I RULE!!

Sometimes I amaze even myself. Did I, or did I not predict the participation of one Mr. Neil Diamond on American Idol? Well peeps, I did. Allow me to remind you:

And now that I know he's out pimping a new album, 5 bucks says he shows up on American Idol this season.

You can read my whole post by clicking here: Queen Beaches

Yup, that was me. I said it. Now, I'm not actually WATCHING American Idol, cause, well...it sucks. I just thought you'd like to know that I've got my finger on the pulse of American pop culture.

In the words of a true reality show genius, carry on people. Carry on.

The Brazilian Hugh Grant

Seems that Brazilian soccer star Ronaldo has gotten himself into a bit of a pickle, so to speak. The football phenom thought he was in for a good time with a few hookers, only to discover his liaison had turned into a hot tranny mess.

POLICE are investigating allegations by three transvestites that Brazilian soccer star and AC Milan forward Ronaldo threatened them after taking them to a Rio de Janeiro motel. Police said they were also looking into an accusation by the 31-year-old player that one of the transvestites tried to extort 50,000 reais ($31, 619) in return for not going to the media. Ronaldo, who is back in his hometown recovering from an injury, left a nightclub in the posh Barra da Tijuca neighbourhood early yesterday with three call girls, only to find out at the motel that they were men, according to authorities. (news.com.au/Reuters)

Ronaldo and the transvestites were taken to the police station for questioning.

"He admitted to everything, he wanted to have fun," [police investigator Carlos Augusto] Nogueira said. "But he committed no crime at all, it was immoral at best."

Though reported as saying he would investigate both sides of the story, Nogueira said he believed Ronaldo's version because the transvestite decided to leave the police station even before being fully questioned by authorities.

All I know is, Ronaldo and the Transvestites would be a great name for a band.

Separated at Birth?

I'm just sayin'.....

Cal Ripken Jr. and Tom Colicchio.

You be the judge.

Note: I have to give credit where credit is due. Queen Beach faithful Claiborne actually brought this similarity to light one day in the bookstore when she spotted a stack of Ripken's new book, Get in the Game, and started drooling all over it before realizing it was NOT Tom C. She unashamedly admitted to being Colicchio Obsessed which is always the first step to recovery. Anyhow, thanks for the material.

But how does my ass look?

Dear QB readers,

I've been thinking of trying out a new look, and I wanted to get your opinion. Summer is around the corner, and I think I really want to shake things up, step outside the box, try a little something new. I feel like I've been doing the same old boring, 'clean' look for years now, and it's time for something different. I mean, who wants to look like every other mom at the playground? So I've made a couple of changes - nothing too major, just easing into it.

Okay, so maybe this picture isn't the most flattering of me -- I think it's a bad camera angle, or the lighting is off -- but you can still get the idea, right? I'm totally digging my new 'do. If I really tease and spray it just right, I can go weeks without washing it (you totally can't tell, right?), and if I don't feel like carrying a purse, I can just store stuff in my hair. It's brilliant! I've got 3 more necklaces and a change of shoes in there right now (totally one of those "day-to-evening" looks.) I know the eye makeup looks like a lot of work for every day, but as you get older I think you'll agree with me that it's worth putting in that extra effort every day. Try it. You'll thank me. And the faux tear drop I drew under my eye. Cute, right? It's witty and coy, and it's like, ironic, cause like, I look really happy on the outside but it's like I'm crying on the inside. It's symbolic. (I'm protesting the cigarette tax. And tans.) Unfortunately my blush and lipstick seemed to have worn off, but it's okay, isn't it? I mean, I still want to look natural. And how sexy am I with that saucy bra hanging out of my shirt? The whole look just oozes sex appeal, does it not? Well, it's certainly oozing something.

Now that we're such super stars, I thought a makeover might help me score more press. I already got a call from some place in Malibu called "Promises". Sounds like a nice place -- really relaxing. I hear there's LOTS of celebrities there. It'll be so cool! But they said I'd have to leave my pipes and doobies at home. They're so silly - I don't even play an instrument!

Anyhoodle, just thought I'd give you guys the first "crack" at commenting on my new look. I hope you like it. I think it looks GREAT! Alrighty then, thanks!

