Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Paris Hilton is in My Bedroom… Why Won’t She Leave?

As much as I loathe Paris Hilton, I not only purchased that sleazy “One Night in Paris” DVD of her and her boyfriend, I watched it…

My 17 year-old nephew asked for the scuzbag’s DVD for his high school graduation. Wanting to be the “cool uncle,” I bought it. Then, when graduation day arrived, I did not want his grandparents (my parents) to see him opening this. I can only imagine my mother announcing to all that could hear how embarrassed she was and how horrible I was--meanwhile, my nephew would be locked away in his room with a wetnap rubbing one out...

However, he’s 18 in July, so no one can say a word at that point, so I decided to wait until then. I mention this The Nephew and his mother at graduation, to which his incredibly conservative mother replies, “Heck, give it to him now, I don’t care.” My nephew practically went into convulsions as his head was bobbing up and down in a frantic “Yes! Yes!” motion.

Regardless, I’m waiting until his birthday—I don’t want to be the “perverted uncle” giving my nephew whack-off material. Granted, when he was 13, his dad bought him the Playboy magazine with Barbara Carrera* in it. However, my brother can be the “creepy perverted father buying porn for his underage son,” but I’m staying out of it. Call me crazy, but I don’t want to think of my nephew flogging the log. I guess it’s the conservative streak in me, I’m just that way…

As a result, Paris Hilton is in my bedroom. I guess it would be rude not to offer her something… the only thing she would want is more exposure—and naturally that would be for me to screen the DVD. Plus—as if I needed an actual excuse to view the DVD—it’s going to be about a month before I can give it to my nephew and there is the warranty to think about. I don't want his first experience with porn to be attempting to return it when he hasn't had the thrill/embarrassment of buying it for the first time. So, I sat down and watched Paris at night...

Oh my f’ing lord…

Each “segment” is introduced by sleazebucket and former Paris Hilton boyfriend what'shisname. Who knows and who cares who this guy is? Actually, his name is Rick Soloman... however, I call him "Dick." Somebody wrote Dick a bit of lame script which he uses to introduce each segment and then we’re shown Paris in all her glory. It's strange to feel dirty and shamed at watching the introduction rather than watching the porn portion...

Let’s just say that there is nothing really new in here. It’s the same old stuff one would normally see if one were to watch straight porn. Me being a card-carrying homo, I don’t normally watch this stuff, so it was somewhat new to me. She poses, she coos, she sucks, she gets banged, she answers her cell phone while getting banged... just an afternoon after church, if you ask me.

What wasn’t the usual stuff was the plentiful shots of this dude’s dong. My gosh, he loves that thing! He has long, graceful shots of "It" all alone—no Paris to be found. Granted, it is quite lovely, but I thought this was about Paris? I got the impression that this was really, “All About My Big Donger… with guest appearance by Paris Hilton!”

You really won't see Paris sucking his dork, as you will see Dick's Dork getting sucked by Paris Hilton. He wasn’t fucking Paris, Paris just happened to be there when his schlong was a-fuckin’.

I guess they broke up on their second date, because there is not a whole lot of footage here, folks. The video sleazebags that distributed this embarrassment felt the need to attach “additional hardcore footage,” which was nothing more than leftover scenes from other videos. Some girl getting rammed by some guy we never see (I will say, straight porn has improved in that the guys have pretty good bods and HUGE dicks—maybe Dick will be able to have a job other than busboy at The Olive Garden, after all!)

The whole thing left me feeling dirty and shameful. Not for buying it, not for watching it, but for having it in my home. My bedroom is a sacred place, filled with only the finest in gay porn videos and magazines. Why would I sully such a place with the rancid world of Paris Hilton and straight porn?

Scummy uncle or not, I’m giving this to my nephew ASAP—I have a reputation as a homo-perv to maintain and Paris Hilton is only going to bring my reputation down.

I just hope the fact that Paris Hilton is in his house does not bring down the property values of my brother's neighborhood.

