My Sincerest Apologies.

Dear Fellow Group Assignment Members,

I trust since the last series of frantic emails and calls a half an hour ago you are all doing well. I have taken the time since our last exchange to reflect on what each of you had to express and I have realized I owe each of you some apologies.

First off, I apologize for suggesting the topic of focus for our group assignment. I admit the idea wasn't one of my best. To be honest, even I thought it sucked. It was born out of panic, to be honest. You see, we only had a half an hour to pitch our ideas to our lecturer and, after I realized we were all sitting in silence and staring around blankly for twenty minutes of that time, I think I let fear get the better of me and I simply blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. Believe me, had I known my decision to speak would lead to everyone else automatically turning off their brains and accepting my suggestion wholeheartedly (despite my opening the floor - nay - begging for other suggestions), I would have continued to remain silent with the rest of you.

I am so, SO sorry that everyone automatically assumed - without first confirming it with me - that, since I was the one who came up with the idea, that I would also be the one to prepare the whole draft paper for the lecturer to review and then go on to write the script as well (I hope you can understand my confusion at this point since another member of the group had already volunteered to do so but later, without giving us warning, seemed to have changed his mind). In hindsight, it made perfect sense that you all would just go about your lives for an entire week and think it was being handled by me, despite my not knowing I had to do it.

I'm also sorry for my job suddenly becoming so demanding. Had I known my being transferred to another office so far away, having to prepare a handover package for my replacement and subsequently having to miss a class due to the sheer exhaustion which resulted from all of this would have sent you all into such a state of panic, I would have acted in a more considerate manner.

I must also apologize for the lecturer shooting down our topic (the one I pitched and to which no one offered any alternative.) and that we now have to come up with and rewrite an entirely new paper. Had I known that during the week I was unreachable, some other member of the team would have altered my originally craptastic idea and made it, not only more craptastic, but put it outside the guidelines of the assignment, I would have made it my utmost priority to have handled things differently.

I am especially sorry to you, one-member-of-the-group-who-has-to-constantly-complain-that-you-are-the-only-one-who-is-actually-doing-anything. I know. I KNOW. It has been very hard on you. What, with your being completely silent and unreachable until the last minute and then emailing some shoddily prepared, almost unusable assembly of words, followed by calling and texting everyone in the group to make sure we see that you contributed. That ONLY YOU contributed.

I am perfectly willing to accept your behavior since you admitted to acting unreasonably when the mere thought of failing an assignment enters your head. I'm sure that was what prompted your very aggressive, albeit erroneous, email the other morning at 4 AM, telling us how you have to "put your foot down" and "we should consider ourselves lucky you didn't CC the lecturer on this email". For your sake, I am happy you did not CC our lecturer since, during your little rant, you clearly misrepresented how much you contributed to the group's work and how little everyone else did.

Mostly, I apologize for what comes next. I am afraid I can no longer sit idly by and trust everyone else to be the adults we all are supposed to be. I am truly sorry but, reluctantly, I am going to be taking stricter measures, assigning tasks and responsibilities, and making sure everyone communicates. Trust that I have no desire to do this but some level of leadership is needed going forward and, sadly, I see no one else stepping up to fill that role.

I hope you all can find it your hearts to forgive me for all I have done to contribute to every failure we've had as a group thus far. I will try my best from now on to be more of a team player and to be more considerate of everyone else's needs and commitments. I hope we can work past this and move forward from here.

Sincerely,

Vinny

I Have No Idea What I'm Doing 2 - Now With More Cluelessness.

In case you've been wondering where I've been for the past week or so (I'll just assume that you noticed I was gone in the first place), I guess the best answer is that I had gone into a state of shock. Remember when I posted how the higher-ups in the in the government ministry I now work for not only read my résumé, but assigned me a bunch of responsibilities based on them and I was starting to feel a little in over my head? Sure you do! But, in case you don't remember all the details, you can read about it here.

Now that same résumé has turned around and bitten me in the ass again as it started a chain of events that, this past Friday, led to me not only being pulled from all of those duties but, also, unceremoniously removed from my desk and the very building in which I worked.

And, no, I was not fired.

I suppose some more explanation is in order. It all started the Friday before last, when the manager of my department was passing me in the hallway...

Manager: Vinny, you used to be a reporter, right?

