Left 4 Eric 2

Who knew Melissa would like it as much as I do

The family video we go to doesn’t have the highest quantity of video game titles.  Unlike the evil Blockbuster, they might have four or five copies in instead of twenty.  But that’s the price I pay for not having to deal with Blockbuster’s attitude and high prices.  Ever since they charged me to clean a dvd that I just rented with god knows what gooey substance that was spattered on it I haven’t been back.  Service should come with a smile and reasonable price not a bitchy look and $9 for a game rental.

The only problem with having fewer copies is that sometimes I have to wait a few weeks to play the new releases.  Which isn’t always a bad thing. Keeps me from being glued to the TV weekend after weekend with that weeks hot new title.  If the game isn’t available I say “Ok, I’ll check back next weekend” but first I’ll have Melissa ask if it’s been returned just not reshelved.   Every times the friendly Family Video worker (and they are friendly) will say “Oh no we don’t” after they check the return bin. 

It’s a long shot but it never hurts to ask.

Yesterday we went there to if the had Left 4 Dead 2 in stock.  We LOVED the first one, which was a shock Melissa enjoyed it, so we were both excited to play the sequel.  I did my “excited but still wanting to act mature” sprint/walk combo back to the video game section.  I found the spot where the game I would be.  Empty, empty, empty, empty, empty…..and empty.  All the copies they had were out.

Time for the Hail Marry attempt of having Melissa ask.  She went up to the check out to take a shot in the dark and see if it was in the return bin.  I did a final once over to see if anything else tickled my fancy.  My fancy wasn’t tickled and it look like we’d be leaving game-less. 

As I walked to join my wife I saw her mouthing “do you by any chance have any copies of Left 4 Dead 2 that have just been returned”.  I knew what happens next.  She’ll look in the bin, say “No, I’m sorry” and then check when copies are out are due to be returned.

I got a little closer and head the worker say “You know what…..”  and then she turned around.

OH MY!  This wasn’t the normal game rental dance I’ve come to know so well.  She turned around rather than walking over to the drop off bin.  Once again I broke into my “excited but still wanting to act mature” sprint/walk to get the latest on this strange turn of events.

I heard her say “Someone called a few hours ago and put it on hold but they haven’t shown up so you can rent it”

The video game Gods hath smiles upon me!

I turned to Melissa in my jubilation and said “HA!  Everytime I ask you to ask you roll your eyes but this time it worked.  IT WORKED.  THE GAME WAS IN STOCK.  SUCK IT!”  I’m not sure which she was more annoyed by.  That I was right about they might have it in stock, I was going to spend the next eight hours shooting zombies, or I was rather loud in my excitement.

Left 4 dead 2 is a fun game but what makes it great is snatching victory from the jaws of defeat to rent it.

 

 

 

 

New Battery

Yesterday afternoon we had to stop at the auto parts store to pick up a new battery for Shelia the Elantra.  Colder morning she takes a little extra “umph” to turn over.  I’d rather spend the money and time now getting a new battery when it’s not as frigid as will be in a few months.  I’m responsable like that.  Plus I panick, break into a cold sweat, cry, and poop myself a little when a car doesn’t start right away.   

We went to O’Reilly because the Auto-zone down the road chocked full of wannabe hot rod builders who haven’t excepted they aren’t going to be the next Jack Roush.  We’ve had problems with that Auto-zone in the past and now avoid their  pissy ”I know everything because I rebuild a 85′ bronco in my mom’s garage” attitude by going a quart mile down the road to O’Reilly’s Auto.  If you have one of them in your area check them out. 

Melissa has had great luck when we were having problems last winter with Storm Shadow (our 96′ Bonneville we previously owned) of going there and they’d show her how to fix various things.  She’s great at playing the ditsy woman who doesn’t know a thing about things automotive…..even though she knows more about cars than most guys out there. 

We pulled up and she said “You know, I probably won’t get as great service with you with me.  I won’t be able to flirt to get a better deal.”

She had a point so I waited in the car as she went into to broker a new battery.  As  I sat alone in the car waiting for her to sweet talk an unsuspecting auto parts worker and watching other customers who knew what they were doing there a few thoughts popped into my mind.

