We covered the prettiest ones the other day, but I'm curious which ones you hated and if there are any that actually managed to tarnish your experience owning or using the fragrance.
For me, I might say the Amouage Opus series bottles. For one, they're a weird skinny shape that practically tips right over if you breathe on 'em wrong. Fortunately, Amouage was generous and forward-thinking enough to send them along with a bizarre little plastic inset display pedestal that just looks janky and cheap, like serving caviar on a plastic spoon at a fancy club for super rich people.
The 100mLs are so strangely proportioned. I'm a grown man with grown man hands, and they feel like they're made for a target demographic of Shaquille O'Neals. It's a bummer that they're even more expensive than the regular bottles, which are works of art by comparison to most other brands.
On top of that, the gold label (aside from being a bit crooked) moves around when you touch it, like it's just held on there with a bit of Elmer's rubber cement from kindergarten or something.
Oh well, at least it's a pretty translucent blue, and the scent itself is worth the price of dealing with this freak of a bottle. So yeah, that's my "frag-rant" about dumb, ugly perfume bottles. What about you?

My wife just turned 40 and we had decided to not do a party or go out for it due to the current situation. So instead I planned a home dinner w our daughter and some appropriately socially distanced events. Turning 40 was a big deal for my wife and she was worried it wouldn't be special enough, so I multiple times suggested we consider postponing it for an event or trip away when the lockdown stuff eases up. She wouldn't have that. That's fine, just some context.
I know my wife loves sushi, so I planned a sashimi dinner with seafood from our local seafood market. In addition, in my belief, we had always loved to have caviar for special occasions (it's our new years eve tradition to eat caviar for dinner) so as my main gift for her I ordered imported Russian caviar online as a center-piece of the dinner. I also made pancakes for breakfast, organized for us to play tennis during the day, gave her a box of gourmet turkish delight and chocolate as a morning gift, baked a cake and made mulled wine to have around our firepit in the dark after dinner. I also bought her a gold bracelet gift from my daughter.
Now this became a shitshow the day before when my wife sniffs out that we're having caviar when it gets delivered. It's pretty hard to avoid when we're both stuck at home and order things online. She says caviar is "my thing" (meaning me), even if we have this as our "traditional" NYE dinner and her best friend even gifted her caviar spoons as a parting gift when moving away. So now I'm basically Homer Simpson giving Marge a bowling ball with his own initials as a birthday gift - even if I'm pretty convinced caviar was in fact also her thing until now. It also needs to be said that my wife has a bit of a pattern of being elusive about what she wants, leaving me to make decisions on things like restaurants etc., then holding it over my head that I got to choose blah and blah.
In this case, though, my wife did specify that she wanted something from Tiffany's as her gift. It was immediately clear this was outside our budget and I've told her that.
Since this my wife has been super pissy. For me it was a slog to prepare everything and keeping the mood up as I found my wife ungrateful. We went through the birthday things and it was ok. It seemed like my wife in fact enjoyed dinner quite a lot. But the next morning she declared she now wants a point system for chores and I found all my laundry dumped in a pile, so I know the caviar affair cuts deep.
In my opinion, a luxury item as a gift is a nice thing regardless and my wife should instead have been happy about her day. I also think every gift should not be a measuring stick of someone's love or thoughtfulness, but maybe just a nice thing that one gets. But I also believe she actually does like caviar quite a lot. She certainly scoffed it down during dinner. In my wife's view, I guess I'm a self-centered A-hole.
What's the verdict?

So you want to impress your Chinese mother-in-law.
Dads generally like a good show. A big steamed fish, a crackling pork belly, a full slab of char siu, sous vide Wagyu, a giant roast chicken, bottle of wine with old fashion cork that goes 'zoonk'. He's the big idea guy. He looks at you and his biggest concern will always be 'is this joker capable of taking care of my daughter?'
Mums are generally immune to those things. She's seen all the tricks in the book when your dad was busy courting her. Her dad probably wondered the same thing about her husband. At the end of the day, she's the yin to your father-in-law's yang.
Your mother-in-law doesn't care if you're capable; she wants to know if you're reliable.
How do you prove that?
You make tomatoes and egg stir fry - 番茄 / 西红柿炒蛋.
You snicker, you cringe, you snort.
It's ok.
I'll wait here while you scour through all your cooking heroes/gatekeepers/authorities/sugar daddies on the internet - The New York Times, Gourmet Traveller, Adam Liaw, Serious Eats, Epicurious, Fuchsia Dunlop, Good Food, Marion, Hetty, Wang Gang, Omnivour's Wok of Food52... search for 'tomatoes, egg'.
Did you find it?
See what I mean?
All of them, every single one of them, has a tomato and egg stir-fry recipe.
And they are identical:
1) Quarter your tomatoes, set aside.
2) Whisk an equal number of eggs as tomatoes, season with a pinch of salt and vinegar.
3) Heat up the wok with oil, scramble eggs until slightly firm, remove immediately.
4) Oil the wok again, add the tomatoes on high heat, season with sugar, stock and a little bit of ketchup, wait until the tomatoes break down into mush, within a minute or two.
5) Add corn/potato starch slurry until thicken, add eggs, mix well, taste, season, plate up.
Why is this dish so omnipresent? Why is everyone sucking up to this simple dish?
Firstly, it's a no brainer - the simple marriage between natural MSG from the tomatoes, and fat + protein from the eggs. Sweet, sour, salty, fulfilling.
The other reason is its historical relevance - when wars were fought, and revolutions were rampant, when money was being made, when the country was being built, destroyed, occupied, rebuilt, behind closed doors, literally, the back of house, ALL mothers, their mothers' mothers, were making tomatoes and egg stir fry for their children.
No one's going to say it, but this is the true national dish of China. The representation of its humble beginnings. This dish reminds us of a time when the Chinese invented gunpowder, paper, printing, the compass, soccer.
It's in our blind spot because it's too easy. Too obvious.
We like to make things complicated, how we have 8 major cuisines from different regions and 108 dishes from the Man Han Banquet which the emperor took 3 days to finish.
For every convoluted Chinese fusion dish ham-fisted with truffles, wagyu, foie gras and caviar, we long for something simple like the tomato and egg stir-fry.
The yin to the yang.
Man, how I wish I could be there to witness the first Chinese to taste an egg dish combined with this weird red persimmon brought in by the foreigners. (番人+茄子=番茄, get it?）
If you want to show your understanding and eagerness to maintain your Chinese/Asian root to your mother-in-law, you will make and serve her this dish with a bowl of rice.
She will raise her eyebrows.
Ballsy, she'll give you that.
Because she's probably made this dish twice as often as the amount of rice in her bowl.
She tastes a spoonful.
She pauses.
Something's different.
Something's missing.
She takes another bite.
She's processing.
Eventually, she lets out a gasp.
It startles your father-in-law.
”You removed the tomato skins!"
"As usual, mum, nothing gets past you," you say.
During your mise en place, you've scored the bottom of the tomatoes in a cross pattern and submerged them in boiling water for 10-20 seconds, before transferring to an ice bath and peeling the skins off.
Without the skins, the dish has a better mouthfeel, a subtle elegance to it. The human body can't digest them anyway.
You've elevated the most simple dish there is.
But not because of ego.
You did it for your wife, your daughter.
Also for grandma, because it's easier to chew.
And THAT is how you show you're a reliable son-in-law.
Not by showing off and buying shiny things.
But by respecting the history, the culture, by cherishing what you currently have and improving the little things in life.
You don't replace what (who) you love, you improve it constantly, you grow with it.
Now, don't you dare think this ends with you taking a bow in the spotlight.
The only right way to end this is to say: " but mum, I'm still not happy with my seasoning. Maybe next time, you can show me how to cook your version. I want to replicate this dish for your daughter, and maybe your granddaughter can learn together with her 婆婆 too."
Face, bro, you gotta learn how to save it.
There's more than one way to drop the mic.
Roll credits.
Yoyo Ma plays the cello.

