Iranian Paris Hilton?

A sex video is released on the black market of Iran with a famous Iranian soap star, and has quickly become the highest selling film of all time. 

Pari Esfandiari is interviewed on New America Media. Esfandiari also reveals how Iranian citizens can become contractually married for an hour or more to have sex permissibly within the Islamic Republic. 

Tennis Lesson: Serves and Backhand

I had a tennis lesson this morning. The pro said I was a high 3.7. Then he saw my serve: "Oh, you're a good player!" That was nice to hear. Then I found out that a pro is a 7.0. I am three points behind. I had to work harder. "Make me a 7.0," I said. 


TWO-HANDED BACKHAND: (for lefty) Make sure your right leg is continuing out after contact with the ball, so that when you are finished your swing you are standing square to the net. If you leave the right foot behind, this will eventually be taken advantage of by your opponent, because they will move you further and further out of position.


TOSS: Make sure your toss is not going too far left. You want the forearm to move slightly more to center.

BACK FOOT: Be sure that your back foot kicks out as your anchor. Most professionals will have their back foot all the way above their head to create more spin and power.

RIGHT FOOT: (reverse for righty) Let the foot land first. You don't want both feet to land at the same time. The back foot is anchoring, while the right foot is thrusting forward. If you see a player landing on both feet, you can take advantage of them, since they are less prone to be in position once the ball is returned.  

KICK: Put the ball a little behind you. The ball will leave your sight line for a moment. That's how you'll know if you've tossed it correctly. Then push up through the ball, brushing up on it as you would for a forehand, or any other shot where you're creating topspin - except you're doing this in the air, and in a different direction.

SLICE: Toss the ball in front and a little left. Be sure to swing around and down through the ball. 

FLAT: Toss the ball more out in front. Be sure to have a full extension. 

SLICE/KICK: You can add a bit of spin on the slice to make the ball curve a bit. Just hit up and through the ball, and make sure that your trigger finger is brushing up against the ball slightly. 

TRIGGER FINGER: The trigger finger is the index finger that curls up on the racket above your grip. A server can can change the style and impact of spin by where they apply pressure with the trigger finger. Players need to make sure that the trigger finger is extended out, but not too much. You don't want the pointer finger completely flat on the grip while the rest of your hand is curled around; it needs to be out and slightly curled under - like a fish hook!

That was what I learned today. I have another lesson on Sunday morning. : )

Tennis with a Stranger

I am off to play tennis with a stranger today. I am not sure how that'll go. I am nervous about it, so I can tell that I don't really want to do it. My instinct tells me that the guy just wants to play me, so that he can try and beat me and be competitive. I hate it when people do that. I just want to have fun. I don't like being overly serious. I like playing matches with friends who you can play with again. I think this is probably because I am so competitive myself. Maybe, I just need to be open to this experience. Maybe, I need to be open to being competitive in a healthy way. Like if someone wants to beat me, I could simply encourage him to do so, and beat him to a pulp at the same time. I don't know. It sounds like I'm still working on this issue. 

In other news, I signed up for a tennis lesson. My first since I was a teenager. I want to work on my serve. I want it to be over 110 miles per hour. I think I can do it. We'll see if this pro knows his stuff. Who knows? I might be acing the world in no time. 

Anything else?

My parents are cool. Life is easy in Pittsford. I don't seem to be losing any weight, but I am not smoking, and I feel better. 

GODS OF SPANDEX quote of the day: "If you eat it, you will grow!"

A Bird Flies Straight

For the last three days, I've had one bizarre dream after another. The first was an argument with Brad Pitt; the second was me being a waiter for Robin Williams; and the third was my dad and I trying to make a naughty two year old behave. 

I know each of these people are versions of myself. I know the pain associated with them are things I've covered up with the use of nicotine. 

"I think the Brad Pitt and Robin Williams characters are reminders of when I began smoking. The fact that I didn't continue with acting when I wanted to so badly," I told my dad.

"Could be," he agreed.

"I also had a dream about M., my high school girlfriend. I think there was pain there too."

"Why did you break up with her? She was so nice."

"I don't know. I think it was because I was only 19, and didn't want to marry the first girl, you know?"

"It would have been perfect though."

"Yeah, maybe. Who knows?"

"You can still do the acting now."

"I'm too old now."

"You are young."

