Vows

Ted and I want to get married in Maine.*

We have this ideal setting on his parents island, a little point on Fort Foster. A big back yard with BBQ and dancing to follow.

This probably won't happen in Maine now. Simply because Ted and I have a shared view that we don't want to get married in a state that doesn't allow equal marriage rights to all.

Making this decision was easy, there was almost no discussion. The night of Maine's election this November I brought it up, and Ted was right there with me. Our silly wedding idea was gone right before our eyes, but it was nothing compared to the thought that our friends don't even have the choice to get married in Maine or not.

And now, today, our friends can't get married in New York either.

I wish I had gall to leave my job for a few days and protest in the states that don't support same sex marriage. I don't, but I can make my clam in this small way. We can not pay for our marriage license in ME, our friends won't spend their money on hotels, gas, and food costs, we won't support local business in their photography and catering services. It's nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it's also something.

My friend Steve, who lost his husband this past year wrote this:

http://www.americablog.com/2009/04/in-massachusetts-husbands-death-shows.html

Read it. It puts into words what I know, and so many are ignorant of. I have to believe that it's ignorance, and not stupidity because I want to have more faith in my country than that.

This is not a funny post, but it's simple. So I think I'm staying true.

*Ted and I are not engaged, nor do we plan to be any time soon. But we love each other a ton and this stuff comes up.

Look both ways.

I couldn't quite wake up this morning. I parked in the shade with my coffee, the sun was especially bright and I was in no mood for it's positive attitude. I was 20 minutes early for work and decided to listen to NPR in my car as opposed to getting in early today.

A squirrel appeared from the brush and scampered across the cross walk. A moment later he made the return trip across the white painted lines, an acorn in his mouth.

I watched him and tuned out the radio program, thinking to myself that this squirrel is an upstanding citizen. Even I have a hard time obeying cross walks.

Pink

I was lying in bed when I heard Ted call from the living room

"Baby..."

It was a worried tone.

I got up, felt around from my glasses and went out to see what was wrong.

He stood over a laundry basket full of our clothes.
All of our pink clothes.
Wait, we don't have that many pink clothes.

Somehow Ted missed the home ec class where you learn not to put the new red throw rug in with your whites.

In other news I got a new sexy pink bra...

Gore Fest VII

I have plenty of personal updates to post, and once again I'm past due.

However, this post is dedicated to Gorefest.

The first time I saw the show 4 years ago I knew I was hooked. It was hilarious and full of blood splattering good times. The best part is the tension they create. The audience knows that the "gore" is coming, but they don't always know when.

This year's show is full of tension, sexual innuendo, and some of my favorite GF songs to date.

Go see it.

Really.

Stars in my eyes...

Last night I met with Susie, Bryce, and Lisa for a wedding chat. As I mentioned, Sus is getting married next September and we make up some of her wedding party.

Really, it's a glorified excuse to go out and drink and chat about stuff boys really don't care about.

We decided to go to Trina's Starlight Lounge, a new bar/restaurant that just opened in Inman Square. The space used to be the infamous Abbey Lounge, a divey, amazing hole in the wall with more character than that an old whore that lived through three wars and prohibition. The last time I was there I was punched in the face and went home with a boy named Charlie who wore dirty old sneakers and a military jacket.
I'm sad that it's gone.

Overall, the Starlight is great. I love the whole look of the place. It's like you stepped into a 1950's shout out.

The cocktails were delicious, and pretty much the most expensive thing on the menu, $9.00 for a specialty drink. I'll be sticking with their $5 and under beer selection unless it's a super special occasion.

We ordered cheese fries as an app, but they came out with the meal. That would actually be my only real complaint about the place: the food took forever. I blame it on first week kinks.

Lisa and I had the pressed Apple & Brie sandwich. I loved it, especially the horseradish dipping sauce that accompanied the cheesey goodness.

Susie had the Mac and Cheese with Ritz. She wasn't a fan of the Ritz, mainly because they seemed more like an afterthought. The sprinkle them on after the the Mac and Cheese. If they crushed them up better and baked them on top- now that would be amazing.

Bryce had a salad. It looked nice, and I actually forgot to ask her how it was.

Our waiter reminded me of a hipster Joey from Friends. He always had a half smirk on his face and I could never really tell if he was listening to us. I wouldn't ask him to define any big words. But he was cute so we really didn't care what he did. As long as he kept making dreamy eye contact and rocked his tight plaid shirt.

We were pleasantly tipsy as we left, full bellies, and all girled out. The 50's style decor made me want to go home and do my best Betty Paige impression for Ted.

Instead I smooched him and fell asleep with my pants on.

Sage Advice

"Whoa, those are a lot of jalapenos babe, can you really eat all of those?"

It wasn't a challenge. It was a mere inquiry about my tolerance for spicy peppers.

I took it as a challenge.

I was late for work this morning.

Also, don't drink Guiness with chili.

Marital Bliss

As I've mentioned, I've had a lot of weddings this summer. Today marks number five.

Scott has been a tried and true friend for the last 8 years. Look how little we were.
Congrats to Scott and Rachel!

Love is awesome....

Because it's finally public I want to officially e-congratulate my best friend since 3rd grade, Ms. Susan Forshner and her amazing fiance Mike on their engagement.

I remember the phone call I got from Susie as she described their first date after seeing the Blair Witch Project way back in highschool. The funny thing is, Susie is so scared of horror/suspense movies that she literally flips around in her chair. I think that going to a scary movie with Susie would probably be the least romantic thing I can think of, no brushing of the thigh accidentally. If she did touch Mike, it would probably be a death grip.

Now to start the journey of losing weight so I can squeeze myself into a bridesmaid dress...

FNFO Retreat

I got home and I couldn't explain why I had laughed so hard.
I couldn't find the right words to describe how funny it was when Robert fell out of his chair, or when the ping pong ball landed in my cleavage. It doesn't come out right when I tell the story of pantsless Camillo at 1:00 in the morning.


Everyone swears they have the funniest most bestest friends ever times a million. I mean read blogs about it every day. I listen to people's stories, I look at their silly pictures online.

I just can't possibly imagine anyone being funnier than my friends.

It's impossible.

At the same time, I can't explain why they are so funny. I can tell you about Dana jumping in the water ass naked at 2:00 in the afternoon, but I might get a chuckle at most. I could try and explain why a drunk Marcello declaring Mia (of all people) his enemy makes me pee in pants, and you would probably fake laugh and shrug. I mean, Camillo said the word "Big Dicker." It's hilarious.