• Written by Harvard Wang, author of Soy Sauce, Sugar, Mirin Cookbook

“This party is lame.”
Jacques says this statement to no one in particular, his eyes remaining focused on the clock above the Rembrandt painting hung upon the wall, musing over the elegance of the print, which is without a doubt an authentic original, and the fact it had been hung so haphazardly upon the wall without so much as a single protective layering seemed an atrocious affront to the art itself, which resonated a certain sort of dread inside him. He turns from the painting then, catching the eyes of two nameless guests of the party. The two men both avert their eyes so as to avoid contact with his.
There was no denying it; he stuck out like a sore thumb in this crowd. Maybe it was his all-black-outfit consisting of jeans, a black t-shirt, a black goatee, and a shaved head… or maybe it was his general demeanour. Where does one begin and the other end? A person’s perception of themselves versus the way they present themselves? Was one a product of the other? It was hard to say.
The only definitive thing Jacques could say had already been said; the party was a lame one. He was only here because his sister had insisted he come. She was married to a politician, and most of the people here were at least a decade older than Jacques. But that was all well and good, considering Jacques had drank the last of his vodka late last night as he went about his nightly ritual of battling sleep (and the dreams which accompanied it), and he was already late on his rent for that month so, the fact he could get drunk for free here had been a deciding factor in his presence.
“Ahem!”
Everyone’s head swirls at the sound of a cough from somewhere within the lavish living room overlooking the lake.
“Don’t worry,” a woman’s voice calls out, “he’s just a smoker!”
Speckled spots of laughter ripple through the crowd, the lingering trauma of the pandemic clearly still fresh upon the tip of their cerebellums.
Jacques is accosted then by a short blond girl who introduces herself as Beatrice, her outstretched hand looking much like a broken twig to him.
“What brings you here?” she asks, her eyebrows emphasizing the fact that the ‘you’ is italicized.
“The unfortunate condition of life,” he says, sighing and sipping from his drink.
“What’s this?” Beatrice asks, leaning to get a closer look at the block of text tattooed on the inside of Jacques collarbone, which reads GODISNOWHERE.
“God is now here?” she reads the words out loud, musing over them with a quizzical look on her face.
“That’s… a nice thought.”
“Is it?” Jacques says, sighing. He didn’t have to the strength or conviction left in him to bother pointing out that the tattoo could also be read ‘God is nowhere.’
It was all too much for him; the way their eyes hung on lingering a little too long, and how they leaned in close to whisper in each other’s ears, talking of life’s tiny trivialities from safe on high in their golden nests. Suddenly, it was hard for him to take in breath, his lungs rejecting the savage air with utter disdain. This place is toxic. He felt as if his skin was been scorched, the temperature rising from within.
He proceeds to shuffle towards the kitchen where countless liquor bottles line the counter beside the sink. He pours himself a stiff rye and coke. As he takes his first sip from the drink, brushing his bangs from his eyes, a couple enters the kitchen and makes their way for the makeshift bar beside the sink. They were closer to Jacques in age, both of them dressed up in expensive designer clothes for which Jacques had no reference. Words like Armani, Calvin Klein, and Gucci flitter through his head like the wings of a fly; a mere nuisance.
"What kind of sauce do you think would go best if you had to eat a person?"
"BBQ sauce for sure," the woman says, her dark hair shimmering in the kitchen light. Her lips were painted a dark shade of red; all crimson in the dim light.
"Not apple sauce?" the fellow says, his eyes narrowing intently.
"No, of course not!” she scoffs. “Too sweet. It would have to be a spicy BBQ sauce, and you'd want to cook it crispy, you know, since humans have a lot of fat - generally, at least around here!”
The two share a laugh while Jacques can’t help but overhear.
"I would never eat a person," he interjects, taking a long pull from his drink while the two unknown faces stare at him in momentary disbelief. "They're fucking disgusting."
"Chill out man," the guy says, giving him the once over, his eyes trailing over him.
"Yeah, it was just like... a totally hypothetical conversation," the brunette woman with drawn-on eyebrows adds.
"Well, I still wouldn't eat a human,” Jacques shrugs, “too much toxicity."
The couple move uneasily past him, the woman shaking her head. Jacques rolls his eyes and moves the other way towards the multi-leveled deck overlooking the lake.
"There you are!" his sister cries out, appearing in the hallway of the kitchen before he can make his escape.
She comes at him in a barrage of curled hair and silk-smooth arms, wrapping herself around him in a drippy hug. "Isn't this just the best?" She is wearing a silver dress which shimmers in the light.
"It's pretty great," he says, looking past her at the clock hung from the wall. "What are we celebrating again?"
"Oh Jacques," Marissa laughs, slapping him on the chest. "You have such a wicked sense of humour."
"I honestly have no idea what this party is for," he says again, disinterested.
"You're a riot, little brother. A real rebel without a cause."
He goes to move past her then, sighing as she reaches out and grabs him by the arm. Where are you going? she asks. Out for a smoke, he says.
He makes his way past the throngs of people in the living room, some of them wearing little pointed party hats, all of them laughing far too loudly than Jacques assumed was warranted; there was nothing particularly humorous about anything occurring at this particular moment, in his particular opinion. Just another circle-jerk. An evening of laughter and self-grandeur hidden beneath the guise of whatever trivial banality they were pretending to give a shit about.
Jacques pushes past a group of people and out into the vast expanse of the five-hundred foot second-story deck which had been built during the quarantine, the stain finish fresh and glistening. Outside, the air hits him like a slap in the face - that sour heat of the city melting away across the Muskoka Lake. Lamps carve a path through the darkness down to the water’s edge.
It was still strange seeing all these people clustered together without masks on, at least to Jacques. Everyone else at the party seemed relatively nonplussed by the fact that there were clearly over one hundred people present at his sister's little get-together. Jacques spots his sister's husband, Reginald, entertaining a group of important looking people; mostly older men in expensive suits with customized cufflinks and gold watches. Prostituting himself for votes no doubt, Jacques thinks to himself as he moves in the opposite direction, pulling a battered cigarette pack from out of his pocket and lighting up one of the smokes in an effortless gesture. The smoke hits his lungs and, and for a moment, he feels calm.
"Hey! You're Marissa's brother, right?"
Jacques turns to see a couple approaching him. Both are dressed extravagantly in designer clothing purchased from niche boutiques in Paris, or at least that's what Jacques presumed. The tall man is dressed in a navy blue pin-striped, single-breasted-suit and his assumed wife (or mistress) wore a blood-red dress with a scandalous slit revealing most of her left leg, looking milky white in the silver moonlight.
“How are you tonight?” the woman in the red dress asks, smiling at him. “It’s Jacques, right?”
“It’s nice to be out of the city, I guess.”
“So nice,” she agrees, turning to the tall man. “I was just telling Bertrand that. Isn’t that right sweetie?”
“That’s right, she was,” he nods.
“Fascinating,” Jacques says, only half listening to the words coming out of his own mouth. “Sometimes I feel so suffocated in the city, too many people. Did you know that rats carried the plague back in the dark days, and now, I guess you could say that humans are the rats…”
The sharply dressed man shares a look with his partner.
“Don’t you think you’re being a little… over-dramatic?”
“Funny you say that,” Jacques says to the woman in the red dress, chuckling as he pulls from his cigarette. “I find that most people don’t get dramatic enough.”
“And what is it that you do, Jacques?” Bertrand asks, sipping from his cognac glass and smirking into the silver moonlight.
“I’m a programmer,” he says, disinterested. In that moment, their eyes are all drawn to the full-moon suspended in the velvet black sky, a hollow wind blowing through the trees and causing their leaves to rustle like the sounds of a thousand whispers.
“And what do you program mostly?”
“Computers.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Jacques says, shrugging and gulping from his now empty tumbler. “Hey,” he says, after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Do either of you know what this party’s for?”
“This party?” the man asks, gesturing with his arms in two big circles.
“Yeah, like… what are we all doing here?”
“Well, I thought that was obvious,” the lady in the red dress says, incredulously.
Jacques looks on, his face wet with anticipation.
“We’re partying,” she says, pausing before giggling to herself, drinking her wine. The red from her lips leaving a stain upon the tip of the crystal-stemmed wine glass.
“Whatever,” Jacques sighs, shaking his head and turning away from them, the sounds of their laughter following him as he moves to the edge of the deck, his eyes drifting past the trees and out into the water below.
His mind drifts along with his eyes, thoughts of Dylan flittering through his consciousness like a snake beneath the water’s surface. There’s a part of him that missed him very much, the way his dirty blond hair seemed to glow in the morning sun… and he wished very much that they could be together. But there was another part of him, perhaps a much greater part, which cursed Dylan for leaving him behind in this world. Often times he would catch himself pontificating on how he wished things had happened in reverse; that he would have been the one to get sick, and Dylan would have had to watch him die a slow and irrelevant death, his lungs gradually filling with liquid that the virus caused, leaving his last breathes sounding like the engine of an old lawnmower.
A glass shatters somewhere behind him upon the deck, startling Jacques from his lovesick trance.
“Opa!” Someone from inside the house yells, the sounds of laughter swelling briefly before the gentle hum of a dozen conversations resumes.
“There he is!” his sister croons, walking over towards Jacques with a handful of guests in tow; a barrage of Armani suits and diamond jewelry.
“Leave me alone,” he sighs.
“Oh, why are you always such a party pooper?” she whines, smacking his arm. A few of the people behind her are whispering behind cuffed hands. “Aren’t you happy to be here?”
“No one even knows what this party’s for.”
“You’re missing the point,” his sister says, rolling her eyes. “Have you been down to the water yet? You really ought to go down. It’s so beautiful down there.”
“Maybe I will,” Jacques says, surveying the illuminated path. “There’s a significantly less presence of humans down there.”
“My brother,” his sister smiles, “the constant cynic.”
He rolls his eyes at her before turning and descending the stairs. The sound of his footfalls easily drowned out by the party, and he flicks his cigarette butt into the gravel pathway. He approaches the water’s edge with his hands in his pockets, casually kicking at orphan stones as he walks. He thinks then of all that happened in the last year, all that he had lost, and part of it still left a sour feeling in his stomach, yet his apathy had effectively muted the initial rage and betrayal he felt… but that was the problem. He didn’t know who exactly had betrayed him…
Unbeknownst to Jacques, a large chunk of earth had been removed earlier that week when Reginald had had the dock replaced, and when Jacques’ foot came down expecting to find earth, it instead found two feet of air, sending him tumbling head-first into the dark-deep water, the sound of his splash barely audible over the sound of the music playing from the deck above.
Jacques’ sister turns to one of the guests then, clinking glasses with him. "I love champagne," she says.
"I hear you made out like a bandit on Pfizer,” the man replies.
"We did well," she nods. "Thus, the champagne."
Help, please, someone help me! I can't swim!
Jacques’ sister turns to face the crowd then, clinking the side of her glass with a caviar spoon. She waits patiently until everyone at the party has quieted, all of their eyes transfixed upon her and her dazzling silver dress.
"We are gathered here tonight to celebrate life itself...”
Please, please! I can't swim... the water is too deep!
Sounds of soft applause ripple through the crowd.
"...because life, as we learned over the past year, is something we all take for granted. It’s not until we’re staring death in the face, or finding death in the face of our loved ones, that we realize just how lucky we truly are…”
Can anyone hear me, please? Help me! I can’t swim!
"...which is why we should party hard tonight!"
"Yeah!" the crowd cheers in unison, raising their glasses to one another.
"Help!" Jacques cries, reaching towards the sky with his hands, his head partly submerged in the black water.
"So let us toast our amazing fortunes and impeccable taste in company," she pauses then to allow for the speckled laughter to fade, "and on a more serious note... let us remember all those who died last year in the wake of such an awful virus. Truly, the world has changed so much since it all began..."
Pl-weee---uhhh-ggrrrrr-ease!
"Hurrah!"
Hel-argagagargagragr-llllllllppppppp...
And as Jacques’ head slowly disappears into the lake, his last thoughts revolving around his mother as the water fills his lungs, most of the partiers move back inside where there was warmth and food, his sister poking her head out briefly and looking around before returning inside as well, closing the sliding glass door with a hollow thud that travels over the rippling water which was now a grave for the forgotten.
Some of the guests linger on the deck a while longer, smoking cigars and sipping their flutes of champagne, talking casually of relevant recent events; another dictator overthrown in some middle-eastern country, another president elected in the U.S., more riots in the streets in the Southern States, a celebrity died and rumors are swirling he overdosed - while more sinister speculations suggest he was actually murdered... another conspiracy cover-up job...
THE END.

The Tully’s tiny slice of the Red Keep was novel to its entire family, for the greatest traveling most had undertaken entailed riding from Riverrun to Maidenpool and back. Its exterior walls were composed of great arches which fed into a balcony, the Blackwater Bay’s glistening waves in the morning horizon filling the entire view. Great orange pillars were interspersed throughout the room which little Hostella eagerly weaved herself between. Incense burned in a great holder by the door, filling the space with a smoky, spicy perfume. And the fabrics. There were so many, of all different colors draped against the walls, over the tables and acting as a partition into a smaller resting area in which Ser Jared had fallen into unconsciousness just before sunrise. In the center of the larger living space there was a long table covered in a rich cloth with food weaved between unlit candelabras. At the table’s own center was a cradle in which Lord William slept, unaware of the mounting activity or his family’s itinerary. He merely slept, draped in a plain gown with a cap fastened atop his head and his Septon Raynauld.
The sounding of bells brought a stir to Lord William, to which his sister Hostella hurried over rather than confining herself to her assigned chair by the table’s end. Hostella hushed at the babe, reaching to caress him over his cap. “Don’t fret, baby,” She tickled his round chin. “I think William is going to poop-poop big like he did when we left home.” She giggled. “William is going to make a stinky.”
Septa Prudence cracked a wooden spoon against the table. “You’re lucky your mother’s not down yet, well as the rest haven’t shown up yet. Come up here ‘n eat your mash.”
Hostella climbed into the seat beside her Septa, awkwardly taking a utensil into her hand before being given the proper one.
On the table was a bountiful assortment of piping dishes, far more than the Tully ever bothered with at home: biscuits, hot bread, a rainbow array of fruit preserves, butter, honey, caviar, a basket of bacon, hot sausage, soft cheeses, and porridge, with piping black tea, black coffee and chilled milk. Fortunately, it wouldn’t be solely on one family to finish the meal: Vincent Vance and his entourage traveled with the Tullys, as well as whichever vassals or stragglers cared to join the family for an early meal in an admittedly isolated piece of the Red Keep. For now, the rest of the trouts were yet to make their way upstream save for the guppies and their guppy guardians.
Despite being the last to sleep, it was Jared Tully who first sat himself down at the huge table. He fashioned a loose-fitting tunic which fell just enough to show the glistening, freckled and nearly hairless chest beneath, and if the faint muskiness weren’t enough he soon informed everyone who hadn’t asked exactly what he’d gotten up to.
“Just had a scrap with the lads in the courtyard,” Jared reached for some bacon. “The people in this city are something different, nan. A pack of beasts. I’ve never taken it so relentlessly.”
Septa Prudence sighed. “Maybe next time they can give it quicker so you can find the time to wash up before a meal. And put some clothes on.”
Jared shrugged.
The table’s next additions joined in a queer fashion, with Roslin, the other half of the Tully twins and the only one of her siblings never to suffer adolescent cruelty and flaunting the unchecked ego that came from it, sauntering past the curtain that concealed the corridor. Hers was less of a true ginger as her siblings’s hair, with golden tones much like the flecks in her deep set hazel eyes. A mischievous smile occupied her pouty lips, aware in an instant that she could make herself the center of the poor showing. That morning she decided to wear a flowing gown in a silver fabric, with pearls decorating the fitted breast and feeding into its opened sleeves. A pearl wristlet complimented her ivory skin, soon to roll down her forearm as she perched herself on a seat’s edge and reached for a small spoonful of caviar and a piece of hot bread.
“I should wake early tomorrow so that I may hope to catch one such fighter,” She tilted her head as she spooned the spread along the bread. “But lords of status usually practice later in the day, after they break their fast. Lord Lannister is supposed to be here, do you know what they say about Casterly Rock? He’s been widowed for years. But he’s a child, hasn’t he? I’m not keen to raise another person’s seedling,” She exhaled. “I think the King would fancy me, don’t you agree, nan?” With a devilish smirk, she bit her tongue.
“I think the gods teach us to be humble,” Septa Prudence corrected. “And that we ought to avert our gaze away from married men. Well, most know that from sense. But the gods speak to everyone, no matter how shallow their minds.” She shook her head. “Still, I’ve no clue why you’d ask a Septa of the interests of men.”
Roslin continued unphased. “The Lord of Summerhall is supposed to be here,” She reached for the milk, working it into her small teacup until white droplets dribbled from the rim. “He’s no children, that I’m aware of. Have you been to Summerhall, nan? I hear it’s beautiful. If I was the Lady of Summerhall I’d catch such a tan. I would throw so many parties, every night. My own little love nest, filled with all sorts of debauchery.” She sighed, smiling. “But I suppose anywhere wonderful and warm could suffice for such a thing. I know they’re a lot of heathens, but I must confess it would excite me to meet a Dornishman at this party. I’m sure I could convert him-”
“There are children here.” Septa Prudence interjected.
“Oh, of course. You’re quiet this morning, Hostella.”
Hostella smiled and placed a finger over her lips.
“I’d just like to get away I suppose,” Roslin took a bite, finishing before she continued. “Riverrun feels much like a cloister. I want a family of my own.”
It was then that her shadow spoke, audibly. Marei Tully was the youngest of the three, though for much of her life she’d been the largest. Not in her height- no, in that way she was always the littlest- but from infancy she was a rotund thing, something she’d yet to shed until well into adolescence. What remained was a shapely albeit less lumpy figure, a smoother, fair complexion, and fiery red hair smoothed with bergamot oil twisted back in loose curls. She enjoyed the style of her liege: she’d never been comfortable with her figure, even after it was trimmed, and thus wore a pale pink gown with long, loose sleeves and a high neckline, paired with a simple necklace that once belonged to her grandmother. A small helping of strawberry preserve rested on her plate alongside half a piece of untouched bread.
“We’re your family,” Marei spoke sheepishly. “You may find the love of your dreams back home. Or perhaps you’d have an epiphany and join the Faith,” She giggled. “I dread to think of what to say at the feast, when so many are speaking at once. Someone would talk to me, maybe, and I’d haven’t a clue what to say. I’d ask the Lord Lannister if he’s caught any stags and the Lord Baratheon if he’d seen any lions. I wonder if they’d know who I am.” She let out a small, deflated exhale of a laugh.
“Likely not. You’ve got to learn to make yourself known, Mar.” Roslin shrugged. “Be courageous. Ride the dragon.”
“Ros!” Marei’s cheeks warmed.
“I’ll run my knife through my ears if I have to listen to any more of this.” Jared leaned back in his seat.
“Luckily for all of us,” Septa Prudence rolled her eyes. “Lady Tully should return from morning prayer soon, the guests ought not to be long after.”
“Who all’s breaking their fast with us?” Roslin raised a brow.
“That wasn’t made known to me.”
It was as if by fate that the two guards posted by the door parted even further, allowing for a small entourage of two more guards to enter followed by the Lady Tully, with two more grunts behind her. Lady Tully had long been woken, bathed, sprinkled with the oil of frankincense and fitted into her dressings. Today, it would be a rich, ruby-colored piece beneath a dark indigo slip lined with fair tan fur. A cream-colored covering concealed her hair, with a pearl-studded cap at the crown. Beneath both, unseen by all would be her prayer beads and Seven-Pointed star. In such a hive of villainy, it felt like armor. Prayer and pious contemplation was how she preferred to sharpen her mind, especially in the early hours; like running a sword against a wet stone. At least, it gave her somewhere to be alone with her thoughts, which had grown increasingly harder to ignore as of late.
The door shut behind the Lady, with the spare guards milling about the space.
“Good morning, Lady Margaret.” Marei smiled.
Margaret nodded, finding her place at the head of the table.
“Have none of the guests arrived yet?”
“It seems not, my Lady.” Septa Prudence answered. “Perhaps they’re waiting for Lord William to wake for the day.”
“Good.” Margaret answered quietly, eyeing Marei’s plate and Roslin’s dressing before pouring herself tea.
"To the coming nights we won't remember," Jared raised his cup.
"If the gods are so merciful." Lady Margaret sighed, the dour look returned to her face once again.

