Friday, November 12, 2010

It is Time to Mourn

Blog. I'm nursing a broken heart.

My boyfriend of three years broke up with me three weeks ago, for reasons that I find completely unfit as to end a relationship where I felt so much love, support, fun, laughter, and happiness.

And now, I will attempt to negate those qualities I was so convinced were a part of my time with my boyfriend. I must not let myself remember only the good times, and must expose the negatives of my relationship for my own sake.

Love - It is not love to call your girlfriend a c-u-n-t. I know, I know, the Vagina Monologues declares to use the word proudly. The Vagina Monologues doesn't go into the insult that takes place when the word is so freely and drunkenly stated to one who has an unconditional love for the other. No cuntly actions need to take place. A mere drunken misunderstanding might happen, and the extreme is uttered. That is not love.

Support - It is not support to treat extracurricular activities as if they are extreme competition to the well being of yourself and how good you are at life. Feeling forced into attending functions that your girlfriend has put time and energy into only to complain about how awkward you felt afterward is not support. Find the positive in the experience even if it is not your favorite thing in the world. But I know you enjoy it. Or at least you did at one point in your life. Don't feel like less of a person because I enjoy it as well, and am more committed to it than you are. Put yourself second for once and support me.

Fun - It is not fun to hear about your attraction for other women who look and act nothing like me. I am fully aware of the habits of men and their desires for the opposite sex. I accept that you will never completely be fulfilled by any one person. I accept that I am not the most attractive woman in the world. But for every time you pointed out a blonde bimbo from across the room, I secretly hoped you'd save a compliment for me as well. The observations accumulated; the compliments waned.

Laughter - It is hard to laugh when your air supply has been temporarily cut off. Yes, this occurance was a product of alcohol. No, it never happened again. And yes, I think one time is too many. We'll leave it at that.

Happiness - I guess it really isn't happiness to feel like you're annoying the person you love with all your heart. It's not happiness to feel unappreciated for what you do put into the relationship, so you at least know what you are putting into the relationship. I was happy because I was with him. Because I love him. Because he was this loving, supporting, up for anything, funny guy. He was that person. He is no longer. He's not angry, mean, or depressed. He's just different. And the difference isn't a terrible one, but I don't think it's a good one either.

Anywho, I love the person my boyfriend used to be, not the one he has become. As sad as this is for me to say, it at least gives me closure on the situation. Also, I confidently display this information to you blog since I know no one reads you anyway, especially my boyfriend who is no longer my boyfriend since he never took any interest in my writing anyway.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Printing the Last 4 Years

Blog, no offense, but I'm freaking out about my livejournal. I've had my livejournal since I was a mere 22 years old, fresh out of college. That thing has the last 4 years of my life documented on an almost weekly basis save the three months I took a blogger sabbatical to form you blog. Now I kind of maintain you, but I still go to my Livejournal to really get out the thoughts that be swimmin' in my brain yo! Though I don't update as often as I used to, I still actively write in the thing, so when I encounter things like the website not loading and me unable to even view my very own journal, it makes me nervous. It makes me want to put the last 4 years into a word document and find a Kinko's and print it out so at least I have a hard copy saved somewhere.

I was planning on writing an entry on how I'm frustrated summer after summer when my calendar books itself right up before my eyes, but now I can't even concentrate on that. Even though it now appears Livejournal has loaded... finally.

I will blame Russia since it seems that some Russian dude purchased Livejournal in 2009 according to Wikipedia. Does this mean this Russian man owns my thoughts and words I have spent so much time writing down? I hope not. I need to print out my Livejournal. Stat. End of story.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Repition Makes Me Cra Cra

Show show show show show show show show show show show show show show show show. I'm in a show. And my oh my is it getting old. I remember now why theater can lose its luster so quickly. It's like living in a world that is stuck on repeat. Answer the door. What is it? Packages! Packages for who? Miss Kay? Really? Didn't see that coming. Guess what. I bet the package is a wedding present. No shit. What could it possibly be? I have no idea! It couldn't possibly be a tray could it? No. Not a tray. Certainly anything but... well fuck a goat. It's a goddamn tray. Oh yes! It's sooo exciting to have this tray in the house. So exciting in fact, that I can't help but cry at this tray that I had no idea was going to be opened before my very eyes. Why you ask? Why am I crying? Because, Mrs. Banks, everything about weddings makes me cry. SOB. Swinging door. Fin.

It's only the millionth time we've opened this tray.

Every time I'm in a show (and it has been a mighty while since I've been in one) I am impressed all over again by professional actors. Not necessarily by the acting talent, but by the sheer commitment that comes along with experiencing the same emotions and events over and over and over and over and over again.

This one time, I went to see this play in London called National Anthems. It was a pretty intense performance by these actors, Kevin Spacey and Steven Weber and Mary Stuart Masterson. Actually, I saw it twice. The theater geeks I was hanging around with were really into seeing shows more than once. Anyway, towards the end of the show, shit starts going down. I don't remember specifics, but Kevin Spacey started freaking about about being a fire fighter and rescuing this woman. In fact he started freaking out about it so much, his character began to hallucinate the entire experience in a very dramatic, very moving way. It was super intense! By the time I saw this scene for the second time, I realized Kevin Spacey would pull this shit every night, twice on Sundays. Gross! No wonder he was wearing a sweatshirt that just said "blah" on it when we met him at the stage door. Hell, if I had been him, I wouldn't have even come out until the coast was clear. I guess that's why they pay him the big bucks. So he can freak out over and over and over again.

Not the first time she's vacuumed under his feet...

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Santiago is My Son

I remember when I first started you blog, I came up with the idea that I'd cater to all those mommy bloggers out there in an attempt to grow a base of readers that was worthwhile. Since I have no husband, no children, and no desire to mutate my body via pregnancy, my only means of catering to the mommies is by writing about my boyfriend's pug Santiago as if he were my adorable and precious son. I've since given up on obtaining any sort of a reader base with this pathetic nonsense, but I still find the idea of writing about my boyfriend's pug as my child amusing.

