Retraction

I would like to informally* retract a statement I made about a local establishment (see 'Rachel E').

I have had a vendetta against the "Fast and Fresh" since our first experience together. I previously stated that "Fast and Fresh" was an abomination, due to its being neither fast nor fresh. While the former DOES still apply, the latter DOES NOT!

If "Fast and Fresh" had just called itself "Amazing greek/mediterranean place that takes just the same amount of time as a real restaurant, but has its menu printed on the wall, is a bit cheaper, and does not provide service beyond the counter," in the first place, and i had not made the decision to order a hamburger on my first visit, i would have loved it from day one. My main pain point seems to be the devious name, rather than the presence of low-quality food. Which, apparently, was never anything to worry about. (Case in point, see above, for a picture of the 6 dollar GodSalad i had for lunch today after 20 minutes of waiting.)

*I still do not like being lied to, no matter how good the food i have just eaten tastes, so this apology will not be made formal until F&F changes it's ridiculously inaccurate name.

She needed to learn her lesson

My mother sent an email last night after she had, apparently, had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

The last clause in the list of clauses belongs in the book:

"To top it off, I got a $244 speeding ticket for driving 45 mph in a 25 mile zone. AND your dad was in the passenger seat, saw the cop, and didn't warn me."

My mother is a wonderful person/I wouldn't be the same if she had not been who she was/raised me the way she did. And I'd feel bad for her if, at one point in my early driving life, she hadn't said "I know you're not supposed to speed, but it's not really that big of a deal--I've never been caught."

Office Archetypes, Part 1

Throughout my—admittedly limited—career (if you could call it that, as I’m still not sure where ‘I’m going in life’ so I don’t know if that means I have a career, or I have just had a series of jobs), I believe have encountered at least one example of every type of office (or service-industry location) personality. It should be noted that particular sets of traits below are not mutually exclusive. Also, just because there are these 'types' out there, doesn't mean that every office has one of each. Duh. I’m also thinking that this list will have to be updated from time to time, as I am relatively young and still meeting new types of people. And you, blog reader, are probably unique and amazing and do not fit into any of these categories (unless I include someone cool, which I haven’t decided, as of beginning this paragraph, if I will—maybe it will just turn into a part 1/part2 deal).*

Diana: A Diana is a person who is horrible to work with/for. You know, however, that, because of the set of skills and knowledge Diana has (Diana has probably been around for a while, and if you have a 'why are we doing what we're doing' historical question, I'd suggest going to her before you change anything), you really need to do what it takes to be on her good side (by some combination of being good at your job/not crossing her/sucking up without her knowing). As long as you are on her good side, she will go to bat for you, and will let you in on who she can’t stand and why she can’t stand them. If you're as concerned with what other people think about you as I am, you’re constantly worrying about what Diana will say about you but knows enough that you really should do what it takes to be on her good side, and hope that you never upset her. If you do, watch your back. Diana is very powerful, and, if she doesn’t hate you enough to be mean, is actually kind of awesome—she has the right to be so Dianna-y.

Kathy: Kathy has quite a bit in common with Diana, but is probably in a position slightly- to much-lower than you on the job ladder. She is someone that you know, in the back of your head, that you would rather not suck up to, but you also know that if you do not do everything in your power to get on her good side, you will never get your mail or receive the box of Pilot Rollerball pens you know that you ordered but have to be logged by her on their way to you. Even the boss of your boss is a bit afraid of Kathy, because, unlike Diana (who will probably give you the benefit of the doubt for the first couple of weeks that she knows you), Kathy probably didn’t like you the first time she met you, and you had to earn her respect. Which you would have been glad to do if she hadn’t been so mean to you on your first day. Thankfully, we have a Pat where I work, and she gives me my mail on time. She is delightful and I would never think about not being nice to her. You always kind of hope Kathy will morph into Pat if you are nice enough.

