And Now For Something Completely Different  

yet another reason why I love my hubby...

I just realized there was no Friday Photo posting this week. As a mea culpa make good, may I present this delightful video guaranteed to make you guffaw heartily. Me darlin' husband who subscribes to as many online sites as he does printed periodicals, found this on Very Short List. VSL (not to be confused with VPL--ladies, you know what I'm talking about) is a daily service which shares all the latest hip and happening stuff flitting around on the web. Geo, knowing me so well, knew this would make me laugh so hard milk might actually come out of my nose. The guy's Vlog name is ParryGripp. His home page has all of his assorted animal antics videos. Enjoy!

Giving Thanks...  

for these are a few of my favorite thangs 

It's the Saturday after our big familial Thanksgiving food fest, and I'm still full from two days of traditional food bingeing. I love this holiday. It's always a treat for me, first because I have three whole, glorious days away from the yoke of oppression known as KD (or as spell check likes to suggest "KAKA"), and second I get to spend lots and lots of quality time with my family consuming mass quantities of food and drink, as well as enjoy a sprinkling of activity (cultural or otherwise) so as not to feel like a complete sloth. 

This year was no exception. Due to an unforeseen turkey snafu, we found ourselves with a few extra hours to kill before dinner would be ready. Hmmm.... What to do? How to while away the hours until the bird is sufficiently cooked? 

Why... crack open a bottle of wine (or two) and start the party early, of course.  

Thirty minutes and one dead soldier later--the atmosphere markedly much more lively and LOUD--a call for reinforcements was placed in the form of a second bottle of holiday vino and ....

PUDDING SHOTS!

Why not. There was nothing to watch on TV except football (ewww). Besides, it's always a good time when the Sisters Pelini get lit to the point where we can't feel our cheeks...or our faces for that matter. (insert rim shot here) After much giggling, toasting and Woo Hooing at totally random events, the bird was pronounced DOA and carved for consumption. And. It. Was. GOOD!! (thanks to the guys for picking up our drunken slack and finishing up the food prep)

Two hours later, time to shove some sweet treats into our gullet (that's what she said!). There was a veritable cornucopia of deliciousness spread across the table, not to mention desserts a plenty (Hey-O, Badda Bing!)...chocolate cake, cheese cake, a new pumpkin thing and lemon meringue pies. Ohmigod! This year is the first year my lemon pies didn't melt into a pool of sticky yellow soup. Check it out. It's gorgeous! Seriously. Look at how beautiful it is. And so tasty, too!

The only thing that was missing from this wonderful day was our niece Reg who's spending a year abroad in Japan. She may be living across the globe, but she's never far from our hearts. She would have loved the pre-dinner frivolity. We love ya. This group shot's for you.

To all of my family and friends who make each trip around the sun worthwhile, I thank you for just being who you are and allowing me to come along for the ride. Cheers!!

Now I gotta go help Geo with the leaves.... 

Having nothing of note to say today, I hand over the reigns of creative writing to my friend and coworker who shall go by his random stripper name, Blaze Lusty Tush. Enjoy and Happy Thanksgiving.

When You Gotta Go...

One Sunday afternoon I went into a downtown fast food restaurant to pick up a couple of lunch orders for me and two coworkers. When I entered the establishment, let's call it Blendy's, a young gentleman was standing in the hallway off to the right of the line. This is a normal occurrence at Blendy's, but what I witnessed next I have never seen before and will probably never see again.

The young man was in his late teens to early twenties, about 5'8" and wearing jeans so loose that you could fit two people in them. What piqued my interest was the fact the lad was grasping the back of his blue jeans in his right hand, pacing frantically around Blendy's. His nervous gait slipping into a slow jog as he went to the men's restroom door and rapped frantically upon it. Then the whole restaurant heard the reason for his urgency.

"Sir! I have to shit!! Please, Sir! I'm going to shit my f*cking pants!" I looked with sheer amazement at the other people in line and waited for a response. The reaction was just as you'd expect...nervous silence. I also thought to myself that the young man was using his manners by saying "Sir". Just as I was about to laugh out loud, I saw the young man sprint back to his table and ask the other young fellow he was with, "How long does it take to wash your f*ckin' hands? Jesus Christ!" He then returned quickly back to the restroom door and began to pound loudly.

