douchebag parade.

hello. it's sunday today and i am super extremely oddly grumpy. i'm not even sure why. i just feel like SUCH a grouch. perhaps it's pms. that evil beast. that dark jerk.

i worked on friday. there were an extreme amount of douchebags present. they all came in at once. it was rather intense. ed hardy t-shirts galore. premium faded splotched diesel jeans abounded. loud mouths a-plenty. wasted group mentality gone so dreadfully wrong. i tried to be cool, but ended up losing it with this one guy who kept yelling "show me your pussy! show me your pussy!" on the first song. he hadn't even tipped and he was making demands. ignoring him proved impossible, he was yelling SO LOUDLY. i was like, "how about if you tip first and then i get naked?" he was like, "i wanna see what i'm getting first!" oh no you didn't. i was like, "YOU are not getting ANYTHING. get the fuck out of here." he just looked at me. it was then that i noticed his girlfriend had placed two quarters on the stage. i got right in their faces and growled, "YOU TWO. MOVE IT." they looked startled and did move.

and then: pity tips! haha. random other guys came and sat in the newly vacant spots and threw handfuls of ones on stage. "you're so cute," they said, "we're sorry about those assholes."

i went downstairs after that set, i felt kind of shaken up. i really love dancing and it bums me out when people wreck my day. i sat down for a bit and painted my nails. at one point i heard my co-worker yelling shrilly "GET THE FUCK OUT," and when my break was over and i went back upstairs, the huge crowd of douchebags were gone and a new crowd of people had come in. the evening then felt back on track.

there was a toothless old geezer who had won a bunch of money on one of the video poker machines. bolstered by his newfound wealth, he was sitting at the tip rail and doling out compliments and cash. his compliments were gross, though, "nice pussy!" "i love the way your pussy looks, like a virgin!" "i bet you taste good." "i can smell you from here and girl you smell mighty fine!"

a really hot guy came to sit at the rack. he had the clean cut look and chiseled physique of an abercrombie & fitch model, but a little older than that, maybe 28 or 29, and not at all gay looking. light brown complexion and bright blue eyes. i liked dancing for him. he said, "i want to tip you but i only have big bills." i said, "i love those." he put a $20 on the stage. the geezer, not to be outdone, also placed a $20 on the stage. actually, he set it on the rail. i could see him eyeing it and possibly changing his mind so i brushed it lightly with my shoe so it fell onto the stage. the hot guy found that amusing. he had been watching that drama unfold.

nothing else too interesting happened. gave some dances. drank some diet coke. after work my friend came to meet me and we ate tacos next door. we talked a lot about sex. i'm not sure why, that's just what happened. and then we went to a bar and played cribbage. i love having friends to hang out with.

konichiwa

this was from a lady who sat, untippingly, at my rack for for 3 songs watching me while licking her lips like she was the big bad wolf, gonna eat me for dinner. she took short intense breaks from watching me to scrawl on this here dollar bill. she was having some drama with her pen, she kept shaking and taking apart and putting back together. finally i was done dancing and she tried to get me to take this dollar from between her teeth. i suggested she drop on the stage like everyone else instead. the important message on it reads, "you're beautiful. ... I would" and that's it. you'd WHAT? hahaha. you'd get really drunk at a strip club and borrow a pen from the bartender to scrawl a nonsensical message on a dollar bill? well then you've done it, lady, and you can go home now. i do have to wonder what she would've written had her pen been more functional.

the other thing i thought you might find interesting is the guy who came in on friday afternoon in a head-to-toe bob marley wear: headband, t-shirt, wristbands, all that. he had big dreadlocks and to his credit, at least he wasn't white in this get-up. anyway, he seemed as stoned as a human being can possibly be and smelled strongly of mary jane, which i don't find to be altogether unpleasant, provided it's freshly smoken (funny word "smoken." that's a word, yeah? like eaten?). anyway he was a good tipper and talked a lot of random lovey nonsense. i couldn't/couldn't be bothered to understand 2/3 of what he was saying. well i went down to the dressing room for a bit and when i came back up i was at the bar getting a glass of water. i had my back to the guy and when i turned around he goes, "whoa!!! i thought you was ASIAN! i was like, YO where'd this fine-ass asian chick come from? i was thinkin here's a fine-ass asian chick with butt implants or somethin!" i do have a small frame and long, lustrous dark hair (hate to brag!) so i could see how i could look asian from a distance, and even from behind if you didn't focus on my ass. but he had just been talking at me ten minutes before. it was so strange. so then for the rest of the day he just kept saying, "konichiwa!" at least each time he said it he tossed a couple dollars onstage. quite a strange person. but, really, not very much weirder than any other daytime strip club patron. just more forthrightly so, i guess.