Rachel**: Rachel is relatively inexperienced, but, because of a few pieces of good feedback, at this job or another one, has come to think that she is basically brilliant. She may or may not be brilliant. It could turn out that she has exactly the right combination of skills and personality traits that make her the breed of employee/coworker/boss that has never shown up on the scene. In a very good way. Or it may be that she has done a few good things, and the confidence that she has, based on the way they were received, should be kept inside for a few more years so people don’t start to hate her (she could learn a lot from someone humble like Jonathan). You will know when you have met a Rachel, by the way she rattles off a few thousand ideas in a row. She doesn’t know whether any of them are groundbreaking, or if she is just voicing a few things that anyone who has ever had a job before has already realized, but doesn’t say out loud because they figured everyone already knew (or they kind of like Rachel and want to give her the chance to feel like she pulled something brilliant out of mid-air)

Jonathan: You always hope Jonathan is going to be in the working session going on later today, because, though he rarely asserts himself, every time he does, he says exactly the right thing—finds the solution everyone else in the room was grasping at (the thing Rachel was also thinking, but was afraid that if she blurted out one more ‘idea,’ Dianna would probably strangle her). You need to be very quiet around Jonathan, because he only gives of himself when the time is exactly right. The good thing about Jonathan is that, while he is an emerging genius (see ‘David’ for future outlook), he is pretty new to the workforce, and pretty anti-confrontational, so if something comes up that requires a large amount of work that is mostly bitchwork, but sounds like it could be interesting, or could present opportunities for growth, he’ll either volunteer when no one else does, or be too afraid to refuse if he gets the assignment. Either way, he’ll do a great job.

David: You want this guy around. David is very good at what he does, and very experienced. He has been around long enough to know how to combine innate skill/talent with experience in exactly the right way. He either ‘worked his way up’ and is around 50, or is around 35, and new people resent that they have a young boss (they don't know that the reason he is ready to be their boss at this age is that he found a way to get a lot of experience VERY early. Dude probably started internships in high school), but once they work on a few projects with him, they feel really stupid for doubting him. Jonathan, if he can overcome his shyness, will definitely be a David some day. Rachel, if she is as smart as she thinks she is, will (hopefully. the author is optimistic.) someday be a David too.

Jamie: (Jamie is a boy) Fucking Jamie. How the hell did this ass get this job? I’m sorry—but I really can't stand this twerp. He’s not a bad guy. He just doesn’t deserve what he’s got. Jamie is a bit of a schmoozer, and this probably one of his first jobs, but he is either above you on the ladder, or higher up than you were in your first job so you resent him for it. Jamie’s resume probably has like two things on it, one of which was that he was the President and/or Social Chair at his fraternity. Jamie only got his job because his dad golfs with the CEO or he interviewed with some high-powered female executive with low self esteem and he flirted with her. Jamie doesn’t do anything. Correction—Jamie doesn’t do anything but sit around and eavesdrop on what other people did so he can tell his hiring manager that he did it, or tell his dad, who will pass on to Mr. Banks on the back nine (when he's done with a long day of buttkissing and thunder-stealing, Jamie most likely meets some of his 'brothers' at a bar in the college-y neighborhood or heads straight to an important game for one of the many club sports he plays--with a team of his 'buddies'). Jamie’s going to end up hopping jobs, getting important very quickly and not earning it (he IS the Peter Principle, but with the exception that he never was actually GOOD at a lower-level job, but he DID ‘rise to incompetence’). He will eventually be at David’s level. Probably while David is still there, because David has gone as far as he wanted to go, because he likes what he does, but he wants to have a bit of free time to teach his son to catch/pretend to hate his daughter’s boyfriends/have really good sex with his hot but clever and witty wife. David really doesn’t like Jamie (who is probably James by that point), but David’s too cool to let on. David was probably Jamie’s college roommate, and said at some point, “J—drinking and casual sex are awesome—don’t get me wrong, but if you studied for like an hour a week, you’d probably have a better chance at getting a job when you graduate? So you don’t have to be the creep that has been at college for 10 years and eventually girls stop sleeping with because normal dudes flirt with them too and it’s not a hard choice? Just a thought?” Of course Jamie didn’t listen. Jamie’s a prick. With a rich dad. If he had gone into sales he probably wouldn’t be bad at it, and I’d respect him a bit more. For now I just think he’s a little bitch.

Okay—this does need to be a multi-part entry because, as I am discovering that I am very texty blogger, I am getting a bit of carpel tunnel. Stay tuned, FanClub.

Hehe, I mean stay tuned, Alison, Brian, Kate and Jessica. If you read this far :)

*Names have been changed to protect the author from the inevitable beat-down from the actual person(s) on which the archetype was developed in situations where the description, which was probably meant to be as flattering as possible, could be viewed as negative. Or maybe the name is exactly the same, just to mix it up, so the person who it is based on, if (s)he was ever become one of the imaginary one million eventual readers of this blog, would have to guess whether the author would be so bold as to actually use their real name, or if I’m talking about someone else who has similar characteristics, and fact that the name listed is actually their name is coincidental.