"Nah. I'm old."

I didn't have the dream about the two year old until last night. I assume that's me being upset at being disciplined or disciplining. That young me. That wild one. 

Today when I woke up after the dream, I talked to So Gee on SKYPE. She was talking about family propriety in Korea and the expectations of children from in-laws. I told her that I would probably do everything wrong, and that I wouldn't even be able to speak Korean anyway.

"You said you were going to learn Korean!"

"I said that?"

"Yeah, you told my mom. She said she wanted you to learn Korean so you could talk to her, and you said you would."

"I don't remember saying that exactly. Maybe, I said something like I would like-"

"No! You said you would!!"

"Well, I can't take that course. It's like five thousand dollars."

So Gee doesn't talk to me for a good five minutes. She is visibly upset. When I ask her what's wrong, she says nothing is. I decide to let her brood on her own. I know that I have the tendency to try and fix things as a man, and that women would rather process on their own, so I skedaddle.

Later, we talk again. I offer the compromise of having her or her mother teach me, or to take a cheaper course somewhere else. This satisfies her, and she seems to be at an even keel. 

"You okay with me now?"

"I've been okay. You are the one who was reacting strongly."

I find it interesting that people expect so much out of their partners for their parents' sake. It is quite an absurd and crazy behavior, especially when parents have their own minds and ways of dealing with a situation that might be absolutely contrary to the way a person thinks it might go. That's usually the problem though. Someone thinks or someone knows. I know I do it daily. 

"We need to shut off the switch," my dad says, when I relate the story to him. "We need to stop thinking. It's in the way we say things. Our tone needs to be right."

"That seems a bit crazy to me too, though. I mean, I don't mean any disrespect to you. I understand what you're saying. That might work in a corporate environment, but only for a time. It won't be long before that mask gives way to how you truly respond to things. That's why I've come up with a new way to deal with life."

"What is that?"

"I'm just going to be whatever I am. If I'm mad, I'll be mad. If someone hurts me, I'll be exactly that. I'm not going to try and suppress or change my feelings."

"I am not saying to suppress your feelings."

"Okay. Then transcend."

"Yes, you must transcend when your buttons are pushed."

"Yeah, I'm not going to try to transcend. I'm just going to be what I am."

"This is a dangerous way to be. People will be upset."

"I'm not so sure. That's just your story of what you think people will be. I've known many friends that behaved in a way that was different, but that didn't make me like them any less or more."

"Give me an example."

"Okay. You know the story about Bahuddin?"

"I think I know this story."

"Bahudding was sitting on his patio, whatever. All his students were around him. Suddenly, some guy comes in and asks if the great teacher, Bahuddin, can teach him the mystical practice of Sufism. Bahuddin says, 'No way! You would suck as a student. Get lost!' The guy hears this and runs out of the hall super depressed. Then all of Bahuddin's students look at Bahuddin and are like, 'Dude, why were you so harsh?' Just as they ask this question, a bird flies into the room. All the students try to catch it, but the bird evades them. Finally, it lands on a windowsill by Bahuddin. He brings his hands close to the bird and claps them loudly. Whack! Whack! The bird flies straight out the window. 'See?' Bahuddin says. 'That man was just like this bird. Sometimes a loud noise helps them fly straight.'

"What does the story mean?"

"Well, that's the point of Sufi stories. You got to figure out the layers, but I would say that it demonstrates what we were talking about. A person can be truthful. They can be many different things. Who knows if it's going to be hurtful or not? If you're being true to yourself, isn't that more important?"

Mamma Mia

I went to a movie with my dad today. We were supposed to see Step Brother. The theater didn't have it though. We had to settle on something else. 

"How about Mamma Mia?" my dad asked. 

"Mamma Mia?" I asked.

"Yes, Mamma Mia," my dad smiled. 

"You want to see a musical?"

"Mamma Mia," my dad smiled again.

"Mamma Mia? The movie with Meryl Streep?"

"Today we see Mamma Mia and tomorrow we see Step Brothers."

"Okay," I laughed. 

