Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Kaitlyn Episode 6: Quien es Mas Macho?



Alright, if you thought I was edgy last week, you’re in for a treat.  One of these days I’ll be chipper.  Today is not one of those days.  For those of you who care, the reports of the utter destruction that Tropical Storm Bill is leaving in its path in Austin are greatly exaggerated, thank God.  I haven’t been this dry since my last hangover. 



On the up side, Lake Travis is at 669 feet, or just 12 feet below full, which is its highest level in 5 years.  It’s gone up over 35 feet in the last 40 days.  That means all of the public boat ramps are open again.  That’s great for me because it takes all of the keg-standing, pontoon boat renting, Ed Hardy wearing, sunburned morons who have been forced from Lake Travis due to the lack of public access to party on Lake Austin in the cove within earshot of my house every weekend back out to where they belong.  If I heard that stupid Avicii song one more time my head was going to explode. “Wake Me Up” is exactly what that song did—every Saturday. 

And yes, I’m well aware that I’m one step away from being the guy who sits in his driveway with a shotgun like Walt Kowalski in Gran Torino yelling at everyone to get off of his property.  I’ve embraced that role.  You should support me.  Just do it within a respectable distance from my property.   

Get off my lawn.


A few points before we get to the recap. 

First, I started this season really liking Kaitlyn.  I was hopeful that she would blossom like a heel blister inside of a pair of ill-fitting ice skates once she was chosen over that unhygienic fraud she was unjustly thrown up against.  

She was attractive (enough), fun, and up for anything.  She reminded me of a quirkier version of her Canadian counterpart, Jillian, with bird tattoos on her arms and a tiny nose piercing.  However, I’ve lost faith in her at this point. 

Has she actually had any fun this season?  Aside from taking almost sadistic pleasure at the public humiliation (sumo wrestling, mariachi outfits, rap contests) of the guys she’s supposed to respect as potential husbands she hasn’t had much time to do anything but (poorly) address the drama that, frankly, she’s responsible for creating.  I haven’t seen so many guys jump ship since I watched Titanic in 1997.    

To be fair, the guys who have melted down (The Drunk Guy, Kupah, Ian, Clint) have shown themselves to be anger-ridden jerks with huge chips on their shoulders, so one could make the case that her “method” has been effective.  Unfortunately, I don’t think she deserves that much credit. 

Finally, and then I’ll conclude my rant, I’m very unimpressed at how she’s handled the “Nick Situation.”  The closest she came to “look, I’m the Bachelorette and it’s my decision (along with the Producer who can ruin my life if I breach my contract) to invite Nick here,” was pinning the rose on him this week after Joshua made the mistake of all Bachelorette-related mistakes by trying to rat Nick out for not being there for the right reasons.  Even then, she was huffy and disrespectful.  

It’s clear that every one of the guys is over it.  It’s just a matter of time before they direct their frustration at her rather than the circumstance or some other dude.      

Let’s get to the big show. 

Oh yea, we’re still in New York.  Does anyone like this new “To Be Continued . . .” format with the cliff hanger at the end?  If this would have happened in Juan Pablo’s season, I would have sworn I was watching a telenovella on the Spanish channel. Los Pendejos de Amor would be an appropriate title. 

 
Te Amo, Kaitlyn

Nick shows up after wearing out the soles of his Chuck Taylor Converse shoes from wandering around lower Manhattan for two weeks like Helen Keller on her way from the living room to the kitchen.  He’s happy. 

No one else is happy. 

Joshua shows his distaste verbally by making an indignant distinction between Nick’s characterization of Kaitlyn as a “Cool Chick” versus the (presumably preferential) “Amazing Woman.” 

Frankly, that’s a semantic distinction without a difference as far as I’m concerned unless, of course, Nick was actually referring to the temperature of Kaitlyn’s body which, at this point, is a viable explanation.  Regardless, Joshua seemed pretty proud of himself.  Total burn, Nick.  Total burn. 

Ryan chooses a more passive/aggressive method of demonstrating his vitriol toward Nick by wearing an infinity scarf left over on the women’s racks in the ABC Wardrobe Department in order to metaphorically demonstrate the cold reception that Nick deserves for showing up a few weeks in and trying to bed an attractive woman just like the rest of them.  It’s all in the timing, I suppose.  If you ask me, their anger is misdirected.    

