The Day We Initiated a Police Chase

I don't have a drivers license.
At the moment, neither does David.

We recently found out that David lost his license a few months back when he answered his phone while driving.
He was on a probationary license at the time due to his collection of speeding fines and answering his phone in front of two motorcycle police probably wasn't the best idea.
I don't have a driver's license because I'm a sook and hate driving tests. Every time I go for my license something bad / stupid happens, so I just stay away from the RTA all together.

Well, I planned to, until today happened...



David and I, despite not having licenses, still drive.
Public transport here is not only terrible, but expensive.
So recently, our biggest fear was being pulled over and asked for a driver's license.

Which brings us to today.

So, we're on the way to work and I'm yapping away while doing my make up. 

We then drive over a hill and encounter this:

It was a random breath testing roadblock. 

There was no way out of this. David had to pull over and have his license checked.

Or so I thought...

It just so happened, that between us and the police roadblock was a driveway leading to a church car park and behind the church was David's road to freedom!

or not.

The car park behind the church no longer had access to freedom road like we both thought.
There was now a newly built, government funded school building where another driveway once was.
David pulled the car up behind the church, grabbed the keys and was out of there as though there were a dead body in the boot.
I didn't know what the hell was going on.

By foot we reached our road to almost-freedom.
"Quick! Call taxi!" David calls to me, but it was too late.


Flying up almost-freedom road was a police car with it's siren blaring
Running behind us was another policeman.


We were done.

"Stop there!" Calls out car-policeman, pulling up in front of us.
"He was just driving me to work" I say to him in the saddest voice that I've ever heard come out of my mouth.
David sat in the gutter at the door of the car, defeated, answering car-policeman's questions.
Running-policeman stood and watched.
"So you're disqualified from driving?" Car-policeman asks.
"No, just suspended" answers deflated David.
"Suspended??" Car-policeman asks with what sounded like relief.
From our actions, he sounded as though he were expecting convicted drug dealers/murderers/badguys, not just some suspended driver.

I sat next to David and listened to how we narrowly escaped arrest for our actions.
Then the policemen suggested we lock up the car and get to work.

Synes-que? pt II

So, just before I leave the doctor's last week, I mention to him that I have synesthesia.
"How interesting!" I say to him...

Synes-que?

Heyguesswhat!

I have a condition known as Synesthesia. 
Some people have never heard of it.
If you're one of those - hereyago:

Synesthesia: A condition in which normally separate senses are not separate. Sight may mingle with sound, taste with touch, etc. The senses are cross-wired. For example, when a digit-color synesthete sees or just thinks of a number, the number appears with a color film over it. A given number's color never changes; it appears every time with the number. Synesthesia can take many forms. A synesthete may sense the taste of chicken as a pointed object. Other synesthetes hear colors. Still others may have several senses cross-wired.

(www.medterms.com)

I am a digit-colour synesthete, but I also experience the same with letters, days of the week and months.

I didn't even know it was a "condition" until last week. I'd always assumed that it was normal and that people who didn't designate their letters and numbers with colours and genders were weird.

Apparently I'm the weird one.

I read that synesthesia is hereditary and more common in women, so I called mum:

"Hey Mum, what colour is the number 3?"

"It's green. Why?"

"Just wondering...   Hey, is it a boy or girl?"

"It's a boy."

'It's not, it's a girl. She's just a bit masculine."

"No, I'm pretty sure it's a boy"

So that answered that question.

Incase you're wondering what colours my numbers are, I've made you a very basic diagram. 

Notice how 10 and 11, while both containing the number 1, aren't red?

Yeah... I have no idea why.

The numbers aren't mapped out the way I would imagine that they should be. That's a whole 'nother kettle of fish.

If you have any questions, I'm more than happy to answer them. I love to talk about myself - hence I have a blog!

