All posts by Sara Romenesko

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About Sara Romenesko

I simply adore this life I've been given. My hobbies include watching trashy tv, loving America, scaring the shit out of my husband, and over-sharing the details of my life.

Google Ads

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Since starting my blog, Peter told me that I should “monetize” it so that I could make monayyyy. I signed up for Google Ads to be put on my blog on Monday and have thus far made one penny. I’m rich! …

Today was the first day that I went to my blog to check out the ads that Google chose for me. Before I signed up, Google told me that it would choose the ads that are placed on my blog according to my blog content. The ads are on the side bar, and there are like five or something listed one on top of the other.
The first ads that I saw:
1. Cold Sore Treatment. REALLY Google? You’re REALLY going to rub in my face that I am cursed with COLD SORES?! I’m probably going to get a cold sore now, because I’m getting stressed about the situation. No worries, I’ll just click on the ad to get the best cold sore treatment there is. Man. Low blow.
2. Unique Personalized Gifts. I like giving gifts. Considering I wrote a lot about gifts, Google obviously knows me so well that, my goodness why WOULDN’T I want to give PERSONALIZED gifts. Merry Christmas, Mom, here is an obnoxious sweatshirt with “NANCY VANDERSTAPPEN, WORLD’S BEST MOTHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” embroidered in.
3. Nice Birthday Messages. Please. Enough with the birthdays already.
4. Join Groups on Facebook. They must have read my hobbies.
5. Skydive with Sky Knights. Wait, what?
We all know I’m too scared to do anything crazy like skydiving.

The Vanderstapp-Inn

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I am the second oldest of 7 children. Since we did not grow up in a castle, we all had to share rooms. Even Marty. POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOR Martyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy the onlyy boyyyyyyy. Please. Stop. He’s spoiled. But I WILL say that he knows how to dress really well and how to treat girls nicely. And he knows how to spend all of 13 seconds in the shower because the bathroom was constantly occupied.

Jenna and Sara shared. Adrianna, Taylor, and Rachel share. Marty and Laura shared. Now that we are all becoming adults, going away to college, getting full time jobs, etc. my parents’ house has become more of a bed and breakfast. The Vanderstapp-Inn, if you will (my cousin’s have this sign on their house. And it’s awesome.).
When I went home in February, EVERYONE was home. As in: 7 children plus one spouse and one friend. Sister and spouse didn’t spend the night. So that means 7 people needed beds. Guess how many beds we have. 6. Guess who was the first one to get the boot. “Sara. Mohawk Road is no longer your permanent residence.” Sighhhhhhhhhhhh…
The first night, Rachel had a friend sleep over (so that means EIGHT people needed beds!!), so Rachel and friend slept on the air mattress downstairs. I heard through the grapevine, as in Nanc texted me, that I would be sleeping in Taylor’s bed. Taylor would be sleeping in Rachel’s bed.
I get home. I go upstairs. I see that Taylor is in her bed. I look up. And see that Rachel’s top bunk is empty. Awesome.
I’ve always been that kid at camp that was like, “Oh, well, I GUESS I’ll take the bottom bunk, because I don’t want everyone to break out into a fight over the top bunk, so yeah, I’ll make this HUGE sacrifice and miss out on ALL the fun and sleep on the bottom.” I hate the top bunk. Especially when the fan was on. And in A/T/R’s room, the FAN was on. Meh.
Night one of sleep was less than moderate, considering there were no pillows to be found, so I had to use a pillow pet for head support. I might as well have slept with no pillow at all.
Night two I was out to dinner with Peter’s family and halfway through I realized that shoot. I had no idea where I was going to sleep! Rachel would surely take her bed back, because she IS the rightful owner and the couch downstairs isn’t comfortable, so why would she offer to sleep on it? To my surprise when I got home, I nearly trampled my favorite sister Rachel because she set up camp on the floor, and I got her bed once again. What a sister.
This past weekend when I was home (Happy Birthday Taylor – 18 and Laura – 16!!), everyone had a bed to sleep in, because there were only 6 occupants at the Inn, but Laura gets her own room now because Marty brought his bed up to school with him.
That means Marty and I are roommates. Now, I’ve had a lot of roommates in my day. Jenna, being the longest of 20 years, and then year-long roommates with people in college and things like that. Marty didn’t know what to do with a roommate that could… well… talk. I mean, Laura is great and all, but the conversations with her don’t usually go much past yes and no and her repeating “Happy Birthday!” or anything else that you tell her to repeat (Mom gets mad when we tell her to swear. But MAN is it FUNNY!).
Marty lays down in his bed. I lay down in mine. The light is still on. Now, when I shared with Jenna, I could ALWAYS get her to turn off the light, because I can sleep with it on and she can’t. Well…
Marty: Sara. The light. You have to turn off the light.