So anyway, I caught Santiago doing the cutest thing today! I accidentally left him in the bedroom alone because I'd like to think he and I have built up some trust since I became his "new mommy". I walked into the room after my shower expecting to find him curled up on the bed for naptime, but instead he was nowhere to be found. I had a mini heart attack thinking he had somehow rolled off the bed and had been knocked unconscious. However upon further inspection I found him laying in my pile of dirty laundry chewing on a pair of dirty underwear. It was the cutest thing! He looked up with that face that had "I didn't do it" written all over it. How adorable! Then I threw my clothes at him and yelled "Bad dog!" because he's a dog and in all reality I think it's nasty that he chews on my dirty undergarments. Gross.

Ok, so I can only pretend Santiago is my son to a certain extent. But it's a start, right? Maybe for my next "Santiago as my Son" entry, I can craft a collection of photos of him with comments written about how he is the most precious little miracle God could have given me and note how he has his father's stature.

On a side note that has nothing to do with anything, my newly grown fingernails are driving me CRAZY!!! Must cut/chew soon. At least I won't be chewing dirty underwear like someone in this household.

Friday, May 21, 2010

There Goes the Polish on my Thumb...

Nail polish is stupid, blog. For someone who bites her nails, I always thought that nail polish would be the savior of my digital hygeine, but oh it has made it much worse. My modeling gig for tonight (sounding way cooler than it really is) is requiring me to wear a simple nude gloss on my nails and I can't stop picking at it. Please God get this shit off my hands before I go crazy. I'm going to have to repaint before the day is done. Oh hell. That's an entirely other awful process that boys don't have to do and girls must, for some reason, endure. I don't know who thought paint on fingernails was cool, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was a stupid man.

...Stupid inventor of other girly ghasts like bras and ballet. Humbug...

Thursday, May 20, 2010

My Frustration Mounted Quickly

I DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU BLOGGER! I know not how this works and how I get friggin people to read this shit! Yeah yeah yeah. Write more. That's obvious. But guess what. I could be writing my heart out, but that still doesn't answer the question of HOW THE FUCK DO I GET SOMEONE TO READ THIS THING?!?! I'm over it. For now.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

A Serious Bore is More Like It

Ok. Is anyone else really annoyed by artsy movies that have deep themes and symbolism but no apparent storyline crux or point? I watched A Serious Man with the BF last night and at first my intrest was piqued. The characters seemed interesting, the setting was in a different period (the '60s) and it was visually stimulating. But lo, I should have resorted to my past experiences of the initial piqued interest being followed by confusion, frustration, and ultimately boredom. I should realize this to be a telltale sign of a bad movie. Seriously (no pun intended). Even the English Major in me couldn't catch on to what the hell was going on. Ok, so the main dude has a son who is causing trouble at school, and his wife is leaving him, and his brother is a mooch and is sleeping on the couch, and he's having issues with a certain student at his school. Ok. Cool. What's going to happen? Is the son going ultimately get caught for his shenanigans? Is his wife eventually going to get a freaking divorce already? Is his brother going to turn out to find the meaning of a mathematical mystery? Is the student going to cause enough trouble to get the main character fired? IS ANYTHING GOING TO HAPPEN!?!??!

Apparently, no. Everything just keeps going and going and going and going. I'm assuming they were going for some sort of Naturalism from how detailed everything was. Too bad Naturalism is stupid and was only cool a hundred years ago.

Anyway, I looked up some reviews of this movie because I'm pretty sure I heard about it being awesome in the media. Lo and behold all movie critics are wetting their pants about how "mature and engrossing" it is. How it "conveys a vivid sense of time and place" (Naturalism at its best). How it has a "pervasive sense of unease" (yeah, because I'm wasting my time waiting for something that's not going to happen, happen). Really, the critics who are sucking up to the Coen brothers so they sound smart and fancy what with their oh so accurate eye for art and themes and camera shots are just as annoying, if not more so, than the movie itself.

The BF and I luckily realized how boring and lame this pointless movie was only about 45 minutes in and shut it off so we could take a look at the Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Oh I'm sure there was tons of religious symbolism and relationship themes that I just glossed over, but guess what. I'm either not smart enough to understand the deep philosophical struggles of this boring man, or the Cohen brothers are out of ideas for decent story plots.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Numbers Letters and Colors Oh My!

So lately I've been listening to this great show called Radio Lab out of New York City. It's great because they analyze all this crazy scientific stuff that happens in the world whether it be about animals, humans, space, or whatever. It's a good way to pass the time as I ever so patiently wait to start my new position the week after next.

Anyway, I was just listening to this crazy episode about pushing the human body to its limits both physically and mentally. There was this whole story about these women who did the Ironman competition and how they literally have to crawl to the finish line at the end because their bodies are so exhausted and then there's the story about a dude who can remember all this crazy shit. They said that he has this condition called synaesthesia, which is some weird thing that happens when your brain is developing and you get your senses mixed up. So this dude has this incredible memory because he's somehow subconsciously assigned music, smells, colors and whatnot to numbers and letters and words and things. It's crazy! Then I realized that I probably don't, but maybe I do have a slight case of synaesthesia! Hell, I'm going to say I do because...

Ever since I can remember I've assigned a color to each digit 1-10 and a gender, male or female (and one hermaphrodite, no I'm not kidding), for each letter of the alphabet. Have I shared this before on LJ? I know not (my memory isn't that good). But I will share this now! It goes like this:

1 is white, 2 is yellow, 3 is green, 4 is dark red, 5 is light blue, 6 is tough; either a darker yellow or a fushia, 7 is green, 8 is dark blue, 9 is dark purple, 10 is white.

As for the alphabet, most letters are male. But there are a few females who consist of A, K, P, Q, R, V, and Y. X is the hermaphrodite. I think of it as predominately male with a few female characteristics. It's kind of like the number 6.

Sure I could just be making this up on the fly, but I'm not! This has been with me forever! For instance, I remember being cast in a play about the alphabet when I was a wee little 1st grader as the letter C. THE LETTER C?!?! But that's a boy! I remember being disappointed. I tried so hard to change the letter C from boy to girl in my mind, but it never stuck and therefore it was my first and only male role.

When I was 2 1/2 years old I moved into what was the house that I spent my childhood in. I remember happening upon a cat. In my little toddler mind, all dogs were male, all cats were female. It's how it was no matter what my mom or dad told me otherwise. I named the cat Kate because the letter K was so obviously a girl letter to me, Kate seemed to be the pefect fit. Of course the cat was male, and that's why I now talk about my childhood and my "man cat named Kate".

