Friday, June 30, 2006

Here's Jenny, with traffic...

Wow. Thanks Jenny. Thanks for this ridiculous stunt--performed right under the HUGE "Winston-Salem" (my hometown) on the local news only to be propelled into YouTube fame as an internet virus.



You are an embarrassment to WXII and everything it stands for!

Thursday, June 29, 2006

We're Here, We're Queer....Yeah, I know the drill.

This past weekend was Gay Pride, which I avoided, not necessarily intentionally, but just because I didn't drag my lazy ass down there in the rain but rather had my own two-man gay pride march over to Burger King with S.D. Arbuckle for two pounds of pure grease topped off with the Hershey's Chocolate Pie. Good times. Anyway, it being Pride Season (yes, it is a season these days, much like Christmas), I found this old article from The Onion to be quite funny.

Also, this one. Sadly, some people do not grow out of it.

CONFESSIONS AT MADISON SQUARE GARDEN

Madonna was awesome at Madison Square Garden last night. The layout of MSG combined with the layout of her stage greatly increased the number of really good seats. We were so close! Despite the fact that my cold still persists so that immediately following every time I hooted and hollered I began hacking up my lungs, it was a lot of fun. The Spanish girls beside us were going so crazy that at one point Kevondrala leaned over to me and said, in all seriousness, ”I think she’s on ecstasy.” In contrast to her, the girl to our right—attending with her cutie gay boyfriend—sat down the entire time, standing only after I blasted a malodorous wind in her direction. I felt bad for the gay boyfriend. I wanted to tell him to change seats with her.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

It all started with heavy drinking on Saturday...

Your Auntie Stroll has been going through it.

Right here at the beginning of a fabulous summer, I get this sinus/cold thing that I am desperately trying to shake. We’re talking handfuls of NyQuil and DayQuil gel tabs, depending on time of day. I haven’t been to the gym since Friday because of this achy bone, stuffed up head feeling. So much for a tiny bit more body to give on my upcoming trip. But the good news is having only eaten grits and chicken soup, I’m still burning more calories from blowing my nose than I am taking in. Still, I might have to leave those cute ass boxcut swimming trunks behind. There’s no time for liposuction.

Madonna’s opening night at Madison Square Garden is tomorrow, the first of the two shows I will see, and I don’t care if I have to strait SHOOT UP Aleve Cold & Sinus, I will be there for both.

More later. I'm fixing to go home, and there's been crazy shit going on at my house.

Friday, June 23, 2006

NO HOT WATER, DON'T ASK QUESTIONS

Last night I got drunk on a weekday--a rarity in my old age--so this morning I slept in a liiiitle because I could: I had a pre-planned doctor's appointment at 10:00.

Now, seeing as I was going to see a medical professional, I figured I should be very clean so he would not question my hygiene. I turned the water on in the shower and waited for it to heat up, anticipating a relatively long, hot shower. No dice. That shit remained ICE COLD.

I've said before that I would go be a hermit in the Outer Banks except that I need HOT WATER. When there's no more oil and we can't heat the water anymore, I'm just going to have to stop showering all together. I tried my damndest to splash a little water and get a lather going, but I could not do it. Cold water pouring over me is not only physically painful to my delicate sensibilities, it makes me unable to breath.

After my whore's bath, I got dressed and went downstairs. On the door there was a hand-scrawled sign: NO HOT WATER. (In my days of living in that Washington Heights apartment aka tenement house, the equivelant was BOIL ROMPA, translated as BOILER BROKEN.)

When signs like this appear it baffles me. First, I figured that out when I went to take my shower at 9:00 AM like most of humanity before going to work. Secondly, I understand that there is no hot water, but is there any hope for hot water in the future? Is there any explanation? Alas, is this a statement of permanence, or is a change gonna come?

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

SEA GULL IN THE CITY

More on wild animals in the city...

Today walking on 35th Street near Madison Square Garden, I saw the shadow of something swooping down over my head. I thought it was a pigeon, until the bird came into full view, and it was a GIANT SEAGULL! That fucker must've had a five foot wingspan. I stopped, and the man coming towards me stopped, mouths agape. I managed to whisper, Jesus Christ! as Big Momma scooped something that she had spotted from the air up into her beak and flew back off in the direction from which she had came.

