You know how if you live in America and/or use the internet and/or watch TV you are brainwashed into believing that January = ‘Lose Some Goddamn Weight, You Fat Whore!’ Month? Well, this fat whore gave in this time. Because I can only manage the burden of one of those labels at a time, and– let’s be honest– whore’s not giving me up any time soon.

See, I got caught up in The Today Show’s 4th hour (Hi, Hoda!) over winter break, and at some point my mild interest turned into obsession, which led to a serious depression every weekday when 11:00 am rolled around. In my weakened state, I found it difficult to change the channel, so I would watch the show immediately following The Today Show: Dr. Oz.¹ And at some point I went from “Oh, Dr. Oz, what IS this? Really?” to “Yes, I DO want my own team of Nike SPARQ Trainers! Let’s do this!” So, see, it was an accident. Or brainwashing. In any case, this Embarrassing Madelyn Move brought to you by Someone Other than Madelyn®.

I could have just gone the Weight Watchers route, right? That would be the socialite-on-a-budget move: Relatively easy, cheaper than a personal chef, and I’d get to count Jennifer Hudson among my comrades-in-skinny jeans. Problems: (1) I have done Weight Watchers before. I hate it. I was ALWAYS HUNGRY and it translated to more than a pound a week only once; (2) In order to live a full, balanced life, I periodically need chocolate, dessert, and red wine; (3) This was seriously not a planned thing. For months I’ve been “Oh, I should exercise, I should eat better, et cetera et cetera,” which got me nowhere. This time I was all “Lalala, so convenient! Look, I lost 20 pounds! Lalala, another glass of wine.”

Oh, YES. I thought about not divulging my current sans-poundage, but 20 is sort of a big deal, and I realized it’s silly to be coy about this. We don’t need any of that I-didn’t-even-think-you-owned-that-much-weight-to-lose or OMGyouhideitsowell.² It’s okay. I knew I was fat. I knew you knew I was fat. Because you’ve seen me. In fact, there’s more I’ve got to shed, still. Which is fine. I came to terms with my fatness some time ago.

Looking in the mirror now I get a WTF feeling. I do not know this body; I don’t remember it. I sort of wish I had taken ‘before’ photos, or that someone had been standing in front of the mirror with me when I decided the Dr. Oz deal was a good idea. Yes, I was naked during that moment. Yes, I know it’s weird and inappropriate to want someone to have witnessed me naked and then announce that I wanted it on the internet. But the improvement is bigger in my naked self and I’m just trying to share the joy, OK?!

So while this skinnier-than-previously thing is nice in that approaching the beauty ideal is initially outlook-boosting, it has also prompted the development of my now-common counterintuitive groan “Losing weight is annoyinngggg…”. Not because my diet is awful; Not because I have to drag myself to the gym. Because my pants don’t fit. And pants are expensive. So I have to find a tailor. And a lot of my shirts are too big. But it’s dumb to tailor t-shirts. And I’m worried my sweaters will get mangled in the tailoring process. Can anyone give me the name of a good tailor? Do they even still exist? OR, to streamline this process, I will just continue wearing the saggy-assed giant jeans with the belts that are too big to help and t-shirts that now make me look fatter than they did when I actually was that fat. Then you all can nominate me a million times over for “What Not to Wear” and Clinton and Stacy will save me from my frump-or-bankruptcy anxiety spirals.

Actually, if it’s okay with all of you, I’ll continue down the frump route. Because meeting Clinton Kelly and Stacy London would be a wet-dream-made-real fashion moment.

Here’s to a happy and healthy 2011 for all!

Love forever and always,

MHB

¹ The post-KLG-and-Hoda depression is often accompanied by debilitating arm paralysis, which explains my watching of The Dr. Oz Show without your ability to judge me.

² Those sentences always come out so fast.

St. Louis is a delightful place to get your holiday groove on. Let me tell you all abouts it.

Beside all of the parties you’ll be attending because I know you’re like, super popular, the city has so many things to offer! These are some of my picks:

1. Go to the Fabulous Fox!

Every year the Fox has a ton of shows that will put you in the Christmassy (or whatever) spirit! Last year I took my mom and grandma to see White Christmas and it was pure magic. The guy sitting next to me had such a good time. He just sang his little heart out. This year, instead of getting your aunt a scarf or your sister a book, get tickets to a show! There are few things better in the world than getting dressed up, buying some cardboard binoculars and hitting the Fox.  This year they’re showing the Nutcracker, Manheim Steamroller, and A Christmas Carol. And some kind of Cirque de Somethingorother.