• There is no shame waiting in the car as you wife plays stupid to get better service
• You can’t go to an auto parts store if your car is newer than 2004.  If you need washer fluid or anti freeze best just go to the dealership because a part stores won’t let you in the parking lot.
• Instead of handicapped parking spots Auto Parts stores have spaces reserved for mid 90’s Camaro.  If you’re blasting White Snake you get valet parking 
• The ratio of rust to ghetto-ness is proportionate to the ratio of stickers to crapy-ness of the factory radio.
• Quiz time:  Fuzzy dice aren’t cool if a)you’re driving a Oldsmobile Alero  b) they’re blue neon fuzzy dice  c)your over 21 d) almost get t-boned pulling out because you can’t see other cars due to said fuzzy dice  e)wearing la gear high top sneakers f) all of the above
• It’s hard to look manly with the Auto parts store guy comes out to install the new battery and sees you sleeping like a baby in the front seat. 
• There’s a little crack between the dash and open hood where you can see through.  When the auto parts guy bend over to unhook the old battery and makes eye contact it’s very awkward.
• The smaller in size you are the farther you need to have the seat back.  Can’t be “hollering at no beotches” with a drivers seat reclined to the proper angle.  I swear I saw a 16 year old who was 4 foot tall, 110lbs driving from the trunk. 
• When a battery is hooked it resets the car’s electronics even if the car isn’t on.  This may cause the CD to eject from the stereo.  I am the only one who thinks this is amazing feat of automotive engineering.  Even your wife will look embarrassed when you yell “Look, Sheila barfed up the CD” from inside the car.
• Sweat pants are fine to wear as long as your truck has at least one different color door than the body.  The multi colored paint job may be substituted for a missing window repaired with a garbage bag and duct tape.

In the end we got a new battery and I learned a little bit more about life.

Flickr Pro

As a little treat to myself and blog anniversary gift (this site turned one year old a few days ago.  I’ll have a birthday post in a bit) I upgraded my flickr.com account.  With the free version of Flickr you get 200 hundred uploads to host images/videos on their site.  Even though I use that them to host the images I post on my blog reaching my free limit was something I never thought would happen.  But to my surprise I had peeked my quota in no time.

Broke down, bit the bullet and shelled out the $24.99 yearly fee for unlimited uploadeds.  Not that what breaks down to a two dollar a month charge is going to send my bank account into a death spiral but it was something I was avoiding.  Whenever I start out with something that I can do for free I find myself kicking and screaming against paying for it.  

After I made peace with having to pry my seldom used credit card out my tightly closed wallet I really got into my improved Flick PRO account.  The PRO gives me the ability to track stats on views my images get not to mention how much more fancier my account looks with “PRO” displayed for all to see.  The “PRO” signals “this guy means business”, “Look out word he’s a professional” and “this guy had a extra 25 bucks to spend on something other than internet porn site”

Here’s the link to my photo stream.  http://www.flickr.com/photos/huskyanimator/

Gaze into the glorious “PRO” next to my name.  AMEN

Jello Pains

As you probably have noticed by now embarrassing moments stalk my every movement.  A gastric gurgle let loose during a important meeting brought on by an empty stomach because I skipped breakfast that morning.  Letting racial slur slip which I had no idea was a racial slur in a first place.  Publicly embarrassing myself in front of a room full…no a store full of strangers by walking in through the exit door (which dosn’t open that way) smacking face first into the Plexiglas.

Yep. Those moments that cause me to turn bright red with shame, and a side helping of humiliation, are waiting around every corner along the path of life.  Last night was one more corner I had to round.

It all started when I was eating my lunch.  Was about 90% finished with a jello snack cup (Orange, my favorite) when I spilled the last heaping spoon full onto the table.  Don’t cry for me Argentina because by some lucky break the mount of giggly gelatin landed on the foil lid.  And being the plumpy hungry being I am I looked around to take a peek I was alone.  Then I slurped the last spoon full off the foil lid.

But this last sinful bit was not without it consequences.  In my haste to slurp up the last remaining Jello I was reckless with the foil.  I sliced the left corner of my mouth on the metal lid.  Luckily it wasn’t that bad.  Hurt like hell but didn’t bleed much.  Ashamed to admit it but this isn’t the first time I’ve cut myself on a jello cup lid.  This incident was fairly mild compare to the lip gusher of the summer of 89′ but that’s story for another time.