Summer Plans

Do you believe that we can change the future?



Today is Summer Solstice, the first day of summer, the longest day of the year. I like to pretend that the fireworks that have been going off within feet of my bedroom window for the past few nights are for the buildup to Summer Solstice, not because somebody got a shitload of fireworks ‘cause the Fourth is only a few weeks away. Anyway, as it is the only season that I truly find life worth living, I have a busy few weeks coming up.

On Thursday the COD will convene for Robinowitz’s b-day.
Sunday is the culmination of Gay Pride Week with the parade and all.
On June 28th, Madonna at Madison Square Garden.
On July 1st, J-Boog gets married. K-rock says that, yes, I have to wear a tie.
On July 3rd, Madonna again.
On the Fourth of July I leave for Florida until July 9th.
In August I may get to go to New Orleans for work (but I’m not getting my hopes up).

I am so excited about my trip that I can hardly stand it. I really need to get out of the apartment, the office, the city, the North for a little while. I’m sure as usual I’ll return feeling like it was much too short. But while I’m there I will stretch those days of solitariness and tropical sunshine out as long as possible!

Today, in honor of the human storm that has surrounded me out there in this great big city for the past, oh, six hundred years, I leave you with a quote from the immortal Miss Blurty D. Thompson: “People be strait trippin’.”

Monday, June 19, 2006

SANDY KICKING ASS!

Sandra Bernhard has been close to my heart since The King of Comedy and Without You I'm Nothing. Watch her appearance on The View and pity that brood of vipers! She silences Starzilla. She rips the young one a new a-hole! GO SANDY, GO SANDY, GO SANDY...

Saturday, June 17, 2006

WTF

My blahg is being indexed and displayed somehow by a whole bunch of spam blogs. How can I prevent this? Not really harming me but it is definatly bothering me.

I burned like 8,000 calories today...so I can eat a pint of icecream now, right?

Friday, June 16, 2006

"Is your cat more fixture than friend?"

Everyone is familiar with "Real Age" -- the number that represents how old you are based on factors in your life as opposed to the number of years you've been alive. Well cat's also have a real age.

In case you're wondering, Meow Kitty came out at a wopping 61 years old. Which means that I am only 39 years older than her.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Wild Kingdom, NYC

There are wild animals in New York City besides just squirrels, pigeons and those celebrated hawks about which I sided with the co-op owners unlike every other person that doesn't live in that building. There's also the occasional coyote, and the attack rooster, which is not really wild but acts like it.

Well the talk of the neighborhood up here at the World Church of Assimilation is the wild turkey that's apparantly on the loose around the park. There have been several sitings, but I am yet to see it. I need to capture photographic evidence of this thing. Apparantly they are huge. And they can fly.

Boss lady just called to say she's on her way in, and it's like this:

Monday, June 12, 2006

My dentist is cute in that "Little Shop of Horrors" way.

Got my teeth cleaned today. Had forgotten how unpleasant that was.

TICK?!

I was one hour early for work this morning. How this happened, I can’t be sure.

On the bus I was minding my business reading my paper with my cell phone clutched in my hand. I looked down to my phone to check the text message I had received, when I noticed it. There was some kind of tick-looking brown flat BUG in the palm of my hand. In the midst of freaking the eff out, I flicked it off onto the floor. I have been thinking non-stop since about where that little devil hand-eater came from. Hopefully it hitched it’s ride via the newspaper stand, and had not been with me since I left the house. Either way it’s disgusting. I washed my hands for twenty minutes when I got in. Then I ate breakfast in the cafeteria, still wondering how this could happen to lovely me. I killed a spider on my light fixture last night. That was enough to put me over the edge, and already had me feeling like shit is crawling all over me, but now I can’t shake the feeling that I’m covered in ticks. One more thing to obsess about.

Today in the NY Post, the story about Kevin Aviance’s gay bashing got a full page, and then, later in the paper, the exact same story was printed again at the bottom of a page. Anyway, he vows to perform at Gay Pride this year, and good for him. I wouldn’t hold it against him if he didn’t. But he wants to make a point, so good for him.

Sunday, June 11, 2006

Don't Add Fuel to the Mean Bitch's Fire

Ann Coulter is a vitriolic, loud mouthed, mean spirited, illogical, overbearing, Bill O'Reilly-in-woman's-clothing, cunt. Clearly. This is well known.