Oh except don’t take 40. Take 70 to Grand. Because seriously, 40 on a Fox day is a cluster.

2. The Zoo’s Wild Lights!

Ok, I think this would be such a romanticky type date. It’s all cold and there are cute little (well some are big) animals and Christmas lights! You can get some hot chocolate and snuggle up in your winter gear and oh, it would be so lovely.

3. Ice Skating at Steinberg

Listen up, I haven’t been ice skating since the seventh grade when I went to the Rec Plex with my class. But ice skating in Forest Park sounds so great! I am jealous of people who do this. I’m clumsy and would likely wipe-out and knock my two front teeth out of my head, but I’d have fun while doing it. This also seems like a romanticky type thing to do. (Not the knocking the teeth out part. A trip to the emergency room is almost never romantic.)

4. Make the most of it

I know that doing fun things is costly and time-consuming, which around Christmas you’re already spending money and you’re low on time. So do things that are built in. On your way home from shopping drive around your neighborhood and look at lights. Maybe one of your neighbors did that psychotic thing where they sync up lights with a Christmas radio station. Watch claymation Christmas movies while you wrap (My favorite is a Year Without a Santa Claus, followed in second by Santa Claus is Coming to Town, and in third we have Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer). Even if you don’t celebrate Christmas (or whatever) just enjoy the atmosphere. People are weirdly nicer, its cozy inside, use your time off work or school to bond with friends and family. JUST ENJOY IT, ALRIGHT?

merrily,

weathersby

PS – this is my favorite Christmas song. it is so weird. but i’ve loved it forever since i was a small baby child. it has a super lame fake music video to go with it. YOU’RE WELCOME.

PPS – if you’re questioning my choice of claymation film please watch this: Snow Miser-Heat Miser. YEAH. BOOYAH.

PPPS- this is (appropriately) my other favorite Christmas song. ONLY THIS VERSION THOUGH. No Judy? NO GO.

I even have plans to one day live in a haunted house. I am hoping mostly for a friendly ghost who will bug my dog and not a scary ghost who will throw shit at me and possess my body. Jake says that he doesn’t think you get to choose really, but I bet that I could tell right away if a house had a friendly ghost or an evil spirit. He also thinks I am ridiculous because I blame unexplained things on ghosts (Naturally I assume everything is built on a Sacred Indian Burial Ground). BUT HIS HOUSE IS SO PROBABLY HAUNTED. When he moved in there were locks on the outside of the bedroom doors and the basement. THE OUTSIDE?!!? ANNNNND there are handprints on the concrete walls downstairs probably because someone was locked down there and tried to claw their way out and then they died and now they are ghosts.

This all started with me as a child. I blame my father namely. This isn’t the normal daddy-issues situation. This is more like my dad had insomnia and would stay up all night watching the Sci-fi channel and the History channel (the History channel might seem weird but they show all sorts of things about ghosts, and the future, and Aztec predictions) and I had to sleep with my door open(scared of the dark). Then there is the matter of post-cycle break education. I would be home in the summers with no one but my dad and he loved watching Unsolved Mysteries and I loved it too. But then he’d go to work and leave me alone watching Unsolved Mysteries until my brothers got home. The repercussions of this is that I have spent most of my adolescence and adulthood convinced someone will kidnap me, maybe aliens, and that I better watch my back.

However, I think what really made an impact on me is that as a baby I allegedly resided in a HAUNTED ROOM. Yes folks. HAUNTED. I don’t remember this of course but it has been revealed to me that when my parents moved us and our dog Elmo, into our first apartment, Elmo refused to go in my room. All the hair on his back would stand up and he’d growl at the door and it was cold in my room (which if any of you are connoisseurs of the supernatural as I am you would know that (1) animals hate ghosts and (2) haunted places are always cold). Why did my parents allow me to sleep there? They hated me probably. (haha)(no, but really).