My mother told me that she is leaving everything after her death to my very well off and wealthy sister, which had abused me in the past.
I just came back from cutting a trip short where I took after her and help her get started with her cancer treatment. I did everything to help through out, only for now for said sister to take all the credit.
I had been fighting with her nearly from the start of my decision to come out... She's had 5 years. We've spoken and off and found peace (I thought) when I made the gesture to take care of her.
The last note was hearing that me being gay (while my partner of 10 years was also helping her) is the wrong orientation, that we shouldn't adopt, which made her furious. Doing some play behind my back in order for my sister to cut me off as well, which she denies, as I shouldn't burden the poor thing (which abused me to no end, threatened of physical violence as well, would lock me up in a room with her husband and yell at me on hours to end as a form of education, which my mother never told to stop, despite hearing my pleas, stalking and other forms of abuse). That she's shocked that she'll never be able to tell her friends what I've done, since I went to her with my facial hair visibly seen. I'm 2.5 years on T. My sister also gave a headache of how she is banning me from seeing her, her family and even approaching her, as I would cause trauma to her children which she regularly beats up (add yelling from my mother to never report her abuse).
I'm no longer shaking, but there's a dull ache deep inside me.
She wants to pay my well-off sister back for her cancer treatment when sister denied me education for years and I lived through poverty while she ate caviar in spoons. I am becoming stable, I have a liver disease, due to abuse I have mental health troubles and her last words to me before a weak, no feelings "I love you" was "Please, I'm begging you... Find a Job". When she knows I've got one aligned for later autumn and when my sister was studying she even quit her job because she couldn't be fussed and was annoyed at the prospect of working.
My sister has prior told me "I don't care if you starve to death".
I can't swallow this... I just want to hear comfort.

From The Halls of Montezuma to the Depths of Outer Space: The Long Deployment (conclusion)
The rear ramp on the gunship shut with a clang just as the torpedoes detonated. The gunship was still in a nose dive to the ground when the concussive force of the blast created a shockwave which knocked the gunship off its terminal dive angle. Warning lights and alarms screamed inside the cockpit, but the rugged little gunship held together, despite the battering she had just taken. With one last heave, Jennifer pulled up on the stick with every ounce of strength that she had left. The gunship shot up, narrowly missing the black, jagged, landscape which seemed to rise up to meet them. Jennifer pulled the stick to the left, attempting to get past the periphery of the blasted black landscape and over to where the land was alive and green and beautiful.
“We’re clear of the anomaly!” Warrant Officer Nasri’s voice boomed into the intercom over the rising pitch of the thrusters. “Is everyone okay back there?”
“We’re a little banged up,” said SSgt Talley into the intercom speaker, looking down and frowning at the wet spot on her armor where Seashell Killary pissed herself. “But we’re fine. The medic is handing out boo-boo band aids and lollypops.”
“Okay,” chucked Nasri. “Where’s Lieutenant Gabriel?”
“Oh, uh, he’s hanging around, ma’am,” said Sgt. Hernandez.
“I see,” said Nasri. “Well, when he’s done farting around, let him know that we have comms with the Galveston City. They’ve got freedom of maneuver and are in orbit waiting to retrieve us. We should be docked in fifteen to twenty mikes.”
Lieutenant Gabriel hung upside down six feet above the deck of the cargo bay, his mag-locks holding him in place. His arms were wrapped tightly around Pfc. Chensi and he looked down at her, surprised to see her crying.
“You okay, Hitchiro?” he said. “Are you hurt?”
Chensi looked up at her platoon leader, wiping a tear from her eyes. “No, sir! I lost my flame-rifle! You know how much those things cost? I’ll never be able to pay for a new one with the shit that the corps is paying me!”
“You saved our asses down there,” said Gabriel. “We’ll buy you a new one!”
Chensi smiled weakly. “I’d rather have a promotion. Maybe a few days to hang out with you and Warrant Officer Nasri in Vegas?”
Lieutenant Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Will someone get this little turd off my hands so that I can get down from here?”
The USS Galveston City remained on station for an additional 48 hours over Willow’s World as the members of 4th Platoon underwent decontamination procedures. In that time, all of the platoons vid-cam footage was sent to the Fleet to be scrutinized and examined extensively by scientists, geologists, biologists, astrophysicists, and the clergy. The opposition politicians also wanted to examine the vid-cam footage as well to see if they could find evidence in which to convict the Marines (and, by association, their Commander-in Chief) of any heinous war crimes real or imaginary. With the USS Galveston City’s sensors functioning normally now that the entity had been weakened and its ‘beam-horn’ (as the Marines called it) was destroyed, the Galveston City was able to peer down into the dead area anomaly. The entity was still alive, alive being a relative term, and still stumbling around within the dead space which it presumably was responsible for creating. Apparently, the horned entity could not leave that area of dead space to set foot on the surrounding lush, living landscape. The prevailing theory was that the entity was not originally of this planet, having arrived sometime in the past and probably buried itself into the ground where it slowly began draining the life energy of its surroundings which, over time, expanded the deadness to over one hundred twenty miles in circumference. In the meantime, the entity had used its weird beam to snag any star ship which came into range and dragged it to its doom on the blasted rock formations below where the entity again fed off the life forces of those it had ensnared, reanimating the corpses whenever they were needed to do its bidding. Basically, it was a giant parasite.
Commander Travis had suggested using one of the Galveston’s tac-nukes on the creature, just in case it had the power to re-grow its beam horn again. But that was quickly shot down by the globo-corporations and their R and D departments who wanted to investigate the numerous wrecks of alien vessels which had been brought down in the dead space. They feared that a tac-nuke might damage the alien vessels which were no doubt holding advanced weapon development secrets that could benefit mankind.
For his part, Lieutenant Gabriel couldn’t care less. After they leave orbit and the K-Hawk gets underway for earth, Willow’s World and everything associated with it would be the USS Ranger’s problem. He was just happy that this deployment was finally over and that he would be returning with his entire platoon safe and intact. Oh, and that the two snot nosed VIPs were also safe and sound also, he guessed. They were both tucked away in Commander Travis’s own crew cabin since the corvette didn’t have an executive VIP suite. Groaning, Gabriel looked down at his data pad. He was sitting in the galley, enjoying a moment of alone time with a nice hot mug of coffee. He hadn’t even finished his report on the Mont Caberu mission and now he had to write a report about this one. Pfc. Chensi strolled up and sat across from him, setting down a tray of cereal on the metal table.
“Man, sir, these fleet guys know how to live,” she said, cutting up a fresh banana and strawberries to put in her cereal. “Maybe I joined the wrong branch?”
“You most definitely did not join the wrong branch, killer,” said Gabriel.
“I know,” said Chensi. “Oh, by the way, your eyebrows are growing in nicely, sir. Maybe you won’t look so hideous by the time we get back.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes up at her. “Is there a reason you’re sitting here picking on my eyebrows, Private?”
Chensi scooped a spoonful of fruit laden cereal into her mouth. “Yes, sir! Are you writing your report on our mission on Willow’s World?”
“I could be,” said Gabriel.
“Are you at the part when I dragged those two idiots… I mean, VIPs… up to the top of the wreckage and flamed all them dead things?”
“As a matter of fact,” said Gabriel, “I’m just getting to that part.”
“Great!” said Chensi. “Because I just wanted to make sure that you spelled the word ‘incinerate’ correctly.”
…
Jennifer Nasri stepped out of the shower, wrapped in one of the thick, soft, luxurious towels which made The Ultra Luxorious Hotel and Casino Complex towels the most stolen towels on the Las Vegas strip. It had been over forty days since they had successfully completed their mission to Willow’s World and three weeks after the USS Kitty Hawk docked at San Diego Orbital Naval Base before she and Samuel could finally start their three week vacation to Vegas. Yes, originally it was two weeks, but Seashell Killary had stunk up the cockpit of Jenn’s gunship again on the way back. Apparently, they only had caviar, sardines, and boiled eggs in that pantry they were trapped in for over a week. So naturally, Sam would have to cough up another week in Vegas. Secretly however, Jenn was hoping that by their third week in Vegas, Sam might get the hint that Jennifer Nasri-Gabriel had a nice ring to it. She walked from the steaming bathroom across to the Ultra Luxorious king sized bed with the thick, comfortable mattress.
Sam was lying in bed, already dressed in a red polo shirt and his favorite well worn faded blue jeans, waiting for Jenn to get out of the shower so that they could partake in what was fast becoming their favorite pastime since returning from over a year out in space: attacking the dinner buffet. Sam had the 74” vid-screen turned on to Galactic News Network. The image on the screen showed Seashell Killary wearing a tight fitting light blue pant suit combination standing together with Hunter Hyding, who was wearing a sharp looking black suit. The couple was on a large stage inside a crowded arena receiving medals, accolades and praise from their party leadership while thousands of people clapped and cheered. Red, white, and blue confetti fell from the rafters as veteran GNN senior reporter Runt Wolftard, the ‘most trusted news anchor in the galaxy’, sat at a desk and gave a glowing story of Seashell Killary and Hunter Hyding’s successful mission to Willow’s World.
“… and after taking a commanding position atop their crashed star cruiser,” Runt continued, “… Hunter Hyding and Seashell Killary rallied the platoon of panic stricken Marines which, ironically, were sent to rescue them. Though the Marines were wracked with fear at the sight of the unnamed danger, Hunter and Seashell used their natural born leadership gifts, undoubtedly passed to them by their parents, and led the Marines on a dangerous mission which successfully averted a tragedy on that planet. And even though the nature of the mission and the nature of the potential tragedy is considered classified,” Runt smiled knowingly into the camera, “some anonymous sources high up in government claimed that the unnamed potential tragedy was caused by none other than President Helania herself! Voters should keep this in mind when the elections roll around. I’m sure that if those thankful Marines were present here today, they would encourage all citizens in the galaxy to vote accordingly since clearly, this was all President Helania’s fault.”
Hunter Hyding was joined by his father on the stage, former Vice President Bunker Hyding and Seashell Killary was joined by her father, Senator William J. Killary as they announced their intention to run as president and vice president to defeat President Helania in the next election by any means necessary.
“Really, Sam?” said Jennifer, removing her towel and using it to dry her hair. “Eight thousand channels on cosmic-cable, one thousand of them porn channels, and this is what you’re watching?”
“It’s on all the channels, Jenn,” shrugged Samuel. “Even the porn ones.” He sighed, as if he had stepped boot deep into a steaming pile of xeno-droppings. “Still though, none of that galactic pomp and circumstance bullshit can compare to the little ceremony we had on the deck of the K-Hawk where we got to promote Sergeant Hernandez to Staff Sergeant and Pfc. Chensi to Lance Corporal. It’s nice, really. Forty-two of us deployed. Forty-two of us returned. Banged up. Probably scared for life. But drunk and happy, just the way we Marines like it.”
“Well, yeah, that’s true,” said Jenn, climbing on the bed and straddling Sam. With an aggravated groan, Jenn grabbed the remote out of Sam’s hand and pointed it at the vid-screen. “Just do me a favor,” she said, pressing the ‘off’ button. “For as long as we’re on earth, turn that GNN shit off!”
Marine Corps Rank Pronunciations
SSgt- Staff Sergeant (read as ‘staff sergeant’)
Sgt- Sergeant (read as ‘sergeant’)
Pvt- Private (read as ‘private’)
Pfc- Private First Class (read as ‘PFC’)
LCpl- Lance Corporal (read as ‘lance corporal’)
Cpl- Corporal (read as ‘corporal’)
1LT- First Lieutenant (read as First Lieutenant or Lieutenant)
4th Platoon, Delta Company
Platoon Leader- 1LT Samuel Gabriel (m)
Medic- LCpl. Chapman (m)
CommSpec- LCpl. Maggas (m)
1st Sqd:
Sqd- Ldr-SSgt. Boyer (m)
Tm Ldr- Sgt. Barlow (m)
Tm Ldr- Cpl. Hatcher (f)
Automatic Rifle Gunner- Pvt. Houser (m)
Asst. Automatic Rifle Gunner- Pvt. Barner (f)
2nd Sqd:
Sqd. Ldr- SSgt. Talley (f)
Tm Ldr- Cpl. Cotto (m)
Tm Ldr – Cpl. Parker (m)
3rd Sqd:
Sqd. Ldr- Sgt. Hernandez (m)
Flame-Rifle Gunner- Pfc. Chensi (f)
Tm Ldr- Sgt. Watson (f)
Tm Ldr- Cpl. Palkovic (m)
Rifleman- LCpl. Mixley
Pilot:
Warrant Officer Nasri
USS Kitty Hawk- assault carrier
USS Ranger- assault carrier
USS Galveston City- patrol corvette
CSNS Sydney Point- colonizer ship
CSNS New Castle- luxury cruiser
CSNS Mont Caberu- science freighter