Me: Yeah. How did you-

Manager: The Executive (*lightning flashes, thunder rumbles, building shakes slightly*) said it was on your résumé. She said she's putting you on a team where you can use those skills for a special project.

Me: O...kay...

Manager: I'll tell you more as soon as they tell me.

Me: Um... Sure.

If I seem a little less than enthusiastic during this conversation it's because... well... I wasn't. The last thing I wanted was to be put onto yet another team. I was just getting the hang of all the things they had me doing already. Turns out I had absolutely no idea what The Executive (*lightning flashes, thunder rumbles, building shakes slightly*) had in store for me. That is until the Manager asked to see me in his office the following Monday.

Okay, seriously! Is there ever a time when your immediate supervisor asks to see you in his/her office any you don't imagine it ending with you being escorted out of the building by security, carrying a cardboard box with all your junk (and the stapler you slipped into your back pocket)?

Anyway, I digress, as I am wont to do. Turns out, the little talk with my manager went more or less like that. Only I wasn't being fired...

Manager: How long were you a reporter?

Me: *Thinking: Oh, it's about that! Breathes a sigh of relief* Six months.

Manager: Mm-hmmm... *jots something down in the notepad on his desk*

Long pause...

Here's the thing, Vinny. Did you know The Executive (*lightning flashes, thunder rumbles, building shakes slightly*) is researcher, first and foremost? She literally reads every line of every document that goes across her desk. Which  is why she noticed on your résumé that you worked as a writer and thinks those skills will be perfect for a team that's being set up.

Me: O...kay... I remember you telling me that.

Manager: Well, the thing she now mentioned to me is that she wants this team to focus only on this project. So you're being pulled from everything else you were working on.
Me: Well... okay...(I think I really pulled off not seeming excited by the news that my heavy workload was getting lifted.) But who's going to handle all my-
Manager: Let us worry about that. Anyway, that's why you're also being pulled from the department.
Me: Huh..?
Manager: And you're being transferred to our Central building.
Me: Huh..?
Manager: For about three months.

Me: HUH???

You know those war or spy movies where they assemble a special group to take out a really high priority target? Well this is something like that (I know I'm making it seem cooler than it really is. Please leave me to my delusions thankyouverymuch). Essentially, we're a select group of people with a very particular set of skills; skills we have acquired over our very long careers. Skills that are making things a nightmare... for me.

Since I just had to go and make it known that I am a writer, The Executive (*lightning flashes, thunder rumbles, building shakes slightly*) is now putting me into this special unit dedicated to finalizing a white paper. I had to Google it. Apparently it's a big deal and while the rest of the team will provide the source material, I'm supposed to take all that and convert it into readable text that everyone - from politician, to lawyer to average Joe-on-the-street - can understand. In other words, it's intended to be read by anyone in the country who so chooses. No biggie there. I was a reporter, after all.

Oh! Did I mention it also could be used to implement major pieces of policy that could affect the state of public service for the entire country?

No pressure.

Anyway, on Wednesday I met with the man who will be my Unit Commander for the duration of this special assignment. He guaranteed me the mission shouldn't take more than four months (hopefully).

Friday was my final day there. I was given a "new" laptop, directions to my new office and I met with Unit Commander again, along with the other two members of the team. These were the people I would be working with exclusively for at least four months so it's probably a good idea for me to try not to piss them off too quickly.

I make no promises.

Yes, I did take my stapler with me.

Pictures In The Air.

Tears ran down the side of her face as she stared up at the ceiling. How could she be so stupid? She was smarter than this, better than this. She was going to do better, make better decisions. She was going to be the one to break the stupid cycle and not end up being condemned to the same fate as her mother and her grandmother.

She had it all planned out. Right down to the color of his eyes. Brown. A light, bright brown that shined when the sunlight hit it just right. She was going to finish high school, go to college and be a game developer in a huge company. That is until she made the right connections and started a company of her own. Then, after she got wildly successful, she would meet him. A nerdy, but still cute gamer-geek like herself, with those bright, brown eyes.

All in that order.

That was how she imagined it. That was how she had been imagining it for as long as she could remember. On those cold nights, when the heat got shut off. On the hungry nights and even on those nights when they weren't sure if they'd have a roof over their heads the next day she would look up at the ceiling and see the images of her perfect future floating above her.