"Sir! I really have to f*cking shit!" By now panic started to set in, the look of helplessness was priceless. At this point, cold sweat we have all felt at one time or another had begun to leak out of his pores. "I drank way too much last night. Please SIR!!" He stared at his audience--the entire restaurant--waiting for somebody to help him somehow.

Blendy's became silent. Even the employees stopped filling orders. The whole place was caught in this web of drama...the suspense palpable. I secretly was hoping it would last. Thoughts I never would have pondered in a fast food line entered my mind like, "If I see shit run out of his pant leg, will I throw up?" or "Maybe I should just tell him to use the lady's room."

Finally a welcomed noise entered our ear space--the familiar click of a door unlocking. The kid ran into the hallway and busted into the bathroom even though the patron still had his hand on the knob. This was an elderly gentleman, stricken with curvature of the spine and body odor. He slowly, and I mean sloooowly, walked over to his group of old men friends and said loudly, "He must really have to shit." Well put old man. Well put.

Attack of the Killer Hummus...

or waiter, there's a tooth in my soup

Okay, so the family unit went out Saturday to celebrate Geo's Mum's birthday at a local eatery. We're all sitting around enjoying the hummus n'at appetizer, when the hubby stops, fishes around in his mouth and presents...half of his tooth!?!

What's that about?

It wasn't like he was demonstrating his latest carnie act, you know the one where he bends a huge rod (she said rod) of rebar with his bicuspids to the amazement of enchanted (albeit slightly disturbed) onlookers. At least that would be a cool story. No, sadly he was only chompin' on a piece of pita. "Mmmm. Mighty fine pita." *crack* ... tooth shrapnel.

Are we really so long of tooth that our long teeth are jumping ship?

I suspect so.

My own pearly whites have staged a mutiny this year. Root canal, crowns (plural), sensitivity preventing me from chewing ice cubes anymore. And I do love to chew me some ice cubes. I'm generally having a great time growing older. Mentally, the process is pretty cool. A lot of shite doesn't rattle my cage anymore. Like a fine w(h)ine, I'm mellowing with age. I don't get as crazy in the car, flipping people off is almost non-existent anymore (and I was so good at it, too) and waiting in loooooong lines doesn't honk me off as often. Even many marital misgivings are answered with less rancor. Maybe it's the aging... or maybe it's the Absolut.

Physically--getting older sucks bong water. I can't get out of a chair anymore without a chorus of creaks, cracks and pops. I'm like a freakin' bowl of rice crispies.

But middle-agedom does grant one wish for those of us less-than-endowed dames. Thanks to the the laws of gravity, turns out there is more of one's "attributes" to corral in a brassiere, if you know what I mean. Time provides a delightful development of one's d'ecollatage, at least for a brief amount of time before it all goes horribly, horribly south. A small gift from the Gods for one last gasp of femininity and empowerment.

So don't fear the forties, girlfriends. It's your last chance to dress up the girls.

You've Been Schooled

in the fine art of dancin' like a white guy

I LOVE Paul Rudd and here's why... watch this video from The Daily Show. Go ahead. I'll wait.

watch this video link now (sorry I don't know how to post the actual video)

AHaHaHaHaHaHaHa!!! I ask you, what other dude would allow himself to be taped dancing like such a spaz. Seriously. It's glorious! I laughed so hard I may have even tinkled a little. He's always been Jon's "go-to" guy in a pinch, and this is exactly why he holds that honor. I salute you Mr. Rudd for your unmitigated hutzpah to entertain your adoring fans at the expense of your dignity. Bravo!

Friday Photo #4  

or calgon...take me away

This entire week has been bloody cold...like January cold. I'm talking wake up temps at a balmy 20 and highs hovering at a sweltering 33 with winds that rip through your flesh. Last week we had San Diego weather...sunny, mid-70s, gorgeous and filled with lots of (...). Apparently I have a love affair with (...)  Must...stop..dotting. 

I digress... (Aaaaa!! there it is again!) 

Anyway, I need to mentally go to my happy place at Long Beach Island, sip a frosty Margarita and warm my chilled bones in the summer sun. Aaaaaaaah.. That's better. 

Now Here List #2

in which I continue the juvenile theme of the week

Upon review, this week's postings have had a decidedly juvenile bent, what with all the Betty-scaping and Star Trek tooting (Come on...you have to admit that was Hi-Larious!). I could try to wrap up the week on a more sophisticated, cultured note...but, you know, what's the point.