This is my first trip report, so I apologize if it's too long, detailed, or wordy.
Background (this is just a detailed overview of our trip planning, so skip this if you're not interested): I'm a college student. I took this trip with my parents. We all travel quite frequently for work, I do the churning. My parents are DL Gold, I am DL Diamond. We are all Hilton Diamond and Marriott Gold. Just got back from just under three weeks of travel.
This trip was definitely one of our more oddly scheduled trips. We knew in February that we wanted to go to the Maldives for winter break. After a lot of searching, we found great cash rates for a Superior Water Villa (sub $700/night, which is a lot of money, but a great value given that we'd have to otherwise pay 95k points and several hundred dollars a night to upgrade, subject to availability in the peak season. Given the substantial number of points that we'd get from the cash rate (totaled 250,000), we decided this was the way to go). I study international relations and took a class on South Asian IR, so I was really interested in visiting Sri Lanka as well given how close we were. We found great redemptions for a two-bedroom penthouse at the Hilton Colombo Residences for 30k points a night. We also have family in Delhi who we decided we'd visit given closeness. Our original plan was to then visit Vietnam, a place on our bucket list for a while now. However, we had a fair amount of difficulty finding a good way to get from India to Vietnam. We were either going to fly SQ or TG; however, there were no good redemptions at the time. We were going to hold out, but then on a whim of searching I discovered some great SkyMiles redemptions to fly LHR-SFO on VS right after New Years (10k SkyMiles/person for Y). I had just studied abroad in London, and my parents love the UK, so we decided it'd be really fun to end the trip there for NYE. We booked at the Hilton Bankside for 60k points/night (we switched last minute from the Hilton Park Lane as it was 20k points/night cheaper). However, we had a couple of days between India and London that we needed to fill; we played around with a number of midpoints, including Muscat, Copenhagen, Gdansk, and Ljubljana. We settled on Dresden. We found BOM-AMS-DRS KL J for 70k SkyMiles a person, which we considered a good value. We flew Vistara PE on cash (~$70/person). We stayed at the Hilton Dresden for 30k points/night. Our final trip was 3 nights in the Maldives, 2 nights in Colombo, 4 nights in Delhi, 3 nights in Dresden, and 4 nights in London.
A big concern for us was our plan for getting from SFO-MLE. We weren't flush with airline points when we booked the Conrad Maldives in February (we had already invested points in a few summer trips), so we settled with booking SFO-JFK-PVG-MLE DL/MU Y for my parents, and SFO-JFK-FCO-MLE DL/AZ Y for myself (40k points each). These flights weren't ideal, especially with a looming bankruptcy/strike for AZ right around the time of departure. About a week out, I found three open seats on LH first out of MEX via LifeMiles, so I cancelled the SkyMiles awards (penalty free, due to status). I then booked MEX-MUC-FRA on LH F/J for just under 95k LifeMiles each. I was a little short on LifeMiles, so I bought some extra miles using the 150% bonus (which is an insanely good value, especially if booking LH F for multiple people). I then booked DL SJC-LAX-MEX positioning flights for 15k points each (cash fares were $600 each, so we considered this a very good value). We had to stay overnight in MEX; we booked a room at the Courtyard Mexico City Airport for 15k points. To get us from FRA to MLE, I booked cash fares on Emirates for just over $300 a person. We paid for upgrades to J with cash ($400 for FRA-MLE 6.5 hour overnight flight on the A380).
With that, here's the trip:
Delta Positioning Flight
Our complimentary upgrades to DL FC cleared a five days out for me and two days out for my parents. Pretty standard flights; the LAX-MEX flight was definitely a fill-in for AM given their fleet issues. I will say, I'm very impressed with Delta's international "FC" catering, especially compared to domestic "FC." The meal on the roughly 3.5 hour flight had three entree choices, a dessert, salad, and appetizer. I wish they'd be this comprehensive with their domestic FC meals on equivalent flights.
Our night in MEX was uneventful; the Courtyard at the airport is a really convenient hotel for any T1 airlines, as it's connected via walkway.
Lufthansa First
The MEX-MUC flight is flown on an A340. This is a pretty good flight to book; there is very consistent availability, which also means you'll have a lighter-than-average F cabin. The flight leaves a bit before 11am, lasts for over 11 hours, and gets into Munich just after 5am. This is great timing because you can enjoy the full meal service and still get a lot of time to sleep. After meal service was over, we had over 9 hours of flight time remaining, meaning we could get work done/watch more entertainment, enjoy continued service, get a full night of sleep, and then enjoy a full breakfast. You get all of this and are effectively the first arrival to Munich, meaning you have an entire day of Europe ahead of you with minimal jet lag, unlimited connections, and a lot of time to enjoy the MUC F lounge. Also, for some reason LifeMiles doesn't really show direct flights to FRA, even though I could find that availability on other *A partners.
We checked in to Lufthansa a couple hours in advance. The service was really, really good. It was the first time any of us had ever flown true international first class. The check-in agents were extremely friendly and conversational; one agent escorted us through security and to the lounge. LH contracts the Admiral's Club in MEX for their F passengers. The lounge was quiet; only LH F passengers (6 total, including the 3 of us) were using it. Decent apron views, and great margaritas. We were then offered a buggy ride to the gate and were the first onboard. The flight attendants were amazing; we got hot towels, macadamia nuts, and a choice of PDB within a minute of sitting down. I went with Champagne, Laurent-Perrier Cuvee Grand Siecle. I forgot the vintage, but I did note that the cost per bottle was $190. My mom also got the Champagne, but my dad asked for one of four white wines on offer, a 2017 Kellerei Nals-Margreid Lyra Sudtiroler Gewurztraminer (I know, he's a sinner). We were delayed for about 30 minutes due to MUC landing restrictions; while on the ground, we were given our day bedding, PJs/slippers, amenity kits, PDB refills; and seat and cabin tours (including of the lavatory, which was nice given that they stock additional amenities there). We were walked through the menu and placed our orders on the ground. The pilots came out and introduced themselves as well; they brought me up to the cockpit for a picture, which was cool. Throughout the delay, the cabin manager and the three F FAs each had a friendly conversation with all passengers. I don't think I need to talk about just how comfortable and customizable the seat was.
Service started 10 minutes after take-off with the canape, a tuna tar tar in a rice roll. We also get our first round of beverages; I never had Sherry, so I tried it as an aperitif (Sherry Apostoles Palo Cortado Muy Viejo V.O.R.S.). It was good and unique, but I'd more consistently prefer champagne. 10 minutes after that, they brought around the caviar cart with pre-poured glasses of Grey Goose Vodka and Champagne. The caviar was nice (my first time, and I made sure to Google how to eat caviar prior to flying), although I wish LH would offer mother of pearl spoons, as many other airlines do (this is extremely nitpicky, I know). As each passenger finished with their caviar, the FAs went around with the appetizer cart. On offer were: traditional salad; red quinoa salad with marinated avocado, cherry tomato, and jicama julienne; sautéed shrimp with cocktail sauce, mango, and raisin chutney; laminated chateaubriand with pepper, Sicilian caponata, toasted pine nuts, olive, marsala tomato chimichurri, and watercress sprout. I'm not a fan of quinoa, so that was my least favorite appetizer, although the avocado's flavor was still very good and ripe. The shrimp were very fresh, and the flavors of that dish were extremely vibrant. The chateaubriand had a very unique flavor; the meat itself was perfectly tender (but not too touch) for a cold dish. The salad was just a salad, but fresh, so that was nice.
During the appetizer course, the flight attendants went around and explained that extra soups had been loaded, so they offered extra intermediate courses that were equivalent to half-portions of the "vegetable soup with basil pesto" main course. I passed, because I had a lot of food coming. As I was ordering, I expressed interest in both the "beef medallion with chateaubriand sauce, boiled asparagus, bottom artichoke filled with carrot mousse and orange zest, porcini mushroom sauteed with truffle oil, grilled spring onion, roasted cherry tomato, and mashed sweet potato" and "canoe zucchini, grilled endive, sauteed porcini mushrooms with garlic oil, laminated parmesan cheese, tomato and provencal herbs sauce, accompanied by risotto." After asking the flight attendant for her recommendation, she quipped, "why not both?" I happily obliged. The other two options were "blackened salmon with tomato and saffron sauce, boiled bok choy, steamed basmati rice, golden onion in julienne, fresh mango in slices" and "red snapper with pibil sauce, Parisian potato with dill, grilled sliced zucchini and sauteed cherry tomato." As I was finishing my appetizer, another flight attendant came and asked me a) how I wanted the two mains plated (separate or together), b) if there were any sides I didn't want, and c) how I wanted my beef cooked. I asked for separate plating, everything on the plate, and medium rare. I've cooked risotto over one thousand times, and this was a really, really good dish. The dish was rich and flavorful, but not too heavy. All of the elements worked together really cohesively. The beef was the best meat I've had on a plane: a near-perfect medium rare with a sauce that actually aided the cut of beat.
Throughout the appetizer and main course service, I was indecisive about my wine selection, so the FAs offered to do a wine tasting with the four whites and four reds on offer. In addition to the Gewurztraminer, they had a 2018 Weingut Knipser Steinbuckel Riesling GG (my favorite), a 2017 Somontano D.O. Chardonnay, and a 2017 Grand Cru Classe de Graves Chateau Carbonnieux. For reds, they had a 2008 Cru Classe Saint-Julien Chateau Langoa Barton, a 2015 Toscana IGT Carpineto Farnito Cabernet Sauvignon, a 2013 Bodegas y Vinedos Valtravieso Ribera del Duero VT Tinta Fina, and a 2014 Rust en Vrede Stellenbosch Estate. The Cab and Stellenbosch were my favorite reds.
For dessert, they had a great selection of roquefort, edam, camembert, emmental, and goat cheese. This was, of course, plated from a cart. I also ordered a creme brulee with plum and peal mango and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. The other dessert option was a cheese cake with mango strip. With the cheese, I had a glass of port (Niepoort Portwein LBV). With the creme brulee, I had a glass of dessert wine: 2017 Weingut Korrell Nahe Beerenauslese. Following meal service, I had a cappuccino with a shot of a German plum liquor. The FAs served boxed chocolates and holiday cookies with the cappuccino.
I stayed up a bit longer to finish the five episodes of The Closer they had onboard. With about 7 hours left in the flight, I went to sleep. During the period between meal service and going to sleep, the FA checked in at least once every 20 minutes. The lavatories were cleaned every time someone went in. The bedding was extremely comfortable; the FA gave me an extra pillow. I woke up a bit into the flight to check my final grades from the fall quarter; as we were flying over Greenland, I got a great view of Orion. I got a total of 6 hours of sleep; my only complaint would be the heat of the cabin, which was quite high. As I had asked, I was woken up under an hour out of Munich for breakfast. I had preordered my breakfast, so they woke me up and served the freshly cooked bacon and eggs within 5 minutes. They even served the eggs directly from the skillet on to my plate! They apologized that the "Mexican bacon" was not getting as crispy as they would've liked. I also had a wonderful fruit and cheese selection, a selection of hams, a mimosa, and a fruit smoothie. They also had yogurt parfaits and smoked salmon, but I passed on those.
A quick note on the cabin: the thoughtfulness and attention to detail of the cabin design was clear: the LH F cabin has a very clean, subtle, and modern feel. For example, the seat numbers were a clean backlit font. The walls of the cabin were also padded instead of the standard plastic. Of course the carpeting was really soft. The cabin curtains were also very thick and magnetically sealed to the bulkhead sides, meaning that no light was peering in from the galley or J cabin. Of course, there are also the bathroom windows, LH roses, and accent lighting.
We landed at the secondary Munich terminal. It was a 5 minute walk to security. From security, there was a private channel to the F lounge, where a private customs officer admitted us to the EU. We were the first ones in the lounge for the day. The agents noted our 5+ hour layover and asked if we wanted an earlier flight to Frankfurt; we declined, naturally. We were given a tour of the lounge and asked if we wanted to reserve the sleep rooms. We asked for the rooms after taking showers/baths. The MUC ducks are definitely cooler than the FRA ducks. The bathtub was a cool experience. We asked the shower attendant to wake us up after two hours of sleep; she knocked on our doors right on time and ushered us to a table for three. My mom elected to have breakfast, while my dad and I both had lunch. The food, naturally, was simply amazing. The bartender also came over to suggest whiskey and brandy pairings with the meal. I didn't get any work done in the lounge, though there is plenty of space for that.
I slept through the 40 minute flight to Frankfurt. We didn't get a chauffeur transfer. However, LH decided to board the A321 taking us to FRA from both door 1L and 2L, which was very odd for an A321. Business Class was quite large on the flight.
Emirates Business
We had a solid 8 hours to explore Frankfurt during our layover. After 6 hours at the Christmas Market and other places in the city center, we went back to the airport to check-in for our flight. There was a very short wait for J check-in, whereas the Y check-in line was very, very long. My mom had some leftover stollen from the Christmas market and offered it to the customs officer (bribery????). The EK ground experience was really dismal. Priority security lanes and boarding lanes were not enforced at all; we were some of the last passengers to board despite getting to the gate 30 minutes prior to boarding (FRA has security at the gates). Additionally, I think it's really cheap of Emirates to not allow all their J passengers into lounges (upgrades and low-fare J passengers aren't given access). Nonetheless, I was very excited to fly on my first A380 and fly EK J for the first time. When boarding, my seat was reassigned away from my parents. My original seat was broken beyond repair; it would've been nice to have the option to get reseated together at check-in versus at boarding, after Emirates did all their (very common) OpUps.
The A380 hard product was fabulous; the mood lighting works really well with the Emirates glitz. There was a lot of space to spread out (and so much storage!). The footwell was also very large given the staggered 1-2-1 configuration, so sleeping was extremely comfortable (I'm 6'2"). The mattress cover was also a great feature; everyone received this 15 minutes after takeoff. The bar is also a standout feature of the A380.
