The 5th Wheel. A lament.

I've noticed a disturbing trend. I’ll refer to it as the Coupling Effect. Boy meets girl. Girl falls in love with boy. Boy and girl decide to go on lots of couple dates with their other couple friends and leave their fabulous single friends to miss them desperately. Don't get me wrong, I am quite happy when friends become involved in loving and happy relationships, but where does that leave me? And yes, before we go any further, it's always, always about me.

I am completely satisfied with my current state, sure I sometimes miss the big spoon to my little one. But I have pretty much the most awesome collection of friends any one person could ever have. I'm never at a loss for someone to laugh, dance, be completely inappropriate with or someone to completely inappropriately dance with. Now here's my concern. As one of the dwindling singlers of the group, I find myself excluded ever so slightly in favor of The Couple Dates. True, this is a completely unfounded and petty jealousy, but I fear that one night while all my couple friends are on their respective dates with my other couple friends, I will be left alone knitting booties for my cats and the next thing you know…BAM I'm 50, have created a permanent buttock imprint on my couch, and emit the faint aroma of cheese.

So, I’ll ask you. What is the draw of the couple date? I don't think I was ever on one that I enjoyed in all of my relationshiped time. I always felt like it was leading to some awkward moment where we start placing keys in a bowl and hoping for the best. Maybe couples just feel comfortable around other couples because they have transcended beyond the life we singles lead (perusing missed connections on a daily basis in the off chance that someone I drunkenly bumped into the previous night thought I was hot.)

I digress.

I’ll leave you with this. If you are a couple, don't leave your singles out to dry. Take us out. Play with us. We need your love most of all.

Holidayz

Along with the Holidays comes a barrage of parties and a barrage of hopes that Mr. Right, or at least Mr. Moderately Steady Make out, might be a friend of a friend that said friends just forgot to mention before. Or maybe that they deemed undatable do to some character flaw that I may just be desperate enough to overlook. Thus far, no such luck.

But it's OK, what they lack in mens, they makeup for in delicious holiday treats. Last night was a packed one. First, I met a college friend and all of her new friends at Tequila's. And let me tell ya, after about one of 2 margarita's, those repressed college memories started flowing like brain farts after a memory lane enchilada. I felt 8 pairs of eyes staring at me in judgement. So of course. I thought it best to drink more.

Next stop, friend's holiday party, which was wonderful and I was just sober enough to enjoy that my friends weren't. But I had to make an appearance so I left for the third. The third was the coolest/ weirdest holiday party I've ever been to. But I found it difficult to socialize do to the fact that I couldn't tear my eyes of the 2 hour long hippy dance off taking up the majority of the living room, while we crowded to the sides. It's all a blur of wine and patchouli. So around 3 am we decide to cab it home, and some kid stole our cab from under our noses. So cabbie felt bad as he drove by and I gave him a thumbs down and took us as well. And then began the most awkward cab ride ever. This dude, my friend and I in the back/ Her bf in the front. When said dude was safely zonked out, I proceeded to have a convo with my friends. Dood would wake occasionally to heartily agree with me on whatever point I was making, then zonk again.

Then I had to ride with him in silence between my friends' stop and mine. At his stop I was like "Well, see ya". And he (obviously gay) leans in gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and left. As I watched in shock the cabbie said "Hmm.. I think I gotta start doing that with all of my costumers."

Moral of the story. Holiday love is where you least expect it. For, me it's in a cab smelling of second hand patchouli.

Funky

So, last night I finally saw the light at the end of the self-imposed funk tunnel. The past few weeks, while splotched with the occassional ray of sunshine (the most notable of which would be the discovery of Salted Carmel Hot Chocolate from Starbucks ..nomnomnomnom) have been kinda sucky. The crappy weather that just happened to coincide with layoffs at work and overall drama didn't bode well for my mental state. I tried to power through it with DIPLO on Friday but I couldn't even make it to his set. The amount of scenagers alone was staggering, not to mention that no one had a problem with invading my personal space. So I peaced and got 13 hours of sleep, which allowed me to knock down this oncoming cold. Holler.

Last night I went to Beau Monde with my friend's parents, then went with the ladies to shake our collective shit to the musical stylings of DJ DEEJAY djay, which was wonderful per usual. I even got a missed connection out of it. Although in full disclosure I don't think it counts because I told him to write it. But, Imma take em how I can get em. My friend said he looked like he was 22, but hey.. at least he's legal? I still have to respond.