Having had so much fun thinking of euphemisms for girlie junk, I ask you my reader(s) to share your favorite terms for female and male naughty bits.

Let's review this week's contribution for the lady bidnez:

cooter

luscious under bottom area

tuppy

ham wallet

and the lastest fav at work, squish mitten

Some favs for the lads loins:

dingly dangs

trouser snake

weinersauras

and new favorite, pork steeple

Note: I've finally figured out which settings to change so anyone can comment. Woo Hoo!! So have at it. My apologies to anyone who was refused access before. I'm such a computer dinosaur. It takes a while for my short, T-Rex dino arms to reach the keyboard without hitting my big ole, bulbous head on the cabinet. Grrrrrr

(P.S.: Feel free to list any clever Punk Rock band names here as well, since I effed up and some of you couldn't contribute on the original posting.)

(Completely unrelated PPS: my fantasy husband, Rhett is playing TWICE this weekend in Dallas!? He's always in Dallas. And yet I can't get our friend MJ to go see him. She lives in the Miller Mecca for God's sake! That just ain't right.)

What Are You...10?!?

why yes, yes I am

This is one of the funniest things I've ever seen. I dare you not to laugh. Further proof that I am indeed a juvenile boy. Enjoy!

By the way, I saw the trailer for the new Star Trek movie last night. Even though for me it ain't Star Trek unless William Shatner is in it, the movie looks fun. May be worth it just to see Simon Pegg play Scotty. "I'm going as fast as I can, Cap'n!"

Holy Crap!?!

or what the ef is up with my hair?

Okay, here's a quickie (that's what she said)... I just got up from the computer--post posting and realized my hair looks like Peter frelling Pan!? 

Not that Peter Pan--this Peter Pan

See..I told you I had the heart of a 10-year-old boy. (And no I'm not sharing a picture...Just trust me on this one.)

I Want My...I Want My...I Want My Mix CD

in defense of the much maligned mix tape as a gift

I love making our friends mix CDs. An enormous amount of thought goes into each person's mix. Sometimes a theme is evident like a "he said-she said" kinda thing. Sometimes it starts with a kick-ass song combo randomly played on my iPod. And sometimes it's just a vessel through which to share artists who are really rocking my world at the time.

Sharing music is a huge thing with me. It's such a kick to hip a pal or three to the likes of Wheat, Fountains of Wayne, Michael Franti, Cake, Regina Spektor, Sondre Lerche or, of course, Old 97's. I know some people think gifting mix CDs is lame, but to me it's a way to show how much I love them. (insert finger in throat here)

And I really dig receiving mixes. Seriously. I love hearing what other folks are into. There are always at least a half dozen new musical nuggets to be discovered on each disc. I've recently received several compilations from two friends who have completely different tastes. One sent a great collection of oddball covers like Dolly Parton singing Stairway to Heaven, the Gypsy Kings singing Hotel California in Spanish and Tori Amos quietly crooning I Don't Like Mondays. The other sent a truly eclectic mix of soul, blues, old rock, reggae and Rammstein with a little Zappa thrown in for good measure. Being a Pop/Rock gal, who knew I'd actually like The Derek Trucks Band, or Joe Turner, Ted Hawkins or Eva Cassidy?? Not me. That's what makes these gems so cool.

By far the Mix Master of our life has always been our dear friend Beeeeal, or as we like to refer to him...Cap'n Confabulator. Through his tapes (now CDs), he has introduced us to probably half of our record collection. From REM to Rogue Wave; Belly to Beck; The Shins to Snow Patrol; Death Cab For Cutie to the Cult; Oasis to my beloved Old 97's (...I could go on and on), my ears owe him a debt of gratitude.

So to all our friends who care enough to send their very best mixes, I thank you from the bottom of my CD player. Thank you Marco, Billy Hank, Mike, Zach and especially you Cap'n Confab. You have made our world a little brighter and iTunes a whole lot richer.

It's BAAAAAACK!!!
or Get Your Betty Ready

Here it is for your viewing pleasure, the KTLA Betty video. Enjoy. Many thanks to my bud, Jimmy McParkway for the save. You're the best, Dude!!

What the ef!?!

or that's not news..