friday and saturday

back up north in my hometown. i'm just munching on some chocolate flavored cheerios, sounds weird but they're actually quite tasty. like a cross between cocoa puffs and cookie crisp. yummm.

i worked on friday during the day and it was fun to wear the new outfits i brought back with me from my trip south (one of them is pictured, at left). i don't remember a lot about that shift, it was fine. i made a good amount for a day shift, around 275.

i also worked saturday night. when i got there i saw i was working with two blonde girls. one was tall and leggy with big good-looking tits, the other was a contortionist/professional pole dancer. i was like, "oh great," but when i got up close it turned out that the leggy one had a big nose and braces and the other one had the chest of a 12 year-old boy. they were both still super cute, but seeing that they had their individual oddities was comforting.

the night was excessively rowdy from the very start, with hardly any money from all those bigmouths. i thought it was going to be a terrible night, but then a random guy took a shine to me and wanted some dances. he bought me a drink and though i very rarely drink at work i guzzled it down, hoping that maybe it would help me achieve an attitude adjustment. after the cocktail, i felt super relaxed.

i ended up having a really good night. i gave a ton of dances and made a plenty of money onstage too.

some of the guys i gave dances to included:
-a native american kid who just moved to portland last week from north dakota. he was INSANELY shy, said he'd never been to a strip club before. i saw him sitting alone at a table so i called to him from the stage and got him to sit at the tip rack. he ended up buying 3 dances after that, and he wanted more but i felt bad taking too much of his money. i remembered when i was 18 and so broke up in spokane. how i'd have a baked potato for breakfast, lunch, and dinner sometimes while i was waiting for it to be payday at one of my shitty jobs. anyway, he was so young and i told him he should be careful with his money since he just moved to a new city, but that if he kept wanting more dances he should come back and see me next friday.
-a REALLY DRUNK guy who looked exactly like rainn wilson ("dwight") from The Office. he kept trying to smash me between his thighs. after the first time he did it, i said, "honey, please be more gentle with me." and then a minute later he did it again and i yelled "GENTLE!" the longest song in the world was playing. so i just stood in front of him and swayed around a little till it was over. i give a great lapdance, but if you try and thighmaster me, it's all over. at the end of the dance, he said, "would you. you? would YOUUU like to have sex. with. me?"
"i absolutely would NOT like to do that," i said. "but thanks."

i can't remember who else. there was a nondescript businessman in a purple checked shirt. a really really chubby guy. and an east indian guy who became really jerky when he realized he wasn't allowed to pull his dick out.

a comedian came in. attention whore that he was, he kept "making it rain" with such unbridled enthusiasm that people cheered every time. well played, people, give him the reaction he craves and keep those dollars coming for me. the guy kept yelling that i was his favorite. and at one point i put my panties on his head, like a ski-mask, and he went all around the club gyrating like crazy and stopping to let people stuff money into the panties. he brought them back after a while and they were brimming over with dollars. stoked.

later the comedian's girlfriend showed up and they fought loudly and scared away all the customers.

a new crop of customers came in and they were rad. and a super hot girl i know from down south came in. she didn't know i was a stripper. she screamed and picked me up and carried me around like a doll. that was sweet. and then she bought me a cocktail. after that one, my second, i was rightly drunk. it was fun having a friend hanging around. she said i was her new favorite stripper. haha. so cute.

some indie-rock lookin guys were there and they had a girl with them who was clearly enjoying herself immensely. they liked me a lot and told me they were in a well-known band that was in town for a couple of nights. they wanted me to come to their show. i had heard of them, but had never listened to their music, but i felt like, "why not?" and plus, who doesn't appreciate feeling personally invited to something?