I'm gonna be honest, as much as a truly do enjoy being single, the winter coldness is making me miss someone to cuddle up to (which is probably why I had a set back and made out with a past hook up last week.) Ah well, we all have our setbacks, and mine happened to come in a chodey form. And my cats are reaching their spoiled teenager phase where they are embarrassed by their momma and don't want to snuggle with me any more.

OK I'm gonna wrap this up, because my thumb is still smarting from trying to force zip myself into a cute dress in H&M. Europe won that battle, my thumb and dignity lost.

Phall

So far, fall is quite fantastic, even though my prediction of an end to singledom has not come to fruition. I don't need a man to go on a hayride. I actually was grabbed repeatedly by some prepubescent screamy teenage girls. So I'll take it where I can get it. I do have a new love in my life though, another cat. We've named her Sophia in hopes that naming her after the late great Estelle Getty character will give her a better fate than her unfortunate predecessor, Sweet Dee. God rest her soul.

Tonight, I will be casting aside my fear of crowds and my disdain of Douchebags to join the massive crowds of drunken douchebags on broad (knock knock knock on wood.) Good luck, Phils. In honor of the Phils I will include this little Phillies gem.

Random thoughts
For now I have officially been eating better in hopes of shedding 5 lbs somewhere. Cutting my drinking to 3 days a week, World Series/ Halloween weeks are an exception. And right now I am surprisingly non boy crazed. I'm OK not to be seeing anyone of note and enjoying my new attire brought on by new funds from new jobs. So yes, I'm alone. But I'm looking good doing it.

Google vs. Drunk Colleen

I know we've all done it. In fact, I think Megan has already blogged about it's cellular counterpart. But once again, Google has improved my well being and self worth. Thank you, Internet friends.

And by the 7th time one of my friends called this to my attention, I figured it was blog worthy.

Well as you may have heard, the geniuses at the Google have created a function for gmail called mail goggles. It's for those nights when you get home at 3 in the morning, and after that heart to heart with the cabbie you decide that you really really need to get back with your ex. Well for me the drunk emails moreso consisted of me telling them what horrible people they are. Anyway, you pick a time frame and the days (for most it's Fridays and Saturdays, I personally chose Tuesdays through Sundays from 11pm-4am.) Before you hint send on that sometimes love filled, sometimes hate filled, sometimes both filled email, the Google elves ask you a serious of Math questions. If you get 'em right, you've earned your shame. If you get 'em wrong, erase that draft and tomorrow morning while you're downing your gatorage, you can turn it into a thank you letter to the powers that be.

Thank you Google. Now, come up with something for my phone. As of now drunk colleen thinks if she erases sent texts, sober colleen won't remember what she has done in the morning. Doesn't work so well. Shame lingers.

Have at it.

We're comin to America

Well. I just flew back from Ireland and boy is my liver tired. But seriously folks. I'm all for vacations but after 7 days in the van with your family, the daily grind seems like a distant little cloud of cotton candy with unicorns pooping ice cream onto it. One thing I do have to say is that the mens over there love them some American women. And I dunno if it's the sprightly (albeit, unintelligible) accents or the fact that the Atlantic between us means no clingy yanks, the dudes seemed very welcoming. Very welcoming. 

I'll follow up with more, including our attendance at Europe's largest matchmaking festival. But for now there's work to catch up on. And the unicorns are fading. Fast. 

Love, 

Colleen

Procrastination

It's Tuesdaymonday. You know, the Tuesday after a long weekend, that has all of the pitfalls of a Monday but's a touch closer to Friday. Wow, even writing that cheered me up a little. That and I feel gross today so I'm wearing a sass little outfit. I have soooo much work to do before heading off to Ireland, the home of my drunken ancestors, that I figure I should put it off with a little blog action.

It was a good weekend filled with many bad dance dance floor decisions. Music provided by DJ Deejay DJ both nights. Thanks again, yo.  

Dude I made out with was nice, but not my type. Very... pretty. He asked for my phone # and if I recall I was listed as "ajsadh" so I figured I wouldn't have to dodge him later. Cut to last night, I never get phone calls and was expecting one from the rents so when it rang, I answered without looking. Whoops. It was him. I was so caught off guard, I agreed to go out with him this week (saying I would get back to him on the day thinking that would buy me time to think of an excuse.) The more I talk to people I think I may just go. Whatever. 