But anyway, the tale continues! It wasn’t just my room that was haunted! There would be mysterious foot prints in the living room, and things went missing and turned up in strange places. But the most disconcerting is that my mom and dad worked opposite work schedules and my mom would come home in the afternoon and shower. But she could hear someone walking up and down the hall, but she’d peek her head out and no one would be there. AND THEY COULD HEAR FUCKING CHILDREN LAUGHING ABOVE THEM. UHHHH EXCEPT FOR THEY WERE THE TOP FLOOR. Oh god. CHILDREN GHOSTS ARE THE WORST. Oh and my parents would find each other doing all sorts of weird ghostly type things in their sleep but obviously it wasn’t them it was the spirit that was possessing their bodies (My dad one night told my mom he was Milliard Fillmore). And this all occured in the St. Louis area and if you’d like to know more about such happenings feel free to research for yourself.

Ok so now you might see why I am fascinated. I just like the idea that after you die you might still get to continue harassing people. I also like the idea of weird inexplicable things such as goats that have had the blood sucked out of them or a large hairy man-ape wandering in the woods or a whole island of people just FUCKING DISAPPEARING! THAT IS CRAZY. As far as aliens, I am totes convinced they’re out there just biding their time until the moment is right for doing a world-wide anal probe. You may now appreciate my attraction to shows like the X-Files, A Haunting, Ghost Hunters and so forth. Jake generally doesn’t let me watch them in his presence which is fair because I get totally freaked out because I BELIEVE IT I DO I CAN’T STOP MYSELF. So then I’m scared for like a week after.

What I am really saying is ya’ll should really buck up on your knowledge because I don’t want you to come crying to me when your apartment is haunted. Except if you do come crying to me I will seriously come over with a Ouija Board and candles and we can do a séance. It’ll be great. (one time eward wanted to do a séance in our apartment and I said HELLZ NAW because I didn’t want any leftover spirits lingering but if your residence already has spirits I’m DTF.)

the truth is out there,

weathersby

Also, I’m typing this in Microsoft Office and it just highlighted “a” before Ouija. Which orthographically makes sense because you say “an” before a vowel, but when actually verbalize “Ouija” you use a /w/ which is not a vowel SO BOOYAH Microsoft Office I am NOT changing it. If you recognize Ouija as a word then you better know the related phonology.

Happy Tuesday.  It’s time to vote for us again. Except this time, we only have SIX days to self-promote our way to stardom and local print-media domination.

 Dear Riverfront Times, You are our current victim. Love, SLS

CLICK ME! CLICK ME! CLICK ME! RFT! RFT!

Best Blog. First Question. www.stlsocialites.wordpress.com goes into the blank space. Done and done. Can’t wait for the party.

Please also vote for other spectacular things around the city for this “Best of List” while you’re at it. There are many things that are the best, aside from our blog, floating around this town. We’re happy to share the limelight.

Happy voting,

bingbangbus

P.S. I promise to start writing again. But only if you vote. Love Love.

What I’m saying is, as a child I thought “Hey I live in St. Louis. People know where St. Louis is. People know where New York is, Chicago, Los Angeles, Houston, Miami, etc. And people know where St. Louis is.”

But do they?

Does the last time a large budget film set in St. Louis correspond to the last time Judy Garland was in St. Louis? Did you recently read a top-selling fiction novel that took place in St. Louis? Did Alicia Keys and Jay-Z team up and sing a song dedicated to the beauty and magnitude of our fair city? (This was a quiz, the answers are “Yes, No, and No”)

I will never forget, when I was about twelve, I went on a family vacation. And I was chatting with a guy and he asked where I was from. And I said St. Louis. And he looked confused. So I said, “Missouri?” and he said “Is that somewhere in the middle?”

Now, I know by age twelve I had seen many maps and could name all the states and most of their capitols. But this person had literally no idea regarding the location of ST. LOUIS. I was baffled. Doesn’t everyone know St. Louis? Isn’t St. Louis famous for a million things? I mean maybe if I had said “Kansas” or “Nebraska” the confusion might have been understandable because those places are terrible – but really? St. Louis, Missouri?

But in reality, St. Louis USED to be a large city. It was once the fourth largest city in these here United States. But it has fallen quite a ways. We get excited now when someone mentions St. Louis in a film, like Louise from St. Louis from Sex and the City the movie. The other day I was reading a book and the main character said she had a lay-over in St. Louis and I felt relieved. “They know we’re here!!” (“they” being the big people in the world such as authors of chick lit OBV). Remember when Up in the Air was filmed here? Everyone was so excited to look in the movie and recognize their high-school, Brentwood, Sub Zero, and the airport. Last weekend a crappy Will Ferrell movie debuted in Chesterfield, but hey, we’ll take a shout out when we can get one. It is kind of sad.