Love and sloppy kisses,

KQ

Going On Record

I admire the current trend of not declaring for presidential candidates that many newspapers and magazines have been jumping on. After all, if a publication delcares one way or the other do they not then become a mere vehicle, a 'tool' if you will, for that particular candidate and their party? Can you really trust their reporting once you know they favor one over another? Bravo, I say, long live the free press!


This custom, however, does not extend nor apply to blogs. Therefore, with the race becoming more bloody and vicious everyday... while erstwhile victors from every camp lie fallen by the wayside; as each potential and worthwhile champion endures the pernicious scrutiny of their every shot by the press... I feel the time has come for the QB's to shrug off our cloaks of impartiality and announce our preferences once and for all.


Today, my fellow Americans, I am pleased to declare the Queen Beaches for..... the Pittsburgh Penguins!!!!

(What can I say- when you let the QB's choose from a varied field of candidates, we're always gonna pick cute young boys with long sticks!)

Disclaimer: We would like to state that we were in no way, shape or form reimbursed for this promotion by the Pittsburgh Penguins, the NHL or Sidney Crosby. Okay, it's shameless, but at least we worked his name in somewhere on the off chance Sid the Kid has a habit of googling himself (like some people we know). Sidney, if you find this, pleeeeeeaaaaassse comment!!!

Lost in space... but not cyberspace

I finally break through my blog block... article topics are popping up everywhere... I have a brand new beaver shot to share (with my husband in the picture!)... I have new information that proves two pseudo-celebrities have not OD'ed nor used up their 15 minutes... Katherine's dying to get my inside scoop on the Bobby Brown tell-all and...... my computer is sick. At least, I'm hoping that's what it means when your monitor won't come on. (and before all you puter geeks weigh in, we did check the monitor, video cable and v. card already). Please know I will continue to post as much as possible without jeopardizing the employment which actually pays me... and hopefully Quinn will let me use her laptop to load the beaver shot... maybe one day even those fun boys over at gheorghe will stop by... in the meantime, everyone out there in Queen Beaches land say an extra little prayer, wish or whatever tonight for my beloved HP. I really miss her. I mean, who wants to turn on the TV, switch to the Weather Channel and then wait nine minutes to find out that it's going to rain all day??? Is that really how we did it once??? Oh, the horror.

ChanelPradaGucciCoach

If you've never experienced New York's Canal Street shopping scene, you've truly missed out on one of the wonders of the commercial world. Shop after shop after shop hocking knock-off designer goods, some obviously cheap imitations, a few (the ones you see in the 'back room') impressive reproductions. Men and women at every storefront approaching you with flyers, enticing you to purchase their wares, all with the same mantra, "chanelpradaguccicoach?" It's downright musical. I wouldn't even venture a guess of how many millions of visitors make the journey downtown to purchase these cheap, albeit illegal goods. Sure, we can rationalize it: it's not hurting anyone. the real designers have more than enough money. it's such a good deal! Well, I'm not here to lecture anyone, or to delve into the deeper issues surrounding designer goods, free market economy, sweatshops etc etc etc. I'm just here to share the following news: the gig, as they say, is up.

Designer Knock-Offs Taken In $25 Milion Raid

Public Service Announcement

We here at QBHQ care deeply for our readers. Our sole purpose in life is to bring a little happiness into your lives, if only for the few brief moments it takes to read our daily insights and witticisms (if we do say so ourselves). With that in mind, I came across a resource that I think might be quite helpful to those of you out there searching for Mr. and/or Mrs. Right. You can thank me later. Just invite me to the wedding.

Give it to me hot

It's pretty much a given at this point that even though I'm at work I'm going to get absolutely nothing accomplished today. I'll be back later to finish my CMA awards commentary, but in the meantime, while I'm here typing aimlessly, there are a couple of loose blog-ends I need to tie up from previous posts.

I still haven't read the Bobby Brown tell all so Jamie hurry the hell up and get me a copy because that's going to be some PRIME material. I'm not willing to actually pay to read that crap, so a peek at your advance copy would be lovely. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, nay, the unabashed pure joy of the phenomenon that is Bobby and Whitney, I present the following classic clip:


In other news: I am giddy that my boy Jamie Oliver is back on the Food Network. The formerly naked chef is now fully clothed and apparently hasn't left his farm in years (and doesn't seem to have spent his time away focusing on grooming), but his new show looks promising and I plan to watch as many episodes as possible tomorrow from the comfort of my couch. Gillie - this one's for you!