So my parents came for dinner and met my new cat. I had the sinking feeling that they think this is the only grandchild they will ever have. As they came bearing gifts for him and my dad said Charlie bears a striking resemblance to my mother's side of the family. Le sigh. 

OK time to get crackin on some work, aka stare at my computer screen for 2 hours then go to lunch. 

Confessions of a whiner

I've noticed my blogs have progressively moved past witty into down right suicidal. My apologies. I feel like I'm on the cusp of breaking free of singledom, can't explain why. And yes, I fully admit said single state is self imposed. I'm impossibly picky. But I think the reason for that is just an excuse to revel in my me time.

A friend pointed out the obvious when I complained about my boredom

a.) I have a good, fun job.
b.) My friends are fabulous
c.) I'm hot

OK he might not have said the last one, but isn't that always implied?

So, I have a trip to Ireland coming up with the fam which means 2 things. That I will be packing a flask and two weeks of forced soul searching. I'm fine with both.

As for dating? Not too much going on worth mentioning but it's a long weekend, which means many possibilities. Have the MMP coming up and many many bbq's. mmmmmmmm meat. Now I just have to get through the next 2 days.

Happy Labor Day. Let's get weird.

Olive branch

Whoops. OK. So a little while back I wrote a scathing blog about DJ Deejay. He found it, explained himself and apologized. You can read that here. 

So I will accept this apology and will go further than that, I'll attend this Friday's MMP on the boat. Well not so much to make peace as I feel the strong urge to shake my shit. 

Let's do this. 

Hisssssss

My tendency to date assholes makes it pretty easy to not fall back into old habits. As they cancel on me before I get the chance to. Probably better. So I replaced him with a day of tubbing in New Hope. It was glorious even though I had a near death experience with a rope swing, and lost my beer whilst chasing down runaway flip flops. The latter was probably the scarier of the two, I was really enjoying that beer.

Anyway, I'm feeling moderate to high annoyance with PAWS at the moment. While I would always encourage people to foster or adopt from there. Dee got very sick last week, and all of our calls went unanswered. We ended up having to take her to UPenn pet hospital. They wanted to charge us thousands of dollars for a kitten we had had 4 days, and were just fostering. Since PAWs is supposed to take care of the medical care at no cost we brought her there. When we did, we were basically yelled at for not keeping her at UPenn and shelling out the grandplus. Keep in mind Upenn said they couldn't believe PAWS gave us such sickly kittens as first time fosterers. So they had to put her to sleep, and Charlie who was doing fine is now seeming sick. So we're opting to spend the money at VCA cat hospital rather then risk getting sub par care at paws. I hope he's OK.

Ugh.

Anyway. All of this cat/money trouble and paired with never ending dry spell are really grating on my nerves. It's like I'm getting a second period. Cut to me, on my couch spooning a kitten crying to the Notebook on the Family Channel. Ahhhh life is good.

Time for Mad Men

Charlie and Sweet Dee

Well, I'm officially in cat lady land. I got kittens on sat (2) from PAWS. They are the tiniest little guys I've ever seen and it took everything I had not to fashion a baby bjorn from some tshirts and bring them into work with me today. But I'm not there yet. Not quite yet.

While I'm loving the short respite from deathly heat, this lovely cool day is bringing to light a harsh reality. Fall is coming. And fall/winter= the worst times to be single. Cider for one, weeping into leaf piles, couples costuming with my sister....again. I know there's gonna be a point when I tell myself that going on match will be a great idea. I need you to stop me.

I can cuddle with the cats.  Anyway, on the bright side, fall does mean new It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and I sure do miss the night man. Thank God for DVR. 

Agenda for this week:

Make the cats love me

Radiohead

Take advantage of Megan's new pool

Monthly dinner/ getting drunk with Court. 

Probably hanging out with people I shouldn't be. Oh well. 