What I can do is make you understand that I care for those people greatly. I could call up any one of them for pretty much anything and get a hand. FNFO is without a doubt my family.

I have so many gray hairs.

But at least my boobs are still perky.

:::Confessions of a mid twenty-something:::

One of the moments...

Reading on the internet, posing like a GQ model, clueless that I'm taking this phone photo.

It was one of those moments that I was reminded how much I love him.

It was the morning after the wedding - we were both really rested because the place cleared out at around 9:00 the previous night. We got a few dances in with the great big band, and for the most part we had ignored any political liberal confrontation. You see, these people were from no where Maine and very Christian. I got the impression that we were the fringe in this situation. Maybe we were reading into it too much, but the ceremony had deep seeded undertones about the sacrament of marriage. I can't wait till they see all the gays at our wedding*...

We were sitting, waiting for a chance to congratulate the bride and groom before we trekked back to Mass (mind you this is the 4th out of 5 weddings this summer-we're sick of driving). Ted was talking to his brother and I was spacing out, watching a group of cousins and I overheard "Oh God! How liberal can you be?" I took a deep breath in and held my tongue,

He leaned over and whispered in my ear "I don't even want to know." Here we were on the same page, nothing had to be said.


* No, we aren't engaged. And I plan on putting no pressure on Ted to get a ring on my finger. After this weekend, it seems his family is doing all the work for me.

I should mention....

Tomorrow kicks off the Boston Improv Festival.

The whole event makes me proud to be a part of such an amazing theater. The Boston Improv scene is totally unique to any other city. It's certainly smaller than most, with only two theaters strictly devoted to the art. Improv Boston is the most welcoming place I've ever been. It's like putting a cushy couch between to soft boobies - it's that comfortable. Improv Boston allows people to put up crazy hilarious shows like This Improvised Life, and the majority are hits that you won't find any place else.

So come check it out this week. Well over 50 acts. Beer. Wine. Me.

I'll be performing in the Midnight show on Friday U.S.A. vs. Mexico. Yes, real live Mexicans will be there. In all of their sexy glory.

Come on down. Make your own day.

Have you ever had a day where

Every question you are asked is the stupidest thing you've ever heard and you have a bubble of unexplainable rage lodged somewhere between your heart and lungs. The only thing you want to be doing is eating a cheeseburger and watching re-runs of Cheers, and the best thing that has happened to you all day is you found a band-aid for your hangnail while the worst thing that's happened to you is that you woke up. And every time the phone rings at work you want to yank it out of the wall and throw it in the ladies room toilets, pee on it and flush several times. Not to mention the coffee that you thought was the only thing that could possibly get you through the day has given you heart burn, and after you leave work you have another job to go to?

One of the regulars.

If you're reading this you're probably one of my friends. If you're one of my friends you probably have a bar that you're a regular at. If you're a certain kind of friend you're probably reading this post on your phone at that bar over a beer.

In my life I've had a few tried and true bars that have been a second home to me: The Spoke in Amherst, The Field in Cambridge, and the Corner Cafe* in the North End.

Now, for my friends that may not be a lushy as I am that are wondering "how do I know if I'm a regular?" Here is a check list:

• Do you know the entire staff, if not by name than by nick name you have made up?
• Do they know your name?
  
• Do you feel comfortable going into this bar by yourself?
• Have you had a drink "bought for you" by the bartender?
• Does the staff look out for your well being? If a guy/girl you don't like is hitting on you does the bar tender play wing man?
• Do they know your drinks?
  
• Have they let you stay past close?
• Do you frequent there more than once a week?
• Do you tip the staff more than 50% on occasion?
  
• Have you ever spent more than 6 hours there?
• Would you consider inviting the staff/other regulars to your wedding?
• Do you have a certain seat that when someone is sitting in it you get pissed?
• Have you gone to this bar in your pajamas?
• If your friends can't get in touch with you via cell do they go and check for you at this bar?
• Have you pooped in their bathroom? Come on... this is a big deal.
  

Now friends, if you have done 12 out of 15 of these you are a true regular (at least in my book).

Do you have a bar you would consider yourself a regular at?


*What did you think the corner has a website? Silly.

The night we ate mushrooms.

Before we blew a circuit and lost power in the house (making M. late for work because we were too scared to go into the basement to flip the switch), and after communicating in closets sending notes back and fourth she sat on the floor make art out of a sharpie, red nail polish, and manilla envelopes. I leaned my ear up against the wall.

"This house has a heartbeat."

I feel like a found a lost sock. A really expensive missed sock.

Viva

St. Anthony's always marks the end of the summer for me. Since I was a little girl spending the feast weekends at my Dad's house in the North End, all summer breaks led up to the last one in August. Friends would come in to experience to exotic world of fried dough and rice balls, totally falling in love with the boys selling slush, and sticky sweaty nights getting lost in crowds.

This was a great summer. It might be one of the best I've ever had. Countless weekends away with friends and family with no stressful time restrictions. I wasn't able to perform with NXT due to scheduling conflicts (among other things) and with that boost I choose to take the summer off from Improv with the exception of the occasional FNFO show. The decision resulted in time - quality time - spent with friends that I've some how neglected. I had more time with Ted, renewing lost parts of our relationship; I mean let's face it - improv leads to neglecting him too. By doing all this, my improv has actually improved. Decisions and risks have been stronger. Group bonds have been renewed. A lot of goals have been put into perspective.

Last night slow dancing with Ted for just a few minutes while the band played and friends watched on marked a highlight for me. Lights and garlands were shining over head, people were laughing and singing. Confetti covered the ground, folding chairs with older ladies occupying the street where cars would normally be parked bumper to bumper. A small moment of perspective looking up at Ted, and a little bit of bitter sadness that This is it folks. Until next year.

"Hey, Do me a solid-"

The phrase makes me think of pooping. I don't like it. Never use it.

A view from our seats.

Dad and I scored amazing Red Sox tickets for Saturdays game. The photo is blurry cause it was taken from my phone, but we were third row behind the Red Sox Dugout. I made eye contact with Ortiz. It was sopping hot outside, the park was packed, and I had the best time. We slammed the Yankees (well, that day) and made friends with the people around us. Success!

"You get the hot dogs, I'll get the beer. We'll meet right by the condiments."

"Got it."

