Tulane Chris and the Christmas Spirit

[Before we get to today's Tulane Chris post, I have a few items of housekeeping:

1.) I will pay you 10 whole American dollars if you write a brief, funny and heartfelt maid of honor speech, stuff a sleeping bag into your bra, strap on a wig and deliver it as me tomorrow night at my sister's wedding. Because right now all I've got is an open Word document with the lyrics to "This is How We Do It" in comically large font.

2.) I'm kind of buzzed and it's all because

3.) This is how we do it.

4.) Our big announcement had to be moved to next week. (Hint: It's not not that Tulane Chris is gay.)

5.) Every time I remember that my dress isn't back from the tailor's yet and tomorrow's the wedding, my stomach drops directly into my asshole and a few more years are shaved off my life.

6.) Washing down a painkiller with a glass of champagne before the wedding ceremony is a good idea, or isn't a good idea? Advise.

7.) What if it's half a painkiller?

8.) Happy T.G.I. Hagman!

As of December 17, 2010, Larry Hagman is...alive! And has these words of wisdom for my sister and her fiance:

"A marriage is like a salad: the man has to know how to keep his tomatoes on the top." - JR Ewing ("Dallas" #13.24)

I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I am sure I'd like it read aloud by a loved one at my hypothetical future wedding. OK, I'm going to go google public speaking tips and continue to not eat anything. Have a great weekend and yay Becca and Geoff!!! Take it away, Chris.] 

As you may have imagined, I’m not a big holiday person. If I were in charge of the calendar, we’d only celebrate Repeal Day (the American drinking holiday), St. Patrick’s Day (the Americans-pretending-to-be-Irish drinking holiday), Cinco de Mayo (the Americans-pretending-to-be-Mexicans drinking holiday), and Simchat Torah (the little-celebrated Orthodox Jews drinking holiday.) For some reason, though, this year was an exception. I was really looking forward to going home for Christmas, pouring some mulled wine into Mom, and making Texas-themed nativity scenes out of construction paper to confuse nearby children.

“This is, uh… Leroy, the Christmas Jackalope. He carried Mary’s bags out to the stable. He tried to get ice, but the machine was broken.”

I even bought a poinsettia, which looked very festive for the three days it lived. Today, thought, I made a mistake fatal to my newfound Christmas cheer: I left the house.

Is it Christmas or cold weather that makes street preachers emerge? They were everywhere today, like a swarm of devout locusts. In the ten or so blocks I walked, I saw:

-       A man holding a book in the air and hollering. I assumed it was a Bible and he was hollering about Christianity, but it could as easily have been a Harlequin romance in a Bible cover. I could only make out the words “Jesus Christ”: “Manamah bok-tu wah boh! Jesus Christ! Fo-tah-nah boh Jesus Christ! Rama-lama-ding-dong Jesus Christ!” He was either from outer space, or had received the attentions of a very devout, very distractible speech therapist.

-       A man wearing a hand-lettered sandwich board about how Ireland had declared war on the United Kingdom. I didn’t know if he meant in 1916 and just wanted to be sure we were all up to speed, or if he was part of a new “Al-Jazeera – Streetcorner Madman Edition.” He was handing out pamphlets and I badly wanted one, but… you know. Cooties.

-       Some guy handing out copies of the Watchtower. Now, my understanding of Jehovah’s Witnesses is that they believe that only 144,000 people will go to Heaven. I don’t consider myself a bad person, per se, but I’m reasonably sure I’m not one of the 144,000 best people who ever lived. (Best in bed, sure. Best at Yahtzee, you bet. But overall best, no.) Also, I’m reasonably sure there have been 144,000 Jehovah’s Witnesses by now, so isn’t joining that church kind of like buying a ticket for yesterday’s lottery?

-       The Israelite PDKU (or similar.) Every weekend, four or so black men set up a little stage and loudspeaker somewhere on Market Street and explain how Jews aren’t really Jews, they’re the Jews, Jesus was the Antichrist, and women should stay in the home while the menfolk go out and kill Whitey. I’m more upset by the shouting than the implied race war.