*The Nephew is a HUGE James Bond fan… and then became a Barbara Carrera fan. Me, I’m a HUGE Pierce Brosnan fan—not the actor, the half-naked man. Me likey…

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Movies 2004

I haven’t posted anything in a while, and I’m feeling rather dry, creatively speaking. So, I’m scrapping the bottom of the barrel with this posting…

With the release of Star Wars III (or 6 depending on your perspective), the summer movie season has officially begun. I now look back over the past year at the movies I liked, wished I hadn’t wasted the money on, and those that have moved to my Netflix list…

The lists are in alphabetical order, because with films like The Aviator and Team America: World Police on the same list—how do you put one above the other?

My 2004 Favorites:
The Aviator—I would have liked this film so much more if it had been about 40 minutes shorter. My ass really hurt at the end of this… Leonardo (who I can’t stand in the least) did a great job and almost made me like him. Cate Blanchete earned a well-deserved Oscar for her role as Katherine Hepburn.
Being Julia—Annette Bening was absolutely brilliant in this role. I spent the last 15 minutes just beaming at how deliciously evil and upstaging her character was.
Fahrenheit 9/11—How could Americans watch this film and still vote for Bush? Michael Moore at his best.
Finding Neverland—Johnny Depp’s range continues to astound me. He’s brilliant in everything and Neverland was no exception. The film is charming (and I don’t use that term lightly or often) and I could barely see the final 10 minutes through my tears.
Friday Night Lights—Yet another reason to be glad not to live in Texas. These kids’ lives peak at 17… Peter Berg did an excellent job adapting H.G. Bissinger's book.
Garden State—Excellent directorial debut by Zach Braff.
Good Bye Lenin!—I think I want to use the word ‘charming’ again…
Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle—A movie that has ‘Doogie Howser’ leaving “Love stains” in the backseat, someone ‘marrying’ a giant bag of pot, and a guy riding a cheetah all while in search of White Castle burgers is great in my book.
In Good Company—Charm… no, not that. But I enjoyed it. I guess I’m getting old when I enjoy films where the older guy beats up the up ‘n comer…
Kill Bill Vol. 1 & Vol. 2—Kicks ASS! (Both literally and figuratively.)
Kinsey—A movie where Liam Neeson bangs Peter Sarsgaard is tops in my book (plus, it’s fascinating how far we’ve come and how stupid we are today).
Million Dollar Baby—Clint Eastwood and Morgan Freeman give such sublime performances it’s a joy to watch. Hilary Swank won an Oscar for a performance that really didn’t deserve it (I’m still bitter Annette lost to Hilary TWICE!)
Saved!—Great until the end (why must they all fall apart at the end?) Best line: Mandy Moore throwing the bible at Mary, shouting, “I am FILLED with Christ's love!”
Shaun of the Dead—Zombies and slackers, baby. Zombies and slackers…
Sideways—My favorite film of the year. Brilliant all the way around: great writing, directing, and acting. Paul Giamatti not only deserved a nomination, he deserved to win.
Sin City—I went into this film not knowing what to expect and I really enjoyed it. Visually stunning.
Sponge Bob Square Pants Movie—“Who lives in a Pineapple under the sea?!” Fun from beginning to end. I laughed through the whole thing
Super Size Me—I’ll never eat at McDonald’s again… (I still crave me some Big Macs, but I don’t think I can do it…)
Team America: World PoliceMarionette sex? Genius! I can’t wait for the DVD and all the extra footage they couldn’t show in theatres. Parker and Stone are the masters at offensive writing… I think that’s why I love them so.
Touch of Pink—Damn… I’m forced to use the word charming again. Great performances throughout and an unconventional story.