Oh and I've always had this weird relationship drama going on with the numbers as well. Since 4, 6, and 9 are girls they've been real bitches to each other. See 4 is in love with 8, and 8 likes 4 enough, but 6 has always been edging her way in to where she doesn't belong even though she should totally be with 7. 9 has this weird cougar power over 8 (even though she's totally with 10) and seduces him all the time and meanwhile poor 5 is so in love with 4 but hasn't got the guts to tell her about it. 3 is kind of dumb, 2 is smarter than average, and 1 is, I guess as the song goes, the lonliest.

I've told friends about this in the past and have gotten the impression that I'm kind of weird, but this radio show has verified it for me. I'm not weird, I'm brilliant!! Ok, maybe not brilliant since my memory for stuff is so-so. Although I must say I used to have a hell of a talent for remembering when people's birthdays are. Now I just have facebook. Facebook is blue. Just like the numbers 5 and 8... and January. But we won't get into the months.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Things That Are and Aren't the Bees Knees

You know this apple cinnamon variety of instant oatmeal is really hitting the spot for me this Tuesday morning. It's all hot and gooey with little bursts of apples surprising me here and there. Just puts a smile on my face if you ask me. A smile on my face and satisfaction in my bellly. Mmm mmm mmm. Instant oatmeal, you really are the bees knees.

You know what is not the bees knees? My car breaking down on the side of the road on Saturday night--err should I say Sunday morning. I knew something was amiss before I even left Maple Grove as my battery light was on. No. It wasn't just on. It was flickering. Obviously it was just a weird short in my car, since the light flickered with every pothole and bump my car ran over. Sure the only other time I've seen my battery light on was that one time my serpentine belt broke with T-Gro in tow on the way back from Bemidji a few years back, but that problem has been fixed. If it's not the serpentine belt, then it's nothing. It is easy to ignore things like this. You're supposed to watch the road when you're driving anyway.

But then the sun set and I noticed that my lit up dash looked not as lit up as it had in the past. I thought perhaps instead of my car failing me, it was just my eyes. I am in need of new contacts anyway. Obviously my eyes are worse off than my 1997 Mercury Sable with 175000 miles on it. Obviously the orbs I rely on for sight day in and day out are more likely to fail me than the hunk of steel I bought three years ago for $1000. Obviously that battery light and seemingly dimmer dash mean nothing is wrong with my car at all.

And as I found out on the way home after a night of karoaking with Kerin, it was obvious that my ABS system was having trouble, my gas was low (even though I had filled up earlier that day), and that my spedometer was having issues that are described as telling me that I was going about 0 miles and hour as I sped down the highway. Obviously all these things were not warning signs that my car was indeed failing right before my failing eyes. I refused to believe that I was about to stall on the side of the highway at 3:30 in the morning. As I suddenly felt myself slowing down, as I suddenly lost my power steering (which breifly brought me back to my '92 Topaz days in college) I pulled, no, cranked over to the side of the road a mere four miles away from home. My drunk passenger, aka boyfriend, awoke from his slumber confused at the situation at hand. I breathed hard and started crying, because as a girl, that is all I know how to do in this sort of a situation.

After some drunk frustation and an attempt of coaxing me down from my panic attack, my boyfriend suggested I try starting my car. I turned the key and it "roared" to life. I made it up the exit ramp and around the corner only to crank my slowing car over to the side of the road. 3 miles from home, but at least no longer on the highway. I'd like to continue this story with intervals of my car dying, and then me successfully restarting it for every mile of the trip we had left. What a clever and cute and happy ending we'd all have if that had actually happened. But here's the thing: Outside of the brilliance of apple cinnamon oatmeal, life is never quaint and clever like that. My car was dead on the side of the road. The culprit, a bad alternator. And here I thought my car ran on gas. Hilarious.

After 45 minutes of frantic phone calls, Ryan had signed up for a new AAA membership and we were being towed home by a very high tech truck complete with a camera that allowed the mildly retarded driver to hook my car up with ease and agility. He took the corners fast on the way home and all I could hope for was that the bottle of wine in my back seat would end up in one piece. It did. That was about the happiest of endings I could have wished for.

So anyway, I'm out of a car. I can't really afford a new alternator at this point in time and there are things called mass transit and bikes that get me around just fine for now. I'm not going to sweat it. Although what I am going to do is listen to the Savage Love podcast on my ipod because it is brilliant and raunchy and passes the time at my currently boring job. It is also the bees knees.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Groups of Bad and Good

It's funny how it seems like when it rains it pours when it comes to crappity crap happening to you. Like those weeks where you're late to work, your car breaks down, and you go negative in your bank account all at once. But you know the good part about all of this? A) Those things haven't happened to me all in a week... yet.  B) The same is true for good stuff too!

I just got back from the magical land of Mexico (pronounced the 'H' sound that all the locals use). It was pretty swell. Me and the BF laid back on the beach, got a magnificent sunburn, and had adventures with snorkeling, turtles, and some very drunk yet polite Argentinians. It was a great break from real life and I told the man who loaded my luggage into the cab yesterday that he is very lucky to live where he lives. Despite the 3rd worldness of the country, it is still warm and colorful and lovely and I wanted to stay there forever and learn spanish. Of course, I cannot do this and must be here in Minnesota in my gray cube with my gray sweater and coat and clouds. So it goes...

But while I was away, a few things were brewing at home for me to come home to! It makes coming back less awful and more exciting! First of all, I found out I won an award! An award for lil' ole me! I never win stuff, so this was exciting to hear about. I randomly took part in a film festival that my friend Nate had signed up for. He wrote a little diddy about a dude going on an online date and it going terribly awry. I had the task of playing the role of said date. As a result I got a vat of cheese poured on me, froze in the cold for a good 45 minutes and had to lay in bed with two men, neither of which are my boyfriend. But it was all worth it because in the end I somehow ended up with the Best Actress award! I guess I still got the old speech skills I honed in high school. I only wish I could have been there to accept it. Oh well. It was a fun surprise to come home to. That and it was nice to finally see the finished product that I was so lucky to have been a part of.

Surprise number two came when I checked my voicemail last night after a long trip home. I had two messages. The first was to be expected. Visa was freaking its shit out because I decided to go to Mexico, get drunk, and tell my boyfriend the incorrect code for my debit card. Boyfriend tried and tried to no avail to withdraw pesos from a gas station in Cancun, therefore a Visa robot called me and told me there has been suspicious activity on my card. Turns out, as it usually turns out, I am the one performing the suspicious activity. No more giant vodka sevens for Mantha. They only amount to suspicous debit card behavior and my boyfriend taking a shot from my cleavage.