So, I managed to get to Old Navy still a lapsed Anglican. Barely, though – coming to home to a hot meal and a blow job after a hard day killing Whitey does have its appeal. I had a spat with some bitch in the checkout line. Now, on Earth, time proceeds in a linear fashion. Night follows day, spring follows winter, and you wait your turn in line. As I was checking out, the next two women in line behind me interrupted the cashier to try to return things without a receipt. Woman A took no for an answer, but Woman B, a homely little number, would not.

Woman A: “Can I change this size without a receipt?”

Cashier: “I’m sorry, but no.”

Woman A: “Okay.”

Woman B (Homelina von Shrew): “How about for a different color?”

Cashier: “Not without a receipt.”

Homelina von Shrew: “Just a quick exchange?”

Cashier: “We’re not allowed, I’m sorry.”

HvS: “Just… can I just switch these tags here?”

Cashier: “No, I’m sorry, not without a receipt.”

HvS: “I can’t just trade this?”

Tulane Chris: “I’m sorry, I’m trying to check out. She said no.”

HvS: “Well! Merry Christmas to you too!”

She flounced out of the store before I could poke out her eye with the receipt spindle. Now, explain this to me: she interrupts my transaction to harass the cashier, won’t take no for an answer, puts the cashier in an awkward position, and I’m the asshole? Why am I not “in the Christmas spirit” if I don’t think she should get to line-jump and nag? Should I have handed her a cup of hearty Christmas ale and bought her the sweater she wanted? Is that festive? Is that Christmasy enough for you? After that we can go home, light a nice toasty fire with all our receipts, and call 911 to bring us cheeseburgers. They won’t mind! It’s Christmas.

So, increasingly sour, I went to the fancy soap store to buy a gift box for my grandmother’s new pug. Ultimately, I’ve spent more money on his gifts than those for my human family and friends: in addition to the dog bath gift set I bought at the soap store, he’s also getting a pack of rawhide candy canes and a chewable platypus with removable squeaky eggs. (The idea is that the dog learns to claw the eggs out, which gets more disturbing every time I think of it.) The dog gift box features shampoo, “paw balm,” and a dry rub which I was severely cautioned about:

Soap Man: “That dry rub is to be used sparingly.”

Tulane Chris: “Okay.”

Soap Man: “It’s got cornmeal in it.”

Tulane Chris: “Okay.” (Cornmeal? I’m not going to fry the dog…)

Soap Man: “You don’t want to overload its fur with it.”

Tulane Chris: “Okay?”

Soap Man: “Put it in your hand first, then rub it on the dog. Especially on its neck. You don’t want to use a lot. It’s just to get the stink out.”

Maybe I’m just a prude, but when I think about “getting the stink out” of an animal, my first thought is not “better put cornmeal on its neck.” I use an old-fashioned Southern remedy called “brush its teeth and wash its ass.” Also, I bought it and I’ll do what I want with it. If I want to rub it on my own neck, I’ll damn well do it. If I want to whip it up with an egg and spread it on the dog and let it dry into a crust and carefully crack it off and pour wax into it and make a wax model of the pug, I will. Dammit.

Then I went to the liquor store. If anything could revive my holiday cheer… but it was not to be. As I approached, a man going in politely held the door for an older man coming out, then let it slam in my face. You know what’s great about liquor stores? Liquor. You know what a side effect of that is? No children. So why did a woman bring her screaming toddler into the liquor store? “Come, Tansy. Let’s go annoy the drunks. It’s Christmas.” Also, why do people with screaming children approach the problem in one of two completely ineffective ways: by doing nothing, or by yelling at the child? Let’s plot it out:

Child makes noise -> ignore it -> child continues to make noise until distracted by snail.

Child makes noise -> yell at child -> child makes more noise to drown out adult.

It continued. At the pharmacy, the pharmacist hollered a question about my “narcotics” (generic Ritalin) to his co-worker across the room, in front of a line of several people. The “burrito technician” at Qdoba winked at me and said, “See you tomorrow,” which means I can never go there again. He apparently has me confused with someone who does go there every day, which means I look like someone who goes to the burrito store every day, which implies horrible things. Either that, or he’s going to break into my apartment. I’m okay with that as long as he brings a sprig of holly – after all, it’s Christmas.

Question: What happens when Queer Abby needs Queer Abby? Answer: The word implodes.

I should preface this week's Queer Abby by saying that I am in no way to give anyone life advice right now. I mean, I never am, which is why this feature exists in the first place and god bless Amy, but full disclosure: I am a hot ass mess right now.