Craptacular Disasters:
—How I wanted to enjoy this film, but it was just so flat. Great Concept/Shitty Film (Steve Carell had some great moments, as did Will Ferrell, but on the whole it was weak).
Connie & CarlaWTF? From Big Fat Greek Wedding to something we’ve seen way too many times? This could have been a terrific and fun film, but they went with Comedy Formula #147a*
Day After Tomorrow—Dennis Quaid was in it… and that’s where the enjoyment ends.
Dodgeball—Such potential… however, they went with Comedy Formula #39**. Fun concept and great casting does not make a great film. You need writers for that…
The Dreamers—Tell me we have gone to the 60’s well for the last time…? That well is so dry. I’m not sure what was so shocking as there was nothing we haven't seen before... done better.
The GrudgeHuh? What was scary? That creepy kid? Sure, he was creepy, as was that floating lady, but it wasn’t enough to cause anyone to become catatonic… Big letdown.
I, Robot—It, suck.
The Incredibles—Incredible? Not so much. It was okay, but certainly not incredible…
Ladder 49—Nothing new here. We saw snippets of a guy’s life over 10 years, but we never got to know him. Watch any episode of Dennis Leary’s Rescue Me and you’ve seen something much better.
Latter Days—Great film until the ‘student film’ ending. Completely ruined it for me. Whatever happened to originality?
Manchurian Candidate—The original was flawless--this crappy remake is full of flaws. Why can't they remake the shitty films and save the classics from being ruined?! WHY?!
Meet the Fockers—If we can find out what was successful in the first film and load up the sequel with that it’s got to be good, right? Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. And yet, America went to this movie again and again. Never underestimate the stupidity of the public (I think they all voted for Bush… which is exactly my point).
National Treasure—Besides starring the awful Nicholas Cage, the final action sequence was so dull and lackluster that I kept waiting for the ‘big finish’. Dull…
Passion of the Christ—The film about the son of God, who changed the world with his message of love and compassion, shows none of His message, but only how he died. Beautiful cinematography, but missed the point. (Unless the point was “Jews are bad,” then I guess Mel “Anti-Semite” Gibson did as he intended).
The Stepford Wives—Such potential… such drivel. Disappointed!
The Village—Will someone please stop giving this guy money to make these awful movies? The Sixth Sense was wonderful… everything else was crap, crap, crap. ENOUGH!
The Wedding Date—Load of shit from the moment ‘go.’ I think they lopped off the first 20 minutes as unnecessary… they should have lopped off the rest while they were at it and called it a day…

Thank God for Netflix… How could I have missed these?
50 First Dates
—Drew and Adam… love them.
Bad Education—A Pedro Almodóvar film starring Gael García Bernal, how could I have missed this?
Cellular—Chris Evans spends the first 20 minutes of the film without his shirt? I’m still kicking myself for missing this.
Coffee and Cigarettes—Heard mixed things…
Dear Frankie—I cried during the trailer… when did this come out?
De-Lovely—I’m not sure where I was for this.
Diary of a Mad Black Woman—this had disaster written all over it and I wanted to be there to see it unfold. What is up with Tyler Perry? I only saw the trailer and thought, "Christ, that guy has some ego..."
Fever Pitch—Maybe I don't like Drew so much... I missed this, too. I like me some Jimmy, though...
Hidalgo—Mmmmmm, Viggo.
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy—Where did it go? I swear it was here a minute ago…
Lost Skeleton of Cadavra—Did this even get released? I loved the trailer.
Millions—Again, I got teary during the trailer. "It's not suspicious... it's unusual." Love those British kids, they're so amusing.
Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous—Another film that looked disastrous, yet I wanted to see it.
The Motorcycle Diaries—I kept hearing mixed things… but Gael García Bernal was in it—I should have gone. Vive Che!
Open Water—The trailer scared the crap out of me, I think I need to see this on DVD so I can fast forward when I get all squirmy and girlish. (yeah, yeah, which is all the time... I know...)
The Polar Express—Loved the book… I wanted to see this at IMAX—I think I’m too late for that.
Riding Giants—I have a porn with the same name…
The Sea Inside—Looks heart-wrenching.
Shaolin Soccer—Looks awesome… this zipped in and out of theatres fast.
Spanglish—I heard very mixed things on this. I love James L. Brooks, Adam Sandler and Tea Leoni…
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring—I heard great things, but it sounds way too long.
The Whore—I know nothing about this film, I just stumbled across the title—I believe this is my kind of movie!
Win A Date With Tad Hamilton!— Josh Duhamel is the only reason I watch Las Vegas, and yet I missed a chance to see him shirtless! Oh, hurry, Netflix, hurry!
The Woodsman—I couldn’t bring myself to go see a film where a pedophile comes off as a sympathetic character. I think I'll feel even dirtier watching it alone at home...

*Comedy Formula #147: Two friends witness a murder and must leave town and disguise themselves as:
CF #147a: Nuns
CF #147b: Another sex
CF #147c: 180 degrees opposite to who they are (crooks = gay pageant show consultants, etc.)