i wanted someone to go with me so i put a little thing on facebook seeing who would go. turns out they are the favorite band of many of my friends, so i picked my stripper friend to go with me because she really needed a pick-me-up. she just got over having a weird terrible knee infection that was a result of floorwork on the filthy stage of a dive club. poor thing was in the hospital for 6 days!!! so. we went and it was fine. i got a little bored and fell asleep at one point. but it was fine. after the show i got several texts from one of the guys who invited me, he wanted me to meet up with him at a bar and i didn't really feel like it after the text that said he was a married man with a hall pass from his wife. i wrote back, "i'm a lesbian, so you should save your hall pass. thanks for inviting me to the show, it was great!"

anyway saturday was pretty rad. i made a shit-ton of money and had a really fun time, too. and now i'm off work till friday and i can do whatever i feel like. which seems to be gorging myself on cereal and laying in bed reading. i gotta get cracking on all my projects with all these days off.

hot tubs

i'm back home, sleeping on sky's floor for a few days and seeing some clients (I HOPE! if any of them CALL me, that is!). yesterday i saw my lil' H murakami guy. he's been wanting to take me to the hot tubs, so we met up there, which was rad because then i got to keep all the money without having to pay the house cut.

i'm used to meeting clients at the door in my lingerie but when you go out in the world it's important to wear clothes. i realized when i was getting ready to meet H murakami that i didn't have any pretty clothes to wear. i brought a small suitcase on this trip and all i have are my running clothes, a few wild outfits for going out at night, and a pair of jeans and a sweater. so i just wore the jeans and sweater and when i got to the hot tubs i could tell he was surprised to see how plainly i was dressed. i thought it might be a turnoff, but he smiled lasciviously and said, "wow you look like a high school student!"

we went in and checked in at the counter. you have to give them your ID. H didn't want to use his, he nudged me and we used mine. okay. i tried to angle it away from H but he stared at it and likely has a photographic memory. ho hum. i wondered briefly whether the girl at the counter knew what we were up to. of course she did. ponytailed twenty-something imitation-highschooler arrives with japanese businessman: DUH. i thought back for a minute to the days when i only had one jerk-off client and i used to take him up to the hot tubs in a different part of town, how i always felt so sheepish and embarrassed around the front desk clerks. that guy was gross, and the ONE TIME i forgot to collect up front, he stiffed me, his excuse being that he couldn't hold his hard-on and it was my fault. i dumped him after that and he would come in and stare me down for months at the strip club where i worked. dark times, people, dark times.

my reverie was broken when the clerk handed H murakami two towels and said, "enjoy." i realized i didn't care at all whether she knew what we were up to, and that my life is so much better than it used to be.

we found our room, it was so much nicer than the other place i used to go. there is was a little bed, a private sauna, and hot tub. the hot tub wasn't that hot, though. oh jeez who cares about all these details? i gave him a massage, we rolled around on the bed, i jerked him off. he wanted to give me a ride back to where i'm staying and i like him a lot, but i realized it would be stupid since i have no idea what his actual name is, and i don't know any true facts about him or his identity. so. i just walked instead.

then i went to meet up with sky and we went to a "comedy" show. it wasn't funny. the worst part of the show was the "storyteller" prostitute who told a long rambling story about a john of his. it was way way WAY too much information. plus parts of it were totally racist and the whole thing was painfully long and depressing.

i know i often ramble at length in this here blog, but it's a BLOG, not a comedy show that you paid $15 to get into. and you're free to stop reading at any moment.

well, i guess that's it for now. i'm drinking coffee in sky's kitchen. the end.

messy-haired ballerina

the other day at work i was getting off and this other girl was getting ready to go on. we started talking about how she's a ballet dancer. i asked her if she danced with a company.

she was like, "no. i just dance at my school."

i told her i couldn't understand being a ballerina since you're 3 years old and not wanting to at least try and dance professionally. she launched into this explanation about why it's a terrible idea to reach for the stars. she was like, "well, first of all if you sleep your way into actually GETTING an audition someplace, and then say that against all odds you actually GET IN, you're gonna wind up dancing in the chorus for at least three years before you get any good parts. and you're gonna be dancing all day every day and you'll take coke and speed just to keep up and before you know it your teeth are falling out and you're just a total mess. nuh-uh, that's not for me! i don't even want to be around that kind of stuff. i can't HANDLE it."

i was like, "what wild after-school special have YOU been watching honey? not all ballerinas are toothless cokeheads."

but i guess she just liked having a story for being too lazy or scared or whatever to take things to the next level, for preferring instead to be a large fish in the small pond of her dance school. fucking wacky little 21 year-old. somebody needs to confiscate her VHS copy of "showgirls."