ANYWAY the second message on my phone was from a very chipper girl named Andrea who has "wonderful news" for me in regards to my recent interview and application process for an academic advising position I've been trying to get. I'd love to take this "wonderful news" and say that I have a new job that pays me more dollars (and pesos if I'm in Mayhico), but I haven't received a solid answer on this so I can't let myself jump to conclusions for fear of being somehow ridiculously crushed. I don't know of anyone who has ever been ridiculously crushed by "wonderful news", but that combined with my award and my recent vacation in Mexico just seems like too many good things at once. I've got to start watching my back. Worst of all, both of the HR girls I've been in contact with during this process are out of the office. This means I must wait until tomorrow to hear my eventual demise. (Or reprise? I really want to use a word that sounds like demise but is opposite. Oh well)

One crappy thing that has happened is that I have over 100 work emails to sift through. I've barely gotten through half. I should call it quits on this lunch hour and get back to it. I should also make a serious point to learn Spanish so the next time I go to Mayhico I don't get jipped out of dollars (and pesos) just because I have no idea what is going on. Oh, and another crappy thing (if I were the suspicious kind, which I'm generally not) is that I have exactly $666.00 in my bank account. At least I don't have a black cat and just have a Santiago...

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Valentines Text Message

My brother normally lives in Italy, but for the month of February he is residing in Las Vegas. I know this sounds random, but things usually are when you're in the military. Since he's in the states again, it's super fun to text message him because he's capable of responding. Too bad when he does respond, he turns everything into a competition. It gives me an impression of what it would be like if perhaps one day my brother and I had the privilege of living in the same time zone together.

With that, here's my favorite text message conversation yet:

Me: Valentines at Red Lobster!!!!!! Jealous?

Little Bro: Valentines at the Hoover Dam. I think we both know who wins the V Day.

Me: Cheesey biscuits always win.

Little Bro: I got miracles of engineering in front by a lot.

Me: At least my significant other doesn't look like Hayden Penatierre. (this is proof that I suck at competing over stupid shit with my bro)

Little Bro: Flawless victory.

Me: You win... this time. But when you're on your way back to Italy, I'll be sipping a pina colada on the shores of Mexico.

Little Bro: And I'll be drinking wine in Tuscany. I'M SO CULTURED!! YOU CAN CALL ME YOGURT!

Me: Cheesy. Biscuits.

So yeah. I lost that one. It's a tough competition when your opponent/brother lives in multiple places. But I still enjoyed my Red Lobster... by a lot.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Goth Time

What is a goth? I've always had this vision that a goth is someone who is into things like darkness and evil. But not the kind of evil where it's scary like killing people. More like "eeevil". Like ghosts and pentagrams and candles and... I don't know. Evil stuff that's really evil if you're a super Christian, but not that evil if you're straight up hangin' with the real world.

Ugh. Let me start over. I had a friend in college who was and still is (as far as I can tell from her facebook page) a goth. And while she looked like she was into satanic rituals what with her dark hair, pale skin, heavy make up, and platform boots, she actually was pretty ass-kicking cool. She wasn't a really close friend, but we did have a number of classes together and friends in common, so I was aware of the crowd she hung with. And the funny thing is, her close friends, her group, weren't really goth at all. She was the only one that I knew of. We had a lot of writing classes together because she was into creative writing, and she hung out with my at the time boyfriend's ex roommate a lot. She wrote great poetry and papers and the subjects were never about satanic rituals or darkness. They were about love and heartbreak and full of wordplay and nuances that played tricks on your thought process. If they were depressing, it was depressing in a fun way. Not a goth way.

I remember her telling me once that being a goth is a lifestyle, but it was just one piece of her. A very apparent piece, but as I got to know her, I realized she was totally right. The people she surrounded herself with were various and interesting. There was this day, Halloween maybe, where she speculated she was going to dress in khakis and a blue shirt, since that would be out of the norm for her. She had a great sense of humor, and a wonderful portfolio. She was outgoing and pleasant. And she had a favorite pair of cow spotted pajama pants.

I don't know why I wanted to write about my goth friend from college. Maybe because everytime I see that goth girl from NCIS I think of her.

Anyway, don't judge a book by its cover people.

Friday, February 19, 2010

House Hunters Drinking Game

Ok, so I thought I was really clever about a month back when my boyfriend and I were drunk in the basement, watching football. During commercials we would change the channel to HGTV's House Hunters and proceed to make fun of the badly edited and poorly staged show. As we drank and watched we decided it would be a brilliant idea to drink because of what we were watching. Thus our idea for the House Hunters drinking game was born. I quickly downed my Cosmo after deciding to drink every time someone said "nice", "view", or "entertain". And when the buyers decided on House #2, I was ready for more. You seem like a good place to post my House Hunters drinking game, blog, but alas! It already exists. In an attempt to put at ease my worries of others jumping on this idea before myself, I googled "House Hunters Drinking Game" and lo, I came up with many an answer. So I cannot take credit for this game, but I can perhaps include my own reasons to drink within it.

Here's the best version I found.

Of course amendments can be made as desired. Like if the buyers are rich, and are displeased with a "small" bedroom, living room, or any other "space" (drink!), take a drink. Or if you happen upon a clearly staged and uncomfortable scene, drink. If buyers become concerned of their children being hit by traffic, drink. Or perhaps there's some nice hardwood floors that be goin' on. Take a drink bizzos! And you can never forget entertain, entertain, entertain. Drink, drink, drink!

Through this process you should be thoroughly buzzed after just one or two episodes of this show. It's so lame, yet so fun! I've also realized you can make a drinking game out of anything. But House Hunters is probably the best TV drinking you can do these days.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Homeless Poignancy

What's with the homeless = poignancy feeling I get every time a drunk and bumbling homeless person wobbles up to me and asks me for change? I feel like there is some hidden meaning in the action. Like I should suddenly find out something about the world that I didn't see before. Isn't that what homeless people represent in shit like books and movies anyway? The idea that the protagonist has been missing throughout the entire story and then he or she finally sees the glorious light in something ugly and forgettable. But then there's real life. The drunk and bumbling homeless man who wobbled up to me tonight and asked me for a ciagarette had no light for me to see. I am not moved to write a poem about it. I'm not moved to relate it to a movie. I guess I'm moved enough to blog about it. But the word "blog" has become something that doesn't carry poignancy with it, but more just a "talking about shit" kind of essence. That's why I like blogging. It doesn't have to be heavy.