Fake Gosling came as close as anyone (save Ian) to being mad at her rather than Nick. Finally, a guy who sort of gets it, I thought.  However, let’s couch that thought until we see how far Fake Gosling makes it on his journey.  It was, however, refreshing to see an inkling of logic actually escape unencumbered by the blinding testosterone in the room.    

Suit stampede.  Cocktail party.  Citifield.  Home of the Mets.  Kaitlyn is feeling anxious and looks sluttier than she has in the past.  She still pretends she’s concerned about anyone’s feelings but her own.  J.J., who apparently borrowed Tyrion Lannister’s suit pants, shows us his pink socks while carrying Kaitlyn around the bases.  I found that ironic considering the fact that Nick is the only guy who’s going to get to every base (including home) with Kaitlyn in the next few weeks.



Justin, Jared, Chris all have roses.  It’s good to know Jared doesn’t have to take it on the chin this week.    

Tanner douches out and tries to rat out Nick.  Joe Dirt (he’s my favorite, by the way), and Joshua pow wow about how they can’t stand Nick.  The biggest difference between those two—other than the Forrest Gump accent—is that Joe Dirt’s reaction to Nick’s presence was appropriately proportionate.   The Joshua Train is headed for certain derailment. 

Fake Gosling lays it out and elicits an insecure “Do you trust me?” from Kaitlyn.  The only appropriate response to that question is a very direct “No.”  However, Fake Gosling goes with the more innocuous, but certainly just as effective, “I’m not seeing you act like what you’re telling me.”  Solid work, Fake Gosling.  Whatever gets the job done.   He’s as honest as he can be and scored some points.  He might be the guy standing next to Nick at the end if he sticks around after her one night stand.    

Kaitlyn tees up the Rose Ceremony while sitting in the men’s locker room.  For those of you old enough to remember, the only thing I could think of while watching that was a certain scene in the early 80’s movie Porky’s.  Shame on me.    

Sub-zero Rose Ceremony

Justin
Jared
Chris
Ben H.
Ben Z.
Shawn
Tanner
Joe Dirt
Ian
J.J.
Joshua
Nick

Gone Girl

Corey
Jonathan
Ryan (and his scarf)

We’re headed to San Antonio, Texas to visit the St. Anthony Hotel on the Riverwalk where it is virtually impossible to find a place to eat without the word “taco” in it.  I’ll spare you the full Texas history lesson but San Antonio was a Spanish settlement that eventually became the center of the Texas Revolution during the battle of the Alamo.  It was not, however, where the Texans made their last stand according to Princeton-educated and superior-to-all-of-us Ian.  The Battle of San Jacinto is actually where Texas finally won its independence from Mexico.  I guess they don’t teach that at his fancy Ivy League college. 

Date Card:  Ben H.  Let’s take our love one step at a time.  

Gruene Hall.  Two step lessons.

Alright, my worlds really collided on this one.  I’ve known Dale Watson and his Lone Stars since 1992 and I’ve been going to Gruene Hall for at least as long.   Not only that but Dale has a following in and around Austin.  All of the same people go to his shows because he plays songs everyone can dance (two-step, waltz, polka) to.  I can rattle off his weekly schedule around town.  The point is that I actually knew many of the people in the crowd, including the two people who won the big dance contest.  In fact, when Lincee (www.ihategreenbeans.com) Ray was in town to see Harrison, we actually hung out with them at a local honky tonk.  Very odd.  Annyyhhooo . . . .

If you’re interested, one of the first dates the future Mrs. SGIA and I went on was to see a Willie Nelson show at Gruene Hall. 



Ben was a good sport on the date and seemed to overcome at least one of his two left feet enough to impress Kaitlyn.  Peter Brady earned his rose.  For the record, he may be a top 4 guy but I don’t think he’s manly enough to out-Alpha male Fake Gosling or Ben Z. 

My only disappointment was that they went back to San Antonio to have dinner on the roof.  About a quarter mile down the road is the Guadalupe River that runs behind Gruene Hall.  It’s beautiful.  It looks like this.



The Gristmill and the Gruene River Grill sit on its banks.  I wonder why they didn’t eat there.  My final thought about the date is that I was glad to see that they didn’t make them dress up like “cowboys” or whatever and mock the locals; rather, they had them blend in.  I appreciated them not mocking several of the things I love about Texas.  The mariachi date is another issue. 