I hate you, 2010

This has got to be the worst year I've ever experienced.
Each month has been awful in it's own little way.
In the last thirty days the following has been endured:

• Can't afford car rego. Have to borrow from a friend.
• Can't afford to repay friend in short amount of time, need to borrow from a family member.
• Loose my manager, who I love working with.
• Work seven and eight days in a row due to being under staffed.
• Work unpaid hours on top of my own hours to prove my commitment to my company and prove I am management material.
• David's bank card gets eaten by faulty ATM. Supposed to take 6 days for a new one. It's been weeks.
• Drop a shelf on my head.
• Offered Tool presale tickets. can't afford them.
• Tool sells out in 12 mins.
• Can't afford groceries.
• Tuesday night trivia was won by the announcer's friends who turned up half way through round 3.
• Car battery dies, can't afford new one.
• Have to borrow money for car battery.
• Find out I didn't get management position.
• Come home to a very sick Czar. Don't know what's wrong.
• Feeling very angry most of the time.
• Feel very itchy, like I have something biting me. No bite marks or rash. Possibly just my imagination.

I don't believe in an interventionist god, but if I did...

I would give it the finger.

Confirmed

You may have read this one on my facebook. If not:


In 2009, David and I travelled to Canberra for my youngest brother, Moose's confirmation.
He had chosen me as his confirmation sponsor.
While I was honored, I couldn't understand why, I'm not very in touch with Catholicism.
Moose explained to me that none of the people he had wanted were baptized, and Kane, the eldest of our brothers, was already a sponsor to our brother Bradd.
So this just left me.
How touching.

Sunday morning the family all gathered at Moose's primary school church.
I had been having trouble packing before we left, and just grabbed the first clean dress I could find. Once dressed for church, I realised that the dress I had picked up would have to be the most cleavage revealing dress I own.
Seated in the church and my brother, Kane arrives.
Rather than congratulating Moose on his confirmation, his first action was to give me a thumbs up and the nod for "Gett'n'em out for Jesus!"

The service became more and more ridiculous as time went on. We were told before hand by our step mother, that my family had dubbed the parish priest "Father Lizard" and as he reached the altar it was very apparent the reason why.
While the Bishop opened the mass, Father Lizard stood to the side, looking over the room with his mouth agape and tongue flicking in and out, licking his bottom lip.
Kane, sitting two seats away had his head in his hands, giggling uncontrollably and, after regaining some sort of composure, muttered under his breath "get that man some Chapstick!" which set the rest of our pew and a few from the pew in front into a very hard to control fit of snorts and laughter.

After singing the hymns with great zeal and a few more "licking priest" jokes, it came time for Moose and I to move up to the alter for Moose's face slap from the Bishop. Kane sends message up the pew that if Moose dodges the slap he'll give him "five bucks!". Moose nods. Kane then sends message that if Moose takes the Bishop's hat, he'll give him a "Tenna!" Moose sends back the reply "Make it twenty." Kane nods.

Moose and I finally made our way up to the altar. The Bishop said his spiel and moved to place his hand on Moose's face - but missed! Moose had just earned himself five dollars. The Bishop placed his hand under Moose's chin instead.
Then there was silence.
The priest and the Bishop looked at Moose for some sort of reply. Moose just starred back at them. "Say Amen!" I whispered into his ear once the awkwardness started to really set in. "Huh?" Moose replied, which was apparently enough, he had been confirmed and we were sent back to our pew.

Not long after this, the service was over and we all bundled outside for a cigarette. My step mum, Debbie had a good laugh about how my cleavage almost gave the Bishop a heart attack. Kane claimed that Father Lizard's eyes widened and his tongue flicking accelerated. I was skeptical.

While standing around chatting, a woman approached us, smiling and commented on how great it was to see Jack (Moose) after such a long time. She was his old kindergarten teacher. She then turned to my father and told him about how she will never forget the time that Jack threatened to have my father come to the school and "Kill her with his gun!".
I don't think she was overly impressed at how hilarious we all thought that was.

The snacks and beverages room was packed full of newly confirmed catholics and their families filling their plates. I was able to snap up a tuna tartlet while David trampled a group of small children to get into the chocolate muffins. The place was chaos so we decided on Yum Cha for lunch.
Not long after all of this, we headed back home. Enough Canberra for one weekend.


The end

You'll never never know...

So I'm on YouTube yesterday morning, just before I leave for work and a commercial catches my eye.

It was for the Northern Territory and continuously rubbed my face how I've never been to see it's natural wonders! 

The commercial finished and there was a notice that saying "Click here to win a trip to the NT!"

I would love to see the Northern territory, so I was all over it!!

First it takes me to the Channel 10 website and says I have to watch a Channel 10 commercial and answer a question to win. 