**Name has not been changed. If you have ever met the author, or are one of my imaginary ‘fans’ and have read even one of my posts, you know that this is, quite obviously, me.

Midnight Woes

As previously mentioned and/or implied, i do not have cable. I'm usually okay with this. I'm even more okay with this now that a little black box of amazing, called the "Digital Converter" has been invented. As long as it's not storming, or accidentally unplugged, the DC provides me with a pretty impressive collection of free channels. Besides the regular network ones, i get a bunch of fake NotCable channels, which offer how-to-sew shows, cooking with a norweigan chef, and educational childrens' programming. There are also quite a few spanish channels and some god channels (neither of which are my cup of tea, but it's free, and beggars can't be channel choosers).

My only problem with NotCable (if you have, or have ever had, NotCable, get ready to identify with me...), is that I always forget the one channel, created specifically to destroy me. I call this channel the BadChannel. This is the channel that gets my hopes up, and then crushes them like a mortar and pestle crush toasted coriander seeds.

The BadChannel is the one you'd most likely come across some time after midnight when you had tried every get-sleepy trick, but not one of them has worked. Now's not the time to do any of the activities reserved for daytime (working, calling a friend, going for a jog, etc). The only thing that walks the line between acceptable to do late at night and acceptable to do when you are wide awake, is watch tv, but nothing seems to be on...

You'd probably have flipped through all of your channels by now, but found nothing worth watching except maybe the documentary, already half-over, and not looking like it's going to give up any clues about what happened in the first half. You'd decide to flip through all of the channels one more time. (The 'last flip through' strategy works the same way as the one that involves driving around the same block hoping a parking spot will open up RIGHT in front of the restaurant, knowing it won't but hoping it does.)

During your last flip-through... it happens. You see William H. Macy. You say to yourself "that guy's a pretty good actor. I wonder what this is, how far into it is, and whether i am actually awake enough to watch the whole thing if i get into it." You're about to turn up the volume, when you realize that he's wearing a brown puffy coat. And there's something outside the window in this scene--something... White. Snow? Snow! This is--could it really be... And in walks... Frances McDormand! Where's the toy remote?! WherE IS the toY REMOTE!??? IT'S FARGO! I LOVE FARGO!!!! FARGO IS ON NOTCABLE AT MIDNIGHT!!! I HOPE I HAVE NOT MISSED THE WOODCHOPPER SCENE!!!!!!! WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT FUCKING REMOTE!!?!?!

Then you find the remote, and, because it is a weird notcable remote, it takes you a while to find the volume up button, which is not in the place where one would assume a volume button would be.

You click on the Volume Up Button. You Hold Down on the Volume Up button

Suddenly, and with very little warning, your hopes are coriander'd.

Fargo. Is. Not. Supposed. To. Be. In. JAPANESE!!!!!!!!!

You, my notcable friend, have wound up on the BadChannel (NotCable HELL, where the Devil is probably Clint Eastwood with the high-pitched voice of a young Chinese lad--since BadCable gets off on good things dubbed in bad languages.)

The BadChannel was created (not sure by who yet) to teach a lesson those of us that refuse to grow up and pay cable. They play the best movies when we need them most and we've run out of options. They dub said movies in every language BUT english (I suspect they employ a JRR Tolkien type to make up languages and dub movies in them just to piss us off). They don't even have the courtesy to dub in spanish, which many of us know at least well enough to watch Fargo after midnight.

If this ever happens to both of you again, I'm probably up. Feel free to call me. We'll pick up our respective toy remotes and work through blocking the BadChannel (and the god channels) together. Or we'll talk each other into finally ordering cable.

Dear Mailbox-Cloggers:

I went to school for advertising, so know a bit about of the theory behind targeting an audience, but, admittedly, was too insecure to actually enter the field, so did not have time to build a network in 'the biz.' So, i guess, if any of you know who this should go to, feel free to pass along.

