Thursday, April 27, 2006

Amanda date part 2

The thing I love about sushi is that it's not a lot of food. There's little chance of messing things up because it's simple, you don't feel bloated afterwards, and it hits tastebuds that most people never knew they had. The hardest thing to get over is how to eat rice with chopsticks, but after you've mastered that and overcome your western addiction to oily food taste, you'll be master at eating sushi cleanly.

It might not be a surprise that I was planning on hitting this sushi place with Drew on the weekend. It's good enough to look forward to and I was aching for it by the time I'd finished drinks at the other place with Amanda. In our cars she was following me quite closely, litterally up my ass so to speak.

I called Drew on my cellphone while driving and informed him that he should make like we didn't have plans to meet up tonight at this restaurant. If Amanda flaked on me I was still going to have sushi that night! I didn't even know if Drew was going to show, it wasn't important.

We step into the place and it's not one of those shoji screen booth joints, but more open plan. After removing our shoes we sat and ordered some sake, she had red nail polish on her toes.

"nice work on the toenails", I interrupted her telling me about a guy she works with.

"oh you like them?" She cut to my compliment immediately.

"Sure" Sure was a word she used a lot. "but I think with your complexion a lighter color would have been better". I'm not smiling, but I'm keeping her gaze. She looks down, looks back and I'm still not averting.

"well, I'm usually more tanned than this..." She's still looking at me and I am sure she's puzzled. My stern look immediately drops to a smile and I laugh. I'm thinking that her long slender tanned and toned legs are folded up under this table, and under that small black skirt my mind playing the guess the panty color game, of course she can't know this as I am sure my skills in body language suppression are better than her detective ability.

"Me too. I usually go to Rio during the winter and spend a couple of weeks playing beach volleyball with (a well known director)'s posse. It's hard not to get a good tan down there".

Ok, so this wasn't really a lie, but didn't go last winter because I'm no longer working for that studio. She knows of the director because she's in the business also, but I am pretty sure she didn't know him or his staff because they're a horribly incestuous bunch and Amanda would have been on the board for all the boys.

"I've never been down there, what is it like?"

"Hey, you know the scariest thing that ever happened to me was down there in 2001?" I lower my voice and make like I'm telling her a secret.

Her eyes open up like bambi, she's gorgeous. she smiles and pushes her shoulders back and asks me to go on.

"We're down in Rio with the Director, and we're driving around some barrio in an open topped jeep. I'm in the back seat with his girlfriend, and his minder is driving. He's been told about a street corner for a commercial location that is the eptiomy of the image of rich versus poor, nice houses down one and shanties down the the other. At the corner, they meet up at a store that apparently caters to both. You can visualize that right?"

"Sure" she looks up and back again.

"Well it's almost 8pm and the sun is thinking of dropping out of the sky. The Director can't read a map for shit and we're going around in circles."

I'm momentarily distracted. Her shoulders are golden brown, her neck muscles are toned. I'm thinking horror story words to say, but feeling the need to run my fingers through her hair and bite the whole length of her neck.

Her eyes are sucking me in, how do women do that? Her lips drawn slightly uncovering her teeth. Reminds me to do britesmile again now it's getting to summer.

"The director's girlfriend is smacking him on the head telling him to stop and ask for directions. He tells the minder to ask a bunch of guys we're approaching, and the minder who is the only fluent portuguese speaker in the jeep is telling him that's not a good idea."

She interrupts, "who was this minder?"

"oh you know, like a bodyguard. I liked him, he was the same social type as me."

She blinks, "huh?"

"We were the same build and had the same haircut, and he was into hardcore blackjack just like me."

I went on to describe how minders get their work, they're rough and tough and take no shit, but they have to have a soft side to be able to deal with assholes they work for.

"So the director out and out tells the minder to shut the fuck up and ask these guys where this street is."

I ask her, "have you ever driven around East LA in the dead of night and got that feeling?"

She sucks in her breath and nods. I lean over the table, look her in the eye and patted her arm. "I had that feeling at 8pm. Apparently Mr Director-Guy had no clue. Anyway, as ordered, the minder pulls the jeep over and calls out the guys. They're bigger than he is, and the hairs on my neck start to go wierd because they looked scary."

She grabs my arm and asks me what happened next.