I freekin' hate Channel 10, but whatever... as long as I can go to the land of the Never Never, I'll do what   it says.

You are not signed in. You must be signed in to enter. 

Sign Up Now.

Fine, fine... I'll sign up. 

This better be quick. I was supposed to have left for work already.

Complete all fields marked with an *

* Name ______________

* Email _________________

* Home Address_________________

     (Channel 10 wants to know where you live!)

?!

I really don't want to give them my home address...

Uhmm....

Think! 

Think!!

Stuff it. I want this trip. I'll just give them my freekin' address!

What next??

Watch this Channel 10 commercial to win!

So, I watched it. It was an awful ad for a new reality television show about some white-Australian family who live in the Northern Territory and own a helicopter. It was filled with shots of the family running around, going on about how fabulous their life is, how Australian they are, and how great it is to own a helicopter. 

(It also looked as though all the best bits were in the commercial and there is really no need to watch the show)

So after a minute and a half of Channel 10 attempting to brainwash me into watching their terrible waste of television space, I finally found the link to the competition!

I clicked and it took me to a blank page. 

I thought "Gee, this is taking for ever to load" and then I noticed some tiny text at the very bottom of the page:

Competition is now closed

25 Points Challenge update

                      

Haha!!. Look at my stupid face!

Challenge entries can be viewed at The Sarah Miller Daily Challenge Entries Blog !


The original challenge can be found here: 25 points challenge 

Every morning...

I get to wake up to this:

I'm sorry but I don't believe it's my turn

I hate taking the bin out.
Hate it. Hate it.
I do any and every chore around the house from cleaning the toilets to making the bed but I just can't stand taking the rubbish out.
I don't know why, though.
Most probably because when we were growing up, taking out the bin was always Kane's job.
So I've just grown up believing that it's never my turn to take the bin out.
I go to great lengths to avoid taking the bin out when it's full.
Everything from shoving dissolvable rubbish down the drain, to placing rubbish around and on top of it, to staring at it with a forlorn expression hoping that David will see that I am distressed and take it out for me.

Right this very minute, that thing is bursting at the seams!
I keep forcing more and more rubbish into it hoping that by the time I need to use it again, it will have been taken out and the liner has been replaced.
I'm just about to start cooking, so unless you come around and take the bin out, things are going to get interesting.


Update 17.10.10: Returned from work to find David had not only taken it out, but washed it as well.

Challenge time - Autobiography in 25 points

Don't forget to view the Challenge update 

If you plan to enter this challenge and have ideas for future challenges, feel free to let me know!

Oi!

If you go to pub trivia nights and google answers on your phone, you're an arse.

Yusuf, this is a really bad time for me - Kane Stories

As a teenager I was far from a morning person.
(Nothing really changed, I jut deal with it a bit better now)
My brother, Kane thought it was hilarious that I was so angry in the mornings,
so as I trudged through the house to the bathroom, he would follow, skipping, singing Moonshadow by Cat Stephens.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

One week when I was around sixteen, I was very sick with the flu.
I spent most of the week on the lounge, curled up, shivering.
One day during this week, Kane thought it would be hilarious to bend over and fart on my head.
As soon as I moved my head to get away from the smell, he punched me as hard as he could in the arm.
I layed moaning in a lot of pain. Apparently, the reason I was punched was because I had moved. He thought I was going to chase him, but I was really just trying to breathe.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Our younger brother, Adam caused Kane a lot of grief over the years.
One weekend, our step siblings, Nicole and Stephen came over to stay. Stephen brought along a plush doll of Stan Marsh from South Park. At the end of the weekend, when they packed to go home, no one could find the Stan doll. Adam had shown great interest in this doll all weekend and wasn't shy in taking what he wanted, so all eyes were on him. The whole family searched everywhere. Kane looked furious. "Where did you put it, Adam?!"
Adam was sure he didn't steal it.
After a few hours of searching, we gave up. Adam was sent to his room for the remainder of the day.
While Mum and our step father, Rob were taking Rob's kids home, Kane quietly approached me in the lounge room with our old plastic chair. It was an unusual shaped chair that pulled apart. He looked over his shoulder then popped the chair open. Inside was the Stan doll.
"I wanted it" he said.
I laughed in disbelief, "You've got Adam in so much trouble"
"Fuck him" he replied.