I don't often find poignant discoveries about myself and world when I encounter homeless people. My life is not a movie. However, to the contrary, homeless people I encounter seem to be on the prowl for some poignant discovery for themselves. They are their own screenplay, asking for change, feeling hopeless, hoping for some movie-esque event to take place and change their lives for the better right before the credits roll...

The man who I encountered tonight was begging not only for a cigarette, but also some sort of weird wisdom/soulful intensity/verifcation of his poignant ways or what have you. It was actually hard to understand him between his mumbles. But he fit into the category of the homeless person you encounter who tries to poetically sum up big ideas with small phrases. After telling him that I didn't have a cigarette, he made his way to the revolving door to leave the building we were in and he just stood there. It seemed that he was trying to push through it, but was too drunk to do so. I asked him if he needed help pushing the door, because I like to bring this sort of thing onto myself whenever I can (lie).

"We can all stand on our own."

He mumbled other things as well, but this is what I made out from it. We can all stand on our own. Yes, we can. Unless we have some sort of physical disability, most of us are able to stand on our own. But of course he didn't mean this literally. Drunk and homeless statements such as this one can only come from a figurative point of view. We can all stand on our own. We don't need help from anyone else, girl who is awkwardly standing there listening to me. How dare you ask if I need help. I'm strong. Look at me. Overcome with strength.

He actually did make it through the door which I was pretty impressed by. He went outside, wandered around. I thought he was gone. I continued to wait for my bus. Suddenly he was back in my view. Back through the doors. Back in my personal bubble.

With alcohol on his breath he told me he had a question. I told him to ask me his question, since I do this all day anyway, what can one more question hurt? Well, after mumbling and apologizing for taking so long to ask the mystery question he was going to ask, he ended up telling me that I was something along the lines of "worth it", or maybe "you have to believe in you" or something like that. I told him thanks and if he didn't have a question for me, then he'd have to leave me alone. But the poignancy! This homeless man was desparate for his pertinent wisdom and feelings to be doused upon the public, rum flavored breath and all! It got to the point of awkward, but he eventually left me alone and then my bus finally came. I got on and went home. The heavy importance of a movie life was gone from mine, and I was more than fine with it. Noticing fellow bus riders who look like my friends is more my style, yo.

I realize this man has an addiction. I realize he's probably been shit on by a lot of the people in his life. I realize he was reaching out, perhaps in an interally desperate, be it though daily,attempt to connect with someone somewhere and receive some verification that he is a human being worth something besides ignorance. Maybe I'm wrong about all this stuff, but I've been watching a lot of Intervention lately, so it's got to count for something. I think that's why I asked him if he needed help with the door...

Anyway, I think my point here is that I did not feel poignant in that situation, though I felt I should have felt that way because that's what the movies make you want to feel. But when are movies ever like real life? They're not. Homeless man felt poignant because he was drunk and had major life issues. But there was such a disconnect that there was absolutely no middle ground between these two points of view. We both stood and had an incredibly awkward interaction, from my end of things anyway. No light was seen. No resolution made. Just an observation by a sober girl and a interally and personally magnificent speech made by a drunk. And now I realize that movies capitalize on the space between sober, employed girl and drunk, homeless guy. Way to go, Hollywood.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Birthday Time is Here and, Yes, It's a Time of the Year

Ryan and I came up with a realization the other night. It happened to be my brother's birthday, and we were out eating at Buca (which is deserves its own entry) when a party a few tables down from us started singing happy birthday.

"It's my brother's birthday today too", I said.

"It's everybody's birthday", concluded Ryan.

(for the record, I hate breaking down conversations with proper quotation marks and commas and shit, but it just saved so much time and explanation for this instance)

From here on, we listed everyone we know who just celebrated, or is celebrating a birthday soon. Let's see, there's my brother Ian, of course, table down the way from us at Buca, Oprah (all January 29th), Brandon from high school and Ryan's friend Nick (February 3rd), Brad from high school (February 7th), this guy I dated once named Justin (February 4th), improv Chris (January 31st), Audrey from high school (January 30th), my twin cousins Grace and Anthony (January 27th), ME, my friend Deb, and this girl Amber (February 5th), Theresa, Jake, and Trent from work and Ronald Reagan (February 6th), my old improv coach John and Ryan's friend Brian's fiance Lindsay (February 9th), Jill from college (February 10th), Jessica from college (February 13th), Leanne from when we were kids and Melissa from improv along with Abraham Lincoln (February 12th), Kerin and many peoples' relationships (February 14th), Mallory from high school (February 16th), and Ryan. Well, Ryan doesn't completely count, but in this case he does because he was supposed to be born on February 11th, but he was two months early so his actual birthday is December 11th.

Yes, one of my hidden talents is remembering when people are born. It is something I take pride in. But if we look beyond that, isn't it strange that there is such a cluster of birthdays? It seems that everyone and their mom was born this time of year. And Ryan and I figured out why!

The answer is pretty obvious when you think about it, but interesting nonetheless. We, or at least I, believe that it is instinctually programmed in our little procreating minds to mate during mating season, which would be... dun dun dun! Spring! Think back to nine months ago. The birds were chirping, the squirrels chattering, flowers were blooming and love and life were in the air. When would be better time to get it on and fertilize? The answer is that there is no better time. Spring is as good as it gets so everyone gets it on and then has babies in the dead of winter. There is so much birthday crap going on this weekend it's not even funny. But if it were funny, and actually it is pretty funny now that I stop and think about it, it would be a good time. Good thing birthday time is funny then, because this weekend is going to be full of partying. Whoo!

Now that I relayed that elementary discovery to you, blog, I'm going to go to bed. Tomorrow is that one guy I dated that one time named Justin's birthday. I don't really know what happened to him, but we're facebook friends so I'll wish him a happy birthday. Probably not.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Tiny Noses Are Beautiful

Tiny noses. It's all the rage! I love The Biggest Loser just as much as the next guy. I do my best to watch it every Tuesday (when I don't have improv) and I can't get enough of the weight loss that is the main factor of the show's ratings.