When we went in the theater, I was surprised that I was the youngest person there. I thought this was something teeny bopper girls would see. I was wrong though. I don't know what was going on in Pittsford, but there wasn't a person under 60 in that place. That just added to my overall disappointment at seeing a musical. I think I guffawed and huffed most of the way through the first 20 minutes; I may have even almost yacked at a few points. I don't really know. I was not enjoying it so well. I mean, I was right there with it. It wasn't until Meryl Streep started singing that my scowls started to resemble something like a smile. She was just too damn cute. I think my dad thought so too. He had a smile on his face and it just wouldn't go away. I've never seen the man so happy. He was shining teeth the whole film. When the credits started rolling, he couldn't even leave his seat. He had to wait for the light to come on. 

"I meet you," he said, and looked back at the screen.

"Dad?" I said. 

"I meet you," he said. 

I waited for him by the trash can at the back of the theater.  He walked up to me dancing slightly. It was like he warms up for tennis, so I don't know if you can call it dancing, but he was doing whatever it was that he was doing, and then he looks at me beaming, and says.

"Good movie."

"Yeah," I laughed. "You liked it, huh?"

"Good movie" he said again.

I wouldn't ever see a movie like that ordinarily, but seeing my dad get that much joy out of it, was enough to make it a film worth seeing. 

"I'm glad you liked it," I said. 

"Yeah," my dad agreed. "I have to use the restroom."

Text Messages Disguised as Poems

I received this TMDP yesterday from SO GEE:

I cooked for my
dad in the morning
I made my
lunch (it was
supposed to be omelet...
but i don't know what you would call that)
It's already Thursday.

I received this TMDP from my DAD:

Dear Son Pirooz, The Victor, I love
you and and here is Panauh's
travel related information.

Apple rocked this TMDP without even trying:

Love what your Mac
can do? You've just
scratched the surface.

Check out great software that
lets you do more with your Mac.

Shop all software.

I tried writing a TMDP to myself in high school, but it sounded phony:

There are never many
girls at the football
games. Only seniors
are allowed to bring
girls with them. This
a terrible school.


I am seriously debating on whether to get the new Apple iPhone. It looks good. I just don't know. Do I wait until I'm back in the states? What would I do with it in Korea?

Conversation with an iPhone:

"So you want me?"
"Then do it. Just grab me."
"Why not?"
"I've got to get a phone plan."
"Just take me."
"I heard the phone plan is expensive."
"Your mama is expensive."
"That's true. She does like designer stuff."
"Hold me. Just for a while."
"Okay. I'm just going to hold you."
"Yeah, just hold me."


I did get a Sony Playstation II to fight the boredom of Pittsford. I can only play the golf game. It takes me 8 putts to get it into the hole. Then I get pissed off and reset the game. I'm not bored though.

Conversation at the video game store:

"So what is good to play when you're bored?"
"The PS2 is the longest running system with the most games."
"Do you have one?"
"Yeah, I have the PS2 and the 360. The 360 doesn't have as many games."
"So you like the Playstation?"
"It's a great system."
"What's a good game to play?"
"There's God of War! That made the system worth buying for me."
"Oh, yeah!" a patron to my right agrees. "Great game!!"
"Okay," I say. "Give me this God of War."
"Anything else?"
"Which golf game is good?"
"Tiger Woods is the best out there."
"Which one is better? There are like three of them here."
"Oh, well, the latest year is going to have the best graphics."
"Okay," I say. "I'll take one of those too."
"So we have the PS2, God of War, Tiger Woods - anything else?"
Anything else?"
"Nothing else."
"Will that be cash or charge?"
"I'll just use this card."
"Debit or credit?"
"I'll just do it myself."

The new Benji Hughes album is now available on iTunes. I got it. It's good. Different than what I thought it would be. The instrumentals kind of throw everything off a bit. The song order also jumps from slow to fast continuously. That is strange.

The best songs are:

Why Do These Parties Always End the Same Way
Tight Tee Shirt
Vibe So Hot
I Went With Some Friends to See the Flaming Lips
Waiting for an Invitation
You Stood Me Up
All You've Got to Do Is Fall in Love

That's a lot of good songs. Think BECK mixed with THE BEACH BOYS.

I got my Ten Minute Trainer workout video. Don't tell the people at Gods of Spandex. I feel like I'm cheating on them.

Conversation with Tony Horton:

"I am going to do your workout video."
"You like L.A.?"
"Love it."
"Okay. Well, good luck with the training thing."
"You too."