Orange

So, Mum, David and I went to Orange yesterday for David's job interview.
I've never been to Orange before.
I took plenty of photos...

Just kidding, there's nothing to photograph in Orange.

Not a lot happened but we did have a good time.
Some of the good times included:

• Eating a McDonalds hash brown
• Listening to a Phil Collins song
• Telling a service station to shove their meat pies up their arse
• Op shopping
• Eating a piece of carrot cake
• Singing a Destiny's Child song but not knowing the words, so singing in Lorem Ipsum 
• Going to Cowra pub for a massive lunch. 
• Finding likenesses between Keith Urban's music and the Home and Away theme song
• Eating a Byron Bay biscuit
• Getting pollen in my eyes
• feeling bad for eating so much

So much excitement for one day.

I heartily recommend the meals at the Cowra Hotel! 

Huge meals, fresh meat and laid back, out back, bogan service. What a treat! Loved it!!

Cowra Hotel: The pot of gold at the end of my trip-to-and-from-Orange rainbow

Please Note: I didn't take this photo. I don't think any of the photos on this blog were taken by me. Yeah, yeah, I know. Pretty lousy effort for a photographer not to have any of their own photos on their blog. 

Juliet pt. 2

I walk to work.
It's over an hour's walk, so I'm always trying to find short cuts.
Last night I dreamt that I had found a short cut.
Turns out that if I were to walk through someone's house and their back yard I would get to work a lot quicker.
So I knocked on their door and you'll never guess who answered!


Julia Gillard.


So it turns out, according to my dream, that she lives in Tolland heights.
She invited me in, made me a cup of tea and was curious to know if I still worked at Wagga Family Support.
I stood and chatted with her while she was getting ready for work.
Her three children (?!) were in the lounge room watching The Wiggles.
(I can no longer look at the word wiggle without the L looking wriggly.)
For some reason it was all very normal that she knew me. It was as though she was a relative.


I didn't get to find out if the short cut was effective. (David had woken me up before that point by jumping on me.)
I'm probably not going to try it.

Pandoras and Vagina Tees

Did you know that I work in a clothing store?

It's true.

I do.

And like most retail outlets, we get odd balls.

Most days, the odd balls are the ones behind the counter.

Some days though...

Recently, my boss, Kellie ducked out to grab a coffee.

While she was being served, a woman approached her telling her just how lovely she looked.

She was flattered and thanked the woman thinking no more of it.

The woman then took some business cards from her handbag and handed them to Kellie.

Not just two or three, but a large stack of business cards. She then informed Kellie that she was a gemstone and Pandora charm seller. 

Kellie smiled, nodded, grabbed her coffee, came back to work and relayed to story to me.

Close to an hour later, the Pandora seller comes into our store with one of the cleaners that works in our building.

As she blabbered on about the genuine crystals and the beautiful charms that the cleaner was wearing on her incredibly gaudy bracelet (purchased from her, of course) I picked up one of the display bracelets filled with Pandoras to have a closer look.

The first of it's stunning features that I noticed was that the charms were not actual Pandoras, but rather imitation charms. 

(I would describe the quality as "$2 shop", Kellie says more like "found in the bin")

That's ok. Plenty of stores sell imitations. She probably shouldn't tell people that they are Pandoras, though.

The second draw card of this breathtaking item was it's gemstones. The fluorescent orange ones really caught my eye, Kellie said that her favorite was the one coloured like a bumble bee.

Sure, plenty of stores sell plastic shaped like precious stones. They probably don't market them as genuine gemstones, though.

Now, the real kicker was the crystal charm! 

"Real crystals" we were told.

The charm was a plastic circle coved in crystals... or rather, pieces of iridescent glitter that looked as though they had been stuck on with PVA glue.

They were all so beautiful!

Throughout the whole spiel, Kellie and I were biting our lips, nodding and trying very hard not to look at each other. Once the women had left, we burst into a fit of laughter that lasted for the next half hour.

Kellie tells me that her favorite moment was when the Pandora seller introduced herself to me and I just stared at her, wide eyed and vacant.

I tried to explain that I couldn't understand what she was saying and I did mumble some sort of reply, but by the sounds of it I looked like a deer in the headlights.

On a side note. If you are looking for the perfect gift this Christmas, Kellie has some business cards you might be interested in.