It's going to be a blog-o-riffic weekend!

One of those days

Seeing as how I am pretty much in a constant state of sleep deprivation, I've always thought the idea that you could get too much sleep was pretty much a load of crap. Well today I am disproving my own skepticism. After a couple of complimentary cocktails at the Lost Colony golf tournament yesterday (props to Kathy Horne for a terrific job!) I went home last night and instead of falling asleep at 9 like I suspected and secretly hoped, I stayed up and watched the Good Shepherd. (By the way, if anyone out there has seen the movie, could you please explain to me WTF was going on? I fancy myself a relatively intelligent gal, but even with liberal use of the DVR rewind I still found myself frequently cocking my head to the side and asking of no one in particular, "HUH?" I'd appreciate some insights, otherwise I'm going to have to watch it again AND brush up on my US/Cuba/Russian history, and I really don't want to bother.)

I finally went to sleep around 1 after watching Charles Barkley on Jimmy Kimmel - hilarious by the way, do check it out at abc.com. All was going well until the 6 am battle royale with a kamikaze mosquito that basically involved me flailing about frantically smacking my own head in a groggy stupor in an attempt to kill said skeeter. Finally got the bastard at 7, and ended up sleeping in until 10 am. So one might think I'd be well rested today. Not so much. I am moving in a slow motion fog - hazy and completely out of it. My eyes look as puffy as a blowfish, I've had two disgustingly carb-laden breakfasts, a large coffee that is doing absolutely nothing to give me a boost, the subsquent crash that follows such a nutritious meal AND arrived at work to discover you can see right through my dress to my green underwear. Classy. But my hair looks fantastic and that my dear friends, is all that really matters sometimes.

It's raining.... it's pouring

The Blog Gods have smiled upon me today after totally ignoring my white a** most of the week. Suddenly, spinning around in my cerebellum, are not just one or two but a good half-dozen potential blog topics. Feast or famine, that's the way things seem to go in my neck of the woods. First things first, there's some old laundry to fold.

After the beaver shot finally appeared, all those clamoring little voices out there were apparently stunned into submission and silence. It was almost a week before anyone picked their chins up off the floor and managed to comment. One post in particular stood out as it included this video link which I am sharing here again in case you are not a good little QB reader who routinely reads the comment threads. As you will see, sometimes people should ignore their impulses...



like sharing videos of 'Winona's Big Brown Beaver'. And so I say to them...

Holy batsh#t! What the hell kind of CRACK are you, Flyboy and 'anonymous' (how clever) smokin' up there in (-------)* because you all had to be on SOMETHING when you found those mondo bizarro plasticine presidential rodeo clowns. Have y'all never heard of coulrophobia? Do you think that maybe you were being a bit insensitive to any QB readers suffering from this serious malady? Put the PBR down and step AWAY from the pipe, people!!!

And besides, I don't even think those guys are really playing their instruments and it looks like they're lip synching!!! But before Flyboy starts whining 'you don't know c**k, it's Primus, man!' Yeah, yeah, I know. I think they peaked with the South Park theme.

*The location of these QB readers has been censored by the legal representatives and possible future campaign managers of a person who is sometimes and sometimes not associated with these readers. Hiya, Barbie's Boytoy!

A Vision of Something

I believe I went on record YEARS ago as not being a big fan of Mariah Carey. She would be president of the group my sister and I like to call "Oversingers Anonymous." Fashionably speaking, she's always walked on the wrong side of the hoochie track and frequently just looks, well, bloated. But I have to give MC her props tonight. I'm watching her on American Idol (why? I don't know. This show has completely jumped the shark. But it's the proverbial trainwreck. I can't help but watch. And cringe. And I think I can actually feel my brain cells melting. But I digress.) Mimi looks good. Except that skirt is leetle short, don't ya think? I'm just saying, if that below-the-stage camera gets any closer, well...

I'm not even remotely a little bit country

QB fans know that J.Lay and I love to live blog an event. Ok so maybe it's just an excuse to get together for some cocktails, but that doesn't mean we don't take our blogging responsibilties seriously. Well, apparently we missed the CMT Music Awards show the other night. Actually it's not so much that I missed it, it's that I didn't care. But after seeing a few photos online today, I thought it might be worth digging a little deeper. And boy did I unearth some gems.