The service on this flight was disappointing, to say the least. Both my dad and I got PDBs, but despite asking three times, my mom (who was seated next to my dad) did not get one. A FA asked if I wanted my coat hanged. I said yes, but she never came back to hang it up. The amenity kit and bedding, though, were really nice. After takeoff, it took over an hour to receive my drink, a mojito. This was the worst cocktail I've ever had. I now understand why Emirates has personal mini bars; no other drinks were offered the entire flight (except for wine). An 1 hour and 45 minutes after departure, appetizers were served. We had a choice of Arabic Mezze, potato and leek soup, and loch fun smoked salmon. 5 minutes after receiving my soup, my main course arrived. I choose the paprika hendl (chicken in creamy red pepper sauces served with spatula and seasonal vegetables). The other choices were pan-seared salmon with gazpacho dressing and lamb salounah. The soup was quite good, although I didn't have time to finish it before my main arrived. That was too bad, as the chicken dish was inferior to the butter chicken I had been served on VS Y a few weeks prior. The "spatzle" was mushy and gloupy. The chicken was overcooked and the entire dish was very bland. About 30 minutes after, the cheese board (with cambozola, chevre, and manchego) arrived. Another disappointing element was the wine service. Although quite good (Veuve Clicquot Yellow Label NV Champagne, 2016 Chablis ler Cru Vau de Vay Jean-Marc Brocard, 2016 Livio Felluga Pinot Grigio Colli Orientali del Friuli, 2011 Chateau Laroze, 2010 Castello Monte Vibiano L'Andrea Colli Perugini), the service seemed very disjoined. For example, a FA came through with the red wine tray after we received our initial drinks. She didn't come by during the appetizer course, and only came by with the white wine tray during the main course. The 1992 Dow's Colheita Port was not proactively offered for dessert. All-in-all, meal service wasn't complete until halfway through the overnight flight, which was extremely disappointing.
The bar was cool to the extent that the FAs let me mix my own drinks. If I asked for a Cosmopolitan or Kir Royale (which were on the menu), they had to ask for help from fellow FAs, who then had to pull out a recipe book. On the flip side, they made the Kir Royale with the first class champagne! I got an hour and a half of sleep before landing (there was no second meal service). My mom never got to sleep because it took over 2 hours to receive a duty free order.
For comparison, I was OpUped on DL1 from JFK-LHR (I'm happy to write a report on the new B764 D1 cabin if there is interest) a few weeks prior to this flight. On an equivalent 6 hour flight, the Delta FAs managed to finish meal service in 1.5 hours and serve a hot breakfast service 40 minutes prior to landing. I get that the Emirates A380 has a much larger J cabin than the Delta 764, but the difference in service is striking and unacceptable. In the time that I got less than 2 hours of sleep and one meal, Delta got me 4 hours of sleep and two meals. It's not so much that a second meal was necessary (I was really bloated at this point, and I've had to dive back into /fasting after this trip), but the pure inefficiency of the Emirates crew amazed me.
Emirates economy was nothing special. The seats on the 777 are really poorly designed, though. The entertainment system boxes are directly obstructing the legroom of window seat passengers. Moreover, the protruding "columns" between windows were placed right in the middle of rows, meaning that I couldn't rest my head on the wall of the aircraft without contorting my neck.
Conrad Maldives
This was, by far, the most disappointing part of our trip. Upon arrival to Male, we were met by Conrad employees who rushed us through seaplane check-in and to the Conrad lounge. They were concerned about weather and wanted to expedite everything. When we got to the lounge, we were offered massages as a discount (buy 60 minutes, get 90 minutes) and food (the Spaghetti was really good). Then the bad news came: severe weather shut down the seaplanes for the evening and we could not make it to the resort. Although impeccable up to this point, the staff really mishandled this IROP. They also disappeared into the lounge back office, leaving all the stranded guests alone for about 30 minutes. When they came out, they approached each guest individually to explain the seaplane cancellation. We were initially told that we would need to pay the resort a change fee to fly on the seaplane the following day. We were also told that we would not be refunded the first night's room rate and that we had to find our own accommodations in Male for the evening. This was pretty ridiculous, given that the seaplane change was not our fault (and the airline employee had told us they'd rebook us for free) and that we had prepaid for a room that we couldn't use, despite having already checked in to the hotel (check-in happens in the lounge). The staff came back and offered to "waive" the change fee, making it sound like an unusual gesture/cost that the resort was bearing (which we knew wasn't true). We Tweeted Hilton corporate, who reassured us they'd reach out to the Conrad and handle the situation. We were on the hook for getting a room; since everyone was stranded, even the airport hotel was $350. We ended up staying at the Male Shangri-La for $550, which was the cheapest room for three people. Kudos where deserved, the staff did a great job coordinating our transfer (and that of our luggage) to and from the Shangri-La. They also kept in contact with the Shangri-La on our morning departure time.
After an amazing seaplane flight the following morning, we got to the Conrad Maldives at 1pm, about 24 hours late. Despite being told by lounge staff and Twitter CSRs that we'd be met by management to discuss the IROP and compensation, no such meeting occurred. Our personal concierge was really nice, but as with all the staff on the island, seemed to be misled by terrible management. We were told that due to the IROP, we were offered an upgrade to a Deluxe Water Villa. Instead of apologizing or even positing the upgrade as a nice gesture, the conversation went like this: "We don't normally do this but we decided to give you a bigger room. We normally charge double your paid rate, but we decided to waive that rate increase for you due to your loyalty and your troubles." Thanks? We were happy to have a marginally better room, but the manner in which the upgrade was positioned was extremely condescending and patronizing. Given that the resort was only 60% full at the time of arrival, it felt like this was a very half-baked gesture frosted with a layer of snark and commodification that is not commiserate with a five-star luxury resort. We then asked for the possibility of a resort credit equal to the cost of the first night. Our concierge said that she'd confer with management and get back to us. We had to ask over five times over our entire stay, and never once did we get to speak to anyone from management. They offered a $200 credit; after some bartering (my mom and I enjoy negotiating, but this was a luxury Maldivian resort, not an Indian souvenir market!), we got the credit up to $500 plus comped 90 minute massages. During these "negotiations," the hotel started pushing back on us, claiming that we weren't using all the resort's amenities (implying that we weren't spending enough at restaurants or the dive shop) and questioning why we weren't utilizing travel insurance.
Another example of unpolished service was when the concierge double-booked us for the underwater restaurant lunch and the whale shark excursion. We were assured that we'd be able to make both. On the day of, however, the dive shop told us that we'd be unable to do both and that they'd work with the front desk to cancel our lunch free of charge (the underwater restaurant requires reservations, which are non-refundable within 12 hours of the booking). As we were walking to the boat, the concierge approached my dad (who was trailing us) and asked him to sign a cancellation slip for the lunch. He asked what the signature was for, and was told that it was just to confirm lunch cancellation. He kept asking questions about what he was being asked to sign, when my mom and I approached to ask what was going on. For reference, I had done all the excursion organizing with the concierge, and my mom had done a bit of negotiation regarding the credit, so it was very odd that she approached my dad (who had no interactions with the concierge staff) first. I asked, "we'll sign this for a free cancellation, because you double-booked us, right?" She replied, oh no, you'll still have to pay. The situation felt very manipulative. She ended up waiving the cancellation charge, but only after trying to convince us to skip the (prepaid) whale shark excursion. We did end up getting back to the resort 30 minutes before the lunch, but only because my mom and I got extremely seasick. We were literally throwing up off the stern of the ship when we came to the dock, where our concierge was waiting for us to convince us to rebook at the underwater restaurant.
The room was beautiful. The blue accent lighting around the bed and furniture gave a very modern look to the otherwise well-worn room. The jacuzzi, while never really "hot," was a very nice feature. The bathtub facing the ocean was the best part of the room. The snorkeling was ok; there were hundreds of crabs on the beach, which was cool. There were also a number of sharks that frequented our room. The whale shark excursion was the highlight of the Maldives portion of the trip!
The whole stay felt like walking through a sleazy used-car dealership. We've been very fortunate to travel to a lot of places, including Bali, Fiji, Tahiti, Moorea, and other great resort destinations. The cost of the Maldives, and the commodification of the resort experience at the Conrad was just not worth it. Every part of the stay had a dollar sign attached with "but wait, there's more" deals added. "Island time" was not a thing either at the Conrad; I showed up five minutes early to my massage only to be yelled at for not arriving earlier. For reference, we were the only guests booked for massages that afternoon. On all five occasions we asked for a buggy, one never came. The food, while good, was just overpriced for what we got. The drinks were ok, but not worth $25+ minimum. I want to give the Maldives another go, though that will likely be without my parents (their choice) far in the future, and away from the Conrad.
SriLankan Business
The unexpected surprise of the trip! Flying on a reverse herringbone A330 on a one hour flight is always a novelty. The seats were very comfortable for the short MLE-CMB hop, and I'd be happy flying the product on any of UL's long hauls. The service was also ridiculously good; we had five main course options for breakfast on the short hop; I went with the milk rice trio, which was spicy and delicious. The pilot introduced himself to all the business class passengers personally, and the cabin manager gave us recommendations for places to go in Colombo.
We flew UL's old A321 J product, which was outdated but still comfortable. Lot's of recline, great food, and good service! One undiscussed feature of UL's business class ground experience in Colombo is the Silk Route, which is a dedicated customs and check-in channel at the airport. Your driver drives into a beautiful garden area on the side of the terminal, where bell hops take your luggage, screen you in a private security area, and check you in while you drink a tea of choice.
One place I can't recommend enough in Colombo: Kopi Kade. Ridiculously good western-style coffee with a modern twist on traditional Sri Lankan tapas. The owner, Nim, is a former classically-trained fine dining chef who has lived all over the world.
KLM Business (World/Europe)
People tend to nag on KLM for being inconsistent. I get that their 2-2-2 configuration isn't the most revolutionary (honestly, flying in the front rows of the B747 on the lower or upper deck is more comfortable than most 1-2-1 configurations space-wise). People also tend to complain about their catering and Dutch-style of service. Granted, I've only flown them a few times (B747 AMS-NBO, B787 MSP-AMS, B747 AMS-ORD, B787 BOM-AMS), but I've never had a disappointing experience with them (the entertainment systems on the 747 are a bit long in the tooth). Their day-of-departure upgrades are unrivaled in value, in my experience. Plus, who can complain about the Delft blue houses?
The service on this flight was exceptional. Meal service was done in an hour, which was key as we departed at 2:30am. It consisted of a salmon appetizer, chocolate cake dessert, and a choice between an eggplant curry, lobster thermador (no it did not hold a candle to SQ), or tomato soup. The meal was just the right amount for such a late supper, and the breakfast service was actually quite good (they woke us up about 1.25 hours out of Amsterdam). Breakfast was a choice between muesli, crepes with berries and pineapple, or an egg and sausage quiche. The flight attendants were among the best I've had from a European airline. The reverse herringbone seat is very comfortable and private, although I wish KLM installed more customizable seat controls.
The new Crown Lounge is great. For those who haven't been since the entire thing opened a month or so ago, it's more than doubled in size. The buffet at the "City" was great, as were the bartenders and baristas. They have over 20 shower rooms; while small, they got the job done. We arrived during the morning rush and were able to get showers right away. Not a fan of the pay areas upstairs or the sleep rooms downstairs (it's a waste of space imo), although the Blue Restaurant food is consistently good. They do have a new exhibit of all their new Delft Blue houses, and they have a KLM store, featuring KLM monopoly.
European business class on an Embraer is standard European business class. KLM luckily has extra legroom for all of their J seats, so no need to fret over securing the bulkhead.
Hilton Dresden/British Airways Club Europe
Dresden is a beautiful city, one of the prettiest and untouched in all of Germany. It's a culture shock, compared to the rest of Western Europe, given that almost no one in the city speaks English. That makes it all the more fun, in our opinion. Definitely add this to your off-the-beaten-track destination list. Make sure to go to Schloss Wakerbarth for some great white, sparkling, and rose wine. The Hilton is literally right next to the main square; we were awoken daily by church bells and could hear bands playing from the Christmas market. There are two breakfast restaurants in addition to the executive lounge. Would definitely recommend this hotel.
BA Club Europe is BA Club Europe. We actually had a great crew on our flight. Tegal is a mess, and will always be a mess. Both times I've been through that airport this year, the luggage system got jammed, causing half the plane to miss their flight. I can't wait for Brandenburg to open (if it ever does).
Hilton Bankside
Great service, not far off the beaten track, one of the newer hotels in London. If you don't mind a (scenic) 10 minute walk to anything other than the Tate Museum, I'd definitely recommend staying here, as the room quality, service, and breakfast/executive lounge offerings are all top notch. We got upgraded to a great room with a direct line of view to the NYE fireworks.
Quick advice for Delhi: go to a restaurant to Indian Accent. Great modern take on Indian cuisine (also have a location in London).
If you want to try Gordon Ramsay, do the Savoy Chef's Table. Four hours, 7 course meal with a surprise menu custom-tailored to your tastes, and you get to help cook one of your courses in the kitchen. The service, food, and experience is unrivaled in value for London fine dining.
If you're a Breaking Bad fan, go to the ABQ bar. If you're a gastropub fan, go to The Wilmington. If you're a fan of molecular mixology, go to The Alchemist.
Virgin Atlantic Economy
I flew LHR-SFO two days before Thanksgiving, and the load was laughably light. Economy was 28% full; there were 2 pax in PE; UC was half full. We almost had a similar load on this flight until AA cancelled two of their Heathrow departures and loaded everyone to Virgin last minute.
The amount that Virgin charges for UC upgrades (over $1400 one way) is too much, in my view. Nonetheless, my status afforded my parents and I access to the Clubhouse. We had to pay £70 for the additional guest, but it was no problem. Still one of, if not the best business class lounge in the world. Their hair stylists are phenomenal! The free a la carte dining is simply unbeatable.