Preparing for the worst

This is me. How many months into this little blog experiment and pretty much two to eighty four steps behind where I started out. I say this because I am currently sitting at my computer with a glass of red wine and a book entitled Cat's for Dummies simultaneously begging my friends to take their scrabulous turns (you know who you are you heartless bastards). Oh, and I am also wearing a sundress that is hiding the pudge of oncoming menstrosity, that I can only liken to a moo moo. I think I'm giving up. I'm not sure what to do, outside of moving out of this city, to meet a decent fella. Or at the very least have a whole lot of fun with a not so decent one. I'm not above it at the moment. I think I'll be past this mope fest once flow's left town and I take my 3 day beach weekend. 'Cause as much as I miss man touch. I love this city far too much to leave it. Rapes, muggings, murders and all. They just add character. PIZAAAAAAZ.

All in all, although my weekends have been boyless, they have been quite filling. Notable mention would be this past Saturday at Yakatori Boy when we took to the mic to sing "I wanna dance with somebody" and there was a room full of strangers dancing on chairs. Must go back soon.

In other news, my old roomie is moving in with her boyfriend, which means she's taking the cats. So we decided to get kittens. Now I will officially be crossing the line from person who lives with cat lady, to official cat lady. But cuteness overrides all. I'm OK with it.

Gah, oh well. I'm going to glass number two and will top it off with my Monday night listening to This American life. Tomorrow night, back to the prowl. I will be going with friend to see We Are Scientists at Johnny Brenda's. And I'm sure all I'll be returning with is a belly full of beer and my feets sore from dancin.

I fell

So, nothing really is happening on the man front. I'm alright with that. I have enough going on that I am satisfied with the non touch. So in a moment of complete nerdery last weekend, I decided to walk down to the Ritz to catch a movie by myself rather than go to my weekly yoga class. Besides I think all of my muscles have atrophied due to lack of use, so much so that I almost walked out of class 2 weeks ago. The only reason I didn't was to avoid mortification, but that mortification caught up to me in the form of many failed attempts at a headstand, against a wall. 

Anyway, I had heard about this movie called The Fall. It was directed by Tarsem Singh, who directed The Cell and the Losing My Religion video. This movie was at the 2006 Toronto Film Festival and was kind of overlooked, until directors David Fincher and Spike Jones noticed it. 

The story gets a little silly at times, but that's forgivable because of how beautiful it is. Go to the link and watch the trailer. Right now it's playing at one of the Ritz. I saw it at the Bourse, but my coworker saw it at a different one last weekend. The only recognizable actor is Lee Pace from Pushing Daisies. The only way I can describe it is if Pan's Labyrinth and The Princess Bride mated. 

So good. 

An aside. As I'm writing this sidehugs sent me a text. I hadn't heard from him in 2 weeks after he text cancelled on me for the 4th time. And I get "What's up motorboat?" What a turd. I will try to just ignore instead of sending an angry text back. 

Monday, not so much

I think it's time I tackle my dating patterns. While this is probably best done by a shrink, I think my tendency towards comfort eating and countless hours of daytime TV logged over the years have left me just as qualified as any. 

Date # 2 aka 6. I tried to pop that zit about an hour before the date. Take it from me. Never do this. It just turned a fairly noticeable white head into a oozing bloody welt. Cutting bangs was too dicey considering the only time I cut hair was about 20 years ago on my barbie and she ended up losing her head. So, As I packed foundation into my open wound, I realized the night was going to be slightly less than magical. 

Don't get me wrong, I haven't completely discounted him, but here's what I think happened. I think I spent the whole first date trying to make myself look good and the second date, well I spend it judging him. We were both tired and didn't make reservations (since it was his turn to pick the place) and we just ended up going to ten stone, which is hit or miss. It was loud and there was a group of drunk barely legal dudes next to me and one had his ass in my face. The convo was fairly strained, mostly because of all of the drunkies around us, and me not being one of them. Believe me, I tried. But the beers weren't taking. And all I got was a general sense of self involvement. Even in the making out. I thought the point of dating an older man was that they had already outgrown the bullshit. 

Anyway. I think he's feeling the same way cause we haven't really spoken since then, aside from the random short texts. I may be willing to give him another shot. Maybe it was just an off night, and otherwise I'm heading back to No Man Land. But the butterflies have gone, or at least have been placed in a jar and someone forgot the air holes. C'est le vie. Bring on on the cats. 