Now, thought tear-filled eyes, those visions that used to fill her with comfort instead just hung in tatters above her.

All because she couldn't keep her damned legs closed. All because some stupid plastic stick that she left on her bathroom floor just confirmed what she feared most. All because some boy whose eyes we nowhere near the right shade of brown said just the right things to make her forget her goals.

No. She wasn't going to play that game. As convenient as it would be to put all the blame on him she was going to let herself off so easy. She was the one who gave in and let raging hormones make the call.

Fucking hormones!

Now, what her mother managed to pull off at seventeen, she did at only fifteen.

"Way to go, girl!" she smiled to herself, "Always the overachiever." The thought made her laugh. Hard. Too hard. For a minute she thought she was losing her mind because she laughed so hysterically. She laughed until she didn't have the breath to laugh any more.

"Hey," she put her hand on her stomach, "hope you don't mind your momma going a little crazy for a bit just now. That's something you'll probably have to put up with from time-to-time. Better learn to deal with it, kid. And you better learn to keep up too. I've got plans I intend to see through to the end. I didn't plan on having you along for the ride but I guess that's just going to make things more interesting."

********

This was inspired by this weeks prompt on Studio 30 Plus.

This time writers taking part had write a post that incorporated the line "hung in tatters above her".

Social Interaction - A Sign Of The Times.

Based on the way I usually feel at the end of the week, I'm seriously considering having this made and posted on the inside of my front door so I can see it every time I'm about to turn that knob:

Don't get me wrong. Believe it or not, I'm okay with (most) of the people at work. This is prompted by those perilous minutes I actually have to be out in the streets, trying to get from point A to point B.

I Should Write Something.

You should write something...

But... I don’t have anything to write.

So? When has that ever stopped you? You’ve written lots of words about nothing before. That's a lame excuse! So, yeah, you should write something.

But what about that book I was reading? I should finish it. It’s been too long. How can I think about sitting down to write when I have a book just sitting there unread?

Still, You should write something.

Maybe after I catch up on some shows I missed out on last week. Then there are all those DVDs I got. There are still one or two I haven’t gotten to yet.

Then again, those shows aren’t really going anywhere? Are they? You can binge watch the entire season over the weekend. The movies can wait too. Instead, you should probably just write something...

Okay, maybe I should. But it’s been a hard week. Maybe some video games to help me unwind first. I can imagine the next boss fight is that annoying guy in IT.

Or... and this is just a thought here... You. Could. Write. Something!

But can I really focus on writing right now with so much stuff going on at work? The Divisional Director just asked me help out on a new project. A complicated project! And the deadline is in two days. Can I really focus on writing now?

Worry about work when you’re at work! Trust me, it’ll be there every morning, waiting for you. That being said, you should write something.

Sigh... I guess you’re right. I should write something...

Animals Iz Funny - Japan Style!

I-I don’t know what’s real anymore. Up is down, left is right, everything I've been brought up to believe is a lie. What am I talking about? Animals, man. Animals!

We've always been brought up to believe certain things about certain animals. They’re supposed to be part of nature. They’re supposed to be getting life on Earth right, while us humans are the ones screwing things up. Yet there are moose and wasps getting drunk off fermented fruit (I wrote about those incidents back in my Sprocket Ink days, by the way). And what about dolphins?! We were always told dolphins were the smartest mammals in the sea. Hell! Some even argue that they’re smarter than us. But as fellow animal enthusiast, Pickleope, will readily explain, they’re actually the freak perverts of the sea.

So if we’re wrong about the industrious and intelligent animals in nature having it all together, then what about the so-called pests out there. Surely we at least pegged them right. Right?

Wrong! My very last post on Sprocket was about how scientists are retrofitting cockroaches with remote controls and two way communicators to aid in search and rescue and, for those of you too busy fleeing in terror to notice, spiders aren't pests. They KILL pests. And then there are mice. What about the mice? I’ll tell you about the mice!

Well, one mouse in particular, anyway.

I read here today that, in Japan, a woman tweeted that she discovered a mouse had moved into her home. At first she wasn't too thrilled, I imagine. She reported that, when she first saw the creature she leapt at it and, much to her surprise, she caught it. Like I said, she didn't actually expect to catch it and she dropped it and they both retreated.