Fact is people, the citizens of St. Louis need to take it upon themselves to acknowledge St. Louis for all it is. When people ask you where you live, do you say St. Louis? Or do you say “the central west end”, “university city”, “the loop”, “north county”, “south county”, “downtown” etc? Where the fuck IS St. Louis? I know when talking with people of the St. Louis persuasion it seems like being more specific might be helpful but quite frankly – I CAN’T FIND THESE PLACES WITHOUT A MAP AND I LIVE HERE. Do you live in St. Louis? Yay or nay?

St. Louis has so many things to offer and it really is a great place but we need to defend our little patch o’ land. Think of all that is available to us that the world is missing out on! Even if you Wikipedia “St. Louis” the attraction and appeal is obvious! Get out there and experience everything there is and then pass the good word along! Last spring in an article Bill McClellan said that St. Louis was kind of falling by the way-side and while I hate to agree, I have to a little. We’ve got so much going on but do we REALLY take advantage? Is St. Louis still a recognizable name in our ever-growing world? I’m not so sure but I think it could be, if the people of St. Louis loved it as much as they used to.

We used to have Nelly to rep our city but now we gotta do the work ourselves (because seriously Nelly – I’m thinking its over. Its been real). I’m not saying you have to go out and make a box-office hit movie about a boy and his dog living in St. Louis – I’m just saying be proud of the motherland – she treats us well.

weathersby

PS – I CANNOT FUCKING WAIT FOR THE NEW TAYLOR SWIFT CD. the end.

(Don’t worry, to find this video on the real interwebs, you don’t have to turn OFF your Google safe search. In fact, keep it ON, always, especially if we’re involved…)

Word,

bingbangbus

It was a Thursday, and since KBoyne is a re-bachelor dad and does not understand about things like buying cleaning products, there was a woman cleaning my house. I was home (good thing, too, since we ran out of garbage bags and I had to go get some). This woman is nice enough, but she always smells strongly of cigarettes on account of she chain smokes after she finishes a room or two, after every room or two. And that particular Thursday she decided to switch to from regular no-fuss floor cleaner to a lemon-scented Pine-Sol knock-off. Yes, I can tell it was cheap. The cheap ones always smell sickly and penetrate everywhere, like they don’t clean, just soak into your floors to cover whatever odor you created with their fake citrus scent. Remember how I get migraines? They’ve made me really sensitive to smell.

So as soon as that Fir-Sol went down, I had to leave my house. Seeing as I had nowhere to go and it was such a lovely day, I decided to camp out on my front lawn with a book, my knitting, and my cell phone. I also had a deck of cards in my knitting bag, in case of company.

Funny thing about a closed, Caucasian-ridden neighborhood like mine: people do not use their lawns. Children to do play on their lawns, people do not hang out on their lawns; Aside from the manicuring of the lawn, the lawn is not to be used. At least that’s how I understand it– lawns are for aesthetic value only– because I got the craziest looks while sitting outside. Did I mention my house is at a stop sign? Everyone gave me a long look, varying from confusion to suspicion, and I’m fairly sure I saw an ‘aghast’ or two. No, I couldn’t just go to my backyard: I have no trees in my backyard, which means I’d be trading the shade of the front yard for the blinding light of the back, which puts me into migraine territory again, which is why I got out of the house in the first place! Smart alecks.

I’m sitting on my front lawn reading about fundamentalist Mormons, occasionally switching to knitting my brother’s new scarf and texting the boy down the street, asking  if he wants to hang out with me because it’s beautiful out and I could use the company. Eventually, he did. And I pulled out my deck of cards, and we looked at each other and I said “Yo, I don’t know any two-person card games except War. Do you?” He says “No” because, like any normal early-twenties-something, he does not sit around playing cards. “Do you know how to play Rummy, perchance? Or Gin? Or Gin Rummy? Are those different games, or the same thing with different names?” I ask. Of course, his answers to all these questions are “I don’t know.”