Date Card:  Justin, Jared, Ian, Chris, Tanner, Joe, J.J., Ben Z., Joshua, Nick. I love a man in uniform. 

For those of you who blocked this out, this was the humiliating mariachi date in Market Square.  Again, so many great local places to go there.  If you’re in the neighborhood Mi Tierra restaurant and bakery was where the mariachi kid sang.  They have a great bar.

How over it did all of the guys look?  Joe Dirt starts drinking early when he finds out he’s going to have to humiliate himself in another language this week.  Granted, his stick and berries wouldn’t have to hang out in public this time, but that hat looked ridiculous. 

Cocktail party in a barn after Nick stokes the fire with inflammatory lyrics in his Mexican serenade.  He’s either oblivious to the situation or he doesn’t care.  Perhaps it’s both.

She gives Joshua a stupid haircut.  Yawn.  I’m not sure what the point of that was and neither was Nick.  He scores another make out session in his gray skinny jeans.  Presumably, his mustard ones either clashed with his cardigan and infinity scarf of they were just in the wash.  

Kaitlyn shows up in some American Indian-esque suede fringe skirt.  What look was she going for, Pork-a-hontus?   

Joshua becomes the latest ill-equipped debater challenge Nick.  Remember when meathead Cody tried that in Andi’s season?  It didn’t end well for Cody then and it didn’t end well for Joshua now.  It’s amazing how effective rationality and logic are a deflecting knuckleheads.  Like Kaitlyn, I had such high hopes for Joshua but he’s losing it.  Nick has clearly gotten into his head.    

Having not learned his lesson, Joshua tries again to undermine Nick by talking to Kaitlyn’s face about it.  Hey Joshua, there’s another part of her anatomy you should have had that discussion with.  Her brain has nothing to do with why Nick is sticking around like filth to a truck stop restroom wall.  How many times is a contestant going to make that mistake?

Katilyn shows up to clean house, drops Joshua in the grease, and after letting him fry for a while, gives a Date Rose to Nick.  I’ll give her credit.  That was Solid.  Total burn, Joshua.  Total burn.    

Justin shakes Nick’s hand.  Stand up move. 

Shawn one on one.  She shows up half-naked and he shows up dressed like he’s ready to mow the lawn.    

Are we in for rowing in a pond filled with swans?  Building furniture? Painting naked in a hand-crafted studio?  Nope, we’re going to the Riverwalk . . . to kayak.  Let me share something with you non-Texans.  There wasn’t one person watching in Texas who didn’t put down his or her beverage of choice and wrinkle his or her brow in disgust at the site of those kayaks in the San Antonio River. 

That waterway is disgusting.  Sitting in that water is like sitting in that rat-infested underwater river cage that the NVA put Robert DeNiro and Christopher Walken in when they were captives in The Deer Hunter.  In fact, you have a better chance of surviving a round of Russian Roulette with Christopher Walken than you do of not getting a disease from the water in the San Antonio River.  It’s dirtier than Ke$ha.    

Let's go kayaking in the San Antonio River

Shawn tells his car accident story.  She buys it.  So much so that the “L” word is thrown around. “Love” not “Lame” just to clarify.  He gets the Date Rose.  Nice work, Fake Gosling.   They take a late night canoe ride similar to what Allie and Noah did in The Notebook except there are fireworks instead of disease-infested swans. 

Ian is forelorn.

He melts down. 

“I’m the next Bachelor.”  

“I don’t find Kaitlyn interesting.” 

“She’s not half as hot as my ex-girlfriend.”

 “I am an enigma and who I am is who you unwrap for life.”

“I’m on a vacation from life.” 

“I came here for love, not fart and poop jokes.”

“I’m so much better than that.”

“I was expecting the girl who got her heart broken by Chris Soules not the girl who wants her field plowed.”

“You’re here to make out with guys on TV.”

AAAANNNND . . . the Nail in the Coffin, “I see you as nothing more than a surface level person.”



Boom.  That should do it for Ian.  Arrogant?  Yes.  Judgmental?  Certainly.  Elitist?  Without a doubt.  True?  Substantially.  That has to sting. 

But we’ll have to wait until next week to see how much. . .