But this is America and she has every right to be just that. I am so sick of people trying to ban things, including her stupid book. Trying to get her banned will only fuel her fire, anyway. Can't you hear her now? "SEE! The godless liberals want to silence their opposition! COMMUNISTS!"

Get Well Soon, Kevin Aviance

S.D. Arbuckle informed me today that Kevin Aviance, a longstanding fixture of gay nightlife and club music, was the victim of a gay bashing by six or seven men on his way home from a bar in the East Village. He was reportedly not in his flamboyant performance attire, but rather "dressed like a boy". Not that that makes it any better or worse.

It goes to show that even in areas that we consider "ours", like the East Village and Chelsea, people under the influence of hatred and anger are still around.

I hope he gets well soon and I hope that people can stop being so damn hateful and violent in this world.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

Not that she was planning on it or anything.

Meow Kitty will be unable to visit Rhode Island.

New York City Storage Techniques


P0004248
Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
Just hang bulky items such as push carts out the window.

Friday, June 09, 2006

New York Moment #6,459

Today, the N train reeked of fish.

Collect Call from The Butch Stroll, Will You Accept the Charges?

Brace yourself for some rambling. Via Sergie via Mona, the Poetry Friday word is “collect”.

When I was younger, I had a lot of collections. Everything from action figures to matchbooks. I don’t have any of those collections anymore, as my mother through a lot of it out or gave it away – which is unfortunate, because do you have any idea how much those damn GI Joe figures are worth these days? And believe me, I had all of them. I get that quality from her. Most people keep to much crap lying around. Me, I’m too quick to throw everything away.

My roommate gets a kick out of my obsession with CLEAR SURFACES. He of course hangs on to everything because it is what comforts him. Mountains of old Star Trek novels and models, for example. They make him happy to have. Me, I am more happy having to have less to keep up with, less to clean.

I do still have my coin collection, though, a lot of which was passed along to me by my grandfather before he died. I’ve considered selling some of it to get out of debt, but I can’t bring myself to do it because of the sentimental attachment (which is strange because I am not sentimental at all).

A friend of mine was fired recently, and around here they are handing out lay-offs today. Everyone’s all doom and gloom. Meanwhile, I feel a little off my administrative assistant game as since the re-carpeting nightmare I’ve fallen behind and lost my delicate organization. Oh, to you it looked like meaningless piles of chaos, but to me it’s a very intricate organizational system, and when there’s any little kinks I get stressed out and overwhelmed. Unlike the rest of my life, I can’t just dump everything in the trash here before I get buried under it. Although I have had moments of purging, I give everything the benefit of the doubt about being important enough to keep in the files. ‘Tis my job to know these things. Sad.

At the end of the day I just want Boss Lady to be happy with me. It’s a weird feeling of wanting her approval more than any other boss/servant relationship I’ve had. I want her to think I’m doing a good job. I want her to like me. Why do I even care as long as I get my paycheck? I have no idea.

Anyway. TGIF indeed.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

George Washington Propaganda:

"Ate opponents brains, and invented cocaine..."



"Did I mention his four nuts?"

[via Strange Things Are Afoot at the Circle K]

What's more important than fighting back against the "attack on marriage"?

The Federal Marriage Ammendment failed. How did your senetor vote?

People like David Vitter (R-LA) kill me when they say things like "I don't believe there's any issue that's more important than this one." Not the devestation of his own state since Katrina. Not the war in Iraq, either for or against. Not poverty, crime, social security, climate change, oil addiction. There is absolutely nothing more important than keeping the fags and dykes from marrying. This is one of the people chosen to run this country.

My bank wouldn't accept it; something about insufficient funds...



Some old lady gave me this on the street the other day.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

The Lunch Lady aka The Lunch Box Lady

Call the over-the-top lunch lady at 510-351-7654 to hear what's on the menu today at a California convelescnet hospital's cafeteria. Today is 6/6/6, and yes, she addresses the fact but does not put much stock in it. She also inquires whether or not "ya'll are going to Pride this year" (as in Gay Pride), though she unfortunately will not be able to attend because it's too far. Message changes daily. A quick hoot. Enjoy.

