So when I heard about the “Push Present” from an acquaintance a few years ago, I was too confused to react. What? Why? Didn’t you have a shower? or a Sprinkle? or some type of party where gifts rained down upon you for hours and people who failed art class made Sharpie marker-ed onsies for the little one in your womb??
The conversation went like this:
Me: “Are you excited? Two weeks until you are a mom? How’s Dan?”
She: “He’s fine, but better get me that Tiffany’s ring I have been looking at.”
Me: wide eyes, shocked face
She: “I really wanted a Rolex, but he said no. So I compromised.”
Me: “huh?”
She: “A push present silly. You know for giving birth? I will totally deserve it.”
I initially took issue with this because present or no the baby is coming out no matter what in all its slimy alien glory (the medical description) and what on earth kind of gift could make hours of labor pain and all kinds of pelvic badness (take that as far you want to go in your imagination) worth it? Oh wait… you get a baby! Isn’t that the deal?? The Miracle of life?? You need a gift too?
Nothing like a little blue box to really show you what the miracle of life is all about
Don’t get me wrong. I am all for presents. I frequently celebrate random life happenings with presents for my friends, boyfriend, family, and myself. In residency, it was well known that I gave myself a gift at the completion of each weekend or week of call (It was a celebration and a very well crafted indisputable coping mechanism, don’t judge.). But it seems the Push Present aka Baby Bauble totally misses the point.
Picture it in Labor and Delivery:
New mom on Facebook: “Introducing Elizabeth Lynn to world and my new David Yurman earrings.”
or better: “Yea she’s cute, Where’s my gift?”
Wildly popular, it appears that these tokens are here to stay. (Wikipedia = Truth)
North West’s parentals
Kanye recently did it to the tune of 770K and J Lo‘s push bauble was apparently around 3 mill. (maybe my friend’s Rolex wish wasn’t so out of line after all??)
And let’s not forget dad! He is one of the initial participants (Guys hate trying to make babies. It is so tough on them.). He could be in the waiting room, manning the video camera (this would never happen while I was giving birth. NO ONE and I repeat NO ONE needs to see that! Period the end. It will not be mentioned again), or he may have even driven his Baby Mama to hospital. For all that effort he surely deserves something.
For the record I would be a lot more behind this present if it was called The “I got you pickles in the middle of the night 12 times” gift. Apparently Dads for their push present want iPads and new cars. No way! I don’t know anyone that would like that as a gift. There are whole chat forums about this topic (which for the record I refuse to link because on the off chance I do have readers I cannot assault them with both Kanye and Kimye and a chat room in the same blog post).
Retailers assuredly were not the last to jump on this bandwagon. Everyone has gift ideas Amazon, Etsy, Parents.com, and even What to expect when expecting. The list of potential gifts is as long and luxurious as you want it to be. So I guess keep on keeping on. Let the sky be your limit and Kanye (he just always looks so pleasant) be your guide.
“I’ve always supported myself. I like the sense of knowing exactly where I stand financially, but there is a side of me that longs for a knight in shining armor.” Barbara Feldon
Last but not least (and a long time coming) we have acts of devotion, i.e. gifts flowers, poems, songs, and an unknown category known as “sweet favors”. I interpret this last bit as a wide range of possibilities, if you have ever been to a castle you know they had all kinds of hiding places where they could likely accomplish a lot.
This brings to mind that diamonds might have been a girl’s best friends for longer than we have realized. In modern times Hallmark has assisted new age knights in winning fair ladies favor, and possibly allowed them to become a bit lazy with the made to order “perfect” sentiments in close proximity to beautiful chocolate creations.
In addition to tangible objects and laments of love, men have continued to attempt to impress their women with stories of bravado and physical feats. Today, however, these tales have morphed somewhat and are of tough WoDs (workout of the day) from CrossFit. Somehow the number of burpees and box jumps a man has completed in 15 minutes is way less sexy than the idea of him slaying a dragon or jousting some other dude (this could have something to do with running at each other with long sticks. Eeeekkk!!! Not that I advocate a man placing himself in danger in an attempt to win my favor). Usually these stories are finished with something akin to “Man, after only 90 seconds, I was sweating like a beast!” Hmmmm… 90 seconds was all it took? At least for me this just doesn’t set the stage for a whimsical romance.