Later, for round two, she decided to go with a different approach. When the mouse emerged again, she gave it a doggy biscuit as a “peace offering”. The mouse took the treat and went away. Not long after that, her new house mate returned and left her a piece of chocolate it apparently found lying around the house.

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Forget the Lannisters! Apparently, it’s a mouse who always repays its debts.

Huh! Animals!

Snowball.

I knock on the Divisional Director’s door and walk in...

Me: Good morning. You have a minute?

Divisional Director (DD): Sure, Vinny, have a seat. What’s up?

Me: It’s about those reports you assigned me to update for my department. There’s a slight problem.

DD: Problem?

Me: Well, I was about to fill in my part of one of the shared files, sheet 15, when I realized it hasn't been filled in by any of the other departments. Since the data’s supposed to be in order I can’t add my part yet.

DD: Hmm... Sheet 15? But that’s supposed to be one of the most active files! It shouldn't be blank.

I show her a photocopy I had with me.

DD: It hasn't been filled in since November! Sigh! You see what I have to deal with, Vinny?

Me: ...

DD: Who fills in the other sets of data?

Me: *shrugs* I asked Strategic Analyst Girl.

She really is pretty kickass at preparing flowcharts, though.

All she did was sigh, shake her head and mutter something about them not being the “best fit”.

DD: We should ask the IT Manager who she has working on this.

Just then, the IT Manager appears outside the Director’s door.

I’m not kidding.

IT Manager (ITM): Excuse me, DD, you busy? I need to find out about that company phone the ex-employee has…

DD: Vinny already did the letter to the phone company. Come on in! There’s something we need to ask you too.

ITM: Was the letter sent?

DD: No. We need some info Strategic Analyst Boy is working on. That reminds me, Vinny. We need to set up another meeting for the project. I’ll let you assemble the team and make all the arrangements.

Me: Okay… But weren't Strategic Analyst Girl and Strategic Analyst Boy working on something for that?

DD: Oh, that’s right! Follow up with them after we’re done here and see when we can schedule it then.

Our talk was over soon after that. DD had suggested I take over ALL the data input for that file for ALL the departments to prevent another tie-up.

I was not pleased.

Anyway, as instructed, I went over to the Hall of Strategy. I asked Strategic Analyst Girl when she thought she and Strategic Analyst Boy would be ready with their presentation. She assured me they would be done by the end of the week.

Strategic Analyst Girl: By the way, about that thing you asked me earlier…

I think we should consult a higher power.

Me: You don’t mean..?

Strategic Analyst Girl: Yes. Let’s ask my boss, the Senior Strategist.

Me: Um... You know what? That quite alrig-

Strategic Analyst Girl: *knocks on door* Greetings, master. *enters and prostrates*

Senior Strategist: WHO DARES!?!

Strategic Analyst Girl: Forgive me, M'lord. The one called Vinny C desires an audience.

Me: Actually, I'm fine. I think I got it handled...

Senior Strategist: Ah, Vinny. Come! Come!

Me: Hey... 'Sup?

To spare you the details, the Senior Strategist said it was probably best I take over the updating sheet 15 all by myself. Again, this did not please me. I leave his lair office and two seconds later...

Strategic Analyst Girl: Vinny! Vinny C! The Senior Strategist has summoned you once more!

I return and there, sitting at his desk, was the IT Manager. How the hell she appeared there was beyond me, since there’s only one way in and out of that department and we didn't pass each other when I was leaving.

Senior Strategist: Vinny, ITM tells me you prepared the letter to disconnect the ex-employee's company cell?

Me: Um... Yeeeeah?

Senior Strategist: Well, we need to put a hold on it until we get some more facts straight.

He summons his minions, Strategic Analyst Girl and Strategic Analyst Boy. They appear and prostrate themselves.

Senior Strategist: Strategic Analyst Boy, have you gathered the information I seek?!

Strategic Analyst Boy: Um... Well, M'lord... At first I sought to-

Strategic Analyst Girl: Answer the man, fool!

Strategic Analyst Boy blubbers and stutters for several more seconds before falling silent. Senior Strategist proceeds to tear him a new one, while I wonder why I ever got up from my desk in the first place.

Senior Strategist: Vinny, I know you’re busy, but could you do me a favor?

Lacy's Winning Rack.

Now that the holidays are over and life is back to normal (well, as normal as life gets, anyway) it's time for me to share the news.