Creepy Liver Eating Man

There are people around you that you never even notice until you get into a routine for a while. Example: When Nina the Dog was here, I used to take her on walks at various hours. Rather than the usual route towards the main drag, I’d walk her around the corner of the building on the street that is the dividing line between our building and the other side of the tracks. That’s when I began noticing this man that’s out at any time of any day. He’s a middle aged, balding, unimposing white man that strolls slowly up and down the sidewalk maze among the apartment buildings on my five-block radius. He gives a TOTAL SERIAL KILLER VIBE that would have sent me into a mild panic were it not for having a ferocious looking pit bull with me. Now that the dog has been gone for a while, I see him on my walk to the gym every now and then, and I thought he might have been homeless but today I saw him taking the trash out from his building. He gives me these “I want to eat your liver” smiles and it absolutely WIGS ME OUT so I always hurry on past his location.

Today, en route to Broadway with headphones on my ears blocking out all surrounding sound, I saw him up ahead, walking in the same direction as me. As I am a fast walker, I was quickly close behind him when I realized it was him. I tried to move around him, but he was a swayer (see previous post on acceptable punishments for swayers). I went right, he swayed right. I went left, he swayed left. Then I guess he heard the noise from my headphones, so he stopped dead in his tracks, turned around, gasped from being startled and jumped three feet off the ground. I just kept walking and didn’t say, “Oh excuse me” or anything because I had the headphones on and would have likely yelled it.

From my window I can see through a closed off ally over a yard to the sidewalk behind my building. I just saw him walk past there doing that creepy stroll he does! What are the odds? Now I’m determined that tomorrow I must demand that the super finally fix the lock on Lito’s window.

Saturday, June 03, 2006

Haditha Syndrome

This is what I posted at Unfogged:

I am in no way a so-called "apologist" for terrorists, but the defense of our own "bad apples" [in the case of Haditha] raises this question: Immediately, the people in charge of this war cite the fact that these people have seen horrors, including their own friends being killed, and that can really desensitize people and drive people to commit attrocities. Well, the people of Iraq have seen horrors--limbless, bloodied bodies, etc--since this war started and more Iraqi civilians have died as "collateral damage" than people killed on 9/11. So when they decide to kill innocents, why don't they get the "desensitized to violence" defense?


And this is a sensible reply from Gary Farber:

Cuz they're Bad Guys, of course. But, seriously, nobody reasonable gives that as an excuse for Our Guys; nobody reasonable confuses an explanation with an excuse. No one in the Marine leadership has spoken up to "defend" murder. (Random civilians or blog commenters, yeah, but there are always people willing to speak up for any POV, no matter how outrageous or disgusting.)

Friday, June 02, 2006

My 500th Post

It's raining babies and pitchforks out there.

Through a stroke of luck, I've just aquired tickets for an additional Madonna show. I already had Section 100-something for June 28; now I also have Section FOUR for July 3! I'm very happy about this.

Now, 'tis time to rise from the dead and hit The Butch Stroll. Holla.

The Truth About Paris

The new Simple Life series is coming soon to a TV near you. Of course, with Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie's infamous "feud", how will the show work? The above-linked article asks, will the details of their falling out come to life?

Well the truth is out there, honey. Everyone in L.A. knows that Nicole dumped Paris because Paris is fond of using the N word. And while appearances may be decieving, Nicole is black.

Meow Kitty as Sleeping Beauty

At my job we’ve been having new carpet put in which has been a long process. I think it’s finally over in my section, and I have my computer set back up and my surfaces cleared and cleaned. It’s been a hassle, but the new carpet is nice as was the opportunity to throw massive amounts of crap away without having to ask anybody because a) they’ll never miss it in the chaos and b) they would have never missed it anyway. I’m all about minimization.

~~~
Yesterday I went strait to the gym after work which is a rarity. But it’s actually better to do it that way cause then I have the rest of the evening to do things other than getting ready for the gym…and procrastinating, which leads to too late a bedtime. Upon my return the sky turned pitch black and it started to rain. I made it home right as the downpour began, complete with lightening and thunder.

Meow Kitty is usually waiting for me at the door, ready and eager to be fed, and as I didn’t come strait home from work, I figured she would be in hysterics. However, she wasn’t waiting for me at the door. She was no where to be found. I put her food out for her and then went to my room to put my bag down and start prepping for the following morning. The lightening and thunder had both picked up since I’d been home and at one point there was a loud bang that wasn’t exactly thunderish that made me think lightening had struck outside somewhere close by. When I came out there was still no Meow Kitty. There’s only been a few times when she’s disappeared for a few hours (in a two bedroom apartment mind you), so I was a little concerned. I went room to room, hollering out to her that her food was ready and that it’s just a thunderstorm, no big woop, nothing to be afraid of.

From under Lito’s bed emerged that tiny little Meow Kitty head. She looked up at me as if to ask, “Are you sure?”

I assured her, and walked her into the kitchen to eat.