The rest of the afternoon it felt as if the corner of my mouth as sunburned and chapped at the same time.  I tried to use some lip balm but that just burned.  They really need a warning on those.  “Do not use on broken skin caused from licking a foil jello cup lid.”

At the end of the day I was making my way down the stairs the opened up to the lobby so I could leave.  While talking down the stairs I was alone and in full out licking my wound mode.  Had my tongue out as far as it would go and lapping the side of my face to relive the stinging sensation caused from my noontime battle damage.

Try it.  Stick your tongue out all the way and lick the corner of your mouth as far to the left as you can go.  Feel stupid right?

Now imagine my fright and red embarrassment when I looked up walking down the stairs and there was a lobby full of people waiting.  Not sure why they were waiting, perhaps to be interviewed or to talk about a charity on air, but they were there.  About six women waiting patently as I walked down the stairs, tongue out, appearing to try and devour my face via licking.  My body froze….yet my tongue keep licking.  Dammit it tongue!  Stop!   Once I snapped back and made peace with how stupid I must have looked I put my head down pretending to be reading a text message on my cell while walking that awkward walk out the building.

I think in the future I’ll just pack a few extra jello cups per lunch so I don’t have to scrounge to get every last bit out of one.

Blood sample Doctor

I think with this posting I’m going to set an achievement for all mankind.  Usually when someone experiences a “M” word they experience a tidal wave of different emotions.  Sadness, anger, bitterness (oh yeah, Lot’s of bitterness here) and finally acceptance.  It isn’t a normal response to have the reaction of “Oh, that gives me a great idea for a cartoon” about the whole horrible experience.  But that’s what happened to me.

If you’re wondering what the “M” word is here the link explaining it.  http://huskyanimator.wordpress.com/2009/11/14/the-m-word/

As part of last weeks “M” word Melissa and I went thought my wife has had to make several trips to the doctors office to have blood work done.  Turns out the lab can do test on the hormone levels in the blood to determine if a ”M” word really took place.  Who knew.  I always assumed blood tests were just cruel jokes my parents made me go through as a child.  Me and doctors needing to take blood never got along.  Once when I was a young lad around ten I valiantly fought off a doctor trying to stick my vein for a good two hours. 

Eric and giving blood dosn’t go together so well.  Neither does Melissa and giving blood, but she did. Several times in fact.  About three times she went in for blood work so the doctors could make sure the hormone levels were returning to normal post pregnancy levels.  If her hormone level didn’t go down that would have been worse than just a ”M” word because something would’ve been medically wrong with her.

The first and last time Melissa stared death in the eye to give a sample from her arm it went fine.  Well as fine as possible.  I’m sure she needed to be calmed down a little which is far better than I would’ve done.  I’d have cried like a bitch.   The middle blood draw didn’t go so well.  Melissa was complaining about her arm being numb all night, in her words the “fucking idiot nurse couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with that needle” and my wife’s arm did in fact look like Jason Voorhees was working the syringe.  I’ve seen boxers go twelve rounds with less swelling and bruising than Melissa had on her upper forearm.

When she told me about the “fucking idiot nurse couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with that needle” my mind raced with visions of maniac doctors and psychotic nurses bend on drawing blood for there own mad scientist experiments.  I could imagine my wife’s blood being taken from her body and being used to harvest clones of her in underground medical lab in eastern Russia.  Sweet Jesus!  Clones of Melissa!  Pray that never happens.

I need a moment to compose myself after that horrible glimpse of hundred of Melissa raining havoc.  One does enough damage.

After I laid pen to paper, paper to scanner, and Photoshop to scanned image I came up with this.  He’s demented surgeon with a replacement bionic spine after his was deformed through horrific experiments he conducted on himself.  He roams the halls of the local medical lab in wheel chair using his blue Crocs to scoot from room to room sneaking blood samples from unsuspecting patients.  The needle is the size of a drinking straw and leaves a purple bruise the size of Texas……and also leaves your wife going “What the hell did they do to my arm?  Don’t people need to go to school to get trained for taking blood?

black and white inked evil blood sample doctor

RUN! He'll find a vein in your arm.....but he'll go through your ankle to get at it

Murder is tasty?

Now that I’ve got your attention by the title please do not be alarmed.  I promise you I’m going somewhere with this train of thought.  Enjoy the post. 