i wanna be down

hi again. i worked on sunday night but forgot to write. so here goes.

i was really tired on sunday but i drank a cup of green tea and hoped for a surge of energy. i was thinking it would either be totally dead at work because people would've passed out drunk after the super bowl, or maybe it would be busy because guys would already be out and would want to keep the party going. i went to the bus-stop a few minutes early and i waited and waited but the bus just never came. i called the transit line and the next bus wasn't for 38 minutes. i got really mad, it's that kind of bus driver negligence that makes people lose their jobs!

my roommate jenny gave me a ride. thank god. and i got to work just in time to throw on my new jumper (pictured) and hop onstage. even though i was tired, i was excited to work because my cd was finally supposed to be added to the jukebox. but when i got onstage and looked in the songbook, it wasn't in there yet. bummer. so i just danced to random songs from the book. there are a lot of songs i like, but lots that i have never heard or don't like or am sick of. but i can usually find something decent. some favorites are tom petty, bruce springsteen, ac/dc, stuff like that. also i have a few "ace in the hole" songs that really love. i like to dance to these if i sense money in the crowd and i want to look my sexiest. among these are "bad things," (the theme song from the tv show "true blood"), and madonna's "justify my love." there are others but i can't think of them right now.

so. i got onstage and the place was pretty busy for a sunday night. i didn't sell many dances for the first few hours, but the stage tips were steady. and then this guy came in who is sort of becoming my regular. he wanted a few dances. and then after that, i was doing dances between most of my sets. the other two girls who were working stayed in the dressing room whenever they weren't on stage, so i had full use of the lapdance nook.

oh! i almost forgot: the best part of the night was when the cute hippy chick from the mexican restaurant (the one we share the basement with) came down and spritzed herself, at length, with a super delicious-smelling potion. i said, "ooh that smells so good! what is it?"

"it's my GIMME MONEY potion," she said.

"do you think you could spritz me with it?" i asked.

"absolutely," she said. "this shit really works!"

and did it ever. after that was when i went upstairs and my regular was there, and also after that was when i started selling lots of dances. all told, i ended up making $400! pretty good for a sunday night.

then today was tuesday. i worked the dayshift. it was good, i made $250. i'm really enjoying making money without jerking anyone off. i do like doing massage, but dancing's so much more light and fun.

nothing very interesting happened today. except that i gave a dance to a guy with a shaved head and an EMINEM t-shirt stretched tight across his giant potbelly. he was weird, but very nice. he looked kind of tough, well as tough as anyone can look wearing an EMINEM t-shirt, but at the end of the dance he said, "thank you! it felt really good to be touched."

oh the other interesting thing was that a group of super foxy black entrepreneurs came in, and when i danced to brandy's "i wanna be down," they pulled out huge wads of ones and "made it rain." they only stayed for a few songs, but at one point there must've been 100 dollar bills on the stage. i liked doing a floorshow in all that dough.

well. goodnight friends. xoxoxox andi

tired tuesday

i like the place where i'm living except that my bedroom is right next to the kitchen, and sometimes one of my housemates has an 8am class, so he gets up at 6 and makes all kinds of noise, fries bacon, clinks his spoon a lot in his cereal bowl. washes his dishes, goes up and down the stairs, finally leaves. always forgets something and comes back in and then leaves again with a bang. sometimes i can sleep through it, but other times it wakes me up and then i just CAN NOT get back to sleep because the little sounds just never end. so. this morning i was awake from 6-8 and i was SO grouchy and irritated about it, especially because i hadn't been able to fall asleep in the first place till after 2am (i had planned to take one of my newly acquired xanax, but i worried about sleeping through my alarm. AS IF.). finally my housemate left for the day and i got back to sleep for half and hour and then had to drag myself out of bed for work.

it was a slow day, but i truly didn't mind because i was really tired. a guy came in who i remembered from my first day there. he was nice, bought 3 dances. and also the guy who tipped me $100 a few weeks ago came in today. but he just sat down, guzzled down a beer like he was trying to put out a fire, and then left. he didn't talk to anybody or even look at the stage. oh well.