I WON!!! WOOHOO!!!

Ahem! Excuse me. What I meant to say is, in a rare twist of fate, Lady Luck has smiled upon me and I am now the proud owner of an original piece of art, done by none other than Mynx, of Lizard Happy.

Isn't it lovely?

For those of you who don't remember when I posted about entering Mynx's Art for Art competition in November (I'm assuming you just forgot and not that you haven't actually read that post, because obviously you guys read all my posts and wait with bated breath for the next one... Shut up!)

This proves something I've always believed. A great rack can open many doors. Of course, I'm a guy and I had to draw said rack but, technically, that still makes them mine (Nope! That didn't come off as weird at all. Not. One. Bit.) Then again, as I explained before, the winner is selected by random draw, so it's not like Lacy's boobs actually had any part to play in my winning when you think about it. So, technically, she doesn't have a winning rack after all.

Alright! Alright! They're nice. Geez! Stick toons are so sensitive.

Anyway, all this aside, thanks a ton to Mynx. I actually picked it up from the post office on Christmas Eve so I'm counting this as a Christmas gift too. I already have a spot picked out to hang it after I get it framed and, of course, I'll be sharing the updated pic of that too.

Tales From Japan - Death & The Hermit.

I'm not a people person. I know. I've only said that like a few (hundred) times before. I avoid people and I'm terrible at conversations. If someone starts up a conversation with me from completely out of the blue and I'm not prepared, it’s usually ends up being a disaster of epic proportions.

Still, as bad as I am with the whole social interaction thing, I'm way below the level of calling myself a hikikomori. That’s a Japanese word. (You didn't think I forgot about the folks over in Japan, did you?) Hikikomori are basically shut-ins who either won't or can't participate in social settings and, as a result, often spend all of their time locked up inside their own homes avoiding as many people as they can. They can't work, date or even have friends. Their parents are usually their only means of support and human contact.

Is it weird I actually don’t find most of this all that bad?

Anyway, there are a growing number of people suffering from this condition in Japan and cultural pressures and other stresses are usually the triggers for someone to slip into hikikomori lifestyle.

One example of just how severe a hikikomori's fear of social interaction can be is a recent story I read here about an unemployed, 34-year-old, male hikikomori who shared an apartment in Tokyo with his 68-year-old father, Mr. Nakao. Their living together was on account of Nakao's poor health.

Then, on December 1, the son woke up to find that his father had died. Naturally, the authorities had to be notified but the young man's fear of having to make contact with the outside world was so severe that he actually hesitated a little before contacting the police.

For TWELVE days!

It doesn't end there.

Another thing you may or may not know about Japan is that housing in urban areas, such as Tokyo, is scarce and tightly packed. A very common living arrangement for people in these areas to stay in one-room apartments that act as kitchen, bedroom, living room and dining room. Only the bathroom is walled off. This was the living arrangement Nakao and his son shared. So, for twelve days, the young man stayed locked in his one-room apartment, with his father’s corpse lying on the Japanese-style beds (probably one of those floor-mat deals that's spread out in the middle of the room), while he ate, slept, watched TV, etc.

He eventually did sum up the courage to call the police and, explained that his condition was the reason he took so long to do so. While the police are looking into the cause of Nakao's death, they’re also considering charging the son for “abandonment of a body”.

On second thought, as socially awkward as I am, I think I’ll stick with awkward situations in public.

Why Don't They Just Ask For It?

The other day Mrs. C and I came across this article on my Facebook timeline. The long and short of it is that it's a list of the 49 things men wished women knew about them. Why 49 and not 50? I don't know. I like round numbers, myself, but that's not the point of why I'm writing this.

Anyway, as we read it, Mrs. C occasionally asked me if this or that one was true and I saw more than a few things I could agree with as well as the one or two that didn't really matter to me. There was one item on the list, number 7, that stood out to me:

"If you want sex, just ask."

It seems simple. Doesn't it? But, apparently, it isn't. I noticed similar statements made in similar articles like this one so it stands to reason that more than a few guys have had to deal with women who refused to simply say, "Hey. I'm horny. Wanna do it?"

Why is this something guys have to continuously bring up? I myself don't have a wide variety of personal experiences from which I can draw conclusions, since I wasn't exactly playing the field before meeting Mrs. C seventeen years ago. Mostly, I observe how people behave and I listen (No 40 on the article does say that guys talk, after all). Maybe I draw wrong conclusions but it seems to me that there can be a number of reasons why there are women who don't ask for sex.