For those of you wondering why I am so product driven these days. Just live in a foreign country for a couple years, and then come home to your parent's house where there's nothing to do and infommercials play all day long. Believe me. You start buying shit.

GODS OF SPANDEX motto of the day: "Hold onto your gut! It won't be there in the morning."

Gods of Spandex Ten Week Program

I received an e-mail from GODS OF SPANDEX. I registered for their diet program. It's kind of crazy. I don't know if it's even possible. I like that they're truthful though. I think they called me a whale. Weird. I guess they bully people. Who knows? I don't really care about the diet as much as the prize money - $10,000!! All I have to do is document my experience, meet the ideal weight, and send them photographs. Big deal. I could do that in my sleep. Now all I have to do is pay $50 and do the program. Here's the e-mail they sent me. I'm supposed to get one every other day or so.



You are 203 lbs.. Your daily calorie intake must be 1,377 calories to lose 4.0 pounds a week. You must do this or be castrated. So it has been declared by the GODS OF SPANDEX.

7/28 = 199 lbs
8/4 = 195 lbs
8/11 = 191 lbs
8/18 = 187 lbs
8/25 = 183 lbs
9/1 = 179 lbs
9/8 = 175 lbs
9/15 = 171 lbs
9/22 = 167 lbs
9/29 = 163 lbs

163 lbs = IDEAL WEIGHT

The Gods of Spandex Ten Week Program must be followed by recuperative weeks. They must also include being physically active for one to two hours per day. Be one with your spandex. Be one with the child you've swallowed.*


1,700 calories

10/06 = 163 lbs
10/13 = 163 lbs
10/20 = 163 lbs
10/27 = 163 lbs

According to the Gods of Spandex, after you have reached your ideal weight, you must eat like a canary for the REST OF YOUR LIFE

2,000 calories

or until YOUR metabolism slows in a few more years. Until then, we the, GODS OF SPANDEX, will enjoy watching a superhero get healthy, lose nicotine for good, and try not to kill those around him. We, the GODS OF SPANDEX, support you wholeheartedly on this quest.



*For those new to the Gods of Spandex Ten Week Program, you are encouraged to count calories. Most whale-like superheros use The Daily Plate.

GODS OF SPANDEX motto of the day: "Give me my lettuce, bitch!"

Felt Jesus

I am taking it easy today. I haven't gone running. I haven't even tried to rule the world. No, I am snuggled in the basement with the cat. I've got a Sony Playstation 2 and some bananas. Watch out! Can you say par-tay? I can! Now I will wait out the apocalypse. I will envision felt figures. I will draw a swan.

Batman Wasn't the Bomb!

(photo courtesy of L.A. Times)

Batman wasn't the bomb. I saw a lot go off. That's true. But I wasn't all that thrilled.

"Is the same movie," my father said. "They use the same car and scenery."


"I swear. I see this movie."

"You mean Batman Begins?"

"Yes, with the same scenery."

I shrug my shoulders. It a was a long movie. I wasn't going to argue. I didn't have the patience. I have been struggling with non-smoking Pirooz, and I now have some consecutive days going with no slip-ups, so I had very little patience to get into some all out argument.

"Heath Ledger was interesting," I said.

"Yes," my dad agreed.

Then both my parents coddled me for doing so good with the non-smoking. I think they even gave me some type of advice. I was hallucinating though. It was seven in the morning. I had the running gear on. I just headed out in the rain. The last thing I remember my dad saying was that he was glad I wasn't upset.

"I'm not upset," I told him. "I'm angry at cigarettes."

"Let it out," my dad said. "Punch a pillow."

I looked at my new running shoes. They had some strange shoelace job. I couldn't figure out which way the laces went.

"You can punch me," my dad added.

I decided to pull the laces in under the strange plastic keyhole and then back through the other side. I don't know if this was right, but my laces were tied.

"I am going running," I said.

"Pirooz!" my mom shouted. "Lock the door!"

"Lock it then," I said. "Just leave the keys for me."

I headed up the street. It felt good to run with no smoke in the system. I even waved at the horses. They didn't wave back.