Okay Shannon. Get the hot dogs, Dad gets beer. Hot dogs, beer. Hot dogs, beer. Beer. Beer. Get the beer and meet by the condiments.

We ended up with 4 beers. I have a one track mind on hot days at the ball park.

The three men I want to spritz with a water bottle while they say my name and make eye contact with me:

Jason Segel

I want to smooch him. No, I want to smooch him and go on silly adventures. I want to go ghost hunting with him at night and come home to build pillow forts. I want to take long car rides and make up songs about alligators and the moon. I want to go the the Garment District with him and make silly outfits and go out to a fancy restaurant wearing them. I want to be his best friend... and I want to smooch him.

Naveen William Sidney Andrews

I want to go to go to the most expensive restaurant I can find wearing a dress that cost me $5,000. I want Naveen to pull out my chair, lean down, push my hair aside and whisper something in my ear. Halfway through dinner I want international terrorists to invade the building so Naveen and I can kick their ass. When they are all dead, and the place is cleared out we'll sit back down and finish our champagne.

Alexander Skarsgard

I want to get naked and tickle fight with him.

Silly Amercans, health care bills are for socialists!

I was walking into work last October and Mr. __ stopped me in the parking lot to give me an article and speech about how Obama was a terrorist and was going to destroy our country. He was angry, and the facts he gave were-well silly. Just like the birth certificate drama (you know, because if I were a 19 year old pregnant white woman in college I would want to go to Kenya to have my baby), and the death panels, and the countless other silly accusations that are still blowing around. I swear I wasn't trying to be rude but all I could do was laugh.

This respectable 70-something year old man made me laugh, and he didn't mean to so it was at his expense and I feel sorry for that.

However, he gave me the best advice - maybe somewhat tongue in cheek, but good advise: Educate yourself.

See- it's so easy to get angry. It's even easier to remain ignorant. I won't take you seriously unless you actually know what you are talking about.

So, I ask of you:

Read the actual health care bill.

Educate yourself, and then form your opinions.

Then when you talk to me, we can have an actual conversation. Not what you heard on O'Reilly and what I learned from The Daily Show.

Cause we're better than that.

(Though both shows are the same amount of funny.)

Bridge memories all in one bag.

I was four - maybe five, and my mom and Auntie Mac were in the front seat. I can't remember what car we were in - maybe a red two door? Or was it the blue K Car? We had been waiting in bridge traffic and the air was stagnant. My butt was itchy on the polyester seats and I had to pee. An Army bus pulled up on our right and Mom and Auntie whipped off their bras and flashed them.

I lifted my shirt to inspect my mosquito bite boobies.

"Can I moon them?" I loved to moon people back then. Maybe it explains my tattoo.

"Go for it Shanny!" Auntie Mac yelled. Auntie Mac's voice sounded like she's smoked a million cigarettes, and she was so tan she was black. I'd asked my mom about the black thing in private once. She explained that auntie was just Italian and her skin gets dark in the summer.

I unbuckled my seat belt and pulled down my elastic waist band shorts, pressing my bum up to the half rolled down window. There were cheers and honking horns. I felt proud. There was a sweat mark of my bum, proof of my rebellion. I don't know if it's rebellion if your mom is telling you it's okay.

Sunny Cape Cod was on the seat next to me. The legend is we found the stuffed little guy on a beach when he washed up on the shore when I was a baby. I'm pretty sure he was bought at the Christmas tree shop. He was a little bit shorter than me, and clearly a German Shepard. His tongue was brown and hard from when I had tried to feed him a fudgscicle the previous year. I wrapped my arms around him, both of us in matching kids "Gull Cottages" t-shirts in baby blue.

"Mumma, I have to pee."

"Honey we won't be able to stop for a while, the traffic is all backed up."

"But I have to go!"

"Go in Mickey Mouse."

The red Mickey Mouse lunch box was next to Sunny. I let go of him and opened it up. Tossing the warm grapes and removing the thermos, I braced the two seats in front for leverage and let her go.

"How can I wipe?"

"Just shake it clean." I felt much better. Poor Mickey. He deserved a better fate.

We were close the the bridge by now. and the traffic was moving better. Not by much, but at least there was a breeze.

As we got onto the bridge and approached the middle Mom and Auntie tossed their cigarettes and grabbed their discarded bras from the floor. They counted to three and tossed them out the window over the side of the bridge. I tried to follow them as the fluttered down eventually hitting the water.

"Welcome to Sunny Cape Cod!" they yelled and laughed. I grabbed Sunny in the back and gave him a smooch. We were here. Well, still an hour to go- but the two week tradition had started. Nana was on her way up not too far behind us, and Auntie Jane would be there waiting with her daughter Vanessa. Auntie Silly would come up later in the week. It took be a long time to realize what the traditional word for Aunt was. These were my mom's best friends. No blood. Just loyalty.

I'm trying to avoid getting all Ya-Ya siterhood on you all. Cause it wasn't like that. I'm just as messed up from my mom and all of her escapades as I am better off by it. I certainly have a strange relationship with alcohol. I've written about these annual two weeks so many times and I can't figure it out.

It's the stories I love most of all.

The time Nana and Auntie Mac swear to God (and they still do to this day)that they met two handsome men with guitars on the beach one night who were really aliens. "They made the rocks glow! They were moon rocks!" I would collect them on the beach and try to make them glow in my room at night.

We went to P-Town and there was all this talk about "The Lesbians" and I asked my mom what they were. I was so worried for a few days after that talk. My mom eventually asked what was wrong and I told her I was scared that I was a lesbian, I loved her and the aunties. She laughed and told me it's okay if I was a lesbian, but that's not what it means.

Bringing Susie along when I was older, telling secrets by the fireflies and the fence at night.

Hot stagnant days like the one's we've had up here make me remember all of this.

All these memories are squished together. I can't tell one year from the other. I wish I had a time line.

I wish I could go back.

Last night on the Mass Pike-I fell in love with you.

As Susie and I crossed the street to grab a cab, we looked up and the sky was full for soap bubbles. Across Boylston the fountain was brimming over with soap suds. Everyone was laughing and playing like they were six and were just given the world's biggest bubble bath.

It turned out to be one of those reassuring moments that made me realize that I'm a Boston gal.