So I watching Criminal Minds on A&E last night.  For those who’ve never seen it, I being one of them until the show recently hit syndication, Criminal Minds is a CSI/NCIS style show about FBI criminal profilers that track down serial killers, rapists, child kidnappers and other various criminals.  Best to check it out for yourself.  My description dosn’t do the show justice. 

One saying I kept hearing the FBI agents use was “Un sub”.  Being the curious lad that I am I headed to the glorious interweb in my quest to find of the meaning of this “Un sub”.  My thirst for knowledge is unquenchable.  After checking up on my Facebook, ESPN, IGN, a few ”adult” sites and finally my blog stats (hits to this site are like crack to me.  Check back often.  Sorry about the shameless plug) I discovered the meaning of Un Sub.  Turns out it is short for Unknown Suspect.  I had a feeling that’s what it stood for but never hurts to be sure.

After the FBI agents in Criminal Minds arrested the serial rapist who they were in search of setting the TV world right again a KFC commercial came on.  I watched of course because changing channels would involve finding the remote and I noticed a odd tag line at the end of the TV spot.  Fast food chain warfare isn’t something I’m on the up and up about but I’m guessing Subway’s deal is going head to head with KFC’s value meal.  Their new slogan I suppose is meant to combat that Subway $5 footling deal and it goes “Taste the un sub side of KFC”

Really?

Now this is a fine little slogan they’ve got going on except I just watched a television drama where FBI agents referred to the man who was raping small children as the “Un sub”.  I’m pretty sure I do not want to “taste” that side of KFC.  Chicken fingers?  Sure.  Mashed Potatoes?  Hell yeah and throw some gravy on.  KFC’s trademark biscuit?  Oh most definitely. Serial rapist being hunted down by FBI profilers……………oh, no, that’s OK.  I’ll pass on the rapey murdery flavor. 

Who knows.  Maybe KFC”s next slogan will be “Murder/Suicide.  It’s finger licking good”

Putting the “we” in Wii

I have a confession to make and it pains to admit this but I’m not very good at Super Mario Brothers games.  Not that I’m bad at that them.  I can hold my own when it comes to the gomba stomping brothers but I’m not going to win any awards for my high scores any time soon.  There’s just something about the 2d side scrolling genre that never appealed to me.  Any other type of game I can handle 

Shooting games: Not a problem.  Lock and load.  Give me a bazooka, sniper rifle, some grenades and let’s go save the world!

Sports games: Love em.  If I can make myself a player (and load my stats to 100% in every category) even better

Roll playing games, sure:  Not my cup tea by why not.  Give me my magical sword with a goofy name like dragon blade-o-fire and load up my mana.

Stragety game:  As you can tell by my grammar I’m not usually one for a “thinking man’s” game but I’ll give it a shot.

Music rhythm games: I might look like an overgrown man-child holding a toy guitar but once I get relaxed about looking stupid I do fairly well.

Barbie Horse Adventures for the Xbox.  Look out world:  Eric is going to have the prettiest pony in the whole wide world

What? Sometimes there's nothing left to rent at Family Video and you're really, really bored

Well, maybe that last one is a bit much.  But all those other genres I love to play.  It’s just something about the side scrolling Mario games that makes me think “Oh no. A hole.  Don’t fall in the hole.  Don’t fall in the hole.  Don’t fall in the hole…….Oh shit I fell in the hole and died.”  Once the game gets into my head like that I’m done.  I beat the first Super Mario only with the aid of a Game Genie and even that was a rough time.

This game ain't big enough for the two of us let alone four players

But I’ve found something that’s harder for me to play.  More challenging than any Super Mario game I’ve ever encountered.  A game that makes me not only scream at the TV but scream at Melissa.

“Scream at Melissa?” you’re asking yourself.

Yes, scream at Melissa.  See, the other day my wife went out and bought the newest installment in the Mario line up, New Super Mario Bros. for the Nintendo Wii.  What’s so new about you might ask.  For the first time up to four players can play on the screen at the same time.  So instead of a single Mario jumping around collection coins there can be three more characters going at it.

Which sounds like a blast right?

Not if you play with my wife.  There isn’t enough coins in the Mushroom Kingdom for just her so forget about us both sharing the bounty.  The characters you control can bump into and jump on the other characters so the whole point of me playing along side her was to act as trampoline boost so she could reach the higher up coins.  And the “bump into” part.  I can not count how many times I was in her way so she pushed me down a hole.  Never get between my Wife and a fire flower.  When it comes to the ability to launch fire balls as fire Mario our marriage doesn’t mean shit.