True devotion a la Google searching is currently most associated with Buddhism followed by Christianity (I guess most churches don’t pay SEO companies to optimize their sites). When searching on Scholar, I discovered analyses and theories of what constitutes “caring”, “love”, etc. Not surprisingly, the relationship literature was void of anything that had to do with circus-like demonstrations or even things that could be defined as gallant. These articles spoke about commitment, honestly, loyalty, trust, and most importantly time; a far cry from the Louis Vuitton bag or Bling that so many I have personally heard say they deserve if their man is truly devoted to and loves them.
Over the years I have hallucinated that devotion was many things: grocery store flowers, a Charlie the Tuna Fish shirt (I tried not to read too much into that one), an outfit from my favorite store, or jewelry. Unfortunately, likely not. I have learned that money via checks in the mail, romantic promises of amazing future vacations (think sweet nothings and concentrate on the word “future”), and acting extremely possessive of me in front of my father (and even starting a fight with him to protect my honor, which is still brought up at family gatherings) are most definitely not.
So what equals true devotion? Is it tales of a strenuous under 20 minute battle with a kettle bell (“I like looking good for you babe”)? Is it cute texts littered with love emojis (kiss, kiss, hug, heart, weird smiley face with hearts for eyes x 3. Wow! He like really super loves me! It truly doesn’t get much better than that right?)? Is it the trendy “push present” that is often exorbitant and for something that is going to hopefully happen no matter what (i.e. the baby has to come out anyway right?)?
It started with our powder blue Oldsmobile’s 8 track and likely Barry Manilow and Stevie Wonder, and has been the one passion that has never abated. My love for music is truly everlasting. In Junior High School I used to dream of a smaller portable music player maybe even handheld so that the melodies in my head could be audible to the entire world. I understood and envied the “hoodlums” that my grandparents and even parents complained of walking around with a refrigerator sized stereos on their shoulders (I can’t imagine what that had to cost in batteries, especially since those guys never looked like the rechargeable battery type). Portable music was the “jam” if you will.
Decades later, enter the iPod that had external speakers and one of my earliest dreams was realized. I, however, am not Al Gore and will not claim that this genius innovation a la Steve Jobs and Apple was mine. The iPod was and is one of the best things that has ever happened to me, allowing my music to constantly surround in version audible outside my brain.
How does this relate to love, relationships, and dating or maybe even just life? Well in my life it is oddly straightforward if I pay attention. In everyone else’s it is the reason that the soundtrack makes such a big impact on a film or even TV show. Hollywood has known and worked with this since sound was able to be paired with film. We have all watched a film and then the music started playing “Bow chick a bow bow…” and thought wow that situation is not going to work out…
One of the most stark and mocking examples is according to JLo’s character Mary in The Wedding Planner. Sitting in the theater, I became sure that I wasn’t alone in my suspicion that music and relationship success are definitely related:
"Oh, oh, and "I Honestly Love You" as your wedding song?
You might as well commit matrimonial suicide right now."
In summation: The music matters, possibly more than we think.
My first real relationship began my senior year in high school and lasted through my first two years of undergrad. Looking back via a musical perspective our first date should never have even occurred. He was a guy I met through my first job. He was nice enough and I knew he had a crush on me for about 6 months prior to our first date. From the moment I met him every time I was around him 99.7 the Fox would play “Better Man” by Pearl Jam. In retrospect that was the proverbial frying pan repeatedly hitting me in the face of our dragged out and absurdly painful relationship. He was uncomplimentary at best and an all-round douche-tard at worst. “She lies and says she’s in love with him can’t find a better man.” Pearl Jam was right and the music gods were speaking to me as loudly as the could.
I didn’t take the hint that time or even the next 10-20. To their credit the powers that be didn’t give up on me.* In my last several relationships the overly repeated musical mantras (and I state this recognizing that stations far and wide play the same thing about every ten minutes) have been no less subtle than what Pearl Jam tried to tell me in the mid 90s.
*It is important to point out that these songs not only played on the radio, but in stores, amusement parks, restaurants, everywhere.