With so many friends moving out of town (and even myself giving it the occasional thought) it's nice to be reminded that I love it here. I love the neighborhoods, the ass-hole drivers, the B line with it's stops every two minutes, Cambridge, Somerville, Charlestown. Give me a slice of Regina's pizza over another cities any day. There is nothing better than being a die hard Red Sox fan simply because your city expects it. I watch maybe five games a season but you're a loser in my book if you don't think they are awesome (until they switch to another team and then we hate them). I love our streets that have no logical system until you know them and then it's perfectly obvious how to get around. Chairs holding parking spots. For such a gruff outer exterior we love our Gays. And our Kennedys. Our Mayor is an idiot who has chewed his own tongue and you can't understand a damn word he says. We scandalize everything - well the Herald scandalizes everything. We know all the words to Sweet Caroline. We dig big. We curse, we sear, we drop our R's. Eff you New York, you may have a big apple but we have a bigger heart.

Sure, some days I play the scenario of moving to Seattle/Chicago/LA. Getting a studio apartment and starting a new life. Then it's the funny simple things, like bubbles in a fountain bringing mass-holes together that make me realize I'm happy here.

Night time whispers.

"Ted?"

"Yeah?"

"You're awake?"

"Yeah."

"Can we name our little girl Door?"

"We're having a little girl?"

"Well, someday."

"Why Door?"

"Cause of the Neil Gaiman character."

"It doesn't sound girly enough."

"Okay, Doordinia."

Long Car Rides

With the Wedding Tour 2009: The Curse of the Twenty-Something, Ted and I have had to spend a lot of time in the car together. On such occasions when we've run out of discussion topics (Vampires vs. Werewolves, Can we walk our cat on a leash?, What will we do with a Pirate Ship when we steal one?) we play a game called "I'm Thinking of an Animal."

The game isn't as simple as it sounds. Yes, one person thinks of an animal while the other tries to guess, but it's the questions that are key. You may ask standard questions about it's grouping like "is it a mammal?" or "does it fly?" but the key is to ask the right questions, for example "If it were to host a tea party, what would it serve for a snack?" or, "What kind of shoes would this animal have?"

I'm telling you, the game is most fun and passes the time between rest stops and exits for Hicksville Long Island (where one of our June weddings were held).

So who wants to go on a road trip?

The Bitch is Back

Chill out guys, I'm right here.

After a two month hiatus I'm back with new undies and a fresh outlook.

Right now I'm writing while Mr. Mooney cleans up the apartment in preparation for the In-Laws. Don't worry-they aren't my actual in-laws yet, but they might as well be. I spent the past weekend at their house flopping around with no bra, drinking wine, and pooping in their toilets like they were family. 2 1/2 years into the relationship and I feel fine.

The past two months have been a whirlwind of weddings, improv, dentist appointments and Kittens.

Now for excuses:

Cranky Face
So, one of the reasons that I stopped writing for a while was the passing of Gus. Guscat was with me for a long time and we had to suddenly put him down at the end of May. Needless to say I was a mess. He was a best friend. Smooching me when I got home, curling up between Ted and I while we slept, and generally a good old fashioned crankyface. Ted and I had a hard time with the sudden death of our old buddy and every time I sat down to write something for the weeks after I started to cry. I've got it down to that bubble in the back of my throat that makes me feel like I've got a sad donut caught in my esphogus. The hardest part? Two days later the Doc. sent us a paw print. Now we are a one Gus* house hold.

Michael Jackson
One entry I sat down to write, and still currently have in my drafts was about crazy people. On my list were the crazies on Whale Wars, the man that walks around central square with the potted plant, and MJ. Well, don't you know it two days later MJ dies and I secretly think that I did it by writing about how crazy he was.

Weddings
Mooney and I have a wedding just about every other week this summer. In fact, until October we DO have one every other weekend.

Miles
We adopted Miles: The Dragon Slayer last month. He's an all black crazy kitten. No Gus, but good company for the other kitty. And he's pretty damn cute.


So that's it folks. I'm back, I promise this time.

Smoochers.


*For those of you who don't know, Mr. Mooney and I each had a cat named Gus before we started dating. His is a girl, mine was a boy.

Mr. Mustachio

Sometimes Ted and I play a game called "Mr. Mustachio" in which I pretend to have a mustache and he acts surprised because suddenly Shannon is gone, and Mr. Mustachio is in her place. We then chat about interesting topics like current events and the meaning of words. When my web cam is back up, I shall post a picture of him. Mr. Mustachio that is.

Applethoragus

This past weekend one of my Most Best's flew into Boston from L.A. Genevieve and I go almost as far back as Susie and I. These two women have seen me through every single phase I've been through. Friendships spanning 20 plus years.

Just recently Susie moved down the street from me in Somerville. It's probably about the same distance we lived from each other growing up. During hot summer's we would call each other before noon. "Meet you half way?" We would leave our houses at the same time and rendezvous somewhere around Tilly's (I can't believe they have an actual website). I used to torture Susie during the summer. Until the age of 14 or so she was a quiet girl. She hated having any kind of extra attention drawn her way. I was the opposite. Everybody look at Shannon! I would suggest going down to the local pool to swim our afternoons away. She always agreed but hated it. She would sit in the shallow end, shivering and pruning as I showed her every dive I could muster...and then some. I was an only child and still think of her as a Sister. Her image comes up with that word association.

Through the years Suz has been my rock. We've gone a month or two without talking and it doesn't seem to matter. I think of her family as fondly as I do my own. Mike too.

Despite my torture we had some of the the best times during those hot afternoons, and laughed harder than I think I ever will for the rest of my life. We played tricks on the kids downstairs pretending to be locked in the dishwasher. There were hours of hide and seek-you would have thought that we would have found all the places to hide, but we somehow there were always more. We said the words "chicken" and "applesauce is good" because... well I still don't know why we said them. Maybe we said those phrases in absence of something to talk about. I still sometimes just say the word "chicken" out of nowhere for no reason. We would play truth or dare and one of us would end up running around the front yard with no shirt on, or listen for Ghosts calling across the pond from her house.

This post isn't turning into what I intended. I meant to write about Genevieve and I and our crazy girl weekend-but somehow I got nostalgic and started missing Susie, the girl that is still right next door.

Facts.

I put my underwear on inside out today and I refuse to change that.
I keep getting Iced Blueberry coffee's from Dunk's even though they give me heartburn, and when I start to get the heartburn I take more sips like that will stop it.
Last night I ate hot wings and then I touched Molly Vagina and it burned like ouch.
I'm guest starring in the Ruckus this week at Improv Boston and I play a prison bitch.
I read the latest Sookie Stackhouse book at work this week and got all hot and bothered.
This should all be counted as LiLu's TMI I've been reading her for weeks and love love her.
My office smells like meat.