___


Dear Companies who Keep Sending me Junk Mail:


I think you may need to review your direct mail strategy and/or remove me from your list for one or more of the following reasons:

1) I do not open anything unless it looks like it:

• comes from my mother or a close friend/relative
• relates to a bill i do not pay through automatic withdrawal
• contains a check
• has information that, if i did not respond to, would result in a summons or a bench warrant

2) I do not have a car, and probably won't any time in the foreseeable future. This stems from the fact that

• i live in a biggish city
• i grew up in Nebraska
• i am scared of the number of cars on the road and the complex traffic patterns that simply do not exist in a place whose main exports are corn and football players

3) I do not have cable (and therefore do not have to be persuaded to switch providers), as I prefer to spend the portion of my budget that could possibly be allocated to cable on paying someone to do my laundry (i live in a big city now (see above) and have discovered 'drop off')

4) I am not a 70-year old woman or an 11 year old girl with dreams of Fashion School (This only applies to whoever keeps sending me JoAnn Fabrics circulars)

5) I hate to shop and, on the frightful occasions when i do, will not be bullied into making it happen 'before this limited time offer expires'

6) I have been scared by too many Datelines/email forwards warning me of the plethora of "We are from your bank--we swear! Give us your account number, mother's maiden name, and high school mascot, and $1 million will show up in your account immediately--we swear!!!" scams, and am afraid to open anything, email or otherwise, that even SAYS the name of my bank on it.

While it's not too big of an inconvenience to me, aside from the fact that i actually do have to examine each piece of mail to see whether it falls into any of the categories listed in #1 above, , i would like to think that i am being a good citizen in recommending that perhaps you repurpose the $0.001 you spend on me to the charity of your choice.

So thanks for thinking of me, but if it's an option, i'd really like to 'pass.'

xoxo
R

p.s. If you're really trying to get to me, might I suggest you alter your strategy, and move toward one that includes sending cash or no-strings-attached Target gift cards in every mailing? If you send me enough cash, maybe I will feel guilty enough to get a recycling bin. At Target. On you.

'Lives Alone'

While I have had roommates at several points in my life, i have learned that--living situation-wise--i work best alone (or with some yet-to-be-found perfect roommate).

The reasons i do not work well with a roommate fall into four general groups, revolving around my belief that one's home should be the place in which one feels the most comfortable, and can do the things that should not necessarily be done around other people--things that shouldn't have to be explained aloud.

For me, the three key groups are easily identified with the three F-Words:

• Food
• Finances
• Filth

Food
One thing i wouldn't necessarily do around other people, for instance would be to assemble a meal consisting of a small dish of lima beans, three pieces of turkey rolled into 'cigars' (which would be a familiar lunchmeat term if you had ever ordered a deli-tray) and seven blueberries arranged into a smiley face (or frowny face depending on the kind of day i had). I would also not eat only a bowl of green beans, or a quantity of macaroni and cheese so obscene it could only be eaten out of a mixing bowl.
Finances
I will do everything possible to reduce the group of individuals with knowlege of my finances to the smallest size possible. Just because money is weird. And roommates have to talk about that stuff, or uncomfortably tiptoe around it.
Filth
People, even unmessy people, tend to be a bit messier when no one is watching. And when they clean, they like to clean because THEY want to clean, not because they're paranoid about their roommate thinking they're slovenly.

Reading Age

I got into work yesterday, and there was a copy of Glamour magazine on my chair. With a picture of Miley Cyrus on the cover. Obscuring half of Ms. Cyrus’ face was a bright orange stickynote with from my boss (a wonderful woman of indeterminable age—more than 50 but less than 60):

“R:I have no clue who would
Send me this magazine
but it is obviously too
‘young’ for me.
Thought I’d pass along.

Enjoy!”

A kind gesture, to be sure, but one that made me question my ‘reader age’. Are magazines the same as books? (I have always been a very advanced reader: grabbing anything small and thick (thatswhatshesaid) from the library shelves during grade school library hour, uttering an indignant ‘I know—I’m not like other children’ when told by the librarian that it might be ‘too advanced’ for ‘someone my age.’ The best part was reading the book that night and coming back in the next morning to tell Mrs. Beasley that her outfit was a Catch 22.) If I am young, do I automatically have a young ‘magazine age?’