"While the minder is talking babble to the gang, and they're clearly a gang, one of the guys looks at the directors girlfriend, she used to be a Laker Girl, so he's getting that crazy look in his eye. He starts slapping his buddies on the shoulders and leans forward to grab the girlfriend who's leaning out the side of the jeep listening, like she knew Portugese."

Her grip is tighter now and she's leaning all the way over.

"and and and?"

"oh you really want to know?" I have a smile that can only be described as wry, and it's for these situations that I use it.

"Sure, just tell me!!!"

The waiter girl drifts by and I delay the story by ordering sushi and rolls and more sake.

"ok, where was I?"

"You were in the jeep when the big guy reaches for the girlfriend".

"Ah yes, ok so he literally manhandles her out of the jeep and puts her over his shoulder. Like that, she's just gone, and the minder looks up and starts saying something like hey hey hey. I think his muscles transformed like the hulk or something, but anyway, the guy he was talking to pulls a pistol out from somewhere and points it at the minder sideways like you see in the movies."

I put my fingers in the shape of a gun and hold it skewed sideways to her head to illustrate.

"So then all hands go up, including mine." I put my hands half up to better drive it home. "and they back off carrying the girlfriend."

Amanda is quite literally terrified. She's reached both hands over and is holding my arm like she's going to be sucked into space if she lets go.

"Once they're around the corner, the minder looks at us and says to start the jeep and go back to the hotel. He pops the glove compartment and grabs an even bigger gun. Like THIS big. He gets out of the jeep and yells at us to go. The Director is sitting in the passenger seat scared out of his mind kinda catatonic, so I jump into the front and start the engine."

I can feel her red painted toes snaking around my ankle now.

"The minder is yelling at me to get out of here, so I reverse around the corner and just go"

"Then what happened?"

"Two hours later the minder appears at the hotel with the girlfriend. She was shaken up but the only real damage was that she had someone else's blood on her shirt."

By this time the food was on the table and I'm really starting to jones for the unagi.

-To be continued-

Monday, April 24, 2006

Amanda date part 1

I was never sure that the Santa Monica freeway was ever a great idea. I mean you put a million lanes of traffic basically down a sewer route all ending suddenly at the ocean like an exhaust port on a really dirty spaceship, dumping cars and assholes into an overpriced neighbourhood full of crazy people who I think invented the whole LA open season thing.

Then you get Amanda, a typical 9, driving a car that was obviously given to her, three cars ahead of me at 85mph. Driving like a fucking idiot, no blinkers, no brake warning. She's completely oblivious all the other cars around her, except she's quick to wave in the rear vision mirror I think between lipstick checks. Oh yeah, it's all my fault. Except the SM freeway fiasco, some other actor playing the role of town planner did that one.

You know I don't like mitsubishi sportscars, especially when the new model can accelerate faster than my jeep and I'm trying to keep up after two bottles of wine expecting Officer Ponch to pull me over and send me to county. Two bottles of wine, yeah, pinot grigiot and conversation about philosophy that I had to make up or wait until she was drunk enough not to know that I am a vapid know-nothing fool who barely had an education.

Wine bar, somewhere in LA convenient to both of us... she lives in SM btw, I am just gonna put it out there that she was in the valley making porn the other day... a lie, but it makes it more fun. Ok, wine bar, she's early, I'm on time.

Short skirt, tanned trim legs, obviously a spinning class desciple. Are men allowed to be in shitty shape? Without genetics I'd be way out of my depth here, but I'm naturally lean and muscular, my Dad was the Marlboro man so don't have so much a problem. Can a guy get away with being tubby? I don't know, never been there, but I feel sad for some guys. I walked in and saw her right away, brunette, cleavage, legs sticking out all the way the Hawaii, fanfuckingtastic.

She gets off her cellphone and stares right at me, cold dirty look, completely a new experience from our other meeting. She's here on a date dressed to kill and I'm in jeans and a grey tshirt with "marines" on the front. I always dress down, but she's on fire. My brain shifted in neutral, gotta take a couple of steps forward before I can put my ass down.

"This place sucks girl", I stand in front of her, but not directly facing her and look down.

"Excuse me?" she was less recepting than I thought by the tone, pissing her off was going to be fun. The bartender looked up, seemed to recognize me and gave that little wave. I looked up a the bartender, smiled and yelled a quick "hi".