Round 1:

1. On the list of the 10 largest islands by land area (not including Australia), two countries lie claim to three of them. Name either country. a. Indonesia and Canada
   
2. Like birds, crocodiles swallow stones and rocks on purpose. One of these reasons is to use the stones as ballast. What is the other reason? a. To help digest food
   
3. What element, contained in many antiperspirant deodorants, has been inaccurately blamed for causing breast cancer? a. Aluminum
   
4. Of the Vice President, the Speaker of the House, or the Secretary of State, when Nixon resigned the presidency on August 9, 1974, to what individual was the letter addressed? a. Secretary of State (Henry Kissinger)
   
5. What is the name of the fictional universe created by James Cameron in the 2009 film “Avatar,” which shares its name with a music app you may have on your phone? a. Pandora
   
6. What is the proper name for the stalk of a mushroom, which sounds like the name of a vocalist of a band from Athens, GA? a. Stipe
   
7. Numbering 7, what TV show is considered the most spun-off American television show in history? a. All in the Family
   

Round 2:

1. According to legend, what beverage is named "Le Cognac de Napoleon" because English officers on the ship that brought Napoleon to St. Helena liked it so much? a. Courvoisier
   
2. If a medicine contains diphenhydramine, it will likely have what effect on you? a. Put you to sleep
   
3. During the 2010s, there were two movies that won the Best Picture Oscar in consecutive years that had nine-letter titles, with what same last five letters in each title? a. “light” (“Spotlight” and “Moonlight”)
   
4. With what events would you associate the locations of Tordesillas in 1494, Westphalia in 1648, Utrecht in 1713, Paris in 1763, and Portsmouth in 1905? a. Famous treaties were signed
   
5. Of the peacock, the ostrich, or the flamingo, what bird, which is also the national bird of India, has been commonly associated with the Hindu god of knowledge? a. Peacock
   
6. In golf and tennis there are four primary annual tournaments called majors. Which is the only name of a major featured in both golf and tennis? a. U.S. Open
   
7. Of the three countries that make up Scandinavia, which country is the only one whose flag does not consist of at least two of the colors red, white and blue? a. Sweden (blue and gold)
   

MUSIC ROUND 7 Songs from 7 Decades (song and artist) Song Artist 1. 2020s: Blinding Lights The Weeknd 2. 2010s: Pumped Up Kicks Foster the People 3. 2000s: Rehab Amy Winehouse 4. 1990s: You Oughta Know Alanis Morissette 5. 1980s: Down Under Men at Work 6. 1970s: Dream On Aerosmith 7. 1960s: You Can’t Hurry Love The Supremes
Round 3:

1. What is the more common but ostracizing name for Hansen's Disease? a. Leprosy
   
2. True or false: The words earth, wind, fire, and water all appear in the names of winners of the Best Picture Oscar. a. True: (“The Greatest Show on Earth,” “Gone with the Wind,” “Chariots of Fire,” “On the Waterfront,” “The Shape of Water”)
   
3. When Hollywood legend Kirk Douglas died in February of this year, how old was he, within 1 year? a. 103 (accept 102-104)
   
4. What is the only continent on which you will not find bees? a. Antarctica
   
5. Due to a shortage of copper during World War II, pennies produced in the United States were made from what? a. Steel
   
6. Of 24k gold, sterling silver, or mother of pearl, when eating Beluga caviar, it is proper to eat it with a spoon made of what material? a. Mother of pearl
   
7. What game, using a deck of cards and pegs, was invented by British poet Sir John Suckling in the early 17th century? a. Cribbage
   

Russian New Year's Eve Ball

President Vladimir Putin extended an invitation for the following Heads of State to attend a New Year's Eve Ball at the Grand Kremlin Palace. Those invited will include members of CSTO and other influential regional partners. President Putin has planned an evening to include discussions of regional development policy to be coupled with the President's New Years Address, a feast, and of course, the famous Moscow firework ceremony to usher in the new decade. An invitation is extended to the following:

• President Xi Jinping and Minister of Defense Wei Fenghe of the People's Republic of China
• Supreme Marshal Kim Jong-Un of the DPRK
• President Armen Sarkissian of Armenia
• President Alexander Lukashenko of Belarus
• Chairman Nursultan Nazarbayev of Kazakhstan
• President Sooronbay Jeenbekov of Kyrgyzstan
• President Emomali Rahmon of Tajikistan
• President Ashraf Ghani of Afghanistan
• President Aleksandar Vučić of Serbia
• President Alexander Ananchenko of Novorossiya
• President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan of Turkey
• President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi of Egypt
• President Nguyễn Phú Trọng of Vietnam
• Prime Minister Narendra Modi of India
• President Khaltmaagiin Battulga of Mongolia
• President Raul Castro of Cuba

The Russian cabinet, general and officer's staff of the Russian Armed Forces, and select members of the Russian Duma will all be present at the grand event to be held in The Hall of the Order of St. Alexander Nevsky. President Putin made a short speech outlining key points of his foreign policy and national plan for the Russian Federation reaching through the next coming decade.

"Fellow Heads of State, CSTO Tovarische, Ministers of Defense, Servants of the Russian People, Good evening, and Happy New Year to all of you. Firstly, I would like to thank all of you for choosing to spend your New Year's Eve with us here in the Russian Federation. For those of you that have traveled far and wide, I acknowledge that coming to Moscow at this time of year is no easy feat. The achievements under your leaderships through the past couple years has been imperative for defining our region, and commitment to a thriving global community. Each one of you and your nation share a special, indivisible and deeply cherished bond with the Russian Federation, the Russian People, and myself. As we chart our course into the next decade, let us do so as comrades, and humble servants of our people."

"Over the course of the next decade, the Russian Federation hopes to maintain and create deep bonds with each and every one of your nations, in the strategic partnership that we share. Together, our bonds are forged in the cauldron of innovation, national security, and economic development. We have combated terrorism together abroad, and engineered magnificent architectural endeavors, but most importantly we have remained steadfast in our many friendships that define Russian Foreign Policy."

"At this time I encourage all of you to drink, eat, enjoy the evening, the music, the fireworks, and the other festivities we have planned for the evening. I will invite Dmitry Medvedev to say a few words about the plans we have for the Russian Federation in the upcoming years. Once again, thank you all for coming, and Happy New Year to all of you. Dmitry..."

President Putin sat down at the head of the table and reached out an open hand to Dmitry Medvedev at his immediate left. Dmitry Medvedev stood up and began to address the attendees.

"Thank you, Tovarisch President Putin for your kind words, and to address our humble guests once again, thank you for coming. For those of you who are unaware at this point, the Minister of Finance, Economic Development, Sergei Shoygu and myself are working on a new economic plan that will overhaul the Russian interior, but more importantly will focus on satisfying the many needs that each of your nations hold to run in conjunction with President Xi Jinping's Belt and Road Initiative in the coming years. We are still finalizing what remains of the "Golden Russia Plan" to develop our interior and emphasize electronic, and technology and defense manufacturing, infrastructural upgrades and transportation development and research. Once that plan begins, we will turn our focus outwards with specific and targeted development and assistance plans to allow our neighbors and strategic partners to reap many of the benefits. In addition we are planning to launch a major dock upgrade and construction project in the Far-East, in the Black Sea, and in the North so we will be able to put the smaller port cities to work, decrease unemployment, increase our trade and container units capacity, and ultimately field our next generation Aircraft Carrier, The Shtorm, on-schedule. Ultimately, our next area of focus for regional security and national security will focus on the navy, and as always the Russian Ground Forces. Our Blue Water fielding project has gone very well these past five years, and will only be strengthened by this coming proposal. Ultimately, it will allow Russia to take part in emergency planning exercises and naval security exercises with our partners, many of which to include those of you that are here this evening. In addition, it will allow us to pay attention to our much forgotten Far-Eastern Fleet, to assist our friends and act as a united extension of our regional foreign policy. Much of which is shared by China, Vietnam, and India, our big regional strategic partners."

"As strategic and security partners of CSTO or the Russian Federation, we encourage you all to work together with us in the coming years so we can look out for each other and promote regional contingency preparedness. Thank you."

Dmitry Medvedev sat back down. President Putin took his spoon and pinged it on the side of his shot glass a couple of times,

"Now that we have gotten the formalities out of the way, we invite all of you to enjoy the rest of the evening. For those of you heavy drinkers we have the customary Russian Standard Vodka, a bottle for each head of state, to take part in our long-standing Russian tradition. For those of you who seek something sweeter we have champagne, and of course our bartenders can make cocktails at your choice. There is a dish of caviar at each end of the table, my strongest recommendation, and the main course will be around shortly afterwards. For those of you that smoke, we have Cuban cigars in a humidor that can be brought around, and for those of you that don't, I'm sure we can find something for you that tickles your fancy. Thank you everyone, and enjoy."

Additional Russian Negotiations

People's Republic of China
Minister of Defense Sergei Shoygu and President Putin privately held a conversation with President Xi Jinping and Minister of Defense Wei Fenghe regarding the possibility of logistics of a joint Sino-Russo development of a CATOBAR that can be implemented on the new Russian Aircraft Carrier The Shtorm. President Putin asked President Xi what sort of deal the Chinese President would be open to regarding such a collaboration, and if such a collaboration could take place. Ultimately, the proposed CATOBAR could be implemented on The Shtorm as well as the Chinese Type 002 currently being constructed.

This is definitely entitled bitch behavior, but since the woman was close to having her kids and it was a child-centric event....technically also entitled parent behavior....
I went to a baby shower about 4 yrs ago for a woman who was expecting twins. She is the wife of my husbands best friend, so I went to the (ladies only) baby shower on behalf of my husband. I didn't know the wife very well, and one of the only things I knew about her was that she gave her now husband an ultimatum that she'd break up with him if he didn't marry her. On the surface of it, it doesn't sound too unusual. Lots of people have those sort of conversations. But when they got married, she immediately demanded to have kids as well as have a house (to stop renting an apartment). Even though the husband was not comfortable with their financial situation (he was still in residency and wouldn't make more money as an attending physician until it was over in 5 more years). But he tried to make her happy... Then she got pregnant. The plan was for her to go back to work as a surgical nurse (who was making about 150k) after a few months of maternity leave since she made twice what her husband made. But near the end of the pregnancy she unilaterally decided to quit her nursing career completely and submit all the paperwork to HR without speaking about it with her husband first. I heard that the husband freaked out, especially since the bank was factoring in her salary in the home mortgage he was trying to get. Since...she still wanted a stand alone home and not rent an apartment. He did eventually get a mortgage for a house on his 60k resistant salary. It is a cute cape-codder cottage. But not much larger than the rental apartment they had been in. The wife was disappointed that she wasn't able to get a bigger home. But like I said...the husband would have been done with residency in a few years and that would have opened up more financial ability to buy fancier things. But the spending of a family of four, with two newborns, on a 60k budget is going to be lean. Everyone else thought the cottage house was a good option.
So onto the baby shower... We brought two huge Costco-sized jugs of unscented hypoallergenic namebrand detergent. We understood babies are poopy and vomiting time bombs (even though we don't have kids), and shit has to get washed all the time. Especially since there will be two pooping and vomiting babies. My husband and I thought we did good in the present department because we tried to consider what a home on a budget with new babies needs rather than what's fancy or cute on pinterest.
The result.... I was mocked by practically everyone at the party, especially the wife's friends and even including the mom-to-be herself, that the huge detergent gift was dumb/not creative/not for the baby/low effort. I was actually shocked because their reasoning was illogical and my husband and I both really thought the detergent gift was perfect. We even heard tales from people we knew who had kids that washing clothes got crazy with babies. The baby presents that were actually enjoyed and respected by the mother and guests were things like: designer baby blankets (one was from Hermes), words to hang on walls (like "precious Angels"), fancy baby outfits like matching tiny terry cloth bath robes, and fancy baby sundries like a silver Tiffany rattle and baby food spoon. I'm not going to lie...some of that stuff was adorable. But I thought, really impractical....and stuff that kids will outgrow rapidly. Consumable gifts like mine on the other hand (or if people gave diapers without also giving something fancy) was treated with rolled eyes.
Yeah, so all in all it was really awesome to be made fun of by a group of women I didn't or barely knew. The shower hostess even made a shit-eating joke that I should give the receipt to the pregnant mom so she can get something more useful. I was a minute away from leaving and taking the jugs of detergent with me. But the father-to-be was actually a very nice guy... even though his wife turned out to be a bitch (and still is). So I laughed in that "haha fuck you" way and simply left the party after I ate my share of finger foods.... but before cringey "baby games" started. Got home and told my husband what happened. He thought it was really rude and entitled of his friends wife, especially with her pretending that she lives in a champagne and caviar life.
Flash forward about 2 months after the babies were born. The new father made a point one day to heartily thank my husband and me in person for the best baby gift that they received. He said he was shocked by the amount of items that need to be washed with babies in the home, that they were doing upwards of 2 loads a day, and that the huge jugs of detergent were lifesavers. Especially that they were hypoallergenic because his premie kids had really sensitive skin. He said that 90% of everything else they got from the shower was completely useless and had been moved to the basement or returned to stores so they could buy more useful things (baby soap/wipes/ointment/basically stuff that was being consumed like crazy). He laughed with us that he was amazed he got back almost $2,000 from the silver Tiffany branded baby gifts, but it didn't come without a fight with his wife. He apparently had put his foot firmly down on not keeping the designer items as they needed the extra funds for baby expenses. He then apologized for his wife being rude about the gift, as she complained about the detergent to him after the shower. But apparently she refused to apologize or thank us (in person or via card at her husbands urging) after the fact because he explained she was too stubborn/proud. We were just glad to hear that he's showing some spine and not constantly following her unrealistic demands.
Also, my husband is still friends with the husband to this day. Although he doesn't get to see him much because we hear he's pressed to work more because of the financial situation he's in. Which is really sad because the kids don't see much of their dad because he's so tired. The wife hasn't changed much. We were at a friends bbq last weekend and their family came. The kids were really out of control and the mother mostly sat around drinking and complaining how the kids are so much work. While expecting the rest of the guests or her husband to prevent one of them from throwing food or knocking stuff off tables. They were like cats, but even my cats are better behaved. I saw someone in the back roll their eyes and air quote while mouthing the word "work". Husband looked desperate for adult social company. We just hope that it gets better for him after his post residency fellowship and when the kids get old enough to go to school.
Finally, I want to put a footnote here to say that it's not like I'm wholly opposed to baby showers. They are fine as long as people don't consider a baby shower to be a competative pinterest event to come with the cutest baby outfit or baby room decorations in order to gather the greatest "ooohs and ahhs". I also think they are very helpful for those parents who aren't very rich because the glut of new essential baby items is quite an expense. But no baby or mother deseves to get gifted a Hermes blanket, Gucci baby shoes, and a Tiffany rattle. I'm of the mind that those things can be purchased by the parents themselves if they really think they're needed.