When it comes down to it, I do not wholly like any magazine--especially those intended for someone my age. But I am a magazine person, so I will get seven magazines, so that I can get the teeny piece of each one that I actually like. If I could build a perfect magazine, though (a me-specific ageless magazine, as these have probably always been my preferences), it would have the following components:

• An article about an unusual (preferably violent) crime or a serial killer
• New uses for old things (aka 101 ways to use a q-tip)
• An article about someone with a mysterious disease, complete with photos and testimonials
• Something sexual I have never heard of that does not require an unusually open mind, equipment with a large pricetag or footprint, or flexibility beyond what is required for beginner’s yoga
• A health amount of current events, as I can't be bothered with reading newspapers, but do like to be aware of what is going on in the world around me.
• A few recipes easily and impressively assembled using ingredients from my well-stocked spice rack and one to three ingredients that can be found at a normal grocery store
• A very easy but impressive way to apply a makeup product I can buy at the drugstore for under $8
• A horoscope section that makes me doubt my skeptical view of astrology, as my horoscope sounds exactly like me, and promises me an amazing month (i had considered saying that this magazine should include horoscopes based on chinese astrology, but i hate chinese astrology because i was born in the year of the cock. and i have to say that any time anyone asks)
• Ideas for downloadable mp3 mixes (every month could have something different—very easy—just ten songs for working out/making out/getting into party mode after a saturday afternoon nap/etc)
• A section on celebrities looking ugly/not wearing makeup. Because every magazine should definitely have this.

My perfect magazine would NOT have any of these features:

• Step-by-step instructions for styling your long luscious curly hair and/or bangs (if I had curly hair and/or bangs, I would not need styling advice!!!)
• (There should also be no mention of seperating my hair into sections and wrapping them around a large curling iron/velcro rollers/soda cans(!?!?) or securing it with three bobby pins.)
• Something sexual I HAVE heard of, which has been mentioned in the same magazine every third month for the last two years, but is now called something different (we all know the ice cube/hot water trick and pretended to implement it spontaneously)
• Recipes that require me to visit my 'local Asian market' or locate fresh herbs that i have never heard of and finely mince them/grind them with my mortar and pestle
• Pages upon pages of beautiful outfits I cannot afford/would look horrid on me (as with 'how to style your perfect hair', if I looked like that, I would probably not need any advice)/would definitely show my crotch
• Anything about Jesus, buying a car or raising a family

Don’t get me wrong—I’m about to go read Glamour on the bike at the gym, and thanks so much BossLady for thinking of me—but just so you know, this girl is wise beyond her reading age years.

Badass Camping

There are several ways to toast a marshmallow. Everyone in the world knows the best way is to hold it calmly above the fire, not too high, but not too low. The marshmallow must be slowly rotated, so that all sides are toasted to look like a piece of, well, toast, at a color obtained somewhere between 2 and 3 on the toaster dial. The outside is warm and crisp, the inside is gooey and heavinistic. However. I am impatient and like to stick my marshmallow right in the fire right away. Then, pull it out and go ha-ha! the best way to toast a marshmallow is to stick it right in the fire! Everyone says eww gross you burned it! You are so hardcore you don't even care! Then i bite into it and it tastes like a warm on the outside/cold on the inside, day-old Peep that someone wiped on a dirty grill. But whatever. Who cares what your marshmallow tastes like if you've got street cred. Um also you can hope that people go off for a 'night hike' and you are alone with the fire so you can have some good toasty ones with no one watching.

Webster Pawsley

Every once in a while, I come down with a bad case of ‘puppy fever.’ When I’ve got a temperature of pupphundred and three, all I can think about is puppies (getting one or stealing someone else’s), and can feel the lack of puppy in sulfurous cloud above and around me, following me wherever I go.

But at the same time I can hear my heartbeat going “woof-woof…woof-woof”... I know very well that i don't want a damn puppy. They smell and i'm allergic to them and i can barely remember to feed mySELF at regular intervals. I’m also not going to buy a car just so i can take the little midget to the vet but i REFUSE to be that weirdo who's carrying a dog in a duffel on the bus.

Once, when I was tossing and turning, and on the verge of another case of puppfluenza, I had the most wonderful dream. This dream was different than my regular-interval puppydreams. The dream starred a black and white minidog--a wiggly ball of puppylove smelled like freshly washed laundry but never had to be bathed. He had opposable thumbs or something too, because he had figured out how to bag his own poop. This dog was amazing. And his name was Webster. Because Webster is a sweet name, and I definitely would not have a dog without a sweet name, me being so sweet.