** Comedy Formula #39: Group is threatened by real estate mogul/competition with eviction if they can’t come up with money to pay off loan/mortgage. They enter a contest that pays the EXACT amount of the loan/mortgage. In the end, they succeed, which causes the downfall of the real estate mogul/competition. (Reference: see just about any teen movie from the 1980’s

Friday, May 13, 2005

Family Drives

My sister and I have been on the East Coast for a week. We've worked our way from Rhode Island through Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Maryland and we are now in DC.

The countryside is beautiful... driving with family is not.

My sister drives like an old woman. "We're in a rental car so I need to be careful," she keeps saying as she drives the exact speed limit. "No," I counter, "that's why you don't have to be careful--it's a freakin' rental!"

We are both trying very hard to be 'respectful' of the other, so when things get tense (and man, do they get tense) I tend to stop talking, for fear that I will say something that will start an even bigger argument--or that I'll just 'go off' in general and start screaming like a madman. Needless, to say, I haven't been saying much as of these last few days.

Our vacation ends tomorrow and I have never been so glad for a vacation to end. We haven't had any real apart time--except for my evening in Boston, which was the second day we were there, so that's worn off. (I'll tell you more of my gay-bar experience in Boston later...). So, we've been together pretty much 24/7 for the last 5 days. WAY too close for me.

There are things one normally ignores of a loved one: stupid phrasing, inane comments, body odors, etc. Usually, they aren't noticeable, or are negligible to say the least--however, now every other utterance from her mouth is something I want to beat her over the head with something blunt. How many times can someone say "It's all good"? I mean, really, would any jury convict me? No court I know...

So the journey comes to an end and even though we live together, I don't think we will see each other for the next three months. Unless a really good travel offer comes up and then it's another family road trip... God help us all.

Friday, May 06, 2005

Where There’s a Will I Want to Be in it, Not Writing It

So, I finished my will last night. Or is it my last will and testament night? Actually, it’s more like a last will, testament, and ‘comedy stylings’ of Chris. I found it hard to be serious throughout. While I did get a little misty when I was thanking my parents for their kindness and my friends for being supportive, however, when it came to giving my stuff away, how do I know if anyone is going to want my junk?

About a year ago, there was a fire in the building behind our place, and my sister and I rushed into our place to take our “valuables.” I ran into my room and looked around frantically… I tried to calm myself down because I thought I was too frazzled to focus enough to actually lock on to something to save. Then I realized that I don’t own anything of value.

Sure, there are many things of sentimental value and lots of “ironic” items, but nothing that can’t be replaced—or one would need to have replaced. I will say the porn represents a significant investment on my part, but I wouldn’t call it value. And who am I leaving that to? My Republican family? “To my mother, I leave my love and good wishes and my DVD of ‘How the West was Hung’.”

So, last night I started looking at crap that means something to me, but on the whole, means nothing to anyone else. I got done and was rather proud of myself that I disseminated all my property. This morning I realized I didn’t mention my CDs or my (non porn) DVDs. There’s a ton of them and I missed them and concentrated on such valuables as framed “art” I printed off the internet…

It’s sad to think that your legacy is porn, crappy art, and 150 Simpsons action figures, a Heinz Ketchup phone, a glow-in-the-dark Madonna, and a collection of obscenely anatomically-correct dolls with names like Carlos and Tyson (guess which one is black?)

However, my biggest concern at this moment is mourners. Frankly, I don’t think there will be enough of them. I want a packed house, but I don’t know if anyone would show up. I don’t have that many friends… and of those that I do have, most will flake. I can just picture Julie saying she had a sore throat… I don’t think I could make that many friends in the next 17 hours, so I just hope those friends that show bring a friend or co-worker along to the funeral. I'm sure my parents will throw a nice reception with lots of food, is that enough of an incentive to go?