To the internet! Which, thankfully, had a whole website just to explain Gin Rummy to us! And it was very simple and straightforward, except I read the rules like an idiot, so for the first fifteen minutes we were scoring the game completely WRONG and we wasted our time being frivolous card-players, which is not something I want to be. I don’t DO throw-away card games; I play to WIN.

After fifteen minutes of confusion and general distaste for the silliness of the game, he decided to read the rules for himself, at which point we realized it’s a multiple-round game played to 100 AND THE DEATH. Seriously, we stopped talking. And fucking focused. And can I tell you how I whipped ass at Gin Rummy? Oh, I did. I’m going to start carrying cards around with me so people can off-the-cuff challenge me. I’ll prove my Gin Rummy badassness.

Why am I so serious about cards? (The boy down the street asked too.) It’s part of my life plan. If I were to put together a Life List, a good portion of it would be names of things I want to learn that could be classified as “retirement home activities”. For instance: the knitting (check!). Here’s a sample of my theoretical Life List:

28. Learn to sew.

29. Learn to knit.

30. Learn to play Euchre.

31. Learn to play Bridge.

32.Learn to play Cribbage.

33. Learn to play Gin Rummy.

34. Learn to play Hearts.

35. Learn to play Spades.

36. Learn to play Pinochle.

37. Learn to shuffle and bridge.

38. Make a scrapbook.

39. Become an ace at Decoupage.

40. Learn to play Bunco.

I’m not entirely sure where this all came from, just somewhere along the line I became infatuated with cards and games an older generation tends to play. Maybe it’s the hours of watching my abuelo and abuela play Dominoes with their friends. When they finally taught me, I felt so cool… like “Now I’m adult-y, I’ve got this respectable skill under my belt and no one can stop me being a grownup.” Not that I’m great at Dominoes, mind you, but– assuming I ever get a retirement– I will never be bored. Also, since I’m practicing now, I’ll probably be an expert at all these things by then. That’s the plan, anyway. Though, if I’m already an expert and everyone just starts learning when they retire, it probably will get boring teaching and playing with all you noobs.

My twilight years (a la Helen Mirren).

Their Twilight years (con Robert Pattinson).

Unless our retirement will be filled with blogging and Facebook. Which sounds awful, since a retirement of blogging and Facebook will give us nothing but blogging and Facebook to blog and Facebook about! Oh my gosh! What a disastrous cycle of online redundancy! PLEASE take me up on that Gin Rummy challenge. Or teach me a game instead. Maybe it’s just to give us something to do when we’re old, but maybe– just maybe– you’ll have found a new hobby. And we’ll play all the time, all the way into our twilight years (not to be confused with “Twilight” years, which are happening to tweens now). Then we can start a card racket or something. Except, legal, since we’ll be so good. But it’ll seem like a scam because we’re Aces.

By the way, this card racket/Aces-at-a-sedentary-lifestyle is just my day job. By night, of course, I’m still a Socialite.¹ Maybe with an earlier bedtime, is all.

Love forever and always,

MHB

¹ I think the Aging Socialite Plan may come with a Red Hat Society membership, too.

As a Self Proclaimed Socialite, it is one of my duties to inform you about very imporant events that are going on around St. Louis. It’s my job. Self-imposed job, but still.

Anyway, one of my very bestest friends from Wash U, Miss Emily Flanders, an event planner extraordinaire who moonlights as a poet, is planning an UGLY PARTY this Thursday, July 29th, at Sol Lounge in the Central West End. All benefits go to Urban Studio Cafe, an ultra awesome, innovative, and progressive coffee shop located in Old North St. Louis. Urban Studio is not just any coffee shop, however, but one with a conscience for urban development and renovation in places where it is needed most. You can check them out by visiting their website: http://www.urbanstudiocafe.org

Please come out in your ugliest of uglies, your tried and true gaudies, and your atrocious christmas sweaters from years past. Knowing Emily, Sol Lounge, and Urban Studio Cafe, I am certain  it will not disappoint.

Ugly Party! YESSSSS!

Word,

bingbangbus

We’ve been AWOL since the A-List Party, eh? We’re busy and we’re sorry. And some of us are still reeling from the crazy fame-orgy that was the A-List…? So probably not that part. These socialites are too together for fainting from celebrity exposure (unless that celebrity was maybe Andy Samberg or Al Gore or Milo Ventimiglia, none of whom were in attendance).