I don't know dog breeds, and don’t like having nagging questions hanging around in the back of my mind (this question, of course, being—now what kind of dog is my little Webster?). I spent half of the next day at work saying i was too busy to start new projects, all the while googling

• "black and white dog", "pointy eared dog",
• " black and white dog that's not so small you have to put galoshes on it when it rains, but not so big he can't sit on your lap when you're cold and too lazy to get off your ass and turn up the heat."
• "Black and white dog with enough attitude that he wouldn't be be vulnerable to pettings from 'strangers' on the street and bring home germs i didn't earn but not so much that he would scare off a grandma type (grandma-type being obviously the best example of one who would be easily scared). "

Result: Boston Terrier

Once i had figured out the breed, the rest was simple. Fashioned an appropriately distinguished, yet approachable, surname (yeah yeah it's super lame when people give their dogs made up last names, but Pawsley works on so many levels and kind of had to happen. Just be glad i vetoed Barkingsford and Wigglesbottom); informed others that i now had a dog and to be on the lookout; sat back and did not worry about how to haul a bag of dog food home from the store.

So now people know that i have a dog—a dog named Webster Pawsley—and he's 'around'(as any boston terrier sightings are, obviously, him). Thanks to google.com/images i have built up an impressive photo album of him at different life stages and using various pet products. I get a text every once in a while, sometimes including a photo - "Saw Wbstr @ farmers mrkt w/Tall guy. Looking sharp."

Interrupters Anonymous/April Resolution

Scene 1 - New beginnings

Me: Hello. My Name is Rachel. And I'm an interrupter.

Crowd of individuals gathered in a church basement drinking coffee made with love by the veteran of the group (in unison): Hi, Rachel.
_________________

Scene 2 - Monologue

Me: I have always known that I'm not perfect. However, I have always figured that by acknowledging that i am not perfect and never will be, i have found some kind of loophole and now i really don't want to think about the actual REASONS i am not perfect (aka flaws. ouch. just the word...) and--heaven forbid!--actually try to fix them. Because we all know no one's perfect anyways, so it's not like i'm going to fix everything wrong with me and come out clean on the other side.

But I am an interrupter. Dude. I knew it--and was trying to repress--but it's starting to hurt the people I love and something needs to be done. I'll work (i am not going to say 'I'll try' because this is something that NEEDS to happen) as hard as i can, but I have no IDEA how i'm going to pull this off. I have always thought support groups are the coolest things in the whole world (i am totally serious and this post is in NO way intended to mock those who make themselves available to people they don't even know and selflessly help them through something unbelievably difficult). In a perfect world, I'd be able to google one within walking distance of my zip code and accessible by public transportation. (note to self before i forget: interruption cannot possibly go away as long as parentheses are still in the picture. contact APA/MLA(/Merriam-Webster?) and see what needs to happen/who needs to be lobbied and how much cleavage i'm going to need to show.)

___________________

Scene 3 - Breaking point (three months later)

Me (into the phone): Hey. It's me. (sniffle/cough/shudder) I'm calling because... I don't know how i'm going to make it. I know i'm making progress and i--finally--just got my three-hour chip, but this a LOT harder than i thought it was going to be.

(pause. because my sponsor is superhuman and is actually WAITING to make sure i'm done talking before speaking)

Sponsor (i'd like to think her name would be something soothing and motherly like Jean. Or Patricia. Yeah--it's totally Patricia, and she'll let me call her Trish when i've made it to a month--even though the only person who calls her trish ever is this one girl she worked with in college and still keeps in touch with): Honey, you can do this i know it's hard but i've seen the way you are when you set your mind to som--

Me: Yeah i get that but you know, when you... you know how... like when you really feel like you've got to do something? i know you've been through it Tri--Patricia... How? How?!
(pause)

Patricia (disdainfully): I was speaking, Rachel.

(inappropriately (and obviously spitefully) long pause)

Me (sounding attitude-y): So is there, like, someone I'm supposed to give the chip back to? Or do i just save it and let myself put it back in my pocket when--IF--I earn it again?

_______

...
_______


Scene 88(oh man hopefully some of you are still in the audience. I know you have to pee but i didn't' want to do an intermission because I was afraid you'd all leave and go to a bar somewhere to talk about how this was never going to end and didn't the main girl--ME!--have a huge ass?) - You never thought it would end, did you?

Trish: For the first time, we've reached the limit of chip-rewarding. 100000 hours just doesn't fit, and we really don't want to change the typeface. Some said it would never--COULD never happen. But she's done it. And, another first... I been lapped by my sponsee. The tables have turned. I'm standing here... to introduce you to... MY sponsor.

(pause)

Crowd: (cheering/clapping)

(pause of EXACTLY the appropriate length)

Me: Love you, T. You know I'm here whenever you need--

Trish: Thanks. Means a lot.