28 Proof Liquor and an apology

Liz,
I'm truly sorry I haven't been updating my blog.
Love, Shannon

***

I threw my Dad a modest yet still high maintenance 60th Birthday party this past Sunday. He didn't want anything big, just a couple of his friends together for lunch at Pagliuca's* in the North End. He gave me a list of 20 people to call.

The weird thing about older generations than mine, is that they always answer their cell phones. Unknown numbers don't bother them at all. Every single cell phone I called someone answered. When the phone rings and I don't know the number, I ignore it and anxiously await the voicemail.

The party was great. They treated us like Royalty. We ordered things that weren't on the menu. The wine flowed like... wine.

An old accordion player came in and played music for us. It was really great.

My dad was happy. I was happy. What more can you want?

I also drank a lot. Then had to do a show at the Burren. I think it was a good set? I remember feeling great afterwards. I also remember Ted driving me home cause I couldn't, and then crying over the movie Bolt. I just got so sad. Bolt was just so sad. I also remember the hangover I had on Monday morning.

This week I'm taking it easy.

* Pagliuca's is by far the best restaurant in the North End. Anyone who says different is dumb.

Bears.

Ted's brother vomited in my hair this weekend. Which, in retrospect is really funny. It's funny because we were in the middle of the dark roads in Maine and I didn't actually think he was sick, because it's Dave, who I love, but has a history of feigning illness to leave a family event. I thought that's why we were getting on the road so early. Nope. He really didn't feel good and puked in my hair.

I love Maine. I don't do the out doors all that well, but somehow I don't mind so much when I'm on an Island listening to the ocean and trekking through the woods behind a Labrador puppy digging up deer bones. Or human bones. I mean, it was pretty big and looked like a femur of some kind. Not that I know human bones from deer bones... but still. Maybe there is a serial killer on the island. A serial deer killer.

Oh wait, those are called hunters.

I didn't mind camping so much when we went white water rafting last year, but that wasn't really camping. I had a shower, and I only peed outside if I wanted to. Which I did want to at night when it was dark and scary and the bathroom was too far away. I also felt super self aware that the only people sleeping could hear my pee on the leaves. Which made it hard to pee. But I digress.

I love watching Survivorman type shows. I mean, I think Cast Away was a freaking amazing movie. What's better than Tom Hanks playing Tom Hanks BUT WITH A BEARD?! A good beard will make any movie. Especially a movie about a gay man trying to hide the fact he's gay at a wedding so he brings his best Fag Hag.

So, though I haven't tested my outdoor capabilities I wonder how I would fare. Clearly I would have to get over the peeing thing. And I'd have to learn how to make a good fire. And ward off bears. Or at least talk them down from being such grumpy faces. Which, if you consider how good I am at calming down my grumpy cat, I may be pretty good with the bears. I don't want to brag, but if I rub Gus's ear he is putty in my hands.

Maybe I'm better off than I thought....

The whole reason I bring this up is because I think it's all going to affect my Zombie experience... when it does happen.

I still promise that Zombie Plan Part II is coming soon.

Hickey

I was driving to work this morning, multi-tasking, as I applied make up and brushed my hair at the 15 redlights between my house and the highway when I noticed it.

I was pulling my hair back and there was a hickey on my neck.

There is no mistaking the the broken blood vessles in a circular formation. It look like someone sucked on my neck for ten seconds too long.

Here's the rub: Ted and I didn't make out or even get a little bit fresh last evening. Hell, I was so tired last night I don't even know if we made eye contact. But there it was-on my neck left like the tag of a 16 year old boy.

How did this happen? The cat slept with us, is he a vampire? Are there really Chupacabras? Explain yourself Hickey!

A pain in my bow.

I have a terrible horrible no good very bad pain in my elbow.

After Web MDing it at work today, I have concluded that I have a serious infection resulting in what will be a slow and painful death sparked by untreated strep throat months ago, OR either* tennis elbow or golfer's elbow.

I think it's the golf one. I played a golfer in a scene last night.

That must be it.

* Yes, or either. Not either or.

Snarting.

After I had a glass of wine last night I laughed and boogers came flying out of my nose. I then proclaimed:

"Oh no! I snarted!"

Is that a thing? Snarting?

Okay thanks bye.

I want it bad... in my three holes..

Haven't posted much lately cause I've been a bit on the cranky side, and I'm telling you right now that I am no good at finding the funny when I'm cranky.

One thing I've been super excited about is Three Hole Punch. By now, you all know about my femme fatal group. It consists of three of the ladies that I started doing improv with circa 2002. Since then we've grown and learned the game together. We have a remarkable chemistry that is difficult to develop without years of personal of experience together. Trust me, we've nailed the personal experience.

Recently we were accepted into the Chicago Improv Festival. This submission was a big deal to us. We want to get some festivals under our belt and Chicago is certainly a big one. I did, however, made a huge ass of myself when it came to the whole acceptance process.

It went like this:

I submitted our group. It's like college applications. There are fee's, questions, and instead of an essay-a video.

We were told we would hear back about our status.

I received an email that read "Shannon, thank you for your submission to the CIF. Unfortunately we are unable to accept your group this year... blah blah blah."

Irate that they didn't fall in love with us I forward the message to the girls that read something along the lines of "Stupid butt head dumbfaces. Whatever. It's fine. Who cares?" and hit send.

No. No I didn't. Oh my God I did.

I sent it back to the producer of the festival. Realizing this about .2 seconds after I hit send I hastily sent an email back groveling over how sorry I was. I didn't really mean it. The CIF has been great. I completely understand...

I get an email back from said producer laughing it off and complimenting us on how good we seemed. He said he didn't really know why we didn't get in, we were certainly on the board for submissions to make it. There were just a lot of groups.

I was still mortified. There goes our chances next year.

Fast forward to two hours later.

I get an email from Mark Sutton. Mark Sutton is kind of an improv idol of Three Hole's. Back in 2003 during our Mission Improvable days, one of the first workshops we took were with Bassprov at the Annoyance.

Mark wrote "I'm sorry that there was some kind of mistake Shannon, but you guys are indeed accepted into the festival."

I would like to think that my insulting demeanor got us in.
That and our good looks.