In 2002 I should have thought twice when my guy told me he always thought of Willy Nelson’s “You Were Always on My Mind” when he thought of me. Yes we were still dating at the time. Maybe he had already broken up with me in his head. In 2008, Rihanna’s “Unfaithful” should have prevented a late night discovery that I was far from the only one in my guy’s little black book. In 2010, Taio Cruz sang the fateful “I’m only gonna break break ya break break ya heart.” only 16 times per play in his catchy upbeat yet oddly dark hit (Players unite you now have a Pop Anthem that does not offend and possibly appeals to all of us white girls). Actually, this was the first song that I truly thought was a sign. It played on our first date in a Peruvian restaurant and was the only NonLatin song during our dining experience. Instead of being giddy with the relief that they were currently out of beef heart (the one thing my date thought would be symbolic if we ate “heart” on our first date. Yeah, yeah, OK there were multiple signs.), I should have cabbed it home as soon as Taio started crooning.
Finally and most recently I met the Conudrum wine (what exact combo of grapes is in that stuff that makes it so very palatable and delicious?) of boys and musical influence. We mucked the pot by constantly listening to music of our own choosing all of the time via iPods, shuffles, iPhones, iPads, and once or twice his Kindle Fire. We ate, drank, and hung out to Foster the People, the Black Keys, Cults, Young the Giant, and Vampire Weekend to name a few. All of these bands maybe have had an odd album cover or video, however, all make great music and there was no overt badness. Plus there were so many songs; whole albums even. In the present theory this relationship should have ABSOLUTELY worked out right?
Ha! This relationship even ended on a musical note where there was likely some blatantly ignored foreshadowing with a Fitz and the Tantrums‘ concert and songs like “Don’t Gotta Work it Out”. He has not spoken to me again since two days after the concert. It was the same week that I heard Gotye and Kimbra’s “Someone That I Used to Know.” I still have very little idea what happened. He didn’t defriend me on Facebook so I gather it couldn’t have been my fault…
At this point, I am thankful that “Goodbye Earl”, The Dixie Chicks or “Love the Way You Lie” a la Eminem and Rihanna hasn’t happened on a first date. At least now I would know to RUN! Speaking of I have always wondered what Rihanna and Chris Brown jammed out to? Maybe they listened to 2 Live Crew or Death Metal (I don’t know any death metal bands off hand so I googled and was immediately partial to Fleshcrawl and Pungent Stench, here are the Top 100) or any of the Top 30 domestic violence songs as per A.V. Club (Eminem has 3 of those). That might clear up the mystery that surrounds their situation a bit.
Maybe I should only look for a guy if the song seems favorable like during such IQ dropping hits like Jason Derulo’s “I Only Miss You When I am Breathing”. Now that is dedication! It does risk the hazard of being the type of relationship that would be all encompassing and possibly stifling, but possibly better than the above.
The Top 5 Stop Dating this Douche Already Mantras (a la me)
1. A Lap Dance is So Much Better When the Stripper is Cryin’ – Bloodhound gang (Enough Said)
2. Flavor of the Weak – American Hi Fi (there also will be other signs, like that extra pink toothbrush)
3. Area Codes – Ludacris (watch out when dating traveling salesman of any types. Pharm and Device reps included)
4. Still Not A Player– Big Pun (this guy is almost too arrogant not to tell you)
5. That Ain’t My Truck – Rhett Atkins (for the country fans and the ladies who drive by their man’s dwelling) Honorable Mentions:What it Takes – Aerosmith (this one’s gonna hurt) and Glycerine – Bush (The title comes from the explosive applications of glycerine to stabilize nitro: in an interview Rossdale said the song was about how love was like a bomb). Another Boyfriend, Another explosion.
Top 5 Keep This Guy Around Although Your Love May Be Nauseating To Those Around You Songs (also a la me)** ** A category which would not surprisingly be dominated by boy bands if I extended it to a top 20.
1. Truly Madly Deeply – Savage Garden (I never said all or even any of these songs would be good, just that they indicated a musical agreement that this person wouldn’t hurt you.)