If you have to ask for sex, you give up the power.

"Make him beg for it."

"Reward him for his good behavior."

Sex has always been sold as being some kind of bargaining chip. It's something women are told they have to use to keep her man in check. He wants it, she has it and she controls access to it, so he has to get/remain in her good graces in order to earn it.

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This is how the movies and women's magazines sell it anyway. There's always a scene where one woman is giving her friend advice about making her man beg. There's always that weight loss/workout/fashion article that promises to make women so irresistible that men will always be the one who wants to initiate coitus.

With all that pressure to be the object of desire, I just can't imagine it would be easy to turn around and ask for the very thing you're supposed to be offered constantly. Maybe it's just my simplistic logic, but it probably amounts to the IT guy in the office having to ask the office assistant to debug his hard drive (no innuendo intended). For a woman who's been told all her life that she is the one who controls if and when sex is had, there's probably a lot of pressure in having to ask him for it.

Women just don't have to ask.

The idea is that not only do men always want sex, but we're always trying to initiate it. I'll admit, it's true... for the most part. We do want sex a lot. I mean, like, A LOT a lot. Are we ALWAYS willing to initiate, though? Not really. It seems a lot of women tend to assume the guy will constantly try to get in her pants so she doesn't have to make the effort. All she has to do is just wait. If he tries and she's up for it, everybody wins. If she's not, then better luck next time, bucko.

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One problem here is that men hate rejection as much as women do. Shut his advances down often enough and a man can get a little gun shy. Add to that the occasions when he genuinely isn't in the mood (those instances are extremely rare, but I guarantee you they exist). The end result, nights when he gives you a peck on the cheek and goes right off to sleep, leaving you lying there, ready and waiting... wondering what the hell he's waiting for.

First off, forget insecurities. It's not because he isn't attracted to you any more. If you gained 2 pounds this week, he more than likely did not even notice and it's more than likely he wouldn't be any less attracted to you even if he knew. The fire hasn't gone out in the relationship and there's nothing wrong (out of the ordinary) with him either. Fact is, he was probably in the mood too (we usually are, like I said). But maybe you were a little too quiet all evening and he assumed you were probably not in the best of moods about something (we won't ask because we're afraid you'll actually tell us). Maybe he said or did something to upset you. Maybe you said or did something to upset him. None of these might be enough to take you (or him) out of the mood for sex, but men are notoriously bad at judging just what gets women out of the mood. In those cases a man sometimes chooses to err on the side of caution and stay on his side of the bed rather than face the inevitable cold shoulder we're sure we earned for whatever offense we most likely committed at some point.

Even when genuinely tired, it usually won't take a lot of convincing to wake a guy up for sex. The level of exhaustion it would take for a man to turn down sex he knows he's going to get has to be equivalent to a near coma.

Only "those" kinds of women admit they want sex.

Another reason some women tend to not ask for sex is because they believe expressing their desire to get some makes them sluts. There's an old-school way of thinking that, despite going the way of eight-tracks and dial-up internet connections, is still perpetuated in small pockets of society, where only "dirty girls" acknowledge their desire for sex. Once a widespread practice, girls were once taught that, outside of satisfying those desires in her husband (for whom it is apparently acceptable to have) and baby making, if she expressed any interest in sex she might as well just strap on her thigh-high boots and faux-leather miniskirt (with matching jacket) and go stand on the nearest street corner to await whichever passing stranger would come along and satisfy her wanton desires. Okay maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but the way some women act shy in bed, that's the kind of impression men may get.

Needless to say, if she has this nagging sensation that sex as something to be ashamed of, odds are she isn't going to come out and say she wants it. Fortunately, as I said before, this way of thinking is becoming a thing of the past.

To any women who may even slightly harbor any such inhibitions about sex, relax. Most guys like their girls a little dirty.

Those are the ones I came up with. Maybe they're wrong. They are just my theories. What I do know that women don't need to be afraid of letting the guy know she's in the mood. Drop the subtle hints. As nice as it is for you to go through the extra effort, you don't need to plan something elaborate. Hell, you don't need to actually ask. Just point to the bed and say "strip!" Trust me. You won't need more than that. Honest.