So to my Chicago friends, we have a prime slot. We'll be performing at the Annoyance Theater Friday April 17th at Midnight. The party is also at the annoyance. So as my dear mentors told me back in the day (mainly Drex), "Come for the party and stay for the show."

Until then you can catch Three Hole this Saturday night at Umass, and in May during the Women in Comedy week.

See you there!

BHP

Hey Friends.

Quick post! A group that I've worked closely with in the past is having a contest and asking people to write some funny essays! Prize? Tickets to see a show!

It's a facebook contest. Just look up Bad Habit Productions and join the group.

It's that easy.
More info on the company at:

badhabitproductions.org

Glutton for punishment.

Why would I stay up this late to watch a Julia Robert's movie?

The cat just puked.

Diesel!

I’m super exhausted as of late, and I blame wine.

If the wine didn’t insist on being consumed in one sitting, then we wouldn’t have a problem. It just seems like a sin to leave liquid in the bottle before bed.

I feel just awful that I failed to acknowledge St. Patrick’s Day here. I mean, my name is Shannon Fitzgerald Connolly. I’m also sad that I not one beer was consumed the whole day because I was bouncing from Insurance to Bartender.

Over the weekend Scott said something along the lines of “Shannon used to throw them back” in college. This is true. I remember the pride I used to take in consuming to Cobra 40’s through a straw in the middle of a dance party in our house. I would buy cases of those things. Even better was when I would arrive in Chicago every year after a 17 hour van ride and Mike Carr would be there with one in hand. How about the hours spent at the Spoke drinking $2.00 Gin and Tonics or (get this) Tequila/Vodka/Redbulls. I called them Diesels.

Don’t even get me started on flip cup.
I realize now how lame this all sounds. First of all, binge drinking is a very serious issue among college kids, and second of all I don’t know if it’s classy to have my glory days defined by 40’s of Cobra. But it’s how I rolled.Now I drink far less than I used to. Mind you, I still go through a couple bottles of wine per week-but it’s nothing like the life I used to lead.

Gone are the days of dance parties until 4am. Waking up wondering why my boots are in the bathtub. Mike coming out into the living room with me passed out on the couch with one boob hanging out. Or the time I was discovered with no pants on, curled up in a little ball on the brown couch. There’s a picture of that. It’s the bum before Diesel. Talk about retro. I no longer wake up and find my phone in the fridge. I don’t cry with my friends locked in my bathroom for hours.

Instead, I class it up. I have wine stained lips and pass out on Ted. Who is always a gentleman about it.

Maybe I haven't earned my Geek title....

In retrospect I should have known the geek thing was just dormant.

In high school I certainly wasn't the coolest chick on the block. I did Drama and the Speech Team (three time State champion in Duo Interp., finalist in Nationals three times thankyouverymuch). I had some cool redeeming qualities: my boyfriend for most of my High School days was a basketball player. I hung out with a bunch of cool kids, they just weren't in my grade (I hung out with all the cool boys in the grade below mine). I didn't dress geeky, but then again I didn't really have any kind of style. I read a lot. I went to local rock shows (but still listened to Phish*).

Despite it all the number one reason I'm a geek today is because in 6th grade the library was right across from my homeroom. Last night on the couch, out of no where, I remembered a series of books that I used to love. I just couldn't remember the name. After an hour of googling (dragon + witch + teenage novels + red hair + strings) and waning patience it just came to me: Dealing with Dragons.

That series right there was the little geek seed planted into the woman I am today.

There is nothing really special I have to tell you about the books. They were like candy. A world in which my little 6th grade imagination could have a boyfriend that's a prince and literally talk to dragons. I was hooked. Next thing I know I'm flying through the entire fantasy section. I'm going on aol chat rooms on the weekend talking about my new found love for lands that don't exist. I have Magic: the Gathering cards. I'm one of them.

Today that is not the case. I actually feel like I'm not geek enough to be cool. I'm constantly trying to fit in with my geek friends. Hell, I'm constantly trying to fit in with my geek boyfriend. I don't have enough time in the day to get through all of the comics (I still haven't finished Sandman... I mean I'm in trouble here). I can barely hold my own with Watchmen discussions cause I've only read it once (a book worth rereading.. I would say a requirement). So here I am in this weird limbo.

Not quite a geek, not quite cool.

So I'm on a mission. To become fully versed over the next few months. On my list of things to do:

• Watch Star Wars (never seen em)


• Get some friends together for a role playing game (I've been wanting to do this for a while.. I bet Bobby would host a game).


• Finish reading: Sandman, Y the Last Man, and Runaways.


• Make a new City of Heroes character


• Attend the Boston Con.

If you have any other ideas for Geeking out... I'm in. Let me know.

* Okay Phish you and I need to talk. You broke up. I saw people's lives get crushed after your last concert. People were literally saying"what do we do now?" because all they did was follow you around. I used to love you, but I was 15 and didn't realize there was life beyond the Jam Band.. or even the fact that there were jam bands out there that could change my life (Hello! Built to Spill!). I've seen you live tons of times. But I hate the following you ended up with because it was weird that people had a dependancy on you. Now that you guys are back I'm scared. That's all. Jerry's dead. Phish broke up. Get a job.

Pussy Willows

I was going to write about how fracking exhausted and miserable I am because I had a poorish performance last night (personal performance that is, I would put it down in the books as being top 10 stupid stage choices of all time) but instead I'm going to tell you something else.

When I was little I stuck a pussy willow up my nose and it got stuck.

What did I learn from it? Just because something looks soft, it doesn't mean you should put it in your nose.

Thanks folks.

Escape

First of all:

When I'm driving down the road and there are orange cones lined up to barricade something, all I want to do is hit every single one of them. I think it would be the most satisfying thing on earth.

Since that's out of the way, I want to talk to you about my ongoing Zombie escape plan.

A few years ago I started getting pretty severe anxiety attacks. These were bad enough that there were points when I checked myself into the ER because I thought my heart was going to give out. Along with medication, I was introduced to another method of calming myself down using visual imagery. Not "picture yourself on a beach with calming waves" b.s.-something as simple as memorizing a photo and trying to recreate the image in your mind as precisely as possible.

I chose to make a list of what I would need in order to get out for a Zombie attack. When ever I felt the anxiety coming on, I would go through my plan.

It's pretty complex so I'm going to give it to you guys in phases. Today we'll focus on
Phase I: Getting our Shit Together.