Okay, so I was planning to have a link to an actual, legitimate news story a friend sent which ran on a Los Angeles television station about this salon whose specialty is "dying the hair...down there". (yes, it is ratings month) It was posted on YouTube, but I guess the weenies at the station--the same weenies who thought it was perfectly appropriate to show a random chippie getting her cooter colorfully coiffured on camera--decided they didn't like the pubic...I mean public ribbing and pulled the video from the internet. Pussies. (pun intended)


So now I'm left to attempt to convey the hilarious highlights (again pun intended) of this award winning journalistic effort. The basic idea of the piece is as follows: a pseudo, Euro-trash, Natasha-accented, tuppy fluffer opened a salon whose service is to assist her client's desire to have her "carpet match the drapes", if you know what I mean.


We're not talking just the normal, run-of-the-mill colors like brunette, auburn or blond. Nooooo, apparently the most popular color is...pink. And the options don't stop there. No sirree, Bob. A girl can also dress up for the holidays using a wide variety of stencils. That's right...nothing shows your Christmas spirit like a big ole honkin' bright green Christmas tree beaming from your privates. Gives a whole new meaning to Holiday bush. But wait--the fun doesn't stop there. No way. Why not shape your lovely lady bidnez into a lightning bolt, classic flower or show your new beau you truly are "money" with a dollar sign etched into the shroud of your junk. According to Euro-trash Tasha (hence forth known as ETTA), men dig the classic heart shape most. No doubt a very sophisticated and scientific poll (she said pole) was conducted for this bit of news.


Then ETTA proceeds to go on and on about how it's like a mortal sin to have a grey pubbie, not to mention a huge turn off for the guy or guys passing through your boudoir. I got news for you, babe. If you've got grey short and curlies chances are you're doing the nasty with a dude sporting his own platoon of senior soldiers.


Too bad the video is down. It really is hilarious. Although I don't know what was more disturbing...seeing a montage of the rapid-fire snapping of waxy strips of linen being ripped from a client's luscious under bottom area, or the fact that this bespectacled chick allowed a random, sweaty news photog film her ham wallet getting cut and colored. Seriously. I never understood how a girl could walk into a salon, drop trou and let a complete stranger mess with her squish mitten.


If I ever stumble across this video again, believe me--it'll be posted. Until then here is a link to the website and an article from CNN. Stocking stuffer anyone?

Update on Friday Photo #3

in which I explain who the heck the Green Brothers are...

John and Hank Green are brothers who started a video project as a way to get to know each other better as adults. They had no idea how popular their journey to reconnect would become. They have been on a self-proclaimed tour de nerd for the last two and a half weeks playing to throngs of admiring teens and adults alike. They were guests on our local entertainment show, Pittsburgh Today Live. Here's a link to the video of their appearance last Friday. (It's listed as November 15th, Brotherhood 2.0 founders) This will explain a lot.

They are smart, warm, genuine and completely delightful. (Plus they jumped for me. :D) John's third book Paper Towns has been on the New York Times best sellers list since it's release in October. A young adult novel well worth the read. If you've got some time on your hands--okay a lot of time on your hands, watch the original brotherhood 2.0 project from the beginning here. If you'd prefer to view some of the brothers' favorite episodes click here for must see B20. You'll be happy you did.

Friday Photo #3:

In which internet sensations, the Green Brothers visit our local TV station and prove that white men can indeed jump...even if it is from a fountain. Thanks for stopping by, guys! Had a great time.

He's Smiling Like a Butcher's Dog!! or why hockey is the greatest sport... ever


I'm not a huge sports nut. I'm not a football fan, except for my home team and even that is pretty much fair-weather. PNC Park makes baseball a lovely evening out, particularly since the Pirates can't get a decent team together. I enjoy watching English Premier League football amongst rabid, Brit Manchester United fans in our local pub on weekends. But hands down, my sport is hockey.


Hockey is the most exciting spectator sport EVER! In no other sport can the outcome of the game change within a mere 20 seconds. The players have such a great blue-collar work ethic. Busted nose, stitched up forehead...whatever, they never say die.


Tuesday night's game was a perfect example. My beloved Penguins were battling their Stanley Cup nemeses, the Red Wings in Detroit. This was their first meeting since that heartbreaking, game six loss in the finals this past June. Off-season trades had made the Wings a much stronger team, while the Pens had suffered enormous player losses due to the evil free agency market. Our boys really needed a win to regain their confidence and break the spell of the dominant Wings.