1.I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You – Savage Garden (Let’s just take a moment and bask in the wonder that one band can be sappy enough has the top two songs and also to take deep breaths to suppress the feeling of nausea that we now all have)
3. I’ll Never Break Your Heart – Backstreet Boys (Excellent Promise)
4. I Need A Girl – P Diddy (Where to apply?)
5. Without You (feat. Usher) – David Guetta (It was on Glee, how could it be wrong?)
Honorable More Serious Mentions: I Found You – Alabama Shakes (Check this Band and their album Boys and Girls Out! That is a command!), One and Only – Adele (it’s good to be the one and only, at least that is what I have been told), and Angel – Aerosmith (classic adoration)
All in all we should likely pay attention to what lots of things in our live including the music in our lives is telling us about our relationships and even our perspective. It is possible that we gravitate towards what we subconsciously already know, that some higher being is telling us via pop culture what our outcome is going to be and thus making desperate efforts to save our time and energy, or maybe it there is a radio or even a government conspiracy that dominates and manipulates our relationship undertones and thus lives (insert Carmina Burana here). If the latter is the case then I have major issue with 93.3 because there music has provided the worst crop yet (they do have excellent Celebrity Gossip via “The Dirty @ 6:30”).
What are your top 10 relationship do and relationship don’t tunes?
Ok this is post is dedicated to the height of absurdity when it comes to all living beings. And prior to entering this particular post I would like to offer the disclaimer that if you have bedazzled an inanimate object or even possibly your finger nails, I have no beef. BUT (and it is a large one, demonstrated by the all caps) there are some things that don’t just need to be accented with crystals.
Pejazzling??????
Really?????
So this evening I was perusing the local paper (when I really should have been studying) and I happen upon an article about manscaping. Which, oddly enough, has been an extreme area of interest at work as of late because over the past 5 years we have noticed more and more men who groom down under. So much so that some of the more conservative and distinguished doctors that I work with have begun asking the male patients what made them make the decision and how did they decide exactly what type of low as you go grooming to have done.
As it turns out we noticed what spas like Bliss have decided to capitalize on, men are increasingly more concerned about the lay of the land if you will. I also suspect that the rumor that a good trim in the nether regions can give the illusion of both greater length and girth, might have a tiny bit to do with it.
Bliss introduced the male brazilian calling it the “Ultimate He-Wax” in February 2011 for the amazing bargain of $125 plus tip. Another salon reports up to 70% of their waxing business is now men’s bikini. Other trendy treatments include one spa’s “South of the Border” ($70) or another’s “Boyzillian” ($85). The New York Times reports that more and more men are taking matters into their own hands and trimming the hedges in the privacy of their own home with Braun’s body cruZer, Phillips Norelco Bodygroom Pro, the Gillette Fusion ProGlide, and we can’t leave off the “Mangroomer Essential Body Shaver”.
Pejazzling, referred to as crystal adornment in decorative patterns (such as dolphins or stars) when newly shorn in the genital area, is a little less mainstream. However, its existence is disturbing to me on two very important levels.
1.We are surely headed for a societal collapse (the Mayans could very well have had this correct all along. tick tick tick…. Of note I also could have told anyone who would have listened to my report in 6th grade world history comparing our current society to the debauchery that led to Roman society’s collapse. Instead my “concerned” teacher penned a letter home to my mother about my disturbing train of thought. If only I could somehow refer her to the pejazzling article maybe she would finally agree)
2. Straight, gay or other who needs crystals bedecking their genitalia? Most people need nothing more than a good scrub and very few get that. How do I know you ask? I check genitals by trade in a purely noncreepy sense. I would like to take this time to make a very important public service announcement: When you come to the Emergency room, CLEAN YOURSELF! and that means your WHOLE self (and includes feet. My diatribe on why water hoses and pedicurists should be the next step after Emergency Room check will have to be another post).
So with my interest peaked, I googled “pejazzling” and “pejazzle” and this is a brief and representative synopsis of what I found (2/3rds where advocating the idea and 1/3rd was skeptical. I find myself firmly seated in the latter):
From the Consumerist: “Men wear diamond watches and bling earrings – this is no different,” Mark Wright, star of The Only Way Is Essex, Britain’s answer to Jersey Shore, told The Daily Mail. “Women don’t necessarily want a rough and ready man. Some prefer a man who’s groomed and takes care of himself.”
Note to the world: There is A HUMUNGOUS difference in rough and ready and bedazzled privates. “Eeek my crystal fell off and my dolphin no longer has a nose!!” seems quite far from the height of attraction. My advice (no matter how unsolicited, FIND A MIDDLE GROUND!)
From Trendhunter: “Attention males everywhere: if you have been looking for a way to impress the ladies this summer, look no further, because pejazzling is here! This blinged-out genital adornment has just arrived on the scene after the widely successful vajazzling for women hit the mainstream.”