~~~
Well as mentioned yesterday, the word of the day for this Poetry Friday is “sleep” if you’re playing along with Mona. So as I took on the HUGE responsibility of picking the word, I figure I should post about it. Frankly though it’s like 45 minutes till the close of business on a Friday after a week of hard work, so I’m a little uninspired by this computer screen and want to get out into the wet-but-not-still-raining city and throw caution to the wind not to mention throw spells on willing! So instead of anything I wrote myself, I give you the tale of Sleeping Beauty by Anne Sexton. Disclaimer: I reserve the right to post my own nonsense at a later time.


Briar Rose (Sleeping Beauty)
By: Anne Sexton


Consider
a girl who keeps slipping off,
arms limp as old carrots,
into the hypnotist's trance,
into a spirit world
speaking with the gift of tongues.
She is stuck in the time machine,
suddenly two years old sucking her thumb,
as inward as a snail,
learning to talk again.
She's on a voyage.
She is swimming further and further back,
up like a salmon,
struggling into her mother's pocketbook.
Little doll child,
come here to Papa.
Sit on my knee.
I have kisses for the back of your neck.
A penny for your thoughts, Princess.
I will hunt them like an emerald.

Come be my snooky
and I will give you a root.
That kind of voyage,
rank as a honeysuckle.
Once
a king had a christening
for his daughter Briar Rose
and because he had only twelve gold plates
he asked only twelve fairies
to the grand event.
The thirteenth fairy,
her fingers as long and thing as straws,
her eyes burnt by cigarettes,
her uterus an empty teacup,
arrived with an evil gift.
She made this prophecy:
The princess shall prick herself
on a spinning wheel in her fifteenth year
and then fall down dead.
Kaputt!
The court fell silent.
The king looked like Munch's Scream
Fairies' prophecies,
in times like those,
held water.
However the twelfth fairy
had a certain kind of eraser
and thus she mitigated the curse
changing that death
into a hundred-year sleep.

The king ordered every spinning wheel
exterminated and exorcised.
Briar Rose grew to be a goddess
and each night the king
bit the hem of her gown
to keep her safe.
He fastened the moon up
with a safety pin
to give her perpetual light
He forced every male in the court
to scour his tongue with Bab-o
lest they poison the air she dwelt in.
Thus she dwelt in his odor.
Rank as honeysuckle.

On her fifteenth birthday
she pricked her finger
on a charred spinning wheel
and the clocks stopped.
Yes indeed. She went to sleep.
The king and queen went to sleep,
the courtiers, the flies on the wall.
The fire in the hearth grew still
and the roast meat stopped crackling.
The trees turned into metal
and the dog became china.
They all lay in a trance,
each a catatonic
stuck in a time machine.
Even the frogs were zombies.
Only a bunch of briar roses grew
forming a great wall of tacks
around the castle.
Many princes
tried to get through the brambles
for they had heard much of Briar Rose
but they had not scoured their tongues
so they were held by the thorns
and thus were crucified.
In due time
a hundred years passed
and a prince got through.
The briars parted as if for Moses
and the prince found the tableau intact.
He kissed Briar Rose
and she woke up crying:
Daddy! Daddy!
Presto! She's out of prison!
She married the prince
and all went well
except for the fear --
the fear of sleep.

Briar Rose
was an insomniac...
She could not nap
or lie in sleep
without the court chemist
mixing her some knock-out drops
and never in the prince's presence.
If if is to come, she said,
sleep must take me unawares
while I am laughing or dancing
so that I do not know that brutal place
where I lie down with cattle prods,
the hole in my cheek open.
Further, I must not dream
for when I do I see the table set
and a faltering crone at my place,
her eyes burnt by cigarettes
as she eats betrayal like a slice of meat.