First up, Marcia Brady. (everyone...Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!) I don't get it. Maureen McCormack is lovely and perky - look at the little flip in her hair. I mean c'mon, how many 50 somethings can pull that off? But the muumuu Marcia, the muumuu. Why the tent? Didn't you just drop a stone or two on Celebrity Fit Club? Or perhaps you are on your way to the 45th annual Oakland Raiders cheerleader reunion/powder puff game, where every year you perform a star and sequin studded musical halftime re-enactment of the famous "ooh, my nose" episode?

And speaking of gems, here's Jewel:

Now, I've never been a big fan of Jewel. She was always just a little too...nasal? Whiny? I don't know. But I have to admit, she's looks awfully pretty here. Fresh, light, happy. But wait....something is amiss. Let's zoom in for the close up....

Ack! The dreaded back flap. You're a petite gal. You look fit and trim, so what's the problem? Perhaps like your hands, your dress is too small. I know.

The Beach is Back

Greetings, yo. I've just returned from a whirlwind tour of NYC and Annapolis, MD. I had big plans to blog my way through my adventures, but I was never able to get internet access, or much sleep for that matter. I am glad to see JMe was able to keep things truly rolling in my absence. Seriously. BIG shout out for the beaver. (If I had a dollar....) It's good to know that we've firmly entrenched ourselves in the gutter. Ah...there's no place like home.


So after yesterday's 'mental health day' (aka sleeping until 10:30), I'm back on track wasting copious amounts of time "researching" for the blog. And lookey here at what I found:

Sweet Caroline he's touring again! Neil Diamond has announced a summer concert tour to support the release of his new album.

As for the album - "Home Before Dark," due out May 6 - Diamond said: "This
record represents a giant step in my evolution as a writer and a recording
artist ... you will see I've gone deeper. It was more painful to write this -
maybe the most difficult album I've ever written, and maybe my best."

What??? Better than 'Heartlight?' 'Love on the Rocks?' 'Forever in Blue Jeans?' Hardly possible, I say. And according to the Diamond himself, the concert will be one for the ages:

Diamond said fans will be wowed by the show, which includes what he calls "technical wizardry ... we can do things on this stage that we've never dreamed were possible."

Technical wizardry, indeed. Neil, you know we already think of you as a musical and lyrical wizard. Witness:

Drop your shrink and stop your drinkin'
Crunchy granola's neat
Sing it out
Alright
Da da da da
Da da da da da
Dee dee dee do
Deedle-ee dum dum
I'll have a double, please

I'm not sure I can handle much more wizardry, but I'm a Believer. And now that I know he's out pimping a new album, 5 bucks says he shows up on American Idol this season.

1,001 Things to Do With A....

And here is a close-up shot of my beaver that with god as my witness I will one day put to good use in lots of new, exciting and fabulous ways.

Drum Roll Please.....

Judging by the steady stream of comments like ‘we want beaver! Must have beaver!‘ I think I’ve left our male QB fans waiting in salivatng agony long enough. So here it is readers, the picture you’ve been asking for. The first ever Queen Beaches beaver shot… be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.

‘Oooo! It’s so big!’ ‘So luxuriously full and furry!’ ‘Look at the colors and patterns as the light dapples over it!’ Okay, STOP looking at the coat… look up… higher… all the way. To the tippy top of my head. There it is… the shot of my beaver that I’ve been promising.

It has also just occurred to me that my soleus to the maximus are on full display here as well. In fact, this entire picture is just a huge hot tranny mess... where'd I leave my wine?

Where's the Beef?

Just a quick entry to answer a recurring question I've been getting lately- here is Claiborne's version: "I seem to remember a photo was taken whilst fair Jamie was wearing the beaver. Would it be possible to post it so that everyone can get the visual?"

Yes, Claiborne, you are absolutely correct. The paparazzi were out in force that night and did indeed get a good shot of my beaver. However, apparently they (i.e. Katherine) were so jealous that they have 'lost' my beaver shot. Apparently they were not strong enough to risk running the photograph and discovering that my erstwhile muff is every bit as fab as I think it is.