Well, there it is.  Week 6.  We’re one week closer to The Big Bang.  I can’t wait.  Take care of yourselves.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be unwrapping my enigma while kayaking in filth.  DP















Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Kaitlyn Episode 5: Nick Shows up Card-again


Hello, Readers.  You’re in luck.  Due to some recent events in Some Guy’s life, I happen to be especially edgy today.  While that’s unfortunate for me, it invariably translates into a decent post since I tend to project my frustrations onto the screen.  Let’s not waste another moment.  I could be happy any second.

First, the comment of the week goes to Anna.  She weighed in on this blog season’s most controversial theory ever:  The White Jeans Theory :

“In California, everyone in 4H and FFA wears white jeans to show in the fairs. It is the rules . . . I never knew (about the Theory) and had to have my husband explain it to me. So now I was wearing white jeans . . . and telling everyone that that wasn't the only thing I was ok with. . . Thanks for tainting all my childhood memories. . .”

I hate to kick a woman while she’s down so I’ll stay away from the word “Taint”.  Look, don’t shoot the messenger.  I didn’t invent it.   I just reported (outed?) it.  For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I ruined white jeans for everyone around such a seasonally appropriate time.  I didn't mean to sneak up on you from behind.    

Second of all, Kaitlyn sucks.  Look, she was all cute and quirky and pierced and tattooed and wrongfully dumped on Chris’ season and she entered this season as the foil to Britt’s vapid personality and chameleon-like persona.  She was like Obama getting elected with the House and the Senate in his favor and a country looking for an answer to its problems.  In short, she had the ball on the half-yard line.  She fumbled. 

Is there anyone of us who is going to feel sorry for her when after literally lying to everyone’s face she goes and bangs a dude who “spontaneously” strolled in to her Group Date in a Mr. Rogers cardigan sweater and some Bob Cousey basketball shoes?  I won’t even mention the mustard-colored skinny jeans.  She’s awful.  Between her and Bieber, I’m beginning to think Canada hates us.  I suppose Gosling and fake-Gosling offset that a tad, but still. 

Bathing suit season is quickly approaching.  You're welcome.  

We cut in to this week’s show at the exact same place we annoyingly left off last week.  Clint does his best Brian Bozworth impression as he and J.J.’s fake homoerotic relationship begins to melt down.  

Kaitlyn almost falls for Clint’s manipulative B.S. but the Producers prevent that from happening.  She walks him into to the bewildered—and over it—group of remaining guys so he can say goodbye to J.J. 

I'm a manipulative idiot. 

I'm a manipulative idiot on steroids
She’s an idiot and she’s clearly as easy as basic addition.  She's like an on ramp.  It’s no wonder she’s going to get slammed like a screen door on the Mess Hall at chow time in a week or two.  Based on what we’ve seen to date, I am confident that she would have fallen for Clint’s act had the cameras not been rolling.  He’s gone because the show was sick of him and not the other way around.  

J.J.’s reaction to Clint’s macho exit was both laughable and pathetic.  He was like some modern day Basil Hallward pining over his picture of Dorian Gray.  So much for his alpha-male routine.  

He’s the type of guy that refers to his sports car as a pus*y wagon; not because he pulls a ton of tail in it but because that’s where he goes to cry.  He actually pulled a Pavelka on the balcony and sobbed like a sixteen year old girl when Clint broke up with him.   Meh . . . maybe they can work it out over Facetime when things cool down.     

Spinning from all of the “unexpected” drama, Kaitlyn stares, paralyzed, into her chardonnay.  Oh, the humanity.  Kaitlyn does what any girl as confused as she would do:  she calls for Harrison. 

Kaitlyn:  Can I talk to you for a minute?  I can’t make up my mind. 

OHCH:  WTF? You called me away from Bunko for this?  It’s round six and there’s like five grand on the table.  I’m eating Neil Lane’s lunch.  Fleiss is into me for three large and the strippers are getting impatient.  Can’t this wait?   

Kaitlyn: I don’t want a rose ceremony.  I’m not sure of the rules here.  I’m also not sure about what happens if, say, a past contestant were to magically and unexpectedly show up at a group rap contest date featuring Doug E. Fresh in mustard skinny jeans with a Mary Poppins umbrella and vow to defile me midseason.  I’m so confused. 

OHCH:  Poof.  No rose ceremony.  You’re welcome.  I’m out.
 