Widely successful? I missed that. Totally. This might indicate that I live in a very comfortable and cozy burrow from which I am now frightened to venture out of.
From Bugginword (and I must say the most poignant verbiage on the matter and a post from 2011 (yes I am late to the party, but so flabbergasted that I cannot stifle my extremely rambunctious disbelief):
“Speaking of sh#% I can’t make up, the people that brought you vajazzling just introduced a revolutionary new product – The Pejazzle!Oh thank heavens! Speaking of which, if you’re planning on getting sucked up to those heavens on Saturday fellas, you’re gonna want to get a move on bedazzling your junk. Time (and glitter) is of the essence. Righteous ladies like shiny things.The line of Pejazzle jewels work just like the ones they make for the ladies. You have to wax your bits, then carefully glue on your “decorations.”
You can choose from all sorts of sexy designs – like a pair of red glittery ladies lips. Which, personally, I would find rather disconcerting and would doubtlessly be distracted by thoughts of double dipping douches like Ahhhnold and Tiger. Or for you athletic types, they have an iron cross pattern you can slap on your sack for your big Iron Man competitions. I’m sure THAT won’t chafe at all in a wetsuit.”
Nothing like a man with a Swarovski crystal cross on his junk.
The only thing that I can take solace in (and I hope I can still say this in a decade), never have I been in the early throws of passion and had to utter the words: “Is something down there sparkling?” nor has Richard Simmons ever popped out of some dude I was dating’s groin.
While I was in grad school there were many restaurant follies and the following tale is no exception. I have pondered these incidences and have come up with reasonable explanations for most of them. This particular one just boils down to karma. I got what I deserved.
I had met this guy at a good friend’s wedding. He, as they usually do, came with at least one mildly positive recommendation (“He’s very tall with quite large feet”) from someone I didn’t know who was lucky enough to draw a seat directly adjacent to me and my plus zero. This +0 is unfortunately not a rare occasion in my life. Bringing a date to a wedding can be a semi-rigorous commitment. Sometimes you end up the babysitter (“I swear everyone was doing shots of tequila while you were taking bridal party pictures.”). Sometimes you end up the entertainer (“But I don’t know any of these people”), and sometimes you end up the chaperone (“Is that your date with his shirt off standing on the groom’s family’s table?”). In addition to the responsibility of a date for better or for worse there is the unfortunate rising costs and militant structure of the magnificent entity that is the stylish “to die for wedding” limits the likelihood that you will even have the option of date-age or even any free will associated with that day/weekend. To quote a friend that recently got married, “How long have you been dating? 6 months? Look I am not going to pay for some guy to come and eat that I have never met.” Most of us have experienced this phenomenon in one way or another due to the rise of Bridezilla television. “It is my day and therefore you will wear canary yellow hoop skirts, puce eyeshadow, and ringlets, lots and lots of ringlets.” Maybe I will understand if I ever morph into the mythical creature that is “The Bride”. Although I can’t imagine ever exclaiming “$100,000 for a few hours and a bunch of food I don’t have time to eat, sign me up,” if Justin Bieber can sell toothbrushes that sing, there isn’t much these days that is outside the realm of possibility.
Oddly enough, even though I was in my mid-20s at that time and so were the bride and groom, the two of us were the only single people. I am from the south, so it makes a little more sense. At the end of the night this gentleman jumped in my cab bow tie and all (Note to any
readers that are male or give male fashion advice: If you are not wearing a tux, suffering from a particularly cruel Bridezilla attack, 80 years old or older, or in a barber shop quartet and you are wearing a bow tie you are downgrading any potential hotness you may possess by at least 300%). The cab ride was likely disappointing to him. He attempted to make a bow tie-type slobber kiss move and got a mouth full of hair that I had to wash immediately upon entering my hotel room due to the copious amounts of saliva he left me as a parting gift. At least he paid for the cab. I left somewhat relieved that I had escaped basically unscathed and may have even directly benefitted from the spit shower due to saliva’s multitude of nutrients and acid fighting ability.