"I'll only have one drink here I want to show you a place that will knock your socks off"

"Oh yeah?", she looked up and I pulled up a chair and sat.

"yeah, that's right, but, do you have good taste, do you like to sometimes indulge?". I stretched out my left leg relaxed a bit more into the chair, this place was not so bad.

"do you know what you're talking about?" The corners of her mouth curled a little and she had that fake stern look women get when they're emulating their mothers.

"Of course, so how was your day, did you do anything exciting?"

I lied about the one drink maximum, we had a couple of glasses of wine each and she filled a good twenty minutes talking about her day shopping.

I ended up going to bathroom, and when I came back out some guy was standing in front of her saying something arbitrary. I walked up behind him and went around him "accidentally" nudging his arm as I passed, kept my back to him, leaned over to took a good sniff of Amanda's hair, which I believe cut him off in mid-sentance. She looked up and I was about to introduce her new friend but I immediately asked.

"You might not remember, but we have dinner plans and I want to show you this great restaurant, hmmm, don't you smell fantastic? Are you ready to go?" I turned around and started walking for the door.

I'm not sure where arbitrary guy #1 vanished to, but I think he was still standing behind me when she grabbed her bag and followed me out to the street.

"I saw your car over there, that's it right?".

"Yes that's it".

"Don't you love your car, how zippy it is?" I slowed down and she caught up with me.

"oh sure, it's great."

"Does the engine growl when you turn it on?"


"Don't you love the sound of the engine?"

"For sure!!!"

I grabbed her hand and walked her to her car, and suggested she wait while I get my car and that she follow me.

I'm out of time just now, but I'll finish this later...

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Collision approach

You know those little asshole streets in the west village of New York where you can walk five blocks in a straight line and somehow get turned around and end up standing in Sheridan Square all over again? Maybe there are two squares that look the same and the 1-9 train loops or something. Just like New York, perception can make or break you in social situations.

I'm not a small guy, albeit I have a 32 inch waist, but I'm not short and I'm not weak looking. I'm also not terribly aggressive and would be probably the last guy to get into a fist fight. Perceptions turn you around in ways that you'd not imagine.

One of my buddies, Sean, had his brother over from New Zealand. Sean is like a southern hemisphere William Baldwin, only he works for a merchant bank and has never seen a film set. He's a very centered guy, always taking the safe approach to things. He looks "nice", in that his dimply smile would put most people at ease. I'd say he's calm enough, but somehow his brother isn't.

I found the bar in all of that New York humidity and push me pull you confusing street pattern and I am with Sean, sitting on a sofa. We're watching David strut around the room calling all the English women "darling" and "sweetheart", and pumping hands with other men probably wishing he was pumping something else.

George, Sean's brother, came to the US from Auckland and was hanging with David that night. Somehow they got along. George was a hooligan, he liked to make trouble. He was the game show host of the century, and had curly mop hair, a big toothy grin, and he was very beefy. Somehow, you could see the genetic lines between him and Sean, but George got the smiley loki-esque guy persona. He was a smiley guy that was also prone to fits of violence. You loved him until eventually you hated him, all because he'd be your buddy one minute and he'd be testing your patience the next, and back, like taking a shower while your retarded cousin played with the toilet flusher.

David is a closet gay. He was the kind of guy who pea cocked just because he was in love with the color purple. He was a skinny, no emaciated Brit who wore glasses and had a perpetual fake smile. Other Brits loved him, and they hang in enclaves so you can probably imagine his party was full of the English.

I'm not feeling at all at ease. I'm just not into speaking to English people, they creep me out. I think Sean was playing moderator, I didn't even know what I was doing there. I had an exceptional day and was feeling pretty good, but it was just not my scene... that is until Cindy walked in.

Sean's ears pricked up, he glanced to the side, went back to his drink and raised an eyebrow at me.

David's spidey sense tingled, and I think he shot a web escaped to the ceiling from the crew he was working. Perhaps in his head, hew as in the middle of the room and his whole act with these other people just stopped.

George was demonstrating a headlock technique with some guy he'd just met; a friend of Sean's whom I never actually was introduced to, fucking bankers. I watched him stop the demonstration and without letting the guy go, and as Cindy crossed the room I think he rested his jaw on the top of that guys head.