She’s great at 2d side scrollers and it showed.  I on the other hand am no so good….and that showed to.  What also showed to were my tears as my wife berated me with rants of “Get that…get that mushroom….GET THE MOTHER F*CKIN MUSHROOM!”  and my favorite which our neighbors probably heard “Where the hell are you going?  There were F*CKING COINS BACK THERE”

Instead of the box reading “Up to 4 players” it should read “Melissa vs. everyone”

Be warned. When playing with Melissa your playing against the King Koopa's minions...AND Melissa

Sore throat makes me have to Pee

I think I’m going to die.  Took yesterday off from work because of this wicked bad sore throat.  Most of the time I can deal with what ever ailments I have to continue to go into work so I don’t need to burn a sick day.  Have a cold?  Just pop some pills until it clears up.  Hacking rough Cough?  They make cough drops in every flavor of the Willy Wonka candy rainbow.  Clogged up sinus?  Tylenol makes a hell of a good sinus with headache combo to treat that.  Flaming diarrhea?  A bottle of pepto and a wadded up piece of toilet paper clenched between the cheeks to catch any excess run off will fix that messy problem.  See?  Any ill feeling I have a solution for.  Just not a quick fix for a sore throat.

A aching scratchy throat is the one thing that I’ll break down and take a sick day for.  Mostly because there’s no quick easy Walgreen’s inspired cure.  Sure there’s the throat sprays and drops but those have never worked that well for me.  The lozenges that numb that back of your wind pipe work some what but the direction says not to use more that six throat drops in a 24 hour period and here I am downing six every fifteen minutes.  When your meals consist of throat lozenges for breakfast, a sensible lunch, more lozenges for dinner and hit of sore throat relief spray for dessert the farts you lay down are amazingly potent.  I made the mistake of “beefing” in the car driving home from work Thursday and almost rear ending a pickup while I was gagging.

Yesterday on the “Eric Get Well Tour” I did three things.  Sleep, drink liquids, and Piss.  Sometimes all at once.  No, I didn’t wet the bed.  I almost fell asleep filling the great  porcelain temple with golden holy water.  Seemed as if I was standing there for hours going….and going…………and going and going some more.  Guess when you choose drinking liquids to quell your burning throat over traditional medicine your bladder will suffer.  My urination has turned into such mammoth proportion I was going to take a ”should I” pee and end up sending a ropey jet of urine that almost over flowed the bowl.

For those that don’t speak Eric a “should I” pee is when you think you might have to take a small leak just because you don’t want to be in the middle of something later when the urge to go strikes you.  You might not even have to go that bad but just do it to clear the tank. A mercy piss.  Here, let me use it in a sentence.  “I’m going to play my video game for the next few hour but Should I go to the bathroom now so I don’t have to go later thus interrupting my gaming session?”  A more common application for a “Should I” pee is on a long road trip when you stop at a dirty rest stop.  You’ll hold your breath bearing the brunt of the stinky urinal because you don’t want piss pangs a few hours down the interstate when there’s no way to relive them except filling a empty gatorade bottle with the latest sports drink flavor……Urethra thunder.

My goal today is drink enough icy cold ginger ale so when I used the bathroom to relive my aching bladder I can belt out the entire classic hit Young MC’s Bust a Move from start to finish before I’m doing peeing.  Lofty goals I know but someone has to set the bar high. 

Wish me luck.

The “M” word

It’s with a heavy heart that I write this blog post but I feel it’s just something that needs to me said.  For around the past year I’ve opened up and shared my embarrassing moments, humorous thoughts and fun experiences I’ve had.  Along with the highs and good times I feel I need to share the lows as well.  Don’t want to come off like those people on Face-book that just post pictures about how great their lives are leaving you in the dark about the abusive husband and money problems they have at home.  I don’t want to come off as one dimensional as them.