Latest Adventures

My dad and I have argued about Jesus. My mother has provided me with every food imaginable, and then asks why I have not eaten the entire refrigerator bare at the end of the week. My infommercial DVDs have yet to come. So Hee calls me daily and falls asleep on iChat. I have been on a strict diet and workout regiment. I have seen no dramatic weight changes, as I continue to lose fat and simply gain muscle. My stomach has told me that we are in a battle royal. Several times now I have gotten onto the ropes to muscle my way through a body slam or clothesline. At present, I am high in the wings, waiting for a performance of Batman, The Dark Knight. According to a reputable source, the movie is the bomb. I am now in attendance with my father. He keeps nudging me to keep me awake. There is something about dark theaters. They have an effect on me. It is not unlike Tylenol PM, which I recommend wholeheartedly for those who are allergic to Aspirin as I am. The previews have ended. I will report again soon. My text messaging has ended. I am a good movie patron. I will not sing along with the theme music. I will not snore.

Two Things That Have Caught My Attention and Made It Less Likely That I Would Commit Suicide

Last night I finished The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. It was a novel told entirely form the perspective of a dog. I thought it was done rather well. It didn't live up to the great promo video, but it was a solid book. If I were editing, I would have probably made the author do another rewrite to lose semicolons and make the overall descriptions a bit stronger. In either case, after that six hour experience, I am only left with the other big hooplah of the summer - Benji Hughes.

Benji's album is due out July 22nd and I couldn't be happier. The songs that were released last month from the EP, A Little Extreme, were just enough to satiate me for the big tamale. Now I need to hear the rest of the songs on the complete double disc of A Love Extreme. If it's anything like what Benji has done so far, my guess is this record will win a Prammy, a Pirooz Grammy. Of course, I don't know what he would be classified as. Is he punk/folk? House/hippie? I have no idea. I just know his songs become permanent loops in your head as you walk down the street and get ready for different extremes.

Benji Hughes
has two shows in Los Angeles at El Cid on August 15th and 16th. If you get a chance, see him in this intimate venue, before he is showcased in large, crowded venues with poor sound.

Garth Stein
is an excellent writer. Don't let my critique of semicolons dissuade you. His new novel is definitely worth the read and time.

City Mouse

I am now in Pittsford alone. That is interesting. I spend most days running on the back roads. There is a lot of roadkill, horses, and friendly people. Most folks will wave as I pass by. That surprises me. Not a person waved in Korea. It definitely makes running more fun.

When I get back home, my dad's cat usually nuzzles up against me and calls to be let out. I find this funny, as my dad has trained the cat like a dog. I'll let it out, and the cat will simply stay five feet by me at all times. When I say, "Let's go!" it will then follow me inside.

I have watched a bit of television. Usually, it's in the wee hours of the morning as I get back on American time. That is why I am now an expert on anything infommercial. In fact, I ordered the "Ten Minute Trainer" yesterday. I want to have rock hard abs. I will put Tony Horton to the test.

As of right now, I have absolutely nothing to do. I am magical.


So Gee must have packed and weighed her suitcase a total of seven times during the night. She may have wanted to do it yet again at 3:30 a.m when she nudged me awake, or for another final run at 4 a.m. when I fell asleep yet again on the sofa in the living room; but the fastidious resolution and graceful ease with which she notified me of our impending departure with a fist in my face a last and final time was enough to have me batting cobwebs, taking the car keys from my perpetually yawning mother, and driving up I490 to the airport with a smile on my face and amore in my heart.

When we arrived, I parked the car at the departure stop-off, and ran with So Gee to the check-in at Air Tran. Although I knew she needed a confirmation number, I had forgotten to tell her to bring one in the rush to the airport. We had to sit through an unbearable 15 minutes or so, as the single checkout attendant befuddled a few patrons before offering us an incorrect confirmation number for input into the self-check-in kiosk, and had us sweating bullets for a few more minutes, as I glanced back at my mother waiting outside the terminal trying to look inconspicuous with her yawning dreams of making me ten pounds heavier in a matter of one week, with glutinous-packed Persian gourmet meals fit for several kings and a dwarf.

I was filled with much celebratory satisfaction as we finally moved towards the final leg of our airport experience and entered a security checkpoint line. So Gee, on the other hand, must have been going through a large mix of emotions, because she only muttered, "...Always at the airport." I took this to mean my usual frantic, nervous behavior in dealing with airport bureaucracy, or maybe it had to do with the fact that the airline attendant wouldn't let her lock her luggage.

"You okay?" I asked, and kissed her cheek.

"I'm fine," she said.