Cindy was easily 6'1, a striking 9.5 with most of her being her legs. She had a blonde bob haircut and was wearing an Ann Taylor suit and three inch heels. So far the party was a shitfest, a gay loudmouth host, a braggish frat boy pugilist, a room full of English dudes, and I suppose the only redeeming feature, a William Baldwin clone who knew how to talk about golf.

Cindy entered the room, and in the space of time it took Sean to drop his raised eyebrow I had to alter my inner fire to that of having a shitty time to that of being on top of the world. I don't think it was enough that a very hot woman had just come into the room, I had to transform.

I grabbed two empty Amstel bottles from the table in front of the sofa and launched myself out of seat. Sean didn't exist for that split second. Between me and the bar was Cindy's trajectory towards David, they knew each other in an amusing way. As soon as I was mobile Southampton was the sofa, New York harbor was the bar. I was the Titanic and Cindy was the guilty iceberg. I did not look at her, but just kind of ran into her softly as she got to the midpoint.

Making it a point to drop a bottle I hesitated slightly and as I started to bent down to pick it up she was on my left side, she also bent down to automatically assist me.

She politely blurted out, "Excuse me". She was first to collect the bottle and we both stood erect, she was still holding the empty Amstel. Right then I noticed she was eye level.

"Not sure I can do that". I smiled and held out my hand and she offered the empty bottle. I said thanks as I took it from her and stepped away. I didn't look at her as I departed and she continued on to David.

That my friends, was an approach. That's all I needed to start. There is more to tell, and the night just got better and better from that moment on, but I'm running out of time right now. Maybe later.

Friday, April 21, 2006


Today is a good day, I banked my tax refund, someone bought me breakfast, I got a car wash, I had a day to just roam around visiting the out of work actors I know listening to them bitch about much money they don't have - on average they lease cars that cost 6-700 bucks so fuckem if they dont know how to budget, and I met a creature that would fry my brain if I didn't keep my wits about me.

Sorry guys, I have GF but she's out of town. I think she's fucking a photographer behind my back, or maybe I'm making that up to deguilt myself. Thanks for calling me a chump, guilt, does it have any place in the modern man's world?

No, ok, if you get a chance head down to Armani Exchange and get yourself a pair of "destruction" jeans, make sure they fit well. I got my ass pinched the other day, totally inappropriate behaviour - god the PC crowd would have skinned me if I did that to a strange woman. Anyway, they look great.

So I reached for the phone and it rang, just then, as I touched it. Magic karma, but I was all ready to charm Amanda and it was, err, my GF calling from where she is right now, checking in. Oh, get a land line at your house and get everyone used to calling that number instead of a cellphone. I like to think of cellphones as dog-collars, so *67 everyone when you call from it.

I digress, but my GF's voice can still get me aroused so we played some word games for a while. I would like to think that photographer is going to get raped later, but I'm sure it's in my imagination. Her dog was staring at me while I was talking to her, he knows when anything is up and as soon as he learns how to speak I'm cutting his tongue out with a spatula.

Hanging up I hit the can, thought about dealing with this instatiable horniness I'm carrying around but thought the better of it and headed back into the living room with the dog who would be an inappropriate audience. My friend Drew jacks off with his dog in the room, creepy.

Too early for beer, it's not even 3pm yet and not a weekend. Ok, it was time to see what this evil minx was about so I grab my phone again.

"Hello may I speak to Amanda please?"

"This is she", how did I know her voice already?

I'm already thinking four steps ahead, three of those steps are how I could potentially fuck her standing up in the shower, visuals dammit will be the end of me, one of them is to charm or at least make her laugh.

"Are you still wearing those little jeans you had on this afternoon?"

"hmmm, didn't I see you at the bank today?" She asked, and now I know she was probably sitting by the phone waiting for me to call, which normally would turn me off.

"Yes we crossed paths at the bank today, you get a star for being able to guess correctly the people you meet in your neighborhood. Ok now how about those pants, are you still wearing them?"

"Well..." She was stalling.

"hmmm?, speak up please" I am naturally impatient in all things but ejaculating.

"no, no jeans at the moment, just, err, you know what I wear under them, you know black and shiny."

Emphatically, I love a woman who knows how to flirt properly. I don't know if she was innocent or not, I don't care. I was getting the same feeling I got watching Katie Homes eat a bagel two years ago, or the first time I saw that Britney Calendar in 1999.