Now, while were on the subject of my work place, last week we received some new spring clothing.
One of the items is a t-shirt with a fake pocket.
The "stitched pocket detail" - as it's referred to on the website - looks a little suss.

Now, is it just me or...

Hi Damiano

I'll put a new post up shortly.

Whilst in Africa....

I was telling my boss this story the other day at work and it reminded me of some of the stupid things I had done as a teenager.

During year 12 in high school, I had about four assignments due in the same week.
I wasn't really into doing school work and much preferred spending my time playing guitar or sleeping.
One of my assignments was an essay on cultural differences around the world, and since I didn't really care much about the mark I was getting, I was sure I could find a pre written essay on the internet that would be close enough to the topic to get me by.
After about an hour of scanning the web, I came across an essay on the differences between tribal African and modern western cultures.
Fantastic!!
I read the first paragraph and was pretty stoked on how relevant it was to the topic.

Ctrl C  + Ctrl V
Add name to top of page
Print

A week later my teacher approached me in class with a big smile.

"Sarah, the head teacher of the department has just finished marking your essay and he would love to talk to you about it!"

So, off I went to the staff room.
Knocked on the door.
Asked to speak with the head teacher.


"Sarah!" He exclaimed, looking overjoyed.
"I've just read your essay! I am very impressed"

"Really?" I asked.

"Really!" He replied. "I can't believe the extent you went to, to gather all of this information!"

"Oh, it wasn't too much." I said modestly while trying to hold back my massive grin.

"No, no... Please let me read the part that really caught my eye!


Ahem...  'Whilst in Africa, I noticed that the tribesmen....'  " 


...


"So, you went to Africa, Sarah?"


"Uhmmm....         no."

"No?"

"...no"

"May I suggest, next assignment, give it a proof read before handing it in?"

"Yeah, that's a pretty good idea."

Don't mind me. Just taking notes.

Election day

Your Lord and Master

So, when I was eighteen I decided/realised that I was God. 

Not in the God-of-my-own-destiny kind of way, but in the I-am-your-lord-and-savior-you-better-start-worshippin' kind of way.

I started on my plan for a new religion and made sure that my title was set in concrete - or rather, tattooed on the back of my neck.

Needless to say, once I came to terms with the general population's apathy/skepticism, I lost interest and the whole scheme fell to pieces.

Except for one part.

The tattoo on the back of my neck.

That didn't go anywhere.

So now when my hair is up, it gives people the impression that I am religious.

Not just religious, but one of those hard core, christian, douche bags, who plays in a christian metal band and carries on about how "X-treme" their love is for the lord. 

If I could go back in time, I would find my eighteen year old self and punch me in the back of the head.

COMPETITION!!

If you can think of a design to transform my stupid mistake into something I'm no longer ashamed of, you will win my gratitude forever!! 

(the best I can do is to put "I am not religious" and a little arrow above it. But there's really no wit or imagination in that)

So, come on folks!  Design me something awesome!!

Michael McCormack wants my vote

I received a letter in the mail yesterday from my local National Party candidate, Michael McCormack.
He wanted to let me know that he cares about the local youth.
He was a local youth once and his daughter is one now.
He says that if I vote for him, he'll fight for what I want.


Do you know what I want, Mr McCormack?
I want a local member who doesn't have a history of using their journalistic freedom to publish homophobic rants.

So, does that mean that if I vote for you, you will make sure people like that don't become my voice in the House of Representatives?

I hope so.

But, I don't think so.

My Campaign Promise to You

Hi, my name is Sarah Miller and this election I am making you a promise.

A promise that I promise to keep.

A promise for the benefit of all Australians.

This election, your vote counts and that is why I make this promise. 

If this August the 21st you walk into a voting booth and choose to vote The Family First Party, 

I promise that I will think of you as a dumb arse until the end of my days.

I will call you a dumb arse.

I will tell your friends and family that you are a dumb arse.

And I will more than likely throw up a little bit in my mouth to think that I know such a dumb arse.

So, come on Australia!

Do your country a favour  - Don't be a dumb arse!

You're better than that!

A vote for Family First is a vote toward stupidity

Birds make great pets

Have you ever wanted to keep a bird as a pet?

Well you should! They're just great!

Why are they great?