I would obviously be better prepared for the undead to rise because I'm always looking for the signs.

First thing I would do is warn my friends. I realize that most people would think of me as crazy, but at least I warned them. So if you ever get an actual email from me predicting pending doom, believe me. I know what I'm talking about.

Now, I'm lucky to have Ted because he's better versed in actual Zombie affairs. So we would sit down and consult. We would have to figure out what kind of out-break it was, and whether or not it was slow moving. Would we have Zombie activity in hours, or days?

First I'd take care of the cats. I would go to Target, get tons of big bags of cat food and dump it out in a big pile in our basement. Enough so the cats could at least get through the year. I would also cut a little escape door in the basement. Only large enough that the cats could get through. I want the cats to have a home base. I wouldn't want to release them into the wild, and in case I could ever come back for them there is a chance they would still be there.

Next, I would talk to my friend Misch and explain the situation. I think Misch is the type of girl who would get it. She'd be along for the ride. I would need her to obtain antibiotics and some basic medical equipment... you know suture kits.. those kind of things. Something compact. I would hope she would come along for the escape, but she might have her own Zombie plan already. Like I said... Misch is that type of lady.

Our land lords have a baby and live upstairs from us. Right away I would tell them to get on a plan to someplace safe. Now at this point you must be thinking "Shannon, why don't you just do that and avoid the whole situation?"

Because I live for adventure.

I would also put my dad on a plane to Alaska. This is of course assuming the outbreak hasn't reached there yet. My friend Caleb is a super outdoorsey type and lives remotely in a cabin he built himself. I think it would be a good place for my dad. I would let Caleb know what was going on so he could start fortifying his land.

Next it would be time for supplies. I'll just max out my credit cards because really, who's gonna need them after the Apocalypse? I'd buy guns and ammo, not so much for the zombies as much as other people who'll I'll have to fend off. Motorcycles because I feel like the easiest escape method would be via cycle. They can get around abandoned cars on the highway. If I had enough time to get out before the attack started I would obtain an armored car and put the bikes in it. When it gets to the point we can't go any further with car, Ted and I would take out the bikes and keep going.

I would also need non-perishable foods. My idea is to go to the Natick Labs where they do food testing for the military. I have a connection there and I think I could convince him to stock us up. This food would only be our reserves. You know, in the most desperate situations. Most likely once the human race is mostly wiped out or Zombified we could break into stores easily and take care of those needs.

I'd also have to get some necessary camping equipment. Canteens, mess kits, good knives you know, the basics. I can't carry too much with me so I would have to keep some Surviorman techniques in mind.

I would also have to change my wardrobe and appearance. I'd need some tight pants, good supportive boots, and a formfitting jacket. I'd probably go for motorcycle boots with a steel toe.

Then I would cut all of my hair off.

When you're on the run, the last thing you want is loose articles of clothing for the Zombies to grab onto.

I'd need to pick out my weapon of choice. I'd always have a pistol on me, but for the Zombies I'd want something blunt and light weight. I'm thinking a few baseball bats strapped to my back ala Ninja style. I have to do more research on this first.

There would be some other things as well... a good bottle of whiskey (I don't even drink it, but I think I would start). Lipstick. Extra contacts. Little things like that. I'd need the lipstick just for my own pleasure. I'd want to have something to remind me of the time before.

Then we would act. Which will be Phase II. Coming soon.

Jibbly Bits

Okay, first of all let me get this off my chest:

Watchmen-you were stupid. You were full of bad acting and I don't think you did Alan Moore justice (not that his ego needs to be stroked more). The violence was misunderstood and the sex scene was gratuitous. There were somethings I liked: it was visually excellent and some actors did well with it. Overall it was about 45 minutes too long.

Next!

So, along with my healthy(ish) eating I'm attempting to attend the gym on a semi-regular basis. I go to the Beacon Hill Athletic Club here in snooty Wellesley and I love it. I go on my lunch break and work out for a half hour, as prescribed by my doc.

Going to the gym at 1:00 pm in Wellesley is awesome. There are only 4 other people there, and they are all over 65. Not only does it motivate me when I'm on the elliptical next to a senior citizen, my boobs are wicked perky in comparison when I'm in the locker room.

The only downfall is the occasional Wellesley mom that pops in. You know, in her super cute gym outfit, perfectly applied make up, and way too much jewelry to wear when bouncing along on a treadmill.

When Wellesley mom is running next to me she's at twice the speed as I am and half the perspiration. She is also missing all the jibbly bits that I have. Wellesley mom makes me want to cry. But sometimes I run harder when she's there, especially when I focus on keying her car in my head.

What is wrong with me?


And now for a new segment to the blog:

This Week in Funny

Each Monday I'll let you all know the comedy I'm seeing in the upcoming week in case you want to join!

Tonight I'm heading over to Improv Asylum to see the level 5 grad show. If you want in, it's free and I would love some company.

Wednesday is my Best of Improv Asylum show over in the North End. This month my shows are on Wednesdays, and beginning in April they are Sunday nights!

Thursday I'm going to see the opening night of the new Mainstage show over at Improv Asylum. Would you like to join?

Friday I'm going to see the 8pm show and then MCing Friday Night Face Off.

And Saturday I'm hoping to check out Misch and Steph if they are performing! As always I would love company.

Shoot me a post if you would like to be my date to any of the above!

Geek Out

I feel like I've officially earned my geeky title. First thing I did this morning was email Ted:

"Should we go see Watchmen tonight and miss Battlestar, or wait until Sunday?"

Answer still pending.

Sexy Appendix

I love to look at pictures of babies. I could sit at my computer and hours will pass bye. I don't know whats wrong with me. I hate babies in outfits though. Keep the outfits for your dog.

I love to look at pictures of dogs in outfits.

***

I'm on a diet. It's awful. I want to drink and eat everything I can't. I wish I had a house made of cupcakes where beer ran out of the faucets.

***

I got a tetnus shot last Friday. Now I have a lump on my arm and I think It's cancer. It feels like cancer.