Around the end of October my wife and I found out we were going to be parents and I couldn’t have been, well, more nervous.   Excited to, don’t get me wrong but still very nervous.  Over the past few weeks I’ve gone from the mind set of “Oh Shit! How can I handle this” to a more mature attitude of “Bring it on.  I can handle this and it’s going to be great being a Father.”  I don’t get excited very often.  Sure I’ll get giddy when that new video game I’m waiting for is in at the rental store the day it’s released.  And I’ll get sing a song of joy out loud at the top of my lungs if I come across a great bargain at the store.  But that truly overwhelming ecstatic excited euphoric state dosn’t hit me very often and this time it did.  Took a few days to sink in but after the fear subsided I was left with nothing but pure excitement.

I was preparing extremely healthy meals that would help Melissa and give her energy.  Reading up on stroller reviews.  Joined a online message board for new fathers.  I even started on a new cartoon of myself and my son or daughter to be used as a new header graphic on this blog.  But in beginning of this week we got some bad news.  Melissa started having that monthly visitor that wasn’t supposed to be knocking on the door for the next nine months.  If that explanation dosn’t make any sense you need to head on back to 7Th grade health class. 

You might have guessed by now the “M” word the title is referring to isn’t Marriage or Monkey or even Macadamia nut.  God I wish I was Macadamia nut. Those are fucking delicous.  Nope, the M word I’m referring to is Miscarriage.  I don’t like the word and that was the only time I’ll refer to it by name.  It sounds as if you’re going to place a baby in it’s carriage and you miss dropping it on the side walk.  Stupid word. 

I wasn’t sure what to feel, how to feel it or even if I was supposed to feel anything at all.  The only emotion that came to me at first was feeling ripped off.  Like I’d been swindled by a dirty ring toss game carny on the midway at a county fair.  Anyone that knows me knows that change is something I despise the most.  And for the past few weeks I’ve changed faster and for the better than any other time in my life.  The nervous easily pissed off Eric was quickly being transformed into the calm, responsible, future father Eric. 

It seemed like all that soul searching and getting in the propper mindset was all for nothing.  But then I realized it wasn’t a waste.  It was for something because we’re going to try again, and again, and again and again……..then Melissa might need a nap and I’ll need a snack……then again and again and again until we have a little boy or girl that we can show the world. 

I think the worst part was going to the Doctor’s office the morning we received the bad news.  The nurse called us back to a room and in the process of making our way back their we had to walk past a huge wall of photos of babies the doctor had delivered.  Seeing hundreds of babies lining both sides of a hallway when you’re going to find out you won’t be adding to the collection in nine months is not a good feeling.  Melissa got emotional and I got pissed.  The nurse could have led us down a different route. 

As Melissa began to tear up all I could think about was when we’re ready to add our kid to the wall-o-babies I’m going to print the picture out 8 by 10.  Not inches but rather 8 by 10 feet. And I’m going to cover the entire front of the Doctor’s office in the over sized prints.

No, scratch that idea. 

I’m going to run 10 miles of cable from a video camera aimed at our baby’s crib to a 52′ flat screen I’ll mount on the wall of the doctors waiting room.  Screw a picture.  I’m providing a live video feed to show off our kid.

No.  Hold up.  Scratch that idea as well.

Forget the huge picture.  Nix the video feed.  I’ve got a better idea.  I’m going to get my chauffeur’s licence and when a visitor leaves the doctors office I’ll drive them to home………via a trip to our apartment so they can see my son/daughter in their crib in person.  I’ll call it the “Proud Tour”

The Proud Tour might not start up in July of 2010 as originally planned but it will still roll out sometime.  Trust me this is not the end of the Eric and Melissa being parents story.  This is merely the prologue

I shalom da’ Fool

I’ve come across yet another wacky phrase that someone typed into a search engine to stumble across my little corner of the interweb.  Some how when you google “Mr.T” my site is one, if not the first, hit that comes up in the results.  Which is great.  Adds about 20 blog hits per day to my stats.  Blog hits are like crack to me.

Now the Mr. T/Husky Animator connection has crossed the bounties of culture and religion.  This afternoon under the searched engine terms was “מיסטר טי”

At first I didn’t know what to make of it.  Perhaps some odd computer code or a glitch on WordPress.  But after I put my glasses on and took a second glance I recognized it.

מיסטר טי

Once I made it bigger the odd text made sense.  It was hebrew!  How cool is that.  I can’t even type in English most of the time and someone searching on Google in Hebrew  finds my site.

I wanted to see if I could translate the text or scripture as I’ve been calling it.  Sounds fancier right?  Here’s a Hebrew alphabet and you can actually make out MR.T if you look at the characters.