Speaking of… I want tears at the funeral. Fake it if you have to, people, but I demand tears! Sobbing would also be appreciated. I request that Scott McCandless shout out “Not Chris! Not Chris!” at some point—he mocked me when I ‘came out,’ saying, “Not you! Not you!” in his most dramatic fashion. Fag. This is your penance buddy (you get 50% of my porn, so you’d better be convincing…)

Other than that, I mainly fear my friends will embarrass me at my funeral: they won’t show up: “Dude, I had a thing…” or when it comes time to say something about me nobody will get up and say anything… or worse they will: “He had the biggest collection of porn…” or “I think he thought he was funnier than he was—maybe it’s best he went before life could crush his dreams completely…” or worst of all, “Christ, he was fat, wasn’t he?” and then it turns into a roast and my ashes are spinning…

I just realized I forgot to mention my TiVo in my will! It’s got a lifetime subscription and that’s worth bucks… man, I had better survive this trip okay, because I’ve still got work to do on my will…

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Flappin’ My Wings…

So, I worked on my will the other day… I’m going on a trip with my sister—my current will leaves everything to her—well, instructions on who to give it to and if the plane goes down, no one will know what to do... or to get to "that drawer" before my parents—so, I have to think “worst case scenario” on things like this.

I always watch for accidents around the time I fly. I figure if there was an air crash right before my trip, I feel better, since I feel the air has been pre-jinxed. There has got to be only so many crashes out there—lurking about, waiting to happen—I figure if it happens to someone else, then the chances of it also happening to me are significantly less.

The skies have been eerily calm lately.

Could it be that safety has gone up? Maybe because so many companies are about to go belly up, they just aren’t flying. Personally, I think the Air Crash Deity is looking for me. In 1990, I was on a plane to New York and we got diverted because just before we landed another plane crashed onto the runway. Two weeks before I was to go to Europe, four planes were hijacked, two flew into the World Trade Center, one into The Pentagon and the last into a field in Pennsylvania. Are they after me? Am I being paranoid? You be the judge… You’ve probably been talking about this already, haven’t you? Haven’t you?!

So, as the date of my trip draws ever closer, the chances of a crash increases with each flight.

I’m almost resigning myself to the fact that the plane is going to go down (and not in a good ‘porn kind of way’ – wacka-chicka-wacka-chicka-bow-wow). I’ll be the only one not screaming and crying… I’ll be sitting there pissed off. “Damnit!” I’ll cry out, “I really should have taken the time to watch TV more…” (Okay, I think I’ve spent more than enough time doing that… but I’ll be pissed none-the-less.)

I’ll probably be cursing God for letting Osama bin Laden, Sadam Hussein and KIM Jong Il live, and I—a lowly schmuck with a penchant for television—dies in a firey crash. I’d pop God a good one, if I could actually get into heaven.

I’m hoping it’s a terrorist over a malfunction. I can at least “play” with the terrorists. I figure they're going to kill us all anyhow, I might as well make it miserable for them too: “You know, that’s a type-o in the Koran. It actually says you get 70 minutes on your cell phone—not 70 virgins… the cruel joke of it all is you’re out of your calling zone in Heaven, so you still have to pay roaming fees. What? Why am I an infidel for telling you the truth?”

I have this sick feeling that I’ll be right… and that God will be on the Verizon Friends and Family program and I’ve got a freakin’ Catherine Zeta-Jones (Douglas) T-Mobile. Damn you, CellularOne!

Since I probably have not earned enough “good” credits to get into Heaven, I’ll have to count on my “Get out of Hell Free” card, which means I’ll probably end up in purgatory. I hear purgatory has improved immensely now that they have a Starbucks…*

*three, actually.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Don’t Kill the Joke Teller…

As you may have read, I’m going on vacation next week. Yes, I’m traveling close to the Evil Empire, the Red-Controlled Washington, DC.

So, I sent an email to my bosses, reminding them that I was going to be away for a week. As a side-note/joke I said, “…in fact, one week from my sending this letter I should be at a Red Sox game… or in a bar. Either way it’s a win/win situation.”

My one boss that actually is a Red Sox fan said nothing. No comment, no “lucky you,” nothing.

The rest, apparently, are rabid Yankees fans.

I’m practically getting hate mail! “You like the SOX?! You SUCK!” was the nicest of the replies. They walk into my office, look at me with disgust and leave without saying a word. None of that is unusual, except usually they look at me with disgust and say, “hello.”

Two others think I’m an alcoholic. “What bar,” one asked incredulously.

“I dunno.”

“So,” he said, pausing to choose his words carefully, “you just hang out in bars?”

“No… it was a joke.”

“You don’t go to bars… at all?” Okay, now he was incredulous. I mean really incredulous.*

“No… I go to bars, just not a lot. I was joking.”