***

I can't motivate myself to write a full on post as of late. It's just quick updates. But if I were to write a post I would tell you about the time I went to the emergency room because I thought my appendix was exploding. They kept me there for 12 hours and took lots of blood from me. I hate having blood drawn to the point where I have to be physically restrained and my heart rate shoots up to terrifying levels. They lost my blood samples that night and had to do it all over again. Then they did a test where they stuck a tube up my butt and told me no matter what I couldn't "unclamp." Then they shot liquid up there through the tube and put some stuff through my IV that made me feel like I was peeing. I was on this table thinking I was peeing and trying so hard not to let the liquid come spilling out. I guess I didn't really think of what would happen next, but they took the tube out and told me if I didn't clench hard it would be messy. I didn't know the liquid wasn't absorbed and would have to come out. They told me to get up and walk across the hall to the bathroom and "just let it go". My johnny was open in the back and everyone could see my Diesel tattoo and I was holding my bum so the stuff wouldn't come out. The doctor was so handsome. He told me I just had a lot of poop and my appendix was fine. If were to post a real update this is the story I would tell.

An update of sorts.

• I bought new tights! I thought they were defective. I was wrong apparently the hole in the crotch was supposed to be there.
• First NXT show went over pretty well. Note to self: Don't be so nervous.
• Lady made eye contact with me in the gym while we were changing. Lot's of eye contact. I think she's someones nana. I don't like her and will not be her friend.
• I got a physical for the first time in years. I told the lady I was afraid of needles, she told me to think of it as a good spanking.
• Ted and I celebrated two years together this past weekend. We went to the 99 because that's where we went on one of our first dates. Ted was so embarassed but it was the only thing open in Beverly. They were right, we always come back for more.
• Three Hole Punch is FOR REALLY going to the CIF.
• We are going to the Mountain Goats at the end of the month. I couldn't be happier.
• I have nothing else to report. Love more.

Never have I ever....

Woke up in the middle of the night because I thought someone was knocking at our back door.

I was naked and we don't have curtains but I went to check anyways.

I stepped in cat puke on the way.

No one was at the back door, and I don't know how they would get there anyways, it's a closed in porch.

I left the cat puke there and wiped my foot on the door mat.

Then I went back to bed.

That Girl

I can only think of a handful of times in my life that I've been that girl, and it never took me long to become painfully aware of it.

Like last Memorial day. As in true form we had all gathered up on Mr. Morrell's roof for a cook out, four square, and more beer than any of us could ever consume.*

I had decided to take it slow that day, I paced myself and was waaaaay more interested in kicking ass in four square. However, somewhere along the line I got drunk. Somewhere farther down the line I got stupid drunk.

Don't get me wrong, I behaved like a lady. My underwear stayed on, and I didn't call anyone a stupid bitch.**

I told Ted I wanted to go home and he was glad (and sober enough) to drive there was just one minor stop-we just had to bring a friend's girlfriend home.

When I drink too much I turn into the either the emotional or lovey that girl. That car ride home was spent with me slumped in the front seat thinking that new girlfriend must feel uncomfortable because she doesn't know us, so it was my duty to make her feel at home.

I went off on minute long tangents about how love is soooooo important to life and finding that someone is like the air we breathe... followed by awkward silences. Then I would ask how her and her boyfriend met followed by my own anecdotes about how meeting via kick ball means they will last a good long time and he's a nice boy even thought I thought I would never like him when we first met... followed by awkward silences.

I think I continued to tell her how pretty she was followed by more silences until we dropped her off. I then became wicked self aware of how much of that girl I had just been. Ted assured me I wasn't that bad, and obviously I was just trying to make her feel comfortable and it was kind of endearing. But I was in fact that girl.

Now to the point I'm trying to make.

I want to personally get into a bitch fight with all four of the obnoxious that girls that were at our show Friday night. The audience was there to have a good time, and that good time was unfortunatly tainted by the four bitches in the front row.

They were definitely not self aware. They weren't aware when the person next to them asked them to be quiet. Or the guy who told them to shut the f up. Or when I tried my best to be sweet with a smile, a wink and a "shhh." Or when a player told them it wasn't their turn to talk.

Those could have been my best friends in the audience and I would still want to beat the crap out of them.

Know what ladies? "Fuck Off!" is not a funny suggestion. And continuously yelling "No!" when you don't like something is not cool either. And honey, if you can't lift the bottle of beer to your mouth without dribbling, it's probably time to just stop.

They reminded me of the cool girls in high school. Everyone who had something to say to them about how loud and obnoxious they were were just losers in their eyes. When the player asked them to stop talking one girl said to the other "What is her problem?"

You! YOU! You stupid stupid girl! Who are you impressing? No one! We love having drunk people in the audience. They say stupid nice things that make the show funny and they are there for a good time. YOU weren't being cute or funny! The problem wasn't that you were drunk, the problem was that you were vapid, self centered, and going about impressing everyone the wrong way!

Okay. Now I'm being that other girl. The one that sounds like she could never sit at the cool kids table, so she hated them instead. That's not the point I'm trying to make. The point I'm trying to make is if you see your friend being that girl. Tell her. Look out for each other.

And don't come to my comedy shows.

*We had so much beer and we were still afraid we were gonna run out, so around 1:00 I called my dad and asked if he could hook us up with beer from one of the bars (liquor stores were closed). In true form Dad saved the day.

**Unlike one of the girls who called me a stupid bitch to her friend when I told her to keep it down during the show.

Smooch Smooch

I’m constantly doing stupid things. I walk away from situations asking myself “why the hell would I say that?” I don’t always think before I speak. I don’t always think before I do anything. Last year while I was new at my Insurance job, M., who is my back up on the phones (I’m a receptionist) got up to let me know she was going to deliver something to a co-worker. I was engrossed in a claim report (these things are hilarious) and instead of acknowledging M. with a simple “sounds good,” I made two smooching noises.

Mwah! Mwah!
Lips pursed and all.

When I’m tuning my boyfriend out as he’s telling me something I sometimes do this. Not to a co-worker. Not to someone I barely know. M turned around to stare at me and walked off to her destination. It took me a good ten seconds to realize what I had actually done.

The worst part about these situations is I never know if I should explain myself or not. If I just leav- it, M. thinks I’m a little more out there than she originally thought. Telling her that I’m reacting to her the same way I do to my boyfriend is just...weird.

The best part of these situations? They are hilarious.

I’m a comedian. I’ve come to realize that I’ve started to look at everything from a comedian’s point of view. Most of the time it’s snarky, sometimes it’s pathetic, sometimes it’s ironic, and sometimes it’s just that funny.

So I’ve jumped on the blogging band wagon. This is my little corner. The simple funny things that happen to us.

Maybe I should have named it the simple awkward things that happen to us.

Oh well.