AND SIDE NOTE: I'm listening to the radio and "Airplanes" by that "B.O.B." character all the kids love just came on and I want to set everything on fire re: these lyrics:

Yeah, somebody take me back to the days

Before this was a job, before I got paid

Before it ever mattered what I had in the bank

Yeah, back when I was tryin' to get a tip at Subway

There is nothing more fucking condescending in the entire world than a successful, wealthy person whining about the perils of having money. You miss those days, asshole? Welp, I've got an idea! You go to your room and slam your door, I'll plop down at the kitchen table frustrated and then on the count of three, we'll simultaneously think, "I WISH WE COULD JUST TRADE PLACES!" and Freaky Friday our way out of both of our problems. How does that sound? Ever been a blogger who just had her credit card declined by Pizza Boli's? OH, REALLY? I HAVE. You'll love it. It's so...honest.

It's like this mug we sold at work:

That's not funny. That's not funny at all. There is absolutely nothing funny or adorable about not being able to sustain your own livelihood by doing what you love. In fact, it's the most depressing think I can think of. And you know what the most absurd part is? That mug costs $13.99. $13.99! If you can afford to spend $13.99 on a novelty mug proclaiming yourself a "starving artist," you should automatically be ineligible to buy it. And then automatically be kicked in the crotch. Do you know what $13.99 can buy? A 12 pack of Ramen noodles, $5 on your SmartTrip and two Schlitz's at a bar plus tip. So basically whenever someone buys that mug, they're spending my entire budget for the week in one fell swoop on office irony. Must be nice.

I've decided that if my Freaky Friday plans with B.O.B. don't work out, I'm going to launch a line of jaunty mugs featuring depressing visual puns, sell them at quirky gift shops across this great nation and make a babillion dollars. So far I have:

Crack, cow!

D.A.R., fur!

and

Mello, Nomar!

BAHAHAHAHA! One day I'll be Pizza Boli rich. One day...

Dear Queer Abby (and Meg),

First of all, let me just say that I am a longtime fan of the blog - great work, keeps me smiling. This is the first time I've written in to Queer Abby even though I read it on the blog obsessively. (Ed. Note: Thanks, man!)

As so many do, let's start with the backstory. I have two very good friends, A (female) and B (male). B has been one of my nearest and dearest since the beginning of college (we now work together as teaching assistants for the same department) and although I only met A at the end of sophomore year, we hit it off really well and decided to room together the following year. I don't actually see any of them for a while because I studied abroad the fall of my junior year of college, but by the time we were all back on campus, many things had transpired: B finally broke up with his long-term girlfriend from high-school - his only real relationship, it had lasted for over 3 years, and although it was a tough breakup he was ready to gently ease himself back into the game - and A had also broken things off with a guy she had been hooking up with the previous term (also a mutual friend. Heyo, small liberal arts school!).

Based on the fact that A and B were both my friends, both good-looking folks, and both newly single and looking, I played a little matchmaker. Nothing too pushy, just suggesting that they go out and see what happened. And they did in fact get together - which is where the problems start. Due to what is in my opinion B not being used to a casual relationship, and A still dealing with commitment issues from the last guy and being dishonest about what she really wanted, things quickly started to sour. Basically, A secretly wanted a going-steady-50s-chivalry boyfriend but was willing to tell B anything he wanted to hear, and B wanted a very casual kind of relationship in order to ease out of his previous, extremely committed one. There were issues coming from both sides; B hooked up with some other girl without telling A, A essentially led B to believe she had been sexually assaulted by someone else in order to "get him back," etc., etc. As each of their friend through all of this, I was put in a very unfortunate situation which consisted of each one of them trying to get me to tell them stuff the other had said to me about them. Not into it.

But time went on; B started dating for real-real someone else, we went through summer and I came back for the start of my senior year hopeful that both would let bygones be bygones and move on with their lives. Unfortunately, not so for A. Even though she is currently in the beginnings of what could prove to be a very positive relationship with a new guy, she has completely convinced herself that B is evil incarnate and that she hates him so much she can't stand to live in the same building as him (which we all do - random housing lottery).