I stayed silent. There was gap to be filled and I wasn't touching it, at least for a moment or two.

"I hope you're at home and not at the public library then."

We both laughed.

"So I have a question for you Jed, are you going to ask me out now?"

I had a second to think about this one, "no, I figured you would since I went to all the trouble of fingering your digits into this phone here."

Ok, you get the message, we're meeting up tomorrow night. Seems both of us are into drinking martinis on an empty stomach.

Amanda 213-xxx-xxxx

A long time ago I went to Vietnam. I am not that old so stop thinking about the war story I could have told, and I have never been in the army. I went there to work. In my late teens and early 20s, sometime between starting and graduating from college I used to model. Yes, blushing me, I have to say that sometimes I retain the vanity. Something about having good bone structure, a 40inch chest, 32 inch waist, and being tall helps. Plus like Warren Zevon claimed about someone else, my hair was perfect.

So years ago I was in Ho Chi Minh City for three days and it would not stop raining. It was the kind of the daggers in the skull rain that came down in curtain walls. It was torrential, in fact, it was so much like a shower that I swear it was warm as the water that came from the tap. The effect was amazing, you could be totally drenched in five seconds, and it was that very impression that this dickhead photographer from Toronto wanted to get, only I had to be photographed wearing an assortment of wet weather outdoor clothing. Screw that, it was the whole range. The only good side was that the two women who were in the shoot with me had fantastic nipples, and the wetness gave me a nice preliminary view.

Enough of Vietnam, the experiece today was like a Vietnamese rainshower. Ok, wetness has grades, so let's dispense with that... you see like materials will react to the same stimulus mostly all the time. Namely, and I got to fantasizing about this after I got back to the car and found a little note with a squirrely smiley face on it and Amanda's number under my wiper blade just so she was sure I had her number mind you, her little jerky tshirt was interrupted with pin point erect nipples that became more pronounced in the same duration that the boner in my pants became stiffer.

Let me just state that petite women in low cut jeans worn just so you definitely know she's brazilled the entire softspot are quite possibly the most distracting thing in the world. Now it's been a couple of days since I last shot my load, and I think that tool Neil Strauss advocated not jacking off so I'm just sitting her at home reading a script but I can't concentrate because I'm trying to mentally fill in the patch of unkown behind her zipper and I think it's time to call that Eclipse driving bitch to see if her nipples do taste like maple syrup.

I'll be back momentarily... and I promise I'm not going to jerkoff.

Amanda's eclipse

The Eclipse is a piece of shit. Everything about it screams plastic and low horsepower, poor steering, blindspots, tacky wheels, rubberband engine, and shitty emissions. Although the State of California hasn't banned them, yeek, I really hate them.

There is one redeeming feature of the Eclipse, hot chicks drive em.

For my faggit friends who read this and beat off, my GF is out of town, out of this zipcode, and unless I'm home alone trying on her underwear, out of my mind for now. She's not clingy, or needy, or dependent most of the time, but really, give her a project to do and she's completely a machine, gone. Fantastic.

So anyway, I pull up to a parking space in the valley at a bank - don't ask me what I was doing out there, and there happens to be a black Eclipse just rolled into the one next to me. Black cars in California make no sense, but, I hate these cars except for the fact that the seats in them get more pussy than I ever have.

I get out of my car, it's warm, so I take off my sweater and throw it back onto the passenger seat. As I stand up also stepping out of her shitbox is a brunette in fashion sunglasses and a white tshirt with the words "you suck because you're a boy". I catch her eye, she looks away and back and I don't budge. She pauses for a second and just as she opens her mouth I say.

"Hey nice car", it was a good lie.

"Thanks", she looked down and scratched her ear.

"Can I ask you a question, nothing too deep?"

"Umm, ok".

"you have a good surgeon, did you go in with a picture of Julia Roberts and ask for her lips?"

They were great lips, and her embarrassed smile was so cute, I was scared my pathetic maleness was about to flub it.

She frowns and seems to reconsider what she was going to say, and blurts out.

"pretty much." The smile changed to something different, like a self satisfied chesure cat grin - still cute as hell.

I turn away from her to walk away and took three steps, but she almost yells across the roof of my car.

"hey, haven't I seen you in that show xxxxxxx?".