Sara: Marty. You were JUST over there.

Marty: *groannnnnnnnn* I’m not turning it off.

Sara: Fine. *shuts off light*
I called Peter, since I hadn’t talked to him all day (OMGGGG I KNOWWWWWWWW How do I LIVE without talking to him constantly?!?!).
Enter Adrianna. She sits on the foot of my bed.
Adrianna: I’m not tired.
I ignore her. I continue trying to talk to Peter. Adrianna jumps on me. I can’t breath. I have to hang up on Peter.
Adrianna: I’m not tired.

Sara: I am.

Adrianna: Sara. You’re no fun. Talk to me.

Sara: No.

Marty: I’ll talk to you!

Sara: groannnnnnnnn

Talking commences and you KNOW I love talking, so I join in. Talking escalates to laughing. Really loudly.
Jenna and I always used to get in trouble for talking and laughing at night, as many sisters who share a room do. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had that? Despite telling Marty and Adrianna to SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH several times, I didn’t even care if Mom yelled at us. Because let’s face it: nothing makes a mother happier than hearing her children laughing and getting along.
Even if it is 11:00 PM, and said mother may or may not have been awake since 4:30 AM…

Hobbies

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One of my sisters called me the other day and said, “Guess what. I have a hobby…. reading.” Good! It is a little joke in our family that this particular sister doesn’t have any hobbies, because whenever someone asks her what she likes to do, she is at a loss. Poor kid. Wait until you get to the job hunt in another 4 or so years… Because you’ll get that question in your interview.

It is, in fact, my least favorite interview question. “What do you like to do in your spare time?” These are the things that I actually like to do in my spare time:

  • Watch TV. Watch TV until my eyes melt out of their sockets.
  • Read.
  • Surf the internet aka go on perezhilton.com, cnn.com, time.com, people.com, facebook.com, and youtube.com. I don’t actually know how to surf the internet.
  • Think about how I would decorate my apartment if I was rich.
  • Think about being rich.
  • Knit – seriously.
  • Go through the car wash.
  • Pretend I’m not lactose intolerant and eat all of the ice cream that I can find.
  • Talk to my dad on the phone.
  • Talk to my mom on the phone.
  • Talk to ANYONE on the phone. Except bad phone talkers.
  • Watch movies for the millionth time.
  • Talk in a singing voice (Peter LOVES this one… HA)
  • Text.
  • Play Lego Indiana Jones on Playstation.
  • Eat candy.
These are the things that I feel like I should be saying that I like to do:
  • Playing with little puppies at the pound, because they don’t have families to love them, so I am loving them with every fiber of my being.
  • Donating all of the extra pennies that I can muster to the starving children in Africa. And Asia, and the Middle East, and South America AND North America. And Europe too.
  • Keeping up on all of the political disasters that engulf our world today.
  • Playing the violin and other string instruments.
  • Reading the Wall Street Journal on Sunday mornings.
  • Watching the 10:00 news every night.
  • Brushing up on my Chinese.
  • Drinking tea and eating crumpets.
  • Brainstorming how to single-handedly save the world.
One of my friends, we’ll call him T, called me after an interview that he had a few weeks ago.
T: You’re never going to believe what I said for the ‘what I like to do in my spare time’ question.

Sara: Oh GOD, what did you come up with this time??