Chris (my husband) has graciously offered to help me this weekend by taking another beaver shot which I will post as soon as it becomes available. Which will probably be a good thirty minutes after it is taken. You know how men are.

Ward, you're being a little hard on the Beaver

A couple of years ago I took tennis lessons with a really fun group of women, and I am absolutely convinced that we were the highlight of pro Steven Welt's week. Not so much because of our tennis prowess, but because of our uncanny ability to take any conversation and lead it straight into the gutter. (Full disclosure: yes, it was usually me leading the charge. Shocker.) Fast forward to last Friday and one can only imagine what transpired when Jamie busted out the Beaver.

Easy fellas. It was a hat. But not just any hat, it was her grandmothers real beaver hat, which I was surprised (mortified?) to discover J-Me's grandfather killed and had fashioned into a hat all by himself, with the help of a haberdasher, natch. (aside to Kenny - I make hats!) Keep in mind that my family hails from NYC so any furs in our closets came from the safe confines of a Long Island boutique, where one needn't think about the fact that one's gaw-geous new coat used to be an actual woodland creature. We know better now. Long live faux fur! And while we're on that topic - my friend Brandy would like to know...is there an actual farm where they raise pink bunnies? Yes, I told her, right next to the boneless chicken ranch. Sorry - I digress. Back to Jamie's beaver - she busted it out (the hat people, the hat) at our party to get a group consensus as to whether or not it was in fact, Fug or Fab. I think we all agreed, after reverting to the requisite 12 year old beaver humor for quite some time, that it was truly fab in theory, but alas, in reality was too small. They musta had some tiny heads back then. So Jamie came up with the brilliant idea of converting it into a muff. Well. You can imagine the fun we had with THAT one. And with that, dear readers, I'm going to let you take it from here, because my parents read this blog and well, I think I've made them proud enough already.

TARTS & TINIS

Ah, what a fuggin' fabulous Queen Beaches party! We were psyched to see so many Queen Bees buzzin' around, a martini in one hand, the other flipping through the hot spring clothes at A & M's... not only will we be doing it more often, but are already thinking about celebrating the blog's 1 year Anniversary (next Spring) with a Queen Beaches Prom! Dig out those bridesmaid dresses... shoot, get out your prom dress if it still fits!... find some awesome dyed shoes and get your man some hair gel! We'll drop details as they become available I.E. whenever we hit the Wodka and, naturally, think up unique and BRILLIANT ideas (like this blog).

And to answer Quinn's question about the size of my hangover- it was exactly equal to the size of my Rhoda martini glass- itty bitty! I felt splendiferous yesterday and only a wee bit soggy.

I went up north last week for a funeral. Getting into the church meant walking straight into the wind, so once in the vestibule I looked around for a mirror in which to straighten my lovely blonde locks (see picture below; I wish it had been taken before my lipstick blurred but at least my eyes aren't at half-mast like Quinn's. HA! I bet Katherine thought SHE got to be Patsy! Called it first!) Anyhoo, all I found was a quite diminutive mirror which upon further inspection turned out to be the passenger side mirror from an automobile. A closer look revealed that some very clever person had replaced the word 'closer' so that the factory applied stenciling at the bottom of the mirror now read 'OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE HAPPIER THAN THEY APPEAR'.

Katherine and I are stenciling our closet mirrors this weekend to read 'OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE THINNER THAN THEY APPEAR'.

Shout outs from Friday night- Tami Chase: LOVED your dress!... Janet Ellis: we are going to have to limit you to trying on 5 outfits next time because once we realized that everything looks awesome on your tiny little frame we got very depressed... Clai: I'm still in trouble about the St. Pauli dress, could you reconsider?... who didn't love those new jeans at Ally & Maddy??... jewelry madam Heather was ROCKIN' a cute little outfit at the end (and her jewelry ROCKS)... apparently nobody realized that the Fug Martini glasses (wine glasses with painted on translucent pink flamingoes) were a GIFT WITH PURCHASE and I am still stuck with all 6...

I could go on and on about how great everybody looked both in their own clothes and in potential new togs... I could go on and on about how fun the whole night was... about how great it was to spend more than 2 minutes with Ann McD who I never get to see!... but what I think it all boils down to is maybe there just aren't enough girl's night opportunities out there for true Queen Bees which is exactly what the Queen Beaches are going to remedy! Thanks for coming out.... look for my Friday night beaver shot in the next entry. (Bet that gets some male QB readers titillating... it's hot.)