I crane my head around and give her my signature smile, the one that got me laid in college and high school, and probably passed me through most of my auditions to make up for the fact that I was a shitty actor at best.

"God, you must have watched that as a baby, how come your parents let you stay up that late?"

I was now diagonally across from her and now I could see her full length over the hood of my car. Her jeans were perfect, her little belly button sat on a raft of tight abs and her tshirt was just the most wonderous version of a little too short.

She giggled, and I laughed.

"I'm Jed, sorry I usually forget to introduce myself, I'm nervous around strangers sometimes." I walked around my car and stood in front of her. I turned and bent over and took a look at the interior of her car and made a positive sounding grunt noise and straightened up but did not directly face her.

"You know, from the show my brother used to make us watch every week, I umm, I feel like I already know you."

"Amanda" Her blue eyes beamed as she said her name and offered her petite hand which I took and continued holding as looked over my shoulder at the bank entrance.

"Perhaps you should get to know me for real Amanda". Turned directly at her, looked her up and down, had some dirty thoughts about licking her belly, and pulled out my phone.

She smiled, and I smiled and started nodding, "I'm really sorry but I have an appointment real soon, you should give me your phone number and we'll get together later".

Still holding her hand like a continued businessman's shake, I entered her number into my phone, and as I leaned over to her side and gave her a quick peck on the left cheek I released her hand and said.

"nice to meet you Amanda, I'll give you a call later but I really have to run."

She asked me if I promised, and I said I did and we parted.

That's it, nothing too titillating, just a nice feeling that I met someone knew I could probably take out my sex addiction with.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

The dog in me

Shoulder length blonde hair, gorgeous blue eyes, wonderful tits, serene smile, long legs, smooth skin, 9 years younger than me - my girlfriend is such a catch. She's also extremely smart, very funny, considerate, passionate, dedicated, and she's very well connected to the film industry.

I am not usually one for long term relationships, but I get along so very well with this one. She is in love, I reciprocate, although I am not entirely I even understand the concept because like most other men who have dated all through their 20s and 30s and not committed, I'm a little detached.

Sometimes it is extremely hard to get my mind off the chase. No, not her, the chase of the other women. I always had this problem, always wanted something new. I have never really made promises to a woman before, but figure right now because of my age perhaps I should settle down.

It must be reiterated, I found the woman who fits me perfectly. She is perfect for me, physically, emotionally, mentally, everything is great. I enjoy her company, she laughs at my jokes, and the sex is still really good. The relationship screams yes, all ducks are in the right row, all the predictions and friends are in the approval zone. Sometimes I look at her and can't believe how pretty and cool she is, sometimes I actually can sense how much she cares about me, sometimes even though I have not actively asked it, I know my career (even passively) will improve because I am with her.

For 20 years I did not break up with anyone, they all just drifted in and out of my life. I did not feel guilt because I made no promises. I can't think that I am suffering from oneitis because I am not fretting over having her at all. I'm just concerned about the fact that I can't keep my mind in what has to be the correct frame for a great future with a partner.

I met a PA on set the other day that really got my juices going. Monogomy, this must be duality, this must be the hardest thing I have ever done. I'm so used to dashing here and there. I am seriously considering treatment because I have the best relationship, the best girlfriend, the best living situation.

When that 24 year old black haired, size 0, 5'8", levis wearing ,golden skinned, pink satin panty pushed aside, drill bit nippled, green eyed demon who works for Universal dragged me into her bosses office and fucked me senseless, I have to wonder - even with the perfect girlfriend, will I ever not be a dog?

Friday, April 14, 2006

Cold Stew


Black out!

On the ground, somewhere unfamaliar. Hands reaching for me, dry mouth tasting something wicked, hands reach for my face. What is that smell? Oh crap, here it comes again.


Splashing on the ground, on shoes, not on my shoes, not in my hands. People are spreading away from me, even the big black assholes in black tshirts.

Thump, I think that hurt.

The shadow castle is calling to me.

"come in Gelfling, come to your hooked nose friend, come bring me your essence."

A wild beast runs into me from the side and shifts reality.

I am awake again, with vibrations and music, foreign music. Not dreaming so far, just awake again, in a cab, going somewhere. Familiar tones, yes, ok Mike in the cab with me talking to the driver.

I think I am going to be alright.