T: Well, after I started sweating, I said, ‘My roommate and I like to go to the diner downtown to get milkshakes. Our friend works there, so we go there a lot.’ … Because apparently I live in the year 1950. You know, my roommate wore her poodle skirt and I had my suspenders on while we skipped down to the diner.
Best. Answer. Ever.
I’d rather have the strengths and/or weaknesses question. The other night at dinner, Peter and I were conversing, and I don’t even know HOW we got on this, but Peter started listing things that he was good at:
  • Figuring out computer stuff
  • Proof-reading
  • Telling stories
  • Being efficient
  • Indian accents
Indian accents came out of nowhere for me too. Except recently, he’s been on this accent binge? Where, if he hears an accent, he uses it all the time? And half the time I can’t understand what he’s saying… So maybe he IS good at accents.
Anyways, I’m sure that Peter listed all of these strengths when he had job interviews, and that’s probably how he got hired.
I’m going to do you the favor and not even LIST my strengths. I don’t want anyone to get jealous of the fact that I’m really good at making cupcakes.
And straightening my hair.

1 Picture, 781 words.

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They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. It just so happens, that THIS picture is worth seven hundred and eighty one. So ALMOST a thousand.

Let me explain.

1. Guilt gift #1. This is the ONE thing that Peter told me he actually WANTED for his birthday… and I didn’t get it for him until I felt really guilty about ruining his birthday by telling him about the jersey (see previous post…). By the way, he’s wearing the jersey behind the blanket. Speaking of the blanket…

2. Guilt gift #2. When I went back to the Packer Pro Shop, I saw this blanket on my way to the check-out line with the hat. This is when I started feeling really REALLY guilty about ruining his birthday. And I figured that he could use a new throw blanket anyways. Speaking of throw blankets…
3. The re-gift. You know how for Secret Santas, there’s always a dollar limit? Well, I usually spend about 5 dollars MORE (1) because I’m SO rolling in the dough and (2) because I always feel bad giving bad gifts. I actually LOVE giving gifts, something I have inherited from my mother. So whenever I have a Secret Santa, I always GIVE a good gift. What do I get? ALWAYS a crappy gift. This snowman blanket was a gift that I got one year. That same year, I gave a Starbucks travel mug PLUS a Starbucks gift card (this is actually always my Secret Santa gift. Can’t go wrong with Starbucks.), and I open my gift to find THIS. AWESOME. It’s super thin and a pretty much worthless blanket. What am I supposed to do with it? Re-gift it. To Peter.
The best part is that when I gave it to him in 2008, he left it in his bedroom at his parents’ house, and the blanket didn’t re-surface until… now. This past winter, his mom found it and said, “You should bring this to De Pere! I’ll bet Sara will be happy that you have it in your apartment!” If she only knew…
Speaking of Secret Santa…
4. The Christmas tree. That teeny tiny little thing that you see there? On top of the entertainment center? THAT is the pathetic excuse of a Christmas decoration that Peter has. All Holiday season long, we would go to other people’s houses/apartments/abodes, and EVERY time I would say, “I LOVE YOUR DECORATIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Even if they had a pink aluminum tree covered in tinsel. I loved them. Because every weekend, this piddly little tree was all the Christmas spirit that I got. And Peter didn’t put it on his entertainment center until… ummmmmm December 23rd. It IS still there, though, so I suppose I get just a teeny-TINY fraction of Christmas spirit on an almost daily basis. And speaking of entertainment center…
5. The project. One Saturday afternoon, after months of me complaining about NOT having one, Peter decided to go out and buy a TV. Hooray! I was SO happy! While we were at the store, Peter decided against the TV (dang…) and got an entertainment center. To put a FUTURE TV purchase on. But for now, he would put a computer monitor on it. The entertainment center (from here on out, it will be referred to as the EC for simplicity’s sake) was in two pieces. One piece was HEAVY. And I am about the most worthless person when it comes to carrying heavy things. But for this, I sucked it up because HEY! This is one step closer to a TV!!
When we got the EC upstairs (of COURSE Peter lives on the second floor), Peter decided that he wanted a TV too. WOOHOOOOOO! Alright! Let’s go right back to the store! So he bought a TV. Everything was half off, mind you, so that’s why we went back.
After arriving in his apartment the SECOND time, we put the EC together. WHAT a project. I’m not kidding you, it took us like FIVE hours to put this thing together. There was a lot of frustration going on, especially because we had ONE screwdriver to share, but we eventually did it. And after it was assembled, Peter found like 4 (not kidding) more screwdrivers. Anyways. I love the thing now. And can I just say that I did not get scolded at all while I was assembling? Because we were smart and put the two large pieces together SEPARATELY as in Peter was in the living room and I was in the kitchen. And I got the easier one. So when I finished I laid down for a while and watched Peter get frustrated about missing a few screws or something. Speaking of Peter…
6. THE BIRTHDAY BOY. I’ll bet he wished he smiled nicely for me whenever I tell him to smile nicely for a picture.
For the record, though, I DID ask him permission to use this photo:
svanderstappen: You need to look at the picture that I attached and tell me if you DON’T want me to use it for my blog. Be honest, because I REALLY won’t do it if you don’t want me to. That’s why I’m asking. I won’t even give you a hard time if you say no.

