the final bell sounded, we walked out of that Saginaw, Michigan mall a little worse for wear. But within the hour, we were (somewhat) laughing about the whole ordeal. And as we drove back home, drinking our Mountain Dew and listening to Kid Rock, we were in agreement that no matter what----- our family can out- trash your family any day of the week.

White Trash Moments.

Britney had a few.
Charlie Sheen had a few.
I've had a few.

And if I'm guessing right, so have you. So what's your worst white trash moment?