Friday I'm in like

So I have my second (fifth) date with sidehugs tonight. I can't help thinking that I need a new nickname for him but we'll stick with this one for the time being. So far, so good. He's still quite the texter, and even texted a cancellation again last weekend. But I'm willing to overlook that one slightly because we had just made tentative plans the night before and, well let's face it, I'm pretty desperate. But he's picked up the phone quite a few times. So we'll see how tonight goes. He's supposed to pick the spot since I picked the last one. But I hate leaving the planning up to others, especially boys.

So the pluses about this guy. He's older than me, but doesn't act it. In a good way. Funny, Nice. And it doesn't hurt that he's easy on the eyes. Oh, and he's not so computer savvy, so there's less of a chance of him finding this. I don't know that I can handle that awkwardness again. The only thing I have to get used to is the cuddling. He seems to be a big fan, I'm not so much. But since I haven't had the man touch in a while, I'll make an exception.

In other news, my forehead decided that date day is a great time to sprout a third eye. I don't know if any amount of makeup is going to contain this beast. I may have to take off the cami that brings my outfit from "cute" to "boobalicious". What to do, what to do. But I'm assuming the third degree burns that I received at the beach on Monday that left me tie dyed, may be enough of a distraction. (Today was the first day I decided to brave the pain of shaving... needless to say it was quite the undertaking.)

OK I'm going to sit here and use my ichat cam to stare at my zit and talk myself off of a ledge for a few hours.

The desert below

That's right folks 3 months into a dry spell and still counting. No end in sight. Hence no posts in a while. Thankfully for me there's been other distractions. Namely fantastic new job and new friends (still miss my boos from the old though, but I see 'em lots.)  That's been fun. I've been drinking more than usual, which is going to make me fat soon, I'm sure of it. But until then I'm just gonna go with it. Secondly, my lovers, otherwise known as my game night crew recently purchased rock band. My partner at work (the AD to my CW) thinks I'm a nerd cause I play that stuff instead of instead of Grand Theft Auto IV. Sorry, not interested. I just want games that make me feel like the superstar I think I am. I want someone to come up with a game that has an avatar of me walking up and down catwalks complete with outfit changes and Right Said Fred. My God. I really am a gay man. 

If that's the case, I may be all set cause I'm headed to Pure tomorrow night for Making Time. 

Otherwise I think I may have just plain given up on meeting anyone. I can't see it happening anytime soon. Thankfully the weather has been fantastic and warm, which cushions the blow. Or lack thereof. 

Another weekend, other chance to strap on the dancing shoes. Saturday night will be Los Campesinos at Johnny Brenda's and I couldn't be more excited. I lurve them. Their music makes me smile and shake my tushie.

So I used to work at a rivet factory as a job during breaks in College. Yes, I had to wear stee-tipped boots and safety glasses. It was so boring that one day I made up a little jingle called the Rivet is gonna get Ya. Sung to the tune of that well known Gloria Estefan ditty. Anyway, I randomly got an email from this old guy that I used to work there with telling me he loves me. So help me, if this dry spell keeps up, I might just write back. 

Ugh

Sorry. That was a whole lotta nothing. But odds are if you're reading this, you're bored at work anyway.  

rambling

Lots of changes in Colleenland lately. None of them boytastic. That is at a complete and utter standstill. I'm fine with that. Why? Cause it's sunny outside. Who needs a boy when I can stay warm all by myself? That came out differently than I meant it to. Anyway, I'm starting a new job tomorrow. Ratio of 90% excited to 10% nervous. I've been on controlled unemployment this week. Completely wonderful. I, of course, drank too much but had just the right number of roof deck bbq's. So aside from a gigunda zit on my chin, every thing's swell. I was supposed to go to my first meet up tonight but I couldn't find anyone with car to go with me and it's allllllll the way in the North East. Next time.

We tried out a new dance spot on Friday. The Barbary. It was ok. Kinda like dancing in teenage hipster soup . But wherever Madonna, Michael, and Prince go, so shall I.

Since I have no updates of the man variety at the moment, I'll share from you a tale from the youth.

The time. Somewhere between 2nd and 3rd grades(89-90ish.) It was the skating party. Couples skate. And I had to pay a quarter to get the cute boy to skate with me (don't laugh a quarter could get you far those days. A whole soda or a pretzel.) Anyway, he came up to me later with the quarter and his mom waiting in the wings. She was making him give it back. Hell yeah. I already had the skate and now could kick back with a nice cold Coke. Life was gooood.