promenesko: Not very flattering, but it is your blog and they’ll know you’re the one dating that handsome stud.

svanderstappen: I’m using it.

Birthday Surprises

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Today, we are celebrating the day of birth of one Peter Wells Romenesko aka one of the most impossible people to buy a gift for, only because he has a tendency to buy himself the things that he wants.

Wednesday, January 19

Finally. I FINALLY thought of something to get Peter for his birthday. A Jordy Nelson Packer jersey. Peter’s favorite Packer. THE PERFECT GIFT. So I tell my sister Jenna (screw respecting people’s privacy) about it. She agrees. What a great gift.

ONE HOUR after I tell Jenna about this gift, I get an email from Peter. Please read the following correspondence (and I went back into my archives… This is all real conversation, kids):

promenesko: I need to go get a Packer jersey. We can wear jeans tomorrow and Friday if we are wearing jerseys.

svanderstappen: You’re going to go buy a Packer jersey tonight just so you can wear jeans for the next two days?

promenesko: It was inevitable.

svanderstappen: Whose jersey are you going to get? Jordy?

promenesko: I doubt they sell his, but if so it’s mine.

svanderstappen: I can’t believe you’re going to get it today.

promenesko: I’m going to be the only person in the office without a jersey. Even the Patriots fan has a Packer jersey!

svanderstappen: YOU’RE RUINING YOUR BIRTHDAY.

promenesko: Well. I can’t find any that I’ll be able to get for tomorrow. So now you ruined my birthday.

svanderstappen: THEY HAVE THEM AT THE PACKER PRO SHOP.

promenesko: They have 2XL at the Pro Shop. That’s huge!

svanderstappen: I’M UPSET BECAUSE NOW I’VE GONE AND RUINED YOUR BIRTHDAY BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE RUINING YOUR BIRTHDAY.

Not one of my finer moments.

So now, I am upset because I’ve ruined Peter’s birthday and I am back right where I started not knowing what to get him.

February 10, 2011

I broke down, went to the Packer Pro Shop and bought Peter the Jordy Nelson jersey. Even though he bought himself a Clay Matthews jersey. They didn’t have any jerseys left, so I got a custom-made one (it looks the exact same as a regular jersey, but it costs more. Awesome.). FYI: You can’t return custom-made jerseys.

February 11, 2011

Peter and I are heading to Lake Geneva for the weekend. After work, I went right to his apartment so that we could leave ASAP. There is a box from UPS at his apartment. I ask him what’s inside…

Sara: So, what did you get in the mail?

Peter: *Holds up a t-shirt*

–FYI: 87 is Jordy Nelson. AWESOME.

Sara: … Who’s that for?

Peter: … Doug …

Sara: You got that for Doug? Not for yourself?

Peter: … Well… I DID get two…

Sara: I am SO mad at you. You can’t buy things for yourself when your birthday is less than a week away!!

Peter: Oh my God, did you get me this shirt?

Sara: NO. I am not telling you what I got you, but I am SO mad because you are RUINING your BIRTHDAY.

Peter: What? Well if you didn’t get me this shirt, how am I ruining it? What did you get me?

Sara: I’M NOT TELLING YOU BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO RUIN YOUR BIRTHDAY.

Peter: Fine. Don’t tell me.

2 seconds later

Sara: I GOT YOU A JORDY NELSON JERSEY FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY.

Peter: … You did?

Sara: YES. AND YOU CANNOT RETURN IT BECAUSE IT IS CUSTOM-MADE.

Peter: You got me a custom-made Jordy Nelson jersey for my birthday? That’s awesome! Sar. A shirt is different than a jersey.