Much to my dismay and despite his failed attempt at slobberfest 2006, he procured my digits from the Bride and groom when they returned from their honeymoon. I was hesitant to go secondary to my lack of attraction to him when I had imbibed several glasses of champagne (if they are not attractive A. at a wedding when even Where’s Waldo might look kind of sexy or B. after multiple glasses of quickly swallowed bubbly… Warning bells that sound like a Tornado Alert or worse should be screaming.) combined with the unexpected super unappealing bath. As it turned out, he knew my schedule better than I did because he had discussed it at length with the groom, a classmate of mine. When he initially called I thought maybe I was wrong at the wedding and I should give him a chance, plus he was suggesting a pretty great date. Shouldn’t all people get a second chance? My intuition screams, “Negative Ghostrider!” Every friend I have that wants me to join the world of serious coupledom says “Of course.” Some of these misguided individuals even believe that every guy deserves a turn in the sack, this is after all the 21st century right?. So our first post wedding date we went to a nice place which was admittedly the final reason that I accepted. The date was bland. Vanilla to use a common description (although I really enjoy Vanilla from a gustatory perspective so I am not sure that this is fair to this magical taste). At the end of the date I was spineless at best, “Oh I had a good time (at the time omitting the word “really” was my code for boredom) but I am so busy for the next several months with school (playing the grad school card was usually my ace in the hole).” His response, “I am available whenever. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, I am game.” Arrggggghhhh!
So what did I do? I wish I could say I manned up and told him that I was not a worthy investment because I felt nothing and was just honest. I didn’t do that. I would guess most people out there do the same thing even though when it happens to us it is the worst feeling in the world. How many times have I just wished someone would just say what they mean and mean what they say?? “I don’t like you in
that way” surely wouldn’t hurt so bad if all of us practiced this never before tried idea of honesty. However, I should leave this imaginary land of sense and sensibility with open communication in relationships, stop talking nonsense, and continue with the story. The quick and dirty: I got talked into another date.
Now I had a choice. I could be honest on the second date or I could do anything and everything to get him to tell me that he didn’t think it was working out with me. The 13 year old girl that still occasionally hangs in the depths of my soul reared her ugly head and picked the latter. The first “end the attraction” tactic was maneuvering so I could choose the date location. So I got to pick because I was “busy”, and had to of course “study” so I could continue my purely selfless goal of saving the world. My choice: A grocery store with a salad bar and limited fluorescent-lit seating.
We arrive at the store and it turns out that he thought I was joking, a valid idea. Who goes on a date in a grocery store? Point me. I smiled, acting as the gracious hostess, directed him to the salad bar, pointing out the sneeze guard and the dressings exclaiming, “I have an idea! Let’s go Dutch!”
I then proceeded to race through the bar serve myself very little food, sprint through the line, pay for my own and find us a table for four in the very center of the seating. To my credit, I did wait for him to start eating (if eating a few edamame doesn’t count, after all he was taking a quite a long time). Eventually he appeared sans nourishment, explaining he had forgotten his credit card and he only had a 20 dollar bill. Since my salad had only cost $4 I was somewhat confused. I followed him back to the register with my wallet to see what the issue was and alas
his salad cost $28 (at 7 dollars a pound). Me: “You got a 28 dollar salad? Can you even lift it?” He: “Yea I don’t get it I only got a little bit of lettuce.” Me: “The fact that it weighs 4 pounds emphatically argues against that.” He: “What is emphatically?”
I pay for the salad making sure I don’t use any more large vocabulary words in yet another caper of a Walletless boy. Point him. After we are finally seated he takes one bite of the most expensive salad in the history of grocery stores that are not named “Whole Foods” and says, “Wow! I really don’t like salads.” Picks up his tray and dumps the whole thing in the garbage. 1000 points him.
The Player: “28 dollar salad” guy.
Take home message: Eating in a grocery store is about as unromantic as you can muster on the fly (unless there is a dirt bike race during the day time (stay tuned for more on that adventure). Use this mood killer wisely when you are too weak to refuse a date. Best case scenario you don’t even get to this point and you actually find your spine, stick to your guns, and very politely tell a guy how you really feel in a gracious unmalicious way.
So when I heard about the “Push Present” from an acquaintance a few years ago, I was too confused to react. What? Why? Didn’t you have a shower? or a Sprinkle? or some type of party where gifts rained down upon you for hours and people who failed art class made Sharpie marker-ed onsies for the little one in your womb??
whatreallyhappenswhennotlooking 
