[cheers and applause] >> next up is -- next up is marcela ortiz. >> ok. this is the first time i'm reading in front of people. ok. all right. this is a poem to my mom. you're nothing but a group of coffee klatching women. 19 years and the only image that i can think of what i hearl my mother's voice is rosie the riveter with her hand balled up in a fist and her hand underneath her face. coffee klatching women? a bunch of old grandmothers who sit in sewing sirgles and talk about the best blueberry circles. we banned my mother from the kitchenen -- because of an incident where she had burnt water the the only person who cooked was my father. please keep your peace, mom. yes, my mother say woman but coffee klatching? the term was worse than nails on the chalk board. oh, yes, a coffee klatching woman who has raised three children and never taking shying from anyone. you sure do act like a coffee klatching women with your boots and jeans on, arriving to run a crew of obnoxious men's, because 50% of the men's brains skiptd -- consist of their oh so glorified ju