Geo and I were watching The Mentalist (a fine, entertaining show from CBS of all places) when we flipped over to catch a game update at the start of the third period. We were losing 5-2 with 14:47 left to play. That's when Jordan Staal exploded in one of the greatest comebacks in Penguin Hockey history. He got three consecutive goals--a hat trick--in the last 7:58 of regulation play to tie it 6 all and force the game into overtime. Geo and I were screaming!! Holy Crap this was exciting! The Mentalist was just going to have to wait.


With 1:22 left in overtime, our power play depleted, Staal fed a perfect pass to the waiting stick of Ruslan Fedotenko who blasted the puck into the back of the net. The Pens' bench erupted and flooded the ice to celebrate. Geo and I were flipping out. The boys had pulled it off, man. They did not give up. In the immortal words of Mike Lang, the most entertaining hockey announcer in the biz, Jordy was "Smiling like a butcher's dog".


What a great victory. The team needed this win badly to get that bloody Cup monkey off its back. And to win in such dramatic fashion, in overtime against such an enormous opponent can only propel them forward in their quest for Lord Stanley's Cup. But you'll never hear one of them boast about his accomplishment. They know it's a long season, and it's all about teamwork. They're respectful. They're humble. They're hockey guys.



Don't believe me? Here's a link to the newspaper's article

Friday Photo #2

This was the cake we decided on to celebrate Suzette's 0-year birthday. Everyone should be so lucky to have such thoughtful and sophisticated friends. Don't you wish you were part of our circle?

Rest In Peace

a fond farewell to a loved one...

This past Saturday, Geo and I were taking advantage of the last beautiful weekend of Fall to clean up the yard, put away the deck furniture and of course, fight about it all. Every couple, no matter how content, has at least one bone-of-contention issue which rears its ugly, monster-like head quarterly. Our personal Cyclops centers around stuff--namely, his freaking stuff in my frelling way! Can I hear an Amen from all the sisters.

In my defense, I was not the least bit snarky when I inquired if I could toss the empty, gi-normous box which contained the drive-in-movie screen sized monitor we bought for our Mac. Honestly. There was no venom spewed in the asking. Geo, however, misread my intention and proceeded to get a tiiiiny bit defensive. And by "tiny bit" I mean he gave me the skunk eye and short answer routine for the rest of the clean up. We were starting to warm up to each other again when it happened...

Our dear, beloved JVC 27" picture-in-picture television....died.

We were stunned. It happened so suddenly. In the morning, it was healthy. The image bright and vibrant. A skad four hours later--darkness. Over the course of our long, lustrous relationship, we have survived many emotional challenges--infertility, fraternal deaths, which way to squeeze the toothpaste tube. But by far the greatest cause of discord in our marriage has been Geo's very male inability to watch a commercial break. I don't know if this whole need to cruise the channels is an ancient caveman instinct to hunt, or just the fear that somewhere, on some cable channel, there are nekked boobies and he's missing it. Whatever the reason, his tardiness to return to our original show caused enormous strife and constant argument. 

Then redemption was delivered to our door in a four foot cube.  A bright, shiny television with two tuners. Now while watching a program we could monitor other stations (usually some sort of sporting event) or cue up a tape for viewing next or..or ...  The possibilities were endless. Geo was free to cruise away as long as our program was in the picture-in-picture. No more arguments. There was joy in Mudville. Seriously, the inventor of P-I-P should have received the Nobel Peace Prize. 

So a toast to you, our dear departed friend. You have served us well over the past eleven years. You were the stemmer of strife, the purveyor of peace and the harbinger of happy viewing. And even though we have a new sleek and sassy replacement, you will always hold a cherished place of honor in our hearts. Rest in peace.

In The Light Of Day

that's one for the little guy

I awoke this morning to a clear, blue sky filled with the warmth of the sun. A bright new day for a chance at a brighter future. 

I have no intention of using this blog as some sort of political spew factory. I've never subscribed to the whole bullying partisan brow beatings from either party members which have dominated the political landscape over the last eight years with hateful vitriol.  But I do want to say a few things...