It must have been my frantic behavior. I tried to offer her some more warmth, but she semi-pushed me away.

In earlier relationships, I would have taken this as an affront and beaten myself about my behavior; and, maybe, even tried to rectify the situation. I knew it was 4 a.m. though. I knew So Gee's mind was not mine. I also knew that I had to still be a hero, and find out if my mom had gotten booted off the waiting strip, so I rushed out of the airport, hailed my mother down, and drove back with my mother's yawning fantasies intermingled with my antithetical hopes to lose ten pounds with diet and exercise.

I have already seen about seventeen infomercials that promise results in ten minutes, 90 days, and just under five, so I figure I can order a nice exercise tape and be oh-so-wine-cooler-soccer mom, and pump my body to the grooves of Dee Lite and Naught by Nature's "OPP", while the weight just sheds from my body in burning birthday candle efficiency. This is the dream I wake from as I notice a card So Gee has laid for me on the pillow beside me. I open it and marvel at her penmanship. The letters are perfectly her. The sleek, sexy Y's that pull across the page, and dip into more curtail-crossed T's; it is really a sight to behold.

The penmanship is too much for me. I cradle her, the card, and think of asking her to marry me. Then I fall asleep again. This time it is my own version of Star Wars and Indiana Jones combined. I am trying to keep from getting caught by these demon-people. I am in a pipe. Super Mario style. Harrison Ford is next to me. We say something to one another. Then I wake up. I think: "That is a great, strange dream." I run two miles. I feed my dad's cat chives and basil (for some reason the cat likes it). Then I order some dude's ten minute trainer exercise video. I have a salad with avocados, broccoli, lettuce, carrots, and raisins. I read the "Art of Racing in the Rain". I write this blog entry.


Life in America is pretty easy.
I don't do well at airports.
So Gee has good penmanship.
I bought an exercise video.


I will see that movie soon.


I can't swallow.


My sword is my spoon.

Pittsford Life

I am now in Pittsford, NY. My mom and dad have been showering So Gee and I with gifts, food, and love. In fact, anything that So Gee has asked for has been met with immediate results.

"Dad, I want Cheesecake Factory," So Gee asked.

"Okay," my dad said.

"Mom, I want to shop for DSW shoes," So Gee asked my mother.

"Okay, my dear," my mom answered.

"Pirooz, I want to get a massage."

"Okay, homeslice," I said.

The highlight for me was when my dad gave So Gee a tennis lesson. They first ran around the court to warm up. As they ran, my dad gave her pointers on how to breathe appropriately.

"You are out of breadth. You need to run. Fill up your lungs. The more you fill them, the bigger they will get. Yes! Now breathe in through your nose. And out! Good!!"

So Gee ran around the courts. Then they worked the forehand. I was an official ballboy.

At one point, So Gee got frustrated that she kept hitting the balls over the fence. She was ready to quit. My dad persuaded her otherwise though. He said, "This is just fun. We are having fun. You are a beginner. This is the way it is. Just play. Do not think about that ball. That is the past. Just think about this ball. Right now."

I smiled at the Buddhist reference.

Now I am in the basement of my parent's house. I am 32. Tomorrow we go to the planetarium to celebrate. I will look at the stars. I will play tennis. I will eat cake.

3 Brothers

So Gee's Trip to Hollywood

So Gee had a good time in Hollywood. She ate Persian food, walked on Hollywood Boulevard, put her feet in the Pacific Ocean, pretended to be paparazzi as she took a picture of Nicole Hilton; met and talked to stars from Gray's Anatomy and Heroes; and even managed to snub a major Hollywood star by asking for the picture of his girlfriend rather than him. All in all, I would say So Gee is pretty sold on making a transition to the land of glitz. Myself, I am open to Hollywood or Seattle. Those are the two that would be exciting and fun for me. We will see how I feel in NY tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe, the NYC will pull me hard when I least expect it. I have no idea. I just know that Billy Crudup is shorter than me and very kind, and that So Gee is much more brave about taking photos with anyone. The only time I stopped her from fulfilling all her tourist desires was when she wanted to take a picture of an accident on the PCH. I tried to stop her, then corrected myself. "It's not really done," I told her. "But do it if you want." She didn't do it. I need to learn how to keep my mouth shut. Why not take a picture of anything? She has every right. I will do better in NY. Bye.