I currently live with A and three other girls in a quint-style room, which gives us each our own room as well as a shared common space. On move-in day, B and his new girlfriend completely unexpectedly showed up to say hi to me and see my new room, so I invited them in, led them straight to my room, closed the door, and we chatted for a few minutes before they left. A FLIPPED HER SHIT. She said to me "B is not allowed to be in this space" and proceeded to harangue him for all his various real and perceived wrongdoings, and went on about how she's never hated anyone more in her life and how much he hurt her, etc. I apologized, said I didn't know they were coming, and if it happened again I would ask B to hang out somewhere else. Fast forward to this evening, when B shows up so that he and I can grade homework together for our job. Realizing the issue, I tell him to be quiet and come straight to my room. Owing to Murphy's Law, he and A run into each other in our little hallway when she happens to come out of her room at that moment. He says an awkward "hey" to stony silence, we go into my room, close the door, and do our work. He leaves, an hour or so later.

I knock on A's door to apologize but to explain that we do work together, and he was in MY room, not hers or our shared space, but she's not having any of it. I try to reason with her, but she won't go beyond "I can't have him here" and "he can't come here" and other such ultimatums. She also constantly complains about running into him around campus, but let's be real our school is less than 2000 students, it's going to happen. Now I can maybe understand her still being uncomfortable - although to be honest, I'm rather sick of all this since after all several months have gone by since their little fiasco, and he harbors absolutely no ill will towards her and is upset that she hates him - but I don't think it is her place to dictate who I can or cannot be friends with or who I can or cannot bring into my room. However, she is still a good friend and I would like her to stay that way, but so is B, and especially since we are co-workers I'm pretty sure that contact will be unavoidable.

What to do?

-Caught in the Middle

Tell A to get bent.

Ok, maybe you shouldn’t say that exactly, but she’s definitely being self-centered and Crazy... While she’s justified in being uncomfortable with the situation, she has absolutely no right to tell you who to have in your room…or even the common areas for that matter (at most she should ASK). She’s the one with the problem here, so she needs to remove herself from the situation if it’s really that bad instead of expecting everyone else to cater to her Crazy. (Of course I would probably be a little more sympathetic to her situation if she hadn’t pulled the whole feigning-sexual-assault thing… )

That said, I understand you’re in a tricky position… I don’t think it was right for her to put you in this position (and I think she needs to hear that), but if you really want to preserve the friendship you should try compromising as best you can for the next month or two. I would suggest saying something along the lines of this:

“I get this is an uncomfortable situation for you, and I’m sorry for that, but you know B and I are still friends and coworkers. Out of respect for your feelings, I’ll try to keep the amount of time we hang out here to a minimum, but it’s still going to happen. If you’d like, I can let you know if/when he’s coming around so you can avoid him. And, if it’s an option, we’ll try to hang out with him in my room when you’re here, at least for the time being.

Ultimately though, I really hope you guys can eventually put the past behind you. I’m sorry things didn’t work out better between you two and I don’t expect you to ever be best friends, but my friendship with both of you is important to me and I don’t think it’s fair that I should feel like I have to choose sides. So, I trust that after some time passes this will get less awkward and uncomfortable for all of us.

That might not go over very well, but I honestly think it’s generous to even offer that much. I understand it’s her space too and, to some degree, I appreciate the way she feels…but unless B really was malicious and totally awful to her, you have every right to have your friend (from long before they ever started dating) around every once in a while. And, unfortunate as the situation is, it really does just sounds like a relationship gone wrong…as so many do. It’s almost always messy when that happens, but she has to let it go at some point and stop making this your problem.

Jesus fucking Christ. There's a guy in a rowboat going A miles and the current is going, you know, B miles, and how long does it take him to get to town? It's like, who cares? Who wants to go to town with a guy who drives a rowboat?

I defer to Amy on this one because after reading this question 15 times out loud, drawing accompanying pictures and plugging it all into my TI-83, I came up with "north of Poughkeepsie", which I don't think is the answer you were looking for. Sorry. Montgomery County Public Schools failed me, and now they've failed you too. JINX!

Dear Queer Abby,

Over the summer, one of my best friends started seeing this guy, Pat, who just moved to the city. They got really close, did everything together, we all hung out (he'd come to everything with her...) then she left to go back to med school in a different city but they stayed together. She begged me to stay in touch with him, invite him to stuff, etc b/c he doesn't know too many people here and must have told him the same thing b/c he'd always try to make plans. We hung out a few times and it was obviously completely platonic - we'd basically just talk about how awesome my friend/his gf is the whole time. He also gave me guy advice and kept mentioning how I need to meet his friend (who is really cute and "looking").