Well, I've made you a list:

1. They're placid, gentle creatures.

2. They're quiet and generally keep to themselves

3. They don't eat a lot.

 4. Self cleaning. Low maintenance. 

Now that I've shown you the benefits of having a bird, I imagine that you would just love to own one right away.

That's great!

 

I HAVE A FREEKIN' COLD

I didn't realise the caps lock was until after I wrote the title.

But, yes, its true, I have a cold.

I've had it for five days now and it doesn't seem to want to go away.

It's very difficult to explain what I feel like when I have a cold, so I have decided to draw pictures to demonstrate:

Me without a cold

Me with a cold:

Standard Procedure

I've just spent the last two weeks on the phone with my home phone/internet provider.
They can't connect my phone.
They can't explain why, but they can charge me for it all.

"So why am I paying $59.95 for a contract I'm already in?"
"Oh, it's standard procedure"
"What's the procedure?"
"We need you to pay us the contract fee before we sign you into a contract"
"I've been in a contract for two years, why do I need to sign a new one?"
"Standard procedure."

"My phone doesn't have a dial tone. Is this normal?"
"Yes, that's perfectly normal"
"Then how do I call the number you're asking me to enter if I have no dial tone?"
"We'll have to send someone to look at it. This will cost $139.95."
"I thought you said no dial tone was normal?"
"Yes, it is."
"Then why do I need to pay to have it looked at?!"
"It's a standard procedure."

And it continued like this....

...Until I went to The Department of Fair Trading...
Who couldn't help me.
But they gave me the number of the Telecommunications Industry Ombudsman, with whom I had a great chat with.
I explained how frustrating the whole ordeal had been and we had a good laugh at it all.
He took down everything, told me how many codes had been breeched and gave me a reference number to call Dodo and quote to them. He then gave me their direct complaints number and sent me on my way.

The complaints man at Dodo wasn't as cheerful.

"How did you get this direct number??"
"Telecommunications Ombudsman."
"Oooo... The big scary ombudsman! Do you have a reference number so that I can see the complaint??"
"yep, it's 12453....."
"......."


"...oh... May I put you on hold for a minute please?"



The story ends with my contracts being cancelled at my request and three months worth of home phone and internet payments being refunded to my bank account.

So it turns out, the system works.

My hatred for Dodo is bigger than their womanising, badly drawn mascot.

Assets

Just finished the Tentacle Threads magazine ad.
I'm kinda happy with it, but not ecstatic.
I miss illustrating. I should probably do it a little more.

Beninie

I have a new beanie.
You want it.

Juliet

I love Julia Gillard and was soooo... happy to hear that she was becoming the new Prime Minister!
I nearly cried in her speech.
I also sent her a "congratulations and Good Luck" card. I hope she liked it.
I wish I could take her out to dinner one evening.
I would wear my new pretty silk dress that I don't own yet.
We could go out to somewhere near her work. I'd imagine she wouldn't have much time, she's a very busy woman.
Then we could compare items on the menu and talk about how we hate being called "Ranga", because calling people names on account of their hair colour is just another form of racism. She'll probably tell me that she was called "Bluey" as a kid and doesn't mind that and I'll agree. I never really minded being called "Bluey" too much either.
I guess afterwards, we'll have a glass of wine and chat for a bit, then I'll invite her back to my hotel room for more drinks but she'll decline because she has to get back to work.
I'll understand.

He's good for it

My seventeen year old brother has just finished his first week of work at the local abattoir.

His first pay arrived in the bank yesterday and he now sees himself as a member of high society.

His weekly shopping list was as follows:

1x4 pk Red Bull energy drink

1x4 pk Mother energy drink

1x crtn Longbeach "rich" cigarettes

1x KFC Wicked Wings value pack

Today I went over to visit. He was wearing mum's scarf as a cravat under his dressing gown.

Diagram of David Whittaker

Click to enlarge

Keywords

Something came up in conversation last night about attention spans.

I can't really remember, I wasn't paying much attention. What I do remember though was David saying something about how I don't really listen when people speak.

I do listen, just in my own way.

I explained that I tend to drift off with out noticing so I've learnt to underline keywords that I hear and form a new sentence from those.

"You rude arsehole!" he exclaimed.

Note: David did not find this funny.

Welcome

I can't imagine this blog will be as "daily" as the title suggests.

Time will tell.