a gaggle of baby-dykes came in and sat for two hours without tipping even one dollar. i hate that the stereotype about women being bad tippers (particularly when out in groups) is so often true. i didn't let it bother me, though. i was really so tired and mellow. i settled into a slowness that felt manageable and eventually i was off work. i had thought i wasn't making any money, but i guess i did have a few good customers and i ended up leaving with a little over $200.

i was working with that wacky girl again today, the one who brought the vintage kitchen implements last time. she's really cute, but has such an odd, stiff way of dancing. and she doesn't take her clothes all the way off. she always keeps at least a vintage garter belt on that is so thick, it's like a little skirt. i heard the owner complaining about it, i wondered whether i should say something to the girl. but ultimately it's not my business and i like working there too much to get involved in any gossip or politics.

mary's club is just a few blocks away from buffalo exchange. i had hauled some clothes with me to sell when i got off work. i made $75 in trade and i bought a super cute raincoat, but there wasn't anything else there that i wanted. i don't have very many cute clothes right now, AT ALL, but i just can't seem to find any and i feel uninspired to make them. oh, dear diary, i've been wearing jeans and a sweater almost every day, which is not me at all. i'm stuck in a frumpy lesbian costume from which i feel unable, at present, to emerge. i've all but given up on leaving the house looking foxy during the day. but i do still have a few hot night looks up my sleeve, thankfully.

i ate some tasteless mexican food and it was so bland and un-salty that when i was done with that, i bought a little bag of chips. i just really wanted to feel an explosion of flavor, even if it was crap. i walked to the bus stop and arrived just in time to see the bus whizzing past. so i sat down and munched my chips. i became disgusted with them but, having nothing better to do, continued popping them into my mouth.

a homeless man approached me and said, "is that beef jerky?

"no," i said. "it's chips. want them?"

"yes!" he exclaimed. he walked away and i had a tired delusional moment of wondering whether he had been real, or god.

finally the bus came and when i sat down in my seat the tiredness of having only 4 hours of sleep and then teetering around in stilettos all day totally caught up to me. i glared out the window, suddenly filled with rage that i don't know how to drive and am relegated to riding the bus, or as my brother likes to call it, "the welfare wagon." i felt sad as i thought about my ex-girlfriend trying to teach me how to drive, but our lessons coming to an abrupt end last month before i had any sort of mastery of the task. sometimes when i'm tired things just feel so sad and impossible. but i got home and drank a glass of wine, and things started to feel a bit less bleak. plus the two-hour LOST season premiere was tonight, and i've been looking forward to it like crazy. it was really good, by the way. REALLY REALLY GOOD.

and now: goodnight.

1. stripper sunday. 2. mom monday

when i first got to work last night and went down into the "dressing room," i found a penny. it was heads-up. i picked it up and said, "find a penny, pick it up, and all day you'll have good luck!"

my co-worker was sitting behind me and for some reason it made her chuckle, dryly. i looked at her in the mirror. she just looked so frazzled and skinny that i added the optional second verse: "give the penny to your friend--or co-worker," i ad-libbed, "and your luck will never end!"

at this, her face brightened. "thanks!" she said, as i handed her the penny.

but the penny was not good luck for either of us, at least not last night. it turned out to be the most extraordinarily slow night i've had since i worked there. random people, in small groups, on and off. i really prefer guys who come in alone, because they are often lonesome and easily talked into buying a dance. when groups come in, they almost NEVER buy dances. and they usually sit at a table and watch for free instead of sitting at the tip rack. plus, they often have ladies with them, and for some reason girls just love to critique the strippers to their boyfriends. jealousy and insecurity thinly veiled as superiority. i always wonder how they'd feel if i started critiquing THEM:

sack-like dress, dull eyes, grouchy expression: not hot, good luck with that one!
desperate hand-gestures, terrible extensions, crinkly over-tanned cleavage: not hot, but will probably do whatever you say!
pretty, decent fashion, nice body: could be hot but what a bitch!

i only made $135 all night, and then i had to take a $17 cab home. AND two bummer things happened to me. first, i went downstairs between sets and was going to take my shoes off so i leaned on the counter and in doing that, i accidentally set my hand down, full force, on a piping hot curling iron. it fucking hurt intensely and also it sounded sizzly and gross! and smelled bad! so nauseating just thinking about it. then later i was running, barefoot, to the bathroom and i ran over a bottlecap. so jagged! YOUCH!

