From the Diary of Santana Martita Carolina Alejandrina Teresa Maria Apoliniar Lopez (PG-13)
Title: From the Diary of Santana Martita Carolina Alejandrina Teresa Maria Apoliniar Lopez
Rating: PG-13, for language
Word Count: 2,700
Summary: Santana's at a loss for how to win Brittany's heart. Will keeping an eye on Kurt and Blaine give her a better idea of what to do?
Note: Written for the lovely beyond compare whenidance and originally posted here as part of the Beyond Dapper mini hiatus exchange. I'm just now getting around to posting it here because...well, I suck. :P Does not follow canon for Season Three. Big thanks to flyblckbirdfly, as always.
September 10, 2011
Dear Stupid Book,
Why do I still hold hope for the hopeless? When Tia Elvira told me she had a special surprise for me, I thought it might be something cool. You know, like a gift card to Sephora, or maybe that membership to the gun range I've been hinting about forever. I should have known better, because all she gave me was you. You're not even a cool book full of awesome stuff like how to make pipe bombs or new ways to hide razor blades in your hair without cutting yourself every time you adjust your ponytail. (Note to self - buy more Band-Aids and Neosporin.) I'm supposed to fill you myself. What kind of stupid present is that? Unlike my homework, I can't even blackmail the newbies on the squad to do it for me, because this is supposed to be all personal and stuff. So lame.
When I showed it to Mom, she got all smiley and said it would be good for me to have a place to write about my feelings. Like I don't spend enough time singing about them in glee club. Feelings suck. All they do is make things complicated and stupid.
Take things with me and Brittany. Everything was great when we were just friends who got our scissoring on over the weekends and after Cheerio practice, but it's gotten so complicated since I told her how I feel. Stupid Holly Holiday. I blame her for all of this. Maybe I've been going about things the wrong way. Instead of taking relationship advice from a woman whose longest commitment was a two-week fling with Mr. Schuester (ew), I should focus on someone who actually seems to know what they're doing.
But who? I mean, I'm in high school. It's not exactly a hotbed for functional relationships. Frankenteen can't seem to make up his mind between Quinn and Berry half the time, and he about passed out when I told him that a three-way was clearly the only answer to his dilemma. Sure, Quinn and Rachel would probably kill each other within a week, but anything that would lead to more solos for me can't be a bad thing. It's a total win-win. (Why am I the only one who sees the brilliance in this? One day, when I'm President of Everything, people will look back on this and know they made the right choice.)
Mike and Tina seem happy, but the way she always starts boo-hooing when she talks about how much she loves him screams overcompensation. She's so going to major in women's studies and play roller derby in one, two years, tops. Trust me, we can smell our own.
Whatever. There has to be someone who doesn't suck at this stuff.
Thank you for being no help whatsoever,
S.
---
September 20, 2011
Dear Stupid Book,
Don't ever let anyone know I said this, but I am such an idiot. I've spent the last week and a half trying to think of the perfect role models to help me figure out how to win Brittany, and I completely forgot about the obvious choice. Kurt and Blaine aren't just so obviously in love that they make me want to puke, they're probably the only openly gay couple in the Lima public school system. If there's anyone who can show me what to do in order to convince Brittany we'd be perfect together, it's those two
(Oh, God. I'm about to take relationship tips from Hummel and the Hobbit. I didn't know it was possible to sink this low.)
It hit me today when Blaine put on his little show at lunch. The way they did their stupid little dances, the way Blaine threw Kurt his sunglasses - those two are totally stupid for each other, and they don't care who knows it. If I'm going to get Brittany, I need to be just as stupid as they are. Wait. That didn't come out right. What I meant to say was that if those two can put themselves out there and show everyone how they feel, so can I.
Why am I wasting my time with you?
S.
September 29th, 2011
Dear Stupid Book,
Okay, so that didn't go the way I expected. I thought that if I sang to Britt the way Blaine sang to Kurt, she'd have to see how important she is to me. I spent a week trying to think of just the right song, but when I finally had the chance to sing it in glee club, Mister Schuester made me an appointment with Miss Pillsbury so I could talk about my "obvious problems with delinquent behavior." I told both of them that it wasn't some stupid cry for help, but they wouldn't listen. What happened to the Mister Schue who ignored all of the warning signs and lived to be inappropriate? I think I liked him better.
Anyway, after that little debacle (yes, Mom, if you've broken into this, this is proof I've been studying for my SATs), I sat back down and looked over at Kurt and Blaine. The