Sara: I KNOW BUT YOU DIDN’T HAVE ANY JORDY NELSON STUFF BEFORE.

Peter: I’ll still wear the jersey.

Sara: WELL NOW I’M MAD BECAUSE I REALLY RUINED YOUR BIRTHDAY.

Please take note that we are about to get into a car for 3 hours.

*About 2 minutes into the car ride*

Sara: … Please don’t tell anyone that I ruined your birthday.

Peter: I won’t.

Dear Peter,

Thanks for putting up with me. For the record I DID get you another present yesterday because I felt guilty about ruining the good gift. But I won’t tell you what it is – I’ll let you open it and be surprised!

Love, Sara

The power of the t-shirt

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I did it. I single-handedly got the Packers to the Superbowl. All because I bought a Packer t-shirt.

Maybe Mike McCarthy helped a LITTLE bit. And probably Aaron Rodgers. But whatever, I bought a t-shirt and COINCIDENTALLY the first day I wore it, the Packers felt my Packer-o-Meter rise from ZERO to MINIMAL and won the BIG game. I’m trying. Kind of…

On Sunday, Peter (More than EVER I want to keep referring to him as Skywalker, but I won’t.) and I made our way to Wrightstown to meet up with some amigos of ours (I will admit that they started out as his friends, but I’m so AWESOME that they like me better than him now, and when they invite him places, they say, “You can’t come unless you bring Sara.” And they’re SERIOUS. I just KNOW it.) to watch the BIGGEST game of all time: the Packers vs. the Bears (in case you didn’t know…).

We got to the bar an hour and a half before the game. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat? Yes. Because they had the most amazing drink special EVER – you pay one price, depending on how early you get there, and can drink all you want, of almost whatever you want. So for $6.50, I had more drinks than I needed (Brandy Old-Fashioned super sweet, anyone? Oh YUM), and so did most other people there. Every touchdown was a jello shot. The win was two. THOSE were yummy too.

There was screaming. There was table-pounding. And then, there was beard rubbing. Peter, in all of his wisdom, thought it would be fun to grow a “playoff beard”. It didn’t start until a week ago (“Because being the wildcard isn’t REALLY the playoffs, but now they’re like, fighting for the Championship, so it’s a playoff beard.”), and he didn’t call it the playoff beard until Sunday. And let me tell you what. The men in the group we were in LOVED it.

First, they were impressed that Peter is such a man and can grow a beard that fast. I grew up with the manliest of men: an almost 22 year old brother who shaves every other week, but you can’t even tell; a 26 year old brother-in-law who tries to pull off a goatee, but doesn’t REALLY succeed; and a 52 year old father whom no one has ever seen with facial hair. So when I see Peter at 8 o’clock at night and say, “Oh, you didn’t shave today?” and he responds, “Yeah, I shaved this morning.”, I am shocked EVERY time. A 5 o’clock shadow really DOES exist – I apparently never hung out with the right people.

Every time there was an AWESOME play by the Packers, most of which I missed but DID catch on the re-play (not that I knew what was going on anyways…), everyone reached for Peter’s face. My eye-rolling didn’t start until people told ME to rub the beard. No. I will not. I do NOT support the playoff beard, and Peter knows this.


So enthused.

When the Packers won the game, it was because of the beard (I didn’t tell anyone about my t-shirt – the REAL reason for the win). Not only were people smashing mine and Peter’s faces together so that I could REALLY feel the beard, people WITHOUT beards were smashing THEIR faces against mine saying, “Feel the beard!!!” WHAT beard?

With all this face-smashing, I started looking around at the “normal” people in the bar, and then I got scared. Someone was STANDING on a HIGH chair at the table behind us. I almost went DEAF from all of the screaming that was going on. Hugs became suffocating embraces, and high-fives became hand-numbing slaps.

In all honesty, it’s a lot easier to get into the game when you’re in a mob of hyped up people than when you’re sitting next to your boyfriend who keeps interrupting your reading.

I would say I’m more scared for my safety on Superbowl Sunday than anything, but I WILL be wearing my Packer t-shirt, so at least I won’t get shot. AND since I didn’t SAY anything (except to Peter) about the power of my t-shirt, PETER with his MAGICAL playoff beard will be blamed if GOD FORBID the Packers lose. Which they won’t. Right? See what a fan I’m being? …


…Too many Old Fashioneds.