[as Mickey walks into the bar]
Mickey Pearson: Bobby.
Barman: Boss?
Mickey Pearson: I’ll have a pint and a pickled egg.
Barman: Coming straight up.
​
​
Mickey Pearson: [voice over] If you wish to be the king of the jungle, it’s not enough to act like a king. You must be the king. There can be no doubt. Because doubt causes chaos and one’s own demise.
[we then see as Mickey calls Rosalind, another man walks behind him, and as Mickey overhears someone harassing Rosalind, a gunshot rings out and blood sprays]
​
​
[as Fletcher shows up at Ray’s house]
Ray: I should stab you with that f**king rolling pin!
Fletcher: Oh, don’t be c**ty. I was just hoping we could have a cozy little drink together. So, I’ve got a meeting on Saturday at your favorite newspaper. As the best private investigator in this smoky little town, good evening, ladies and gentlemen, they are ready to put a hundred and fifty grand in my pocket to give them some filth. Good for me, that, but in this case, it’s bad for you.
​
​
[after he’s demanded 20 million pounds in blackmail money]
Fletcher: I’m going to tell you a story to demonstrate why my quote is my quote. Will you play a game with me, Ray?
Ray: I don’t want to play a game.
Fletcher: Please?
Ray: No.
Fletcher: I said play a f**king game with me, Ray.
​
​
[he begins to tell Ray Mickey’s story]
Fletcher: Enter our protagonist. He’s good looking. He’s gorgeous. He’s golden age. He’s a proper handsome c**t. His name is Mickey Pearson. Unique background has our Mickey. American born, Rhodes scholar. So he’s born clever, but poor. Now that’s quite a leap from a trailer park in Americana to the thousand year-old university in old Angleterre, where he studies the dark art of horticulture. But he never finished his education, never went home, because he found his vocation. A naughty vocation. He’s a bad boy. He starts dealing the dirty wonder weed to his rich, British, upper-class uni pals, and realizes he’s rather good at it.
​
​
[as Fletcher continues to tell Mickey’s story to Ray]
Fletcher: But now the plot begins to thicken. He has reached a crossroads in his life. The middle class and the middle age, they’ve got to him. They’ve corrupted his appetite for the horrors. He’s gone soft. He wanted to cash in his chips, and get out of the game, and he seems to have found the perfect customer.
​
​
[at the gala dinner]
Mickey Pearson: Making a splash with the gentry.
Matthew: Oh, I like to make a splash whenever possible.
Mickey Pearson: Well, you also seem to understand the significance of a proper attire.
Matthew: Indeed I do. I believe a sense of ownership is vital in every aspect of life, perhaps never more so than when it comes to wardrobe. For every look there is a season, and for every season a strategy.
Fletcher: [voice over] Now starts the alpha dance. They’re not really talking about clothes, Raymond. Oh, f**king no. They’re like a pair of old doggies sniffing round one another’s intellectual a**holes. It’s a good old-fashioned C**k-off, Raymond.
​
​
[to Mickey; referring to Matthew]
Rosalind Pearson: He’s a fox, and foxes have a predictable nature. Trust this Jew about that Jew. If you let him in the henhouse, you can expect blood and feathers everywhere.
​
​
Matthew: How does anyone grow fifty tons of super skunk without letting anyone else know how they do it?
Mickey Pearson: I’m flattered to hear that from you, Matthew. I imagine that big brain of yours is sweating a stream of tears just trying to figure it out.
Matthew: Brilliance should be acknowledged.
​
​
[referring to his boss Big Dave and Mickey]
Fletcher: He wants to ruin him, but I am here to do you a favor. And it’s not like you’re not getting something for your money. You could even turn that script into a feature film, Raymond. We could make it together. We could be partners. I have learned off you lot. You got to look after number one, and now it’s my turn. The sun is not going up for me, Ray. It’s going down.
​
​
Mickey Pearson: I’ve gone to great lengths to make my operation as invisible as possible, Matthew. If you were standing on my bush, you wouldn’t know it. As a matter of fact, you are standing on my bush.
​
​
[referring to his weed]
Mickey Pearson: It’s the new gold rush. This is the thin end of a very fat wedge, sir.
Matthew: If it’s such a fat wedge, why don’t you keep it?
Mickey Pearson: You see, I’ve developed a reputation as a man who came up the hard way. You could say that there’s blood on these pretty white hands. But in the new business, once legal and under the jurisdiction of the respectable umbrella of ministerial legitimacy, an enterprise like this will need a face with a clean past, which sadly I do not possess. Retirement doesn’t sound so bad. Long walks in the countryside, pruning roses with my better half, raising some cubs. I’ve earned it.
​
​
Fletcher: Now that we’ve established the dilemma of our protagonist, let us turn to our antagonist. Many miles away, across the open plains, another beautiful feral beast lopes his way to a watering hole.
Ray: Who are you talking about now?
Fletcher: I talk, Raymondo, of Dry Eye. Ooh, Dry Eye. What is he? Chinese? Japanese? Pekingese? Get on your f**king knees? Dirty dragon filth.
​
​
[referring to Dry Eye]
Fletcher: He explodes on the scene like a millennial f**king firecracker. Bang, bang, bang, bang!
Ray: I’m going to have to stop you right there, Fletcher. That doesn’t sound like the Dry Eye I know.
Fletcher: Just making sure you’re paying attention, Raymond. So let’s cut instead to a somewhat anticlimactic, but suave and debonair Dry Eye, like a Chinese James Bond.
​
​
Dry Eye: A gentleman’s quote is a gentleman’s word.
​
​
[to Ray; referring to Rosalind]
Fletcher: I think the time has come for me to introduce you to our queen. A Cockney Cleopatra to Mickey’s cowboy Caesar. The only weak link, in his otherwise impregnable armor, is his devotion, his passion, some would say his obsession, with his beauteous lady wife.
​
​
Mickey Pearson: I like middle age. I like gentrification, private schools, fine wines, and a spoonful of caviar to help my medicine go down. But most importantly, I’m looking forward to spending more time with you.
Rosalind Pearson: Of course you are.
​
​
Rosalind Pearson: Look, I don’t want you knocking around here feeling all unemployed and lost with yourself.
Mickey Pearson: Well, f**k me. Most wives would beg their other halves to get out of this game, but not you.
Rosalind Pearson: That’s because I know you, darling.
​
​
Rosalind Pearson: Look, you’ll have to do this elegantly, love. If word spreads that you’re getting out, that could read as weakness. And if you smell smoke, it’s because there’s a fire, and that could get expensive. So you’re going to have to stamp that out without any gentrification. But not you, love. Don’t you do anything messy. That’s why you’ve got people, remember?
[as she grabs his crotch gently]
Mickey Pearson: I f**king love you, babe.
Rosalind Pearson: Of course you do.
[referring to them having sex]
Mickey Pearson: Any chance?
Rosalind Pearson: No, you can wait. I’ve got a red-hot Russki with her finger on the trigger. I got to deal with it.
​
​
Fletcher: I find you very impatient, Raymond. I am a storyteller. As they say in the film game, I’m laying pipe.
Ray: Well, you’d better put something through it soon.
​
​
[after Dry Eye gets a meeting with Mickey to offer to buy out his business]
Dry Eye: I understand you’re getting out.
Mickey Pearson: Getting out. Getting out of what? Bed? My head? The closet? Don’t flirt with me, Dry Eye. I’m a busy man.
Dry Eye: I hear you’re getting out of the game. And I would like you to consider an offer.
Mickey Pearson: Look, I’m going to stop you right there, so you don’t waste any more of your precious breath, young man. This is not a discussion for the two of us. Unlike the salt and pepper, it’s not on the table.
​
​
[after Dry Eye shows him the amount he’s willing to offer to buy his business]
Mickey Pearson: I am not for sale. And even if I was, you’re several zeros short. Now, you may be able to buy your man’s sausage for that, but to me it just looks rude at breakfast.
Dry Eye: You’re out of touch. You’re forgetting the laws of the jungle, looking down on me. Now, when the silverback’s got more silver than back, he best move on before he gets moved on. It’s not dignified. It’s beneath you, Michael. Trying to do you a favor. This is a big f**king number.
[pause]
Mickey Pearson: And this? Well, this is a big f**king gun.
[from under the table Mickey shoots]
​
​
[after he’s shot Dry Eye]
Mickey Pearson: Eyes not so dry now, are they? Hurts, does it? You looking for your balls, or a hole in the wall?
Dry Eye: F**k!
[as Dry Eye is crawling on the ground to get away]
Mickey Pearson: Where the f**k do you think you’re going? Because you’re not going out the way you came in, you deluded duck-eating c**t! Talking to me about the laws of the jungle. What was it? Something about being beneath me? Silver on back? There’s only one rule in this f**king jungle! When the lion’s hungry, he eats!
[he shoots and kills Dry Eye]
​
​
[after we’ve seen Fletcher’s version of how Mickey kills Dry Eye]
Ray: You’re wrong, Fletcher. That’s not how Michael works.
Fletcher: Yeah, I know. I know. I was just having a bit of fun. Every movie needs a bit of action, doesn’t it? And it’s not like Michael doesn’t have a reputation.
Ray: Had a reputation. He’s been gentrified.
​
​
[we see how really the meeting with Mickey and Dry Eye pans out after he refuses to sell]
Mickey Pearson: I know how you lot love fables, so let me share a little fable with you. There once was a young and foolish dragon who came to ask a wise and cunning lion about acquiring his territory. Now, the lion, he wasn’t interested, so he told the little dragon to f**k off. But the dragon couldn’t understand what “f**k off” meant, so he persisted, and continued to ask the lion about acquiring his territory. So the lion took the little dragon for a walk and put five bullets in his little dragon head. End of story. Now, allegedly there’s a message in there. I don’t know what it is, but you’re a clever boy, Dry Eye. Maybe you can explain it to me.
Ray: I think your time’s up, chaps.
Dry Eye: Michael, you should recons…
[Mickey tuts to stop him]
Mickey Pearson: Just marinade on it. In the meantime, f**k off.
​
​
[to some rowdy young guys in the cafe]
Coach: Don’t stand near me, son. You got your mouthwash muddled up with cat pi**. Take two steps back and wait your turn.
​
​
[to some rowdy young guys in the cafe]
Coach: Now make it quick. Make it funny.
​
​
[after Mickey’s weed lab is raided by amateur MMA fighters calling themselves The Toddlers]
Mickey Pearson: No sooner do I entertain Matthew’s offer to buy me out, and reject Dry Eye’s offer, does one of my farms get raided.
Rosalind Pearson: First time ever.
Mickey Pearson: Doesn’t feel like a coincidence, does it?
Rosalind Pearson: It isn’t. There’s f**kery afoot.
Mickey Pearson: How did they find it?
Ray: I don’t know. I’m making inquiries.
​
​
[after Matthew gives Mickey a 2-shot derringer]
Matthew: It’s a paperweight, to keep down all the paper I’m about to give you.
Mickey Pearson: Well, it looks like a gun.
Jackie: And it’s a paperweight.
Mickey Pearson: Seeing how in this country, unlike in our homeland, they’re illegal.
Jackie: So is riding your bicycle at night without lights. Laws are there as a guideline.
Matthew: In France, it’s illegal to call a pig Napoleon, but just try and stop me.
Mickey Pearson: I quite like it. You’re very kind. Thank you.
Matthew: Hands across the sea.
​
​
[after Mickey asks Ray to get Pressfield’s addict daughter, Laura, from a council estate]
Ray: It’s just that I don’t like smackies. It’s the filth, and the grime, and the grub in the tub.
Mickey Pearson: I’m not asking your OCD to spend the weekend with them, Ray. Think of it as philanthropy. Come on, you’re driving.
Ray: No good deed goes unpunished.
​
​
Ray: Anyway, back to you, Laura, queen in this here kingdom of sh*t. A single rose in a cauldron of thorns. Are you ready to turn a corner? Open the curtains and let the light in? Do your mum and dad a favor and try the impossible, make yourself happy.
Laura Pressfield: Alright.
Ray: F**king hell. That was easy.
​
​
[referring to Matthew]
Rosalind Pearson: Ah. He’s bought you a gun. That’s a nice little gift. Five years in prison all in one little box.
Mickey Pearson: Oh, but that’s not a gun, dear. That’s a paperweight.
Rosalind Pearson: Of course it is, along with a family of six baby bullets.
​
​
Ray: Sorry for the interruption.
Mickey Pearson: What do you need, Ray?
Ray: Laura Pressfield has been returned home safely.
Mickey Pearson: Good. What else?
Ray: One of her associates had an accident.
Mickey Pearson: Sh*t.
Ray: He fell out of a window, boss.
​
​
[after we see Laura’s room-mate, Aslan, falling out of the window to his death]
Rosalind Pearson: Sounds like quite an extreme accident.
Ray: Yeah, it was more like a death, really.
​
​
[referring to Aslan’s death]
Rosalind Pearson: So you killed someone?
Ray: No, it was the gravity that killed him.
Rosalind Pearson: Who was he?
Ray: Some Russian kid with tracks on his arms.
Rosalind Pearson: Russian kid? That doesn’t sound good.
​
​
Fletcher: I bet you told Mickey nothing about what happened.
Ray: You’re fishing, Fletcher, because you’ve got no idea.
Fletcher: You’re right, I am fishing. Look at this. I’m fishing in my little baggie. And what have I found? Oh. Thank you. Or should I say, spasibo?
[shows Ray a photo of Aslan’s dead body after his fall]
​
​
[as Coach finds out it was Mickey’s weed lab his boys raided]
Coach: Just tell me his name isn’t Mickey Pearson.
Ernie: Blimey, Coach, are you a Gypsy too? You been reading tea leaves, got a crystal ball?
Coach: That is not good news, Ernie. Mickey Pearson is terrible news in the face of a violent and expensive debt.
​
​
[Coach visits Ray to apologize for his MMA students raiding the weed lab]
Coach: My boys, they’re naive, they’ve had hard lives, and they’re just starting to come good, but they’re my lads, my responsibility. So it’s me that should be accountable for their actions. Now, I can return your goods, but I can’t return the inconvenience, the time, the f**king headache. And so I offer you my loyalty, my word, my time, until that debt is settled. I’ll make amends, but just leave me lads alone.