Last night, it was our mutual friend's birthday and Pat came. I totally hit it off with the hottest guy at the party (which never happens! It was so awesome!). We danced all night and kissed at the end! When we were all walking home, Pat pulls me aside and says "You know i really want the best for you. You totally deserve someone attractive and smart but....it's really hard watching you with someone else..." WTF. I played dumb and was like "ahh haha what?" and tried to get closer to the group and make it less awkward. He grabs me, repeats it and says how jealous he is and got all serious. I got really mad and asked "What about [my best friend/your gf]? What is wrong with you?". He didn't respond and I felt really uncomfortable so I just yelled "bye!" to our friends and grabbed a cab to get the hell out of there.

Anyway, now what do I do? My friend would be devastated if she found out he had feelings for other people and it would be especially weird if it were me b/c she was the one promoting us hanging out so much. I don't want to be the one who ruins it. Before this he seemed really great, has never done anything at all like that before and she was so happy. I feel so guilty and awful, and am still in shock he could do that. Should I tell my friend? Or write it off as nonsense said at 4 am that no one means or remembers...? I was pretty sober but maybe he wasn't? Please help!

Sincerely,

Wish I Could Erase The Last Five Minutes of Last Night

PS-He JUST texted me saying "hey, just wanted to drop you a line and say I hope you had fun last night! It was great going out with that crowd. I had a blast." Is he trying to go back to normal and get past his creepiness?? Or is that text itself creepy?

I think the text is definitely his way of trying to smooth things over. Still though, yuck. I think it’s awesome that you immediately called him out on it and made it clear that’s not okay. That’s exactly how you should have handled it in my opinion, and you shouldn’t feel guilty AT ALL.

It sounds like this guy is kind of skeezy, and I would generally say you should tell your friend (in the most gentle of ways). BUT if this really is aberrant behavior for him, he’s never come on to you (or anyone else) before, and he never does it again… well then I think it’s fair to hold off on saying anything until/unless you see other red flags indicating he’s being a douche bag to your friend. It’s possible he was just being a drunken idiot, and this was a one-time incident. That definitely doesn’t excuses the behavior at all, and it still definitely raises questions about how good he is for your friend, but people do make mistakes… And, moreover, if this guy makes her as happy as you say, and this kind of behavior is really out of character for him, then I kind of doubt she will end the relationship over this… it will just make things really weird between all parties involved.

Of course, if this is just the tip of the iceberg, then who cares if it gets weird—she needs to know. I’m just saying it may be worth giving it a little time to see whether or not that’s the case. So, for the time being, I’d say just keep your eyes peeled and keep making it perfectly clear that your interest in him is solely platonic… oh and definitely have some fun with the hot guy from the party.

Yeah, I agree with Amy; people do and say dumb shit when they're fucked up. We've all been there. And that text was totally his way of being like, "HEY-O, LOOSE LIPS SINK SHIPS. LET'S PRETEND THAT NEVER HAPPENED. LYLAS. BUT, LITERALLY. LOLZLOLZOLZOZLOL."

However, if he does it again, then you have a real problem on your hands. And in that case, here's what I would recommend you do:

Step 1: Go to an Internet cafe with your best friend and one circumstantial friend

Step 2: Type up an anonymous letter IN ALL CAPS telling your best friend that her boyfriend is a jerk off who's actively trying to cheat on her

Step 3: Print it out

Step 4: Leave it in her make up drawer next to her Paris Hilton Dreamcatcher clip-on hair extensions where you know she'll find it

Step 5: Play dumb when she asks you if you know who wrote it or if what it says is true

Step 6: Continue playing dumb when this interrogation period lasts for an uncomfortable amount of time. Your other best friend is going to pressure you to tell her the truth, but don't be give in. Really try to hold out for at least, oh, two or three episodes, I'd say?

Step 7: Finally, when you think things can't get any more tense, send your circumstantial friend to get your best friend to come outside so you can tell her the truth

Step 8: When she doesn't come out, go in and passive-aggressively ask her if she's too good to come out and talk to you

Step 9: When this conversation escalates quickly (and it will), bash her head into the wall, throw her to the ground and force-feed her a tuna sandwich, all while screaming derogatory names and a bunch of swears at her

Step 10: Prepare yourself mentally and physically for her to punch you across the face

Step 11: Collect your check from Viacom and start your own clothing line named after a bag of potting soil and VD

And remember—have fun with it!