RIP: WAWA at 20th and Chestnut. Another one bites the dust.

Post Quarter Life crisis

I swear my posts will start getting happier very shortly. I have self diagnosed severe Seasonal Affective Disorder, and Spring is being a big ol' cock tease. Taunting me with her heaving sunshine but she is a frigid one. Brrrr. I need warmth. I need to un pastify. I need to enjoy Rita's without feeling like I am dying from the inside out.

Anyway. So, I'm going to be 27 on Tuesday. My brain knows this is young, but this message is getting lost somewhere in my subconscious. I'm feeling rather old. I thought it was just me until I had an official old moment last night. Allow me to set the scene....

It's Making Time at Transit. I can only liken it to a festival o' hipster. Like carnies, but with tighter pants. So I'm there with my usual crowd of boys, since I have no more single lady friends in the area to speak of. They have all succumb. I notice a cute one giving me the eye and he starts dancing towards me, so I mosey on over. Upon closer dancing I realize he is oh so young. I ask. He's 22. I say ohh you're young. I tell him how old I am and he says. "Wow. I've never talked to anyone that old at a bar before. You look at least 5 years younger than that."

Yowch. The horror. So I backed away slowly, blending into the flailing crowd.

I think that made me put my desperate shoes on cause then I spotted another cute one and strapped on my lager balls and that convo went something like this.

me: I'm trying to hit on you
him: Oh, I didn't notice. I'm leaving though.
me: Oh well. You win some, you lose some.
him: Consider this one a tie.

What???????? That was the saddest excuse for witty banter/ rejection I've ever heard.

So it seems that all of my single friends are in the same position I am. Severe dry spell. I'm blaming the weather. We're hot and it should be, too.

Operation Me Time hit a snag this week. I drank 6 out of 7 days, which means my liver is about the only thing getting a work out. That changes this week.Back to the gym. Aside from B-day mojitos at Alma de Cuba of course. mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

This used to be my playground

I'm about to get real on your asses. OK. So when I first started contributing to this blog, I told my boss and he gave me two stipulations. The first was that I don't show my real picture (because of the crazies) and the second was that I had to be completely honest. 100% honest. And I have been, to a fault. And tonight, I had my first blog casualty. It sucks and I feel bad although it is admittedly semi funny. OK. Remember the Match guy, the "over communicator" who I made out with last weekend? Well I saw him at Silk City again tonight. He nudged me and I was really happy to see him. The thing was, aside from the over communicating, I did kinda like him. But how do you tell someone they over communicate without it sounding otherwise? So I decided to ride it out and when he stopped, I was able to put things in perspective. But, after that we just kinda stopped talking without either one of us making any sort of move. In hindsight, this is probably because of the story to follow. So, he was at Silk City tonight, and was acting kinda rude. I went up to him to ask what his deal what and he made it clear that he had found this blog (I am sure he'll read this) and was upset that I called him an "over communicator." He wasn't interested in discussing it further. The funny thing is, I'm sure he read that way before we dance floor made out last weekend, but go figure it didn't stop him. Maybe this is my red flag anyway. He stalked out my blog, which I kind of figured he would, and he is the kind that professes every aspect of this life via his status messages and everything over the last few weeks has been about him hating women. And really, what 30 yr old does that? So there. From what you know of me, I don't have much of a filter. And it sucks cause it may have held me back from getting to know a cool, fun person, but if he is sensitive about this, he prolly couldn't handle allll this, anyway. Gah. I'm just getting home from the bar and will try to not delete this tomorrow. Lesson learned. Blog with caution. Maybe I'll just start writing these blogs directly to the people I'm writing about and cut out the middle man.

ugh

First off, I would like to apologize to those coming here looking for actual relevant cultural info. Apparently my cohorts have lives, so it looks like you're stuck reading about my dating (or lack thereof at the current moment.) While I haven't had anything happen in quite the while (so little if fact, that I ran into, and consequently made out with that one match guy that I mentioned in earlier posts.)

So today, after searching the missed connections for word from any of those little 18 yr old hotties that were too afraid to approach me at the Justice show last night (Can you be 26 and a cougar?), I read this article sent to me by a friend. Single men, read this. Learn it, live it.

OK back to work.