but you know, it was the first slow shift i've had there so i can't really complain. and having to work got me out of attending a show that felt overwhelming to even think about going to. and since it was so slow, i had lots of time to ice my hand. also on the bright side, i worked with a girl i've never worked with before, i forget her name just now but she was really hot to look at and was also funny and nice (not the skinny frazzled one, although she was nice too). when we were getting off work, she said, "i sure like you," which was an unexpected bit of sweetness.

and now i'm going to keep writing, even though it has nothing to do with work.

today i went thrifting with my mom. i've been avoiding her lately because she's just TOO MUCH sometimes. she was just a teenager when she started having kids, which is how she explains away having been such a violent rage-aholic when i was a kid. sometimes it's hard to pretend like all is forgiven and none of that matters anymore now that we're all grown up. i hated her A LOT when i was little, and i don't now, but once in a while certain things she says and does make me hate her anew. it's little things that bring it on. like today she ran over my foot with her shopping cart at the thrift store. it hurt, and she didn't even notice. and i knew if i said anything about it she'd get mad and act like the injured, persecuted party. it brought me right back to being little, how she was always like a bull in a china shop, just totally unaware of where her body ended and yours began. how even on a good day when she wasn't beating the shit out of anyone, she'd always accidentally step on you or knock you over. or make some big mess and then bark at you to clean it up. imagine having the bitchiest, meanest, most self-centered and spiteful big sister in the world, who would just as soon smack you in the face as cook you dinner, and then imagine that was your MOM.

now she's just sad and broken-down and always trying half-heartedly to get her life together. certainly not deserving of my hate. i don't want to have ANY hate in my heart, particularly toward her, but i find myself having to constantly check it. over and over, just talk myself out of it. i usually just pretend that she's my long-lost aunt, a person who is totally separate from the person i grew up with. and it works pretty well, but once in a while when i'm tired or have pms, my defenses are down and i remember who she was.

after the thrift store we went to have dinner at one of my favorite restaurants and it was fun. my mom's a good person to eat with because she really enjoys things. i'm like her in that way, we'll both just exclaim at length about how good something is. after dinner my hate had dissipated, but i was still a bit on edge. i asked her if she had any xanax and she didn't, but she was in the mood to make a generous gesture, so she put a call in to her pill dealer and we went over there.

that lady's house was A TRIP. well, first of all the lady herself is a trip: a heavy-set white lady in a ragamuffin muumuu and perfect acrylic nails with a giant pack of black kids running around the house constantly almost (but never ACTUALLY) knocking over the million, zillion stacks of crap everywhere. clearly the lady is a hoarder. also clear is that she tests the merchandise because whatever pill cocktail she's on was doing her just fine and she didn't even seem to notice the commotion. we got there as jeopardy was coming on. my mom had warned me that the lady doesn't like to make the sale right away, prefers that you sit a minute. she doesn't like to think of herself as a dealer, but rather as someone who is giving people what they need, but what their stingy asshole doctors won't give them. she's got a doctor who will prescribe her anything, and lots of it. xanax, vicodin, morphine: what'll it be, folks.

so. we sat watching jeopardy with the lady for a while. i kept saying the answers (or, "questions," if you wanna get technical), it was just one of those nights where you know everything. my trivia prowess seemed to annoy the lady and thereby expedite our experience. my mom says she's usually required to sit on the couch for at least half an hour, but after just a few short minutes the lady glared at me over her shoulder, as i was blurting yet another correct response, and said, "i knew that one, too." with that, she slipped our medicine into my mom's purse, and we were our the door before double jeopardy even started.

"wow," i said to my mom. "i have to wash my hair after just being in that lady's house for ten minutes."

"what do you mean?" she asked. and i realized that she doesn't notice how someone's house smells when they chain-smoke all day long inside their house without opening the windows ever. it probably just smells "homey" to her because that's how her house smelled until two years ago when she almost died of pneumonia. long story, but she had to quit smoking or she was going to die (HER being sick is a good excuse to quit the habit, by the way, but my brother's debilitating asthma never was). (oh jeez, do you see how i have so many little bitter gems to share? STOP IT!)

anyway, today was fine. i put my time in and now i'm probably not going to hang out with her again for a while. it kind of wrecks me.

dinner was delicious, by the way. i forgot to mention that. and now, for dessert i shall wash down a xanax with a glass of wine and pass out. good night!