[Note: the following question was emailed to us on September 9th. Deadspin answered it on September 14th. Which I was unaware of. So now we look like plagiarizing assholes. Soooo...shit.] Queer Abby,

My 60 year old father is marrying a the 30 year old Vegas showgirl whom he left my mother for, within the month. This woman is 3 years older than me. I hate this gold digging slut with every fiber of my being, and I want nothing more than to destroy her picture perfect wedding day, which is to take place at the $2 million dollar estate which she forced my father to purchase for her and her two illegitimate children. How can I ruin this affair without getting caught and/or found out? Some ideas I've thought of are: stink bombs, blowup dolls on the lawn, and lighting bags of my own shit on fire... Yes, that's how dedicated I am to this cause, I would shit into a paper bag. What is the most foolproof idea and the one that will leave a lasting impression on their union, which in my opinion won't last any longer than 30 days. Why couldn't he just buy a sports car instead of a home wrecking whore? Oh wait... he did that too.

PS: I'm not even invited to this wedding, and I found out about it via text message from another family member.

Sincerely,

Daughter of a broken home

Please don’t be an idiot. I understand this is a really tough time for you and your family, and I understand that you’re probably really upset with your dad for everything that’s happened, but trying to wreck this wedding is not going to make matters any better. I promise. You’re not going to like me for saying this, but the truth is your dad’s life and money is his to do with as he pleases. You have to let him do what makes him happy and/or make his own mistakes. And, by extension, you cannot dictate or deliver the consequences of his decisions.

I’m genuinely sorry he didn’t tell you about the wedding himself; I imagine that was really painful and I don’t want to minimize it—really that sucks. But, right or wrong, it’s an indication that he isn’t all too interested in hearing your thoughts on this, and you’re definitely NOT going to convince him your opinions on the subject are valid by pulling some juvenile bullshit in an effort to ruin the wedding. If you want him to respect what you have to say, you have to be mature about it…And I’m not exactly sure what the deal is between you two right now, but from here it sounds like you should be far more focused on your relationship with your dad, not his relationship with this new woman.

So, I really think the most effective approach (whether it seems this way right now or not) would just be to tell him how his actions have made you feel, as honestly as you possibly can. That doesn’t mean tell him how you much you hate the new woman or disapprove of his forthcoming marriage, etc. It means tell him how much it hurt your feelings that he didn’t tell you about the wedding, how witnessing the divorce has effected you, how bad you feel for your mother, or whatever you feel you need to address along those lines. Just remember, he’s not obligated to care about what you think he should do with his life but, as your father, he really should care about how you feel... And If I were you, I’d put it in a letter because the trick to this is going to be careful wording and working on your tone. The last thing you want is to come off angry and disapproving because he’ll dismiss that just like most parents do when their kids act like they know best…

I’m not saying this will stop the marriage though, DBH; nothing you can do will. But your poise will make more of a lasting impression on him, and he’ll be more likely to respect and consider your feeling in the future and remember that his decisions aren’t made in a vacuum.

I disagree with Amy wholeheartedly. If there's anything Hayley Mills, Lindsay Lohan and the Olsen Twins have taught us, it's that breaking up a wedding can be good, clean family fun. Here's what worked for them:

- Food fights

- Sloppy Joe's in general

- Kirsty Alley

- The sight of Kirsty Alley's middle-aged, nubile body exiting a lake

- Walking down the aisle at an obnoxiously slow pace

- Bees

- Camping trips gone awry

- Telling someone that if you repeatedly hit two sticks together, it will keep bears away

- You may or may not have to take a slap across the face. I'm just saying. But then again, you're already prepared to take a shit in a paper bag, so, you know, way to come with your game face on.

Also, if you don't have a CGI studio to duplicate yourself with or an anorexic twin sister, I would be more than happy to join you in these shenanigans. I have a lot of time and very little ethical integrity.

Got a question for Amy and Meg? That Meg might blatantly choose not answer because she's going through "A Time"? WHO DOESN'T? Email it to QueerAbby@2birds1blog.com!
today!