In a foreboding moment fit for a Shakespearean tragedy (or comedy perhaps), Ian tells us that Kaitlyn should be on the lookout for "snakes in the grass."  In retrospect, perhaps he should have told Kaitlyn to be on the lookout for Nick’s Trouser Snake.   

Guess what?  We’re headed to New York. 

Date Card:  Fake Gosling, Jonathan, Ben Z., Corey, Ryan, Tanner, J.J., Let’s keep our love Fresh.” 

Kaitlyn takes a boat ride into the harbor.  “This season is about to hit an iceberg,” I thought. 

Kaitlyn meets the dudes at some theater after giving us a (poor) lesson in New York hip-hop history.  She lets the obviously terrified group know that they’re about to engage in an 8-Mile style rap battle.  And to assist them in preparing their fiendishly clever rhyming insults?  Doug E. Fresh! 

. . . crickets . . .

You know, Doug E. Fresh, hip-hop icon and the biggest hip-hop artist of . . . 1981, about 7-10 years before all of you white guys  (that includes you, Jonathan) were born?  Doug.  E.  Fresh?    

Ohhhhh,  THAT Doug E. Fresh.  Of course, he’s a legend. 

Doug E. Fresh?  Granted Tupac wasn’t available but they couldn’t get someone a tad more current?  What about Pitbull?  That guy is in everything.  He's got his own cologne for God's sake.  There’s the added bonus that he needs no introduction because he tells me who he is, where he’s from, and about six of his nicknames in English and in Spanish before he performs . . . before every song. 

Hell, I’m pretty sure Pitbull wrote the prologue for Harrison’s book, The Perfect Letter.  Can you imagine?




(INSERT ANNOYING CUBAN MUSIC WITH DANCE BEAT INTRO WITH ALL OF THOSE TRUMPETS IN IT AND SH*T--16 MEASURES)

Uno-dos-tres-cuatro
Mr. 305, Mr. Worlwide, Perfect Letter! La Carta Perfecta!
Pitbull--here for the Prologue!

Tick to the tock, on my way to the top,
Pit got it locked, Perfect Letter, O’CH, won’t stop,
Hemmingway he's not, but damn he's hot,
Rose Ceremonies, Hosting gigs, Harrison deserves props,
The driveway is dry and the mansion is dark
But watch him write a book like Nicholas Sparks

(INSERT SPANISH GIBBERISH AND A BUNCH OF STUFF ABOUT MIAMI AND LAS CHICAS BONITAS IN BIKINIS ON THE BEACH)


Yes, folks.  It really IS that simple.  Sigh . . .

After the stupid rap date, Kaitlyn asks permission to go say hello to Ashley I., the resident pain in the ass and want-to-be Princess Party invitee from last season.  Apparently, there are rules.  

But wait, when she gets there Nick (GASP), the guy who banged Andi like a screen door on the Mess Hall at chow time and then told America about it, took time off work, flew in from Chicago, ascertained the exact time and location of a closed television shoot in New York City, and coincidentally happened to register at the same hotel, is there to meet her.  You know, since they “exchanged a couple of texts” in the past. 

A couple of texts?  Right.  A picture of his junk and a picture of her baby maker.  Did anyone believe that she just met him based on the fact that she was giggling like a snowboarder after 2 pot brownies?  Her ovaries were firing like British cannons in the Baltimore Harbor during the War of 1812.  Barely knew him, my ass.  

This is where she lost me. 

Not only does she immediately preoccupy herself with the thought of a pair of mustard jeans and a cardigan thrown sloppily across her hotel room floor, she does it at the expense of ALL of the other guys.  She tells us that she feels nauseous when the guys show up on the boat.  Nauseous?  I began to wonder if Nick hadn’t already impregnated her.  Sure, she’d have 9 months to finish the season, but with the Canadian exchange rate, that kid would pop out in 6. 

Ahh, there’s nothing quite like a good deflated currency exchange joke to keep the ball rolling, eh?  

I won’t belabor the point.  It’s entirely unnecessary.  The quote of the night came when Kaitlyn showed up hemming and hawing about some “unexpected” drama.  "Every week there's something,” one of the men keenly opined.  Something indeed.  