Ray: First of all, I’m going to need to know how your lads got the information about where our farm was sited, because that’s not common knowledge. Once we’ve overcome that little challenge, then we can talk.
Coach: Well, I can do better than that.
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​
[to Ray; referring to the man tied up in the boot of his car]
Coach: His name is Phuhuc, but spelt with a PH, so it sounds like fuhuck.
Ray: So it’s Phuhuc?
Coach: What? Yeah. Yeah, something like that. Yeah. Anyway, he’s the kid that gave us the skunk farm job. Do you know him?
[to the Phuc]
Ray: Yeah. We’ve met before, haven’t we, Phuhuc, Phuc?
Coach: That’s the one.
Ray: Phuhuc?
Coach: Phuhuc.
​
​
[after Phuc escapes from Coach and Ray, jumps over a wall, falls onto train tracks and gets run over by a train]
Mickey Pearson: F**k’s sake, Ray! You need to invest in some parachutes. There’s a pattern emerging here.
Ray: I’m sorry, boss.
Mickey Pearson: And who’s this jumping Phuc boy, anyway?
Ray: It’s Dry Eye’s man.
Mickey Pearson: You mean Lord George’s man.
​
​
[Mickey visits Lord George as he think George is the one going after his business]
Mickey Pearson: What about tea?
Lord George: What about tea?
[he takes a sip of his tea]
Mickey Pearson: Well, that too is a vice. Caffeine is a drug, don’t you know?
Lord George: So is that what you’re here to talk to me about? Tea?
Mickey Pearson: Sweet Mary Jane is my vice of choice, as you well know. Of course, I’m addicted to selling it, not consuming it. I specifically chose to deal in marijuana. Sure, I could see there was more to be made in shifting the white, or the brown powder, as you so chose. But, you see, my jam, it doesn’t kill anyone, and I like that. While your poison, is and always has been, a destroyer of worlds. So, yes, your facilitation is most definitely participation. But I’m not here to give you a sermon on situational ethics.
Lord George: So why the f**k are you here?
[just then George violently throws up]
​
​
[after Mickey poisons George’s tea as retaliation for going after his business]
Mickey Pearson: You’re starting a war with me, George! And I’m trying to moonwalk with elegance here, but I’m finding it very f**king difficult.
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​
Mickey Pearson: Should you try and undermine me, or should you attempt to threaten my position again, I will be forced to accept your call to arms. Do you understand?
[George nods]
Mickey Pearson: Good. Now, I can see you’re feeling somewhat under the weather. That’s because I spiked your tea with a nasty little parasitic genus called shigella. Left unattended, you will sh*t yourself to death before the sun doth set. I suggest taking two of these fizzy biscuits. You’ll be fine in an hour, or two, long enough to consider your past indiscretions. And, George, if I can get to you in your own kitchen, I can get to you anywhere.
​
​
[referring to Mickey]
Lord George: But you did go behind my back, and offer to buy his business?
Dry Eye: Yeah. Yeah, I did. Now, let me warn you the way you warn me. There comes a point where the young succeed the old. Don’t push me.
​
​
[as Fletcher show Ray a photo of Dry Eye and Matthew]
Ray: So Matthew knows Dry Eye. So what?
Fletcher: Well, yes, I agree. Perhaps they were just meeting up to talk about holidaying in the Maldives, or the long-term implications of leaving the EU. But I filmed it, had it lip-read, translated and transcribed. Rather like the classic 1974 film The Conversation, starring Gene Hackman and John Cazale. You know, Coppola slipped that one out between the Godfathers. It wasn’t really for me. It’s a bit boring, to be honest.
​
​
[as Fletcher shows Ray footage of Dry Eye and Matthew speaking in Cantonese and they are reading Fletcher’s translated lines]
Ray: “There was an incident. Lord George didn’t come through it.”
Fletcher: “Didn’t come through it? The last thing you need to do is attract any octopus.”
Ray: Octopus? What does that mean? It’s not a very good translation.
Fletcher: No, there’s nothing wrong with the translation. Matthew’s not that fluent. And it’s Cantonese. Just go with it, and fill in the blanks.
​
​
[as they continue to watch Fletcher’s footage of Dry Eye and Matthew and read the translated lines]
Ray: “There will be repercussions for Michael’s actions.”
Fletcher: “You think you’re running things, do you? Don’t stroke my mouse hair.”
Ray: What does “mouse hair” mean?
Fletcher: Yeah, I think what he means is, “Don’t jeopardize my deal,” but I admit that one’s a bit of a googly. Then Matthew loses it a bit, and his translation goes completely out of the window. Something about springtime and sweaters. I think what he means is he’s upset. And then Dry Eye says something, but some c**t moved in front of me, so I didn’t get that either.
​
​
[to Ray; after he shows his footage of the meeting between Dry Eye and Matthew]
Fletcher: And there you have it. That’s all I’ve got. Sorry. Show’s over. But I think it’s quite clear that they’re not just mahjong partners, are they?
​
​
[as Dry Eye tries to kidnap Rosalind]
Dry Eye: You know how it works. You either come with me, or Tony here is going to make you come with me.
Rosalind Pearson: You’re in my office under my roof. It’s not your position for Tony to do anything other than to f**k off back from whence he came.
​
​
[Rosalind gets out the 2-shot derringer Matthew gave Mickey earlier]
Dry Eye: What’s that? Is that a paperweight?
Rosalind Pearson: Funny you should say that. Turns out anything with weight can be a paperweight.
Dry Eye: What are you going to do with it?
Rosalind Pearson: Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it? Either you do as I tell you to, and use the door, or I’m going to shoot fat Tony right between the eyes. You see, this gun’s only got two bullets, so I’m not going to f**k about illustrating its significance. You’re going to have to trust me on that. The alternative is a little bit absolute.
Dry Eye: I’m going to have to check your grammar on that. It can’t be just a little bit absolute. It either is, or it isn’t.
Rosalind Pearson: Whatever it is, I’ve lost my patience. I’m telling you, I will squeeze this trigger and Tony will be no more.
[we then see her shoot Tony and the other henchmen, and as Dry Eye is about to rape her, Mickey reaches her in time to kill Dry Eye]
​
​
Ray: You’re too smart to be blackmailing us, Fletcher.
Fletcher: Yes, yes, and obviously I’ve taken precautionary measures. You can do all kinds of horrible things to me if you want. I might even enjoy them. But you’d have to leave the country and never come back.
​
​
Fletcher: [to Ray] You see, it was Matthew who told Dry Eye the location of Mickey’s farm, so he could steal his white widow super cheese to cause ripples, and reduce the market value. And that is why Phuc, in turn, got those juice-swilling, acne-backed muscle Marys to do the job. It was Matthew who set this whole train of events off. But what he did not plan on, you see, was Dry Eye, killing Lord George.
​
​
[to Dry Eye during their meeting]
Matthew: You’ve been in this paddling pool for two minutes. I’ve been swimming in the ocean with the sharks for twenty years. I’ll tell you how this plays out. You will drown, and then my Mossad crabs will eat you.
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​
Fletcher: [to Ray] And this, my love, is why I want my hard-earned twenty million pounds. Because not only do I know exactly how Mickey’s business operates, but I also know that the very man he’s trying to sell it to is trying to force him into selling it on the cheap, and has indirectly started a war. So, you see, I think you should be calling me your trusted consigliere, or your spy behind the lines, your intellectual reconnaissance, if you prefer.
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​
[after he’s finished his blackmailing story]
Fletcher: So, strong recommendation, just pay up and watch me recede into the sunset blowing kisses, yes?
Ray: Well, then, time to use the door, you black bastard.
Fletcher: Well, that’s just silly, isn’t it, because I’m not black.
Ray: No, but your f**king soul is, you dark c**t. Now, out of my house, because I’m going to bed.
Fletcher: Can I come with you?
Ray: No, but you can go smoke the exhaust pipe in the back of your hearse.
Fletcher: I might come anyway. You’ll just hear me scratching about in the dark, w**king into a hanky.
​
​
[as they watch the blackmail footage of Big Dave and the pig]
Ray: You can’t unsee it once you’ve seen it, can you?
Coach: No, you can’t unsee it. It’s nightmare fuel. That will be with me forever.
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​
Coach: [to Ray] I’m not a f**king gangster. Now, I’ve been forced to do some gangster things, that’s okay. But I’m not the gift that keeps on giving. So with the greatest respect, I’ll do this one last thing for you, and then that’s it. No más. Three strikes and I’m out.
​
​
[to Mickey as they meet in a frozen fish plant]
Matthew: Your unit economics have taken a hit, and forecasting out your top-line growth margin in the current inimical climate, I calculate what was worth four hundred million a month ago, must now be valued at an anemic, mm, one thirty. You see, it’s not about the first domino that fell, Michael. It’s about the last.
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​
Mickey Pearson: I like your domino analogy. The question I ask is, who tumbled the first domino?
Matthew: I’m afraid that’s not my concern, or my business, Michael.
Mickey Pearson: At the risk of contradicting you, it is very much your business, and certainly your concern. Only you made one mistake.
Matthew: That being?
Mickey Pearson: You seem to have mistaken me for some kind of a c**t. Let me introduce you to the first domino.
[Mickey reveals Dry Eye’s frozen dead body]
​
​
[after Mickey reveals Dry Eye’s frozen dead body]
Matthew: It’s a tad dramatic, isn’t it, corpses in freezers? Who is this man? What’s he got to do with anything that I’m talking about?
Mickey Pearson: I take it with that statement you are in denial of so-said relationship with this frozen Chinaman?
Matthew: Well, of course I’m in denial of it. I don’t have relationships with dead, frozen Chinamen.
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​
Matthew: Business is business, Michael. It’s nothing personal.
Mickey Pearson: While I am not emotional about the money, there is a price indebted to me for the blood I’ve gotten on my hands restoring order to the untidiness that you created. And that price, according to you, four hundred minus one-thirty, is two hundred and seventy million dollars. And I’m keeping the business, while you are getting in the freezer. And you will make that transaction if you want to get out of the freezer. It is twenty-five below zero in there, so I assume you’ll last about an hour. That said, I wouldn’t f**k about, because frostbite is very expensive on the fingers and toes, so I would type as quickly as possible while you have the use of them.
​
​
Mickey Pearson: As stated, I am not emotional about the money. But I am emotional about the fact that someone laid their hands on my wife. My wife! No amount of money on God’s green earth can pay for that transgression, Matthew. No, for that, I want a pound of flesh.
[he picks up a sharp knife]
Matthew: A pound of flesh?
Mickey Pearson: It matters not to me where on your anatomy it is withdrawn from. If you don’t have the stomach to take it for yourself, big Bunny here is very adept with a knife, and, as you can see, he’s dressed for the weather. But a penny short, or a gram shy, and that freezer door does not open. Am I clear? Good.
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[after Fletcher meets Ray to get his payment]
Ray: Of course we were aware of what Matthew was up to. We’re not complete f**king idiots. I’ve been onto you for a long time, Fletcher. I knew you’d been following Michael. They’re very similar, our jobs. Only I’m better at it than you are. I knew when you came over that night that you’d only be there for half an hour, to tell me how clever you are and try to blackmail us.
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Ray: You’re never going to be a predator with us, Fletcher. You’re always going to be prey.
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[after Fletcher reveals that he sold info to Aslan’s father]
Fletcher: The Russians are going to clean house. And you are part of that house, Raymond. They’re going to get Michael when he comes out of his meeting at the fish market. And they are coming here. So you see what I’ve done there? By telling you, I’ve saved your lives. Which I think in turn saves mine, doesn’t it?
[then we see Coach killing the two Russian hitmen sent to kill Ray, and Coaches boys killing the thugs who kidnapped Mickey and Fletcher escapes in the chaos]
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[we see Fletcher pitching his story about Mickey to Miramax]
Fletcher: So the Toddlers spray the car with bullets, killing the Russians. The car rolls to a stop. Smash cut to black. Titles.
Movie Producer: So, what happened to Michael? I need an ending.
Fletcher: No, no, no, my darling. What you need, is a sequel. Think it over. Have a read. You know my fee. I’m off to La La to talk to the competition. Think about that. Got a plane to catch. And I’m gone.
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[after his meeting, Fletcher gets into a cab only to find Ray is the driver]
Ray: Buenas tardes, Fletcher-mondo.
Fletcher: Raymond. Well, well, well. A man of many vocations, aren’t you?
[Fletcher tries to open the cab doors, but finds they are all locked]
Ray: Now I want you to play a game with me, Fletcher.
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[last lines; after Raymond captures Fletcher in a cab]
Rosalind Pearson: He’s got Fletcher.
Mickey Pearson: [voice over] If you wish to be the king of the jungle, it’s not enough to act like a king. You must be the king. There can be no doubt. Because doubt causes chaos and one’s own demise. My queen told me that.
[to Rosalind; referring to them having sex]
Mickey Pearson: Any chance?