I must not sleep
for while I'm asleep I'm ninety
and think I'm dying.
Death rattles in my throat
like a marble.
I wear tubes like earrings.
I lie as still as a bar of iron.
You can stick a needle
through my kneecap and I won't flinch.
I'm all shot up with Novocain.
This trance girl
is yours to do with.
You could lay her in a grave,
an awful package,
and shovel dirt on her face
and she'd never call back: Hello there!
But if you kissed her on the mouth
her eyes would spring open
and she'd call out: Daddy! Daddy!
Presto!
She's out of prison.

There was a theft.
That much I am told.
I was abandoned.
That much I know.
I was forced backward.
I was forced forward.
I was passed hand to hand
like a bowl of fruit.
Each night I am nailed into place
and forget who I am.
Daddy?
That's another kind of prison.
It's not the prince at all,
but my father
drunkeningly bends over my bed,
circling the abyss like a shark,
my father thick upon me
like some sleeping jellyfish.
What voyage is this, little girl?
This coming out of prison?
God help --
this life after death?

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Terror Funding for Podunk

The NY Post, in typical NY Post fashion, gives us this story today: D.C.'S STUPID SCROOGES SLASH NYC TERROR AID AND SPLURGE ON THE STICKS. On the cover, referring to areas less populated than New York City, they rhyme the word “hicks” with “sticks”. Brilliant.

I can’t say that I disagree with the story entirely. New York is clearly a bigger terrorist target than, say, Tulsa. However, if you recall shortly after 9/11 there were a few terror-cell busts that took place, and there was news—reported in the NY Post as well as other news sources—that terrorists were eyeing Falls Church, Virginia for the very reason that it is a small, sleepy town. The idea behind such an attack was that if you kill 3,000 people in New York, the country is pissed; you kill 3,000 people in Podunk, and people are truly scared that terror can happen to them and their kids.

People set on committing acts of terror in this country may be evil and misguided religionists, they are generally not stupid. I have said before that terrorists are likely to be busted before they can finish their plans in places like New York and Washington, DC, but who’s really paying attention in Winston-Salem? Who really thinks it’s going to happen in Iowa? The fact that they are not, as the Post says, “major terror targets” is the very reason that they are major terror targets. Even Charlotte (which is on the Post’s list of places that got a major boost in anti-terror money at the supposed expense of New York) has had credible threats made against it. Places like Charlotte—which is a major urban area if you don’t know—and even less populated places in the “sticks” have no prevention measures in place, and no plans for action upon such an event taking place.

As an aside, I’d like to say that the minute an act of terrorism on the scale of 9/11 happens in Middle America is the minute the mentality towards Islam changes from fear and mild annoyance to “ROUND THEM UP.” In New York there is a tremendous amount of diversity so we are relatively comfortable with the idea that there’s a few bad apples but in general Muslims are not out to kill all of us. The South, Middle America, and the rural West Coast will not be so open minded if—and when—they are “hit”.

~~~

I went through it this morning trying to get to work. I was coming around the corner and some dude getting off a bus was running like an idiot with his head turned around still talking to someone, so he ran right into me. My bony shoulder thrust into the bottom of his jaw, and I heard his teeth crack together. Ouch.

Then I get on the bus and Gordonna McFatlady decided that she could slip her huge, fat ass into the tiny sliver of seat between me and the woman beside me. I tried to just surrender the seating to her nastiness, but alas, I was stuck between her and the armrest. I could not move until she got off later.

Next, some crazy man with stitches above his eye, caught me off guard by showing me his chargeless cell phone and then asking to use mine real quick. Like an idiot I obliged, and imagined he would make a run for it. He didn't, but why did I feel the need to let him use my damn phone? First thing I did when I got in was wipe the thing down with an alcohol swab. He got in a heated argument with the driver because the driver closed the doors and drove off while he was still locating his friend on my cell phone and was unable to get off. I just held my hand out for the phone. It does take balls to ask someone to use their cell hpone. On 9/11 with buildings collapsing and general panic some lady asked me to use my phone which is understandable in those circumstances. But on a peaceful Thursday morning bus ride? I'm not Verizon you son of a bitch.