First of all, the volume of voter participation in this election is unbelievably encouraging! I am filled with hope that the people of this still great nation (in spite of it's black-eyes and bruises) has finally awaken from its Rip Van Winkle-like sleep to realize together we have the power to take back our country. And they seized the opportunity--BIG TIME! Perhaps this election has jump started a new fervor for involvement and participation in the machine. One person's vote does count, and together we can achieve anything. Yes We Can.

Secondly, we didn't get this F-ed up in one day...it's not going to be fixed in 100. So I implore everyone to please give the Obama Administration (My God! That sounds heavenly!) TIME. Time to unpack, time to assess the true state of affairs-nationally and internationally-and time to think. Intellectual thought is one thing we've been missing over the last eight years. Above all, this administration needs our patience and support. We are majorly messed up!! He's going to have to make some really tough choices which will no doubt disappoint some of us. It happens even with the best of Presidents. But I believe his actions will be for the good of the Country--for you and me, you know the little guy who just wants to have one job which pays enough to feed, house, medicate and educate his family. 

So I think after the celebration on January 20th, 2009, we all need to sit back and give him some slack. Hopefully the world will follow, and let us have a mulligan.

Out of the darkness shines the light of hope...

Reason #28 Why I Love My Husband

Even though I'm completely obnoxious about them, my Geo called me tonight to tell me the objects of my obsession, Old 97's, were the guests on the World Cafe. How lucky am I?  :)

At the tone, please leave your message....

or What the Ef?!? how i became an accidental stalker of the Green brothers

Okay, so two years ago my buddy at work, K-Shnikes hipped me to this YA author, John Green, specifically his second book An Abundance of Katherines. LOVED IT!! Great little coming of age story about a very recent high school graduate named Colin who has dated nineteen girls named Katherine, the latest of whom has crushed his tender heart. His best friend, Hassan (who at one point starts referring to himself as "Daddy"), decides they need a summer road trip to pull Colin out of his obsessive funk. It's great fun. Trust me. Read it.

Anyway, Schnikey stumbled upon the Green Boys internet project, Brotherhood 2.0, which John proposed as a way for he and his brother Hank to reconnect and get to know each other as adults. They lived at opposite ends of the US--John in NYC, Hank in Missoula, MT and had lost touch, contacting each other mainly through emails, IMs and other text-related methods. Plus John had the hots for this dude, Ze Frank who posted a video every day for one year and wanted to do something similar, but different. The rules were they alternate days for their postings (i.e. Monday Hank; Tuesday John; Wednesday Hank, etc), all postings had to be up on their site by midnight or there would be a punishment and absolutely no textual communications for the entire year.. or there would be a punishment. The videos are funny (the punishments in particular), warm and charming. So charming they've developed a Gi-Normous following of self-dubbed Nerdfighters. Definitely worth a visit to Vlogbrothers which has some prime episodes listed to whet your appetite for more. All this internet fame has lead the boys to embark on a Tour De Nerd across America including yours truly's home town.

Which leads to my stalker issue.

Two months ago I emailed John to see if he'd be interested in being a guest on our little morning dog-and-pony show while they were in town. To my surprise (he's notoriously slow with emails), he responded the next day with a yes, but would have to work out the traveling issues before committing fully. He promised to get back to me after an October trip to Germany.

The trip came and went...no John. I penned another friendly email...no John. After a week, fired off yet another email...still no John. What the ef? October came and went and now the event is next Thursday, but still no confirmation to pass along to the producer. I send a message on every website I can find to which he is connected. STILL no John. Now I'm starting to turn into Ms. Cranky Pants. I realize he's busy with his fancy-ass book tour and his massive road trip with his brother, but COME ON. Doesn't he know it's all about me and my issues? I mean, really. WTF?

Suddenly.. an epiphany. WWASD? What-Would-A-Stalker-Do? Of course! Jump on the web and get phone numbers for his agent, publicist, event planner, dog groomer, Grandmother...whatever. It's surprising (and kinda creepy) how many numbers you can get off the internet. A couple hours leaving voice mail trails, and BINGO. Pay dirt. A lovely woman from the publisher contacts me, hears me out--doesn't think I'm a nut job, bonus--contacts John and gets me my answer. We're on, Baby! And all is forgiven.

This tracking down people for a living is crazy stressful. Who knew booking guests could be like shoving bamboo under your nails. I think this is another reason why we TV people drink. I definitely owe our producer some chocolate.