But I noticed something tonight. Tiny noses, bitches. All the people on this show have tiny noses! There is not one big schnoz present! This feeds my theory (one that I have not expressed yet in you blog, that is until now) that The Biggest Loser has the ability to find fat people who have an exorbetant amount of potential to look highly attractive when and if they ever end up skinny. You can see it in their faces from day one. I find myself saying "She'd be pretty if she lost weight" all the time with this show. I firmly believe this has to do with the small nose. Of course all fat people are going to look like they have a small nose, but on the other end of things, you know a big nose when you see one. Even though the weight of the current contestants of The Biggest Loser might actually be working in their favor when it comes to their nose, there is no doubt about it that everyone on the show has an small sized snout.

Check it bitches and hos (and yes, I'm slightly under the influence, otherwise you'd be ladies and gentlemen).

Small nose on fat person + working out with Jillian = hotties. God forbid TV ever has anyone average, or even ugly looking on it. Remember that show I was planning on auditioning for? You know, the Shakespeare one at the Anoka Community Theater? Yeah. I auditioned. And after a call back, and a discussion of "lead time" with the director, I didn't get in. At all. I'm confident in my performance skills. I have a minor in theater. I am educated in the methods of performing--not just reading--Shakespeare. I do improv every week. What could I possibly be lacking? I'll tell you. Cuteness. I'm not tiny. I'm not blonde. Luckily I have a small nose. It's the only feature I've got going for me performance wise. Seriously. This small nose thing is across the board. Why else is Santiago the Pug so freaking adorable all the time?

Tiny nose. It'll get you places. Now I just have to make the rest of me tiny...

What is the point of this entry? I'm not sure. But I watched The Biggest Loser. I observed. And this is my conclusion. The one constant of hotness is tiny noses. I'm also intoxicated thanks to my birthday being on Friday and my dear friend Sam (not me) insisting on buying me margaritas. Don't be jealous (although I hope you are).

I live in Maple Grove. Yikes.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Random Birthday Cake

It's not every day you receive a random birthday cake, that's why I'm posting this email I wrote to my co-workers today:

Hey Everyone,

I've got some random birthday cake at my desk. It's random because it's not my birthday (despite part of my name being on the cake). It was intended to be part of a joint birthday celebration my grandma was going to throw for myself and my twin cousins who turn 7 tomorrow. But since it's winter, the weather sucks and no one was able to make it. This left my grandma with a giant birthday cake and no one to eat it. Luckily last night, I was able to meet up with her before she took off for Florida and I received a large portion of this cake.

Yes, I feel bad for taking a birthday cake away from my 7 year old cousins, especially when they have to share a birthday to begin with, but I had no choice. The cake must be eaten. This is why I invite all of you to stop by my desk and partake and eating my little cousins' birthday cake. It is my birthday cake as well, but as I said, it's not my birthday (until February). I have plates, forks and a spatula. All you have to do it stop by and fanagle a piece for yourself.



Monday, January 25, 2010

It's True. My Grandpa is On YouTube.

It'll be the best two minutes and 13 seconds of your life. And I'm proud to say I'm related to everyone in this masterpiece.

Thoughts on the Fringe Festival

Quick. Thoughts that I need to write... quickly.

It's really frustrating that I think of all my best thoughts in the shower. This sucks because the shower is the most inopportune place to think of things that you want to write down. Water doesn't lend itself to be helpful in writing situations. Paper gets soggy and a computer would probably cause death. So I did my best to remember until I got a computer on my hands. Here's what I came up with while I was waiting for the conditioner to condition my hair:

1. Fringe. I want to do it. I'm going to go into this blindly. I'm going to take a risk and do it myself. I have many friends who would love to support me and work with me on a Fringe show. I am more than happy to accept help, support, collaboration, what have you. But just in case I end up having to wing this on my own...

2. Stories. It's my only fall back. I suck at writing dialogue for the screen. I hate reading plays, which doesn't help with my abilities to write for the stage. I'm an inexperienced, naive writer, so the only thing I can really portray through the power of language is shit that's happened to me. A lot of people do this, especially for the Fringe. If I happen to fall into the norm, fine. At least I'm trying to get some of my stuff out there. That being said...

3. Football and my one legged cousin. Those are two solid stories about myself that I feel confident I can write and make a decent point with at the end. I started stuff on both of these topics. I just need to finish that stuff and then become confident enough to revise it into a majestic work that might possibly make it to the stage if I happen to be unable to recruit friends to write a decent show with me. These two subjects have nothing to do with one another, but I might have to come up with a third item as equally unrelated so at least I have the power of three behind me.

Ok. I think that's it. I just wanted to get this down somewhere. And since no one reads this, I'll put it out here. And just in case someone does, they can tell me what they think and even if they want to be one of my friends to work on my Fringe project with me. Options people. It's all about options. The end.

I hate ending shit with "the end" since that seems to be a habit with some of my lame facebook friends, but I'm going to do it because it's an option. Even if it's one I'm not fond of, it's still an option. The end.

And yes, I'm drunk.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Drunk and Alone. Not as Bad as it Sounds.

You know what doesn't happen enough? Drunk posts! That's right. I'm drunk, and posting. I don't think I've had a decent chance to do this since 2007. Well, live it up Samantha! It's drunk post time!

Why am I drunk and on a computer you may ask? Well, it's a long story when you really think about it. I'll just say I happened to end up alone tonight with nothing but some wireless internet, a pug, and an endless supply of cosmopolitan martinis at my disposal. So far I've watched two episodes of Intervention and commented an obscene amount on my friend Carly's photos on facebook. Oh, I also uploaded this photo of myself to

Yes. This is me at Stonehenge looking like a crazy.  I can't possibly take seriously since you are judged purely on looks alone. Right now I'm sitting at a solid 8 with this gem of a drunken memory:

I can't help but be surprised at this. I never really wanted to sign up for Hot or Not. I just wanted to judge others as shallowly as I possibly could. This is what happens when you're in a drunken stupor with a laptop on hand. It didn't help that my boyfriend urged me to post a picture, hopefully not for internet verification that he is indeed dating someone who is of the status "hot". This sort of thing would never have become a reality through my own, sober doing. But if you find me in the right place at the right time... well, I guess anything can happen. This includes putting myself on the internet to be judged numerically by strangers who are apparently desperate to date me (new years hat included). I guess I didn't realize that Hot or Not is not only a mindless and indulgent way to pass the time, it is also a site where matches of heaven are made. Since signing up (again at my boyfriend's bidding), I've received a whopping 72--oh no, make that 74--men who have said "yes" to me. Now all I have to do is say "yes" back. But I won't because I have a boyfriend, sillies. Not only do I have a boyfriend, but I also am using his computer to post this post as I lay on his bed, drinking his alcohol and petting his dog... in his house. So yeah. You could say we're pretty attached. The only thing missing is him. But that's not his fault. I was supposed to be out of town visiting my grandma this weekend, but since the weather turned to crap, I instead stayed home. This did not sway Ryan from breaking his plans with the guys to get drunk and spend the night at a friend's house. And in case you're wondering, yes, it is a slumber party despite what he says. A drunken slumber party full of men, alcohol, and movie called The Gamer. Lame.

Enough of my explanations. Let's see some of the messages my Hot or Not friends have sent my way...

From "Matt": sorry to write all random, saw you on here, you're super cute! :] just wanted to see whats up with you.. hope you are having a sweet day, sorry again for the randomness, but had to say somethin.. cheers- matt :]

Don't even worry about it, Matt. You're not random at all considering you're contacting me via Hot or Not. My day has been pretty sweet if you find folding laundry and then getting drunk with a pug "sweet". Fortunately I do. If you want to date me, plan on things like this happening a lot. Also, I have a boyfriend who just wanted to see how hot I really am.

From "Ryan": What is your pretty hot self doing tonight, Sam? I like your hair! :)

Well, "Ryan", I'm drunk and on the internet. I suspect you're doing something of the same sort this Saturday eve? Perhaps not. Maybe I could date you because you have the same name as my current boyfriend, so things wouldn't totally be weird. That is until I realize I'm dating someone I met on Hot or Not and not my boyfriend who I happen to be madly in love with despite his short stature and scarred eyebrow. Thanks for liking my hair. You can have it. Also, I have a boyfriend who just wanted to see how hot I really am.

From "Jon": Wow you look amazing. You are very beautiful. I would love to talk and get to know you better. Please write back. Jon

Would you Jon? Really? Just because I happen to enjoy a good ring in of the new year doesn't give you grounds to "get to know me better". Although, it's nice that you think I'm beautiful. Still I'm a little creeped out that you're 40. I'm just not there yet. Also, I have a boyfriend who just wanted to see how hot I really am.

Yup. You can't make this stuff up. I'm going to see what this Stonehenge picture gets me. Hopefully some druids will write in with comments on my magic playing skills or some shit. I need another cosmo.

Friday, January 22, 2010

I'd Make a Terrible Mother

I was looking back in my livejournal. Back on the days when I would write, oh say, more than once a week. Man. Those were the days, blog. The days when I didn't have anything but myself, my radio, and my room. I had nothing, yet I had everything to write about. Now I have everything. Cable TV, the internet, multiple rooms, and a radio yet I have nothing in my brain anymore. The transition I've been through over the last few years have made me a believer that TV and the Internet corrupt brains. Well, maybe not everyone's brains, but for sure my brain. I don't do anything anymore! I just sit. Last night I sat and watched fat people work out. Back when I didn't have a TV, I would work myself out. I believe at one point in time I found myself asking why watch other people do stuff on TV when you could be doing it yourself? At the time, I didn't have an answer and I became all smug and proud of myself. But now. Now I have an answer to that question. TV is addicting! I'm addicted! So many things to see! Intervention, The Office, the Nightly News, Family Guy, Hoarders... It makes me sad.

What makes me sadder is the fact that I feel no creativity when I write anymore. Perhaps I'm mistaken in contributing this lack of creativity to the TV, but there's just nowhere else to turn. Because of this, I've made the decision to deprive my unborn children of any technological entertainment whatsoever so they have the chance to learn how to think for themselves. Only wooden toys will be present. Toys like blocks, and sticks, and rocks. Maybe pieces of wood, and a chalkboard. None of this nintendo crap. No staring for hours at the TV. Only when they are older. If they want a video game, then they are going to have to earn their own money and buy it. If they want a car, they are going to have to get a job. If they want food, don't ask me to make you any. You go to the grocery store yourself. Hell, I'm just going to put them out in the real world right away and let them fend for themselves from the get go.

And this is why I don't want to have kids right now. Don't freak out, blog moms. I'm not about to bring a baby into this world and make it go grocery shopping immediately after it gets comes home. But until I stop thinking of that as a plausible option for feeding my offspring, I shall remain childless. I only have the tolerance to care for a little pug by the name of Santiago.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Facebook and Pee

I've sunk to a new low and have created a facebook page for Santiago, my dogboyson. I think I'm going through a phase with this dog. He is so freaking cute to me right now, I feel I must share it with the world. If you'd like to friend Santiago, you go right ahead.  There is no shame in friending a dog on facebook. There is also no shame in maintaining a dog's facebook page on is behalf. Because really, everything in Santiago's information section of his profile is absolutely true.

On a completely seperate note, don't you just hate it when you've settled in at your desk, and then you realize you have to pee like a mo fo? That is what is happening at this very moment. What's even worse is that the bathroom is right next to my desk. It's like a 2 second walk over there and alas, I feel no desire outside of my aching bladder to leave this very spot. And this is why we are all obese. And that is why I'm going to the gym today.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

As A Follow Up to My Entry Below...

Thank the lord! I'm not alone! And there's science to back it up!

Winter Hasn't Gotten Long Yet, But That Doesn't Mean It's Awesome

I'm going to put myself out there and be totally Minnesotan and write about winter today. What I'm not going to do is act all tough and self righteous and brag about how oh so cold it is here and how oh so snowy it is here and how it's totally winter and we are a hearty people for putting up with this sort of weather for 6 months out of the year. Can you say pet peeve? I can.

Ever since I moved to Minnesota so many years ago, I noticed that the people here are very into exaggerating the woes of winter into something I find completely extraordinary and ridiculous. Did you know it gets to be -80 degrees in Minnesota during the winter time? Did you know they get 2 feet of snow in one sitting? I didn't know these things either! But luckily I met people who told me these things in a manner that had the essence of forced aloofess so I would be prone to gawk at how they weren't phased by the fact that they live in the next best thing to Antarctica.
That's it. I'm making a list.