“You think drinking makes you cool?” He said, suddenly becoming my father.

I decided to tell the truth, “Look,” I leaned forward so he knew I was serious, “I’m not a looker, so I need all the help I can get. If finding a drunk hottie in a bar is the only way I’m getting some, then I’m getting some… so back the F’ off!”

“Oh,” he said, feeling guilty and embarrassed. He briefly apologized and scampered** from the room.

Now, normally, one wouldn’t react to my previous comment in such a way, so I can only assume that the words I spoke were slightly different from what I just wrote. I think they were along the lines of “I’m an alcoholic—and rather than say I was going back for the national AA convention, I say I’m in a bar and everything thinks ‘how fun.’ I’m just trying to salvage my dignity… one. day. at. a. time.”

Yeah, I’m gonna burn. I know it.

*Man, I’m so glad I had looked up that word this morning… it’s really come in handy.
** I like 'scampered,' too. Although, I did not need to look it up.
*** Uh, there is no asterisk in the text for this, but I do want to note that I AM definitely copying the asterisks motif so brilliantly achieved by An Intern In New York (his blog ended last week and this is my tribute/plagiarism of his work. God Speed, Intern Andy!

Monday, May 02, 2005

I'm Going To Have To Spend The Whole Week With Her?

My sister and I are going back East for a week trip to do a little family history search (her passion, not mine) but I’m going along because… well, I’ve got nothing better to do. I could go to work, but really—I do that everyday and it’s not like it gets me laid or anything.

Actually, it did. But that’s another story for another time.

Anywho… my sister has not been on a vacation in forever. She used to travel a lot, but now only does the occasional day trip or weekend trip to The Crosby, Tahoe, LA, etc. This will be her first real vacation in a long time and she is very excited about it. Very excited.

So excited, in fact that she constantly talks about it. “Just think,” she said Saturday morning, “in a week, we’ll be flying…” In church on Sunday (yes, I go to church… yet another story…), she leaned over and said, “In a week we’ll be at mass at Victor’s church.”*

She’s even started packing! The dining room table is now covered with her underwear (she’s 45 guys, don’t get excited… it ain’t pretty) and toiletries. We leave on Saturday, so I’ll probably start packing on Friday night… or Saturday, if our plane leaves after noon. I’m not sure what time we leave… which leads me to my next ‘problem’:

She’s highly organized.

My sister keeps everything from the trip in a file—hotel reservations, flight information, car rental, maps, ideas, etc. It’s astounding. However, she thinks everyone does this. We received an invitation to go to a party and she looked at me and asked, “Do you want to put this in your file?”

“My file?” I asked.

“Yes, your file folder with all the trip details.”

“Uh… no. I’m good.”

“You have a file, don’t you?” She asked this in the same way my mother asks questions—pretty much giving you a direction in which she expects you to answer. (My mother often asks questions this way, as it saves a lot of time, because you don’t have to think, you just answer based on the cues in the question: “You’re not gay, are you?” [“not” + “gay” = answer: ‘no’] “You’re not a Democrat, are you?” [“not” + + Democrat” = answer: ‘of course not.’] My mother has since learned to live with disappointment—however, I will say she cried more when I told her I was a Democrat than when I told her I was gay… “You’re not going to vote Democrat, are you? [“not” + “vote Democrat” = my mother in tears).

Back to the conversation:

“No… I don’t have a file,” I confessed. For a moment, I thought she was going to cry. She stayed very quiet for a moment. “I just figured,” I said desperately pulling something—anything—out of my ass, “that you being so organized, it would just be duplication of work.” She smiled. I’m sure she knew I was full of it, but I was appealing to her sense of organization…

“Okay, I’ll put it in my file.” She started to walk away and I thought I was in the clear, until she turned back and said, “you really should have your own file, to keep all of the things you want to do organized.”

We’re going on this trip together—we are stuck together the whole time. The only time I have some time to myself is Monday night in Boston. I’m going to try to get into a Red Sox game (good luck), or I’m going to hang out in a gay bar.

Guess which way I’m leaning.

“Hey, Alix! In a week I might be sodomizing a Red Sox fan! Should I put a condom and lube in my file?”

It’s going to be an interesting week.

*Long-dead great uncle that was a Monk at Portsmith Priory.