Alias Skywalker: FAIL

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Well. THAT wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.

FLASHBACK: Dinner on Tuesday night.
CHARACTERS: Sara (obviously) and Skywalker
SCENE: Sitting at the dinner table in Sara’s apartment. It’s leftover night. A plethora of choices including: tuna macaroni, spaghetti, steamed vegetables, and hot dogs.

*******DISCLAIMER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!********
Ok, so this conversation is how I remember it. Ask SKYWALKER if you want HIS side of the story. HOWEVER. My re-enactment is very, VERY close to what actually happened. I KNOW it.

*Earlier in the day, Sara emailed Skywalker that she was excited for him to read her blog post because she wrote about him. Then she emailed him again and said that she didn’t write anything mean. What Sara was REALLY excited about was the ALIAS that she had chosen for her boyfriend. YAY surprises!!

Sara: So. Did you read the blog?

Skywalker: You named me SKYWALKER?!?

Sara: DON’T YOU LOVE IT?!?!

Skywalker: No.

Sara: What? Are you kidding?

Skywalker: I don’t know why you don’t just use my real name – everyone knows who I am.

Sara: I’m respecting your privacy!!! I thought it was CLEVER.

Skywalker: But SKYWALKER? EVERYONE KNOWS IT’S ME!

Sara: … Well at least I didn’t name you Chewbacca. I really WAS going to do that you know. I put a lot of thought into this! You like Star Wars! It’s like calling you a Superhero! Look at me! I’m DATING a SUPERHERO!!!!!!!!

Skywalker: Just call me by my real name.

Sara: I like Skywalker.

Peter: You’re mocking me.

Sara: I REALLY thought you would like it! I THOUGHT I WAS BEING CLEVER! I was GOING to call you CHEWBACCA.

Skywalker: Sar. People aren’t going to take me seriously. People that read your blog are going to come up to me and say, “Oh hey SKYWALKER, what do YOU do? Fight JEDIS?!?!”

Sara: Really? NO ONE TAKES ME SERIOUSLY!!!!!!!

Skywalker: Just… Call me by my real name.

Sara: Fine. I’ll CHANGE it.

… Moments of silence …

Sara: You know, everyone DOES know who are are. I mean, gosh, I put a picture of you on there.

Skywalker: I know.

Sara: Huh. I didn’t even THINK of that.

Skywalker: … I know…

Sara: Ok. So, hypothetically speaking, what WOULD you be called if you could be called something? I mean, I WISH I could re-name myself. But I just can’t. My real name is in the TITLE.

Skywalker: I’m not doing this with you.

Sara: Fine.

… Moments of Silence …

Sara: OH. SO. The Fincutters emailed me about dinner. What’s the plan?

Skywalker: Well we can go to the place inside Lambeau or more of a Supper Club.

Sara: What’s a Supper Club?

Skywalker: You don’t know what that is?

Sara: I know what the Breakfast Club is.

Skywalker: Are you kidding me? Duck Inn? Crandall’s?

Sara: …

Skywalker: How have you gone your whole life not knowing what a Supper Club is? Where’s my phone, I need to text your mom.

*As Skywalker is texing my mom, I text her too. “Skywalker is being mean to me.”*

^bleep bleep^

Skywalker: BAHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Sara: She didn’t text ME back… What are you saying to her?! What’s so FUNNY???? Why is she texting YOU and not ME?! I’M HER DAUGHTER.

Skywalker: Well, I said, “I just spent the last 10 minutes trying to explain to Sara what a Supper Club is.” and she said “Welcome to my life.”

^ding a ling^

Sara: HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Skywalker: What?

Sara: Tay just texted me. “What’s a Supper Club?”

Skywalker: Give me your phone.

Sara: What are you saying?

Skywalker: “You’re dumb too.”

**Scene fades out**

So, folks, now I shall reveal to you the man that you have known as Skywalker for all of three days. Gone shall be his privacy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

NAME: PETER W. ROMENESKO
OCCUPATION: MARKETING COORDINATOR
SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER: Just kidding, Pete.