Exaggeration: Winter in Minnesota lasts six months out of the year.
Reality: While it depends on the winter, I usually bank on it being between four to five months long. Usually it starts getting pretty wintery sometime in late November/early December and eases up in mid March. A six month winter would mean that snowy and cold winter weather would start in November and not end until the end of April. While I have experienced strong winter storms both at the beginning of November and at the end of April, they are few and far between and wouldn't happen in the same winter. My April blizzard experience, which can be re-experienced here was a one off situation that is not normal. In fact it was pretty ridiculous.

Exaggeration: Anything above zero degrees is balmy.
Reality: This is stupid. Of course it is going to be balls to the wall cold if it is 1 degree outside. You know what? It' also going to balls cold if it is 14 degrees outside. I know this because this morning it was 14 degrees outside and I wanted to die during my one block walk from the bus to work. Yes, I have experienced those cold snaps that last a week or two where it does indeed get to be 20 below, and in the following weeks 14 degrees doesn't feel too bad, but that's not how winter is in Minnesota. It only happens a couple weeks out of the year, usually in January. After that we continue on with shivering through at average temperatures in the teens and twenties.

Exaggeration: Yeah. Try living in Minnesota where it has 40 below zero winters.
Reality: This is a flat out lie. I went to school in Bemidji, Minnesota which tends to be roughly 10 degrees colder than most anywhere else in the state. The coldest it got during a snap one year was maybe 40 below. And you know what? It was for a week. It wasn't for months and months on end. It was a week. This shit happens every year in January or February and the weathermen can't contain themselves. From the way they talk about it, you'd think they'd never seen a temp drop below zero. It happens every year. Then the Minnesotans go and travel to places that are kind of warm and insinuate that we all live in ridiculously frigid temperatures for months on end. No. We don't. It's usually 15 - 25 degrees in the winter time. Yes, this is still cold and I explained above, but don't get too excited about deadly cold happening all the time. It's a lie.

I think I complain about this every year. But it just bothers me! Why can't people accept their surroundings and just realize that they live in a state that has crap weather for 4 to 5 months out of the year, but it's not crappy enough for special recognition? There are plenty of other places that have it much worse than Minnesota. Ever hear of Canada? Alaska? Siberia? Just to name a few. I may hate winter, but I really when people brag about it.

Beer makes everything better.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Santiago and Variations

Despite the busy happenings of my job, I will post this post. I realized I started this blog with an exorbitant amount of pictures of Santigo Falk, my boyfriend's dog. I decided it's been too long. Just much too long since we've seen a picture of my dogboyson. So without further ado, I present Santiago and Variations:

Oh man. That is so fun to see all the variations of Santiago in his hat. I bet you are all jealous of how I got my hands on such awesome variations of my simple photo I took of him looking miserable in his winter garb. Well, let me tell you my secret, blog. I know a guy who knows a guy. Actually, I have a friend. One of my best friends. She's an artist and a pretty good one at that. She's got mad skills for making art as you can clearly see. Check her out at her website on Etsy or maybe her other website that she has created all by herself. I'm sure if you contacted her with a picture of your dogboyson, she'd be happy to create such variations for a reasonable negotiated price. Her name is Carly. She's also tall and lives in England. Jealous yet? Ok. This will get you then. She's BFF with ME!

Was this entry a plug for Carly, or just an attempt to begin writing regularly in you blog? Well, I guess that's for you to decide.

Monday, January 4, 2010

I'm Inexplicibly Back

I have inexplicibly stopped writing for the past month. I wish I could explain, but I can't. I do believe this is the longest writing drought I've had in my past 3+ years of blogging. I'm frustrated with myself. I feel like I've let my thoughts down by not giving them the attention they deserve. I feel like I've let you down, blog, by not giving you my thoughts. I really shouldn't feel this way since you are of my domain. I control you, I've named you, I've decided your fun, yet simple layout that is generic in blog world, yet dear to my heart. What's more frustrating is that I had to start this entry over again since a slip of the mouse caused me to accidentally hit my favorites button for a grant writing site that I was looking at once in an attempt to research a career for myself. Luckily I've got enough determination at least to start a new, different entry. One that is slightly modeled from the original, but really not the same entry at all.

Enough of my sentimental blog blabbering. I have 5 minutes of my lunch hour left. What's a girl to write in 5 minutes? Anything I have to say will certainly take longer than that. Maybe it's a good thing I have nothing to say.

I'll say one thing. This whole living in the suburbs thing has led me to need an extra curricular activity that is more than my once a week improv. I need to find a group of people where I feel accepted. I feel accepted in my group at my job, but that is... well, it's my job. I need something on the side that is fun where I can be myself and not have to worry about what people think of me or about where some random conversation about jello is going to go. Hopefully not into playing characters who wear nothing but jello, because that sounds like something that would happen with the improv group. I like my improv group, don't get me wrong, but I don't feel accepted. I don't enjoy myself a wholly as I have in the past when around improv people. While I'm on a team with improv people, I don't always feel like I am working toward one common accomplishment with them. We perform every time we meet. It's more like hang out, rehearse, perform, call it a night, do it next week. There's no end product really. I want to work something from the ground up and say "I can't believe how far we've come" when it comes time for it to be shared with an audience.

Basically, I'm fancifully saying that I would like to be part of a theatrical production. I did a little internet research today and found that there are auditions for a show by the name of As You Like It by this guy called William Shakespeare. Maybe you've heard of him. I know I took a few courses with his name in them back in college. These auditions are for a community theater. As much as I have a negative view of community theater, I have no other options for theatrical experience at this time since I am an inexperienced actor in the career sense. I figure I might as well try to go out for a show since I have a little Shakespearean acting (rusty as it may be) under my belt. It's been a whole 5 months since the Fringe. It's time to satisfy my theater urge. I might as well try, right? And you never know. Maybe the people of this As You Like It production are fun and non-improvvy in the sense that they can carry out a conversation without creating and being a character in a hypothetical situation pertaining to the subject of said conversation. I'm not sayin', but I'm just sayin'.

Who am I kidding. Actors are all the same.

I'll be sure to put up more interesting posts about the more mundane things in life. I just wanted to get that little plan down on cyber paper for all but no one to see.