Jamie

Those Beaches Sure Know How to Party

It's a nasty Saturday here on the Outer Banks. Pouring rain, kinda humid, nary a shopper to be seen, and based on the way the pomegranate martini's were flowing here last night, I would guess quite a few hangovers. How YOU feeling, Jamie? Our Fug or Fab party was without a doubt, absolutely FAB. Big big thanks to all of you for coming out and helping celebrate our blog, share our cocktails and toast to all that is fab in the world. There truly is nothing like the support of good friends and a spandex undergarment. (Yummie Tummies! Hell to the yeah!) We have decided that last night was WAY too much fun to only do once, so we the Queen Beaches are thrilled to announce we will be hosting regular (monthly? bi-monthly? we'll get back to you...) group blog forums where we will gather at a local watering hole, throw out a topic for discussion and live blog your comments. We'll be glad to give credit where credit is due, but if you prefer anonymity we will change the names to protect the innocent and/or intoxicated. There were definitely a few topics that came up last night that hit a nerve and sparked some rather emphatic opinions. We're gonna shake things up! Get controversial! Dissect important issues! Rock the Casbah! (sorry, I'm still listening to the 80's station.) So...coming later today...a re-cap of last night's events. My take on Bobby Brown's tell all book about Whitney Houston (good god I can't wait to get my hands on that). And my unabashed glee at the discovery of the return of one of my absolute favorites to tv. *sigh* Life is good.

These words actually left my mouth today....

"I don't care who started it. I'M stopping it."
Mommy needs a vacation. Or a vodka....

The Sciatic chronicles

So it turns out that narcotics aren't as much fun as I thought they'd be. This sciatic thing still hurts like a m*%$##@! f%!@#*er, and I'm completely over it for many reasons: 1) um...it HURTS! 2) i feel like a 90 year old man every time I mention my "sciatic pain." 3) 9 days of pain meds are doing a number on me so i'm nauseated all the time, but can't stop taking them because...it HURTS! Actually, I can get through the day ok although i seem pretty stoned most of the time, but here on the outer banks that doesn't draw any attention. It's trying to sleep at night that gets challenging, and thus I have learned that other than the Sopranos, the Wire, Mad Men & Project Runway everything else on tv sucks. Witness:

a) Real Housewives of NYC. Jamie has commented on this one before, but I hadn't watched it, so since there was some sort of marathon on last night, I tuned in. Holy Crap! Who the hell are these people? We have Betthheenneeeyyy with her ridiculous fake boobs, bad skin (helloo? aren't you supposed to be a natural chef or something?), total lack of self-awareness and apparently a drinking problem. I actually had to turn the channel at one point because she was so painful to watch. Then there's Alex who seriously needs to eat a carb, and with all her money evidently can't find a decent hairdresser or conditioner. We also have Jill, who lets her chihuahua (which technically is a rat, not a dog) LICK UP HER NOSE! I mean the dogs tongue seriously gets all up in her nostril. Can't you just give the damn thing a milk bone? ** shudder ** And then there's LuAnn who wants her son to be well rounded so she gets him a breakdance instructor named Cyclone. That's nice. Now he can get his ass kicked while he's spinning on his head. Finally, there's Ramona, but she just makes my head hurt so I'm done with this topic.

b) Scientists have discovered the million year old dung of a spider, beetle or some other small creature. I can't remember, but it was exciting enough to be the subject of an entire show.

c) Jay Leno is terrible. Switched to Jimmy Kimmel. I like Jimmy, I do, but his first guest was Steve "I peaked with Cocoon" Guttenberg who looks like he's had his face and neck pulled a little too tight.

And he's a tool. Don't bother watching the video, just look long enough to see his turtle-like neck. Actually, that may be what million year old turtle shit looks like. Fortunately at that point the vicodin kicked in.

d) There's a new horror flick coming out called the Ruins.

I was only half listening to the commercial the other night while in my drug induced haze, but I gather it's something about some haunted ancient ruins and some sort of supernatural "beast" that is killing people from the inside out. All I know is, I heard the character say "It's INSIDE me" and I turned to the tv in time to see the title pop up on screen and I SWEAR I thought it said THE RUNS. Now that's scary.