In lieu of a long rundown, we simply present you with our Official StL Magazine A-List hotness:

There you have it. Awesome hair, cute dresses, and brilliant/pretty girls.

You’re welcome, St. Louis.

And thanks again, butterflies, for getting us there!

xoxo,

sls

July 2-4 was a working weekend. A total of 30 hours on the clock, 20 of those being waking hours. The biggest issue with Laverne & Shirley is the age difference. Laverne is 13 and Shirley 5, so it’s difficult finding things we can do that are (1) age appropriate for Shirley (2) not mind-numbing for Laverne. Things we did: make charm bracelets, paint faces, chalk drawing, bubbles, play outside, make Rice Krispie treats, play with GLOW STICKS!!!!! (We’ll get to that last one later.) Laverne’s big project was learning to knit, per her request.

By noon on Sunday we were chilling in the parents’ bathroom with Shirley in the jacuzzi tub in her bathing suit and Laverne and I sitting on the floor, knitting. As is often the case with young children, something went wrong between the beginning of the weekend and then. Remember the GLOW STICKS (!!!)? Shirley went wild for them. She wore them during bath time, she wanted to take them to bed– can they be a necklace, can they be two bracelets, can they be a necklace again? And, being that they were non-toxic and minimally risky (per previous experience), I let her sleep in them. I warned her not to be upset when she woke in the morning with two un-glowy bracelets.

I fell asleep by 1:00. At 2:00 AM exactly, I woke to crying. Shirley was upset about a dream in which Swiper (the ‘villain’ from Dora the Explorer) had been trying to get her glow sticks (!!!). Upon seeing one of hers had actually gone out, Shirley demanded a replacement. I said no, Shirley. You need to go back to bed. We’ll get more in the morning. But she was awake. And little Shirley decided to take things into her own hands. How did Madelyn make them glow? she thought. Oh! She cracked them and shook! Smart girl.

Do you know what happens when someone re-crack and re-shake a dead glow stick? It breaks. And it squirts all over. AND IT ENDS UP IN THE EYES AND MOUTH OF THE LITTLE GIRL WHO DID IT. Ten minutes after the first crying spell, I walked in on another, and Shirley’s face was full of glow stick (!!!). That meant 30 minutes of eye-flushing and mouth-rinsing, tap water and saline eye wash, and lots of blinking. Then she went back to bed, this time with me. Silver linings: (1) she was fine by the time she woke me up AT SIX O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING (2) her method of reigniting the glow stick WORKED.

After I left I took a looooooong nap– if this job has taught me anything it’s that mothering is HARD and there is always an ordeal and I really like your kids and all, but thank goodness I only go home to puppies. (Plus, this way I get paid more.)

Later I went to fireworks with my cousins (I’m calling them Kelly, Jill and Sabrina. Get it? Because they’re ANGELS.) Their friend “Kris” (also an “Angel”) was over too. Can I tell you how crazy it is being automatically THE COOLEST PERSON IN THE ROOM– I am never the coolest person in the room– simply because you are older, a girl, and in possession of nail polish and knowledge of hair braiding? Kris walked to the car with a swagger and was all “I got a braid. Madelyn did it. Lalala!” Again, if I was a mommy, these things would be uncool and taken for granted.

Also: never take nail polish to a public place where families gather. I was ambushed by small girls: One hour of doing (very intricate) nails, six girls, only two-ish of which I expected to do. And I had like four more girls crowding around at one point or another. Worth it, though: their nails looked BOSS.

AMERICA.

BOSS.

<3

What’s more, I know it all paid off (in terms of cash-money, too). Yesterday my father ran into Kris’ parents: she loveloveloves me, to which KBoyne replied “You know, she babysits… here’s her phone number!” And in the past two days, I’ve gotten about 5 text messages from Laverne asking about how to start a scarf, where to get yarn, etc. “It’s so fun! And I totally thought it’d be boring!” Haha, I know.

That’s another nerd into the knitting fold and another child under my magical babysitting spell. One weekend, two converts. MHB’s got the makings of an up-and-coming cult of GIVING ME MONEY FOR WATCHING YOUR CHILDREN. I promise, I’m not creepy and/or inappropriate with kids like I am on the blog. I have references!¹

Love forever and always,

MHB

P.S. KBoyne got a Facebook! You should totally friend him!

¹ And I’m always for hire!