Kaitlyn skirts her emotional investment leaving the guys with “Something came up.”  Something came up, alright:  Nick’s phallus.  She further adds insult to injury with—and I’m paraphrasing here---“oh and by the way, he's showing up.”  Fake-Gosling is not happy. 

She tells the group that she doesn’t know what she’s going to do with Nick.  “I'm going to sleep on him...I mean IT.  I'm going to sleep on IT.”  Fake-Gosling doesn't buy it.  Ali never would have cheated on Noah in The Noteboo  . . . oh, wait.  
  
As if that weren’t enough, she drops, “I think I’ll just meet you guys at the date,” before heading directly across the street from the hotel and making out with Nick.  What a shameless strumpet.

Oblivious to all of the poontanging around Kaitlyn is doing, an excited Jared gets date card.  “It’s probably in Nick’s handwriting,” I thought.

She talks to Nick on the cell phone and sets a surreptitious “appointment” because talking about hooking up at the hotel is WAY too important to discuss in their separate rooms in the same hotel on the phone.  

She works in her hair appointment so that the crazy chick from last season can make an appearance.  And by the way, when the crazy chick from last season makes a lot of sense, it’s time to reevaluate your plan, Kaitlyn.  Asking that girl for dating advice is like asking a hurricane for construction tips.   

Fake-Gosling still isn’t happy about Nick as the guys bro it out in the man-suite and discuss their options.  Jared sharpens his jaw and gets ready for his Princess Date.  Take that, Ashley I.

Tux date at the Met with Jared.  She didn't look good.  He did.  She wasted the entire date thinking about stupid Nick.  Look, we’ve all been there with that person we dated that got in our head.  That still doesn’t make it any fairer to Jared or the other dudes, especially because she’s intentionally and unapologetically doing it.  To her credit, Jared did manage to wrestle her attention away from Nick’s pheromones for a helicopter ride around NYC. 

Incidentally, I give Nick’s pheromones the benefit of the doubt.  There’s always the possibility that she’s attracted to the moth balls that prevented that sweater from certain destruction. 



Group Date 2:  Ian, Chris , Joe, Joshua, and Ben H., “Let's play.”

If there’s one thing I don’t get it’s Broadway musicals.  I’ve been to several.  Cats, Miss Saigon, Phantom of the Opera, and Grease.  They all suck.  I just don’t get it.  Regardless, a lot of people do.  Enough, apparently, that Kaitlyn wants to take the dudes to perform a song from Aladdin.  Frankly, I’d rather sumo wrestle in front of a crowd of strangers. 

As Nick wanders around NYC in various skinny jeans and sweaters dragging his luggage, the guys all take a shot at impressing the 5’2” Mexican guy who plays Aladdin and the woman who plays Ariel the Mermaid in the play or whatever.  I’m not sure who played the singing lobster or that clownfish looking to find his way home.  Details.   

What I am sure of is that Chris the Dentist is going to be the next Caitlyn Jenner.  That guy enjoyed the costume and the entire experience a little too much.  He did earn the rose, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s the Bachelorette in a few years. Maybe Nick will show up and sleep with him.     

Nick wanders some more.  Moses wandered less than this guy, for crying out loud.  The streets of Manhattan are sequentially numbered and the named streets are alphabetically arranged.  There's really no reason to wander save a fortuitous escape from the local mental hospital.  

I say to you, which way is the Knickerbocker Hotel?  

Chris and Kaitlyn take detour to see the legendary New Year’s Eve ball and Chris refers to it as “the center of the entire universe.”  Apparently, they didn’t go over Copernicus or Galileo in dental school. 

Again, we end the big show without any rose ceremony.  Rather, Nick finally finds his compass and, ergo, his hotel.  We’ll see how chilly his reception is when he enters the Guy Suite next week.  

Well, there it is.  With the wheels coming off the train we head into week 5.  My guess is that they’ll set Nick up as the villain for a couple of weeks before the Big Bang happens.  By the way, if she does, in fact, sleep with Nick and admit it to everyone, my prediction is that she gets reverse Womacked at the end of the season.  Nick will say “no” because he’s an opportunistic putz who got what he wanted and whoever else is left standing at the final Rose Ceremony (if we make it that far) would be a palpable idiot if he proposed.  We shall see, shan’t we? 

Have a great week.  In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be wandering around Austin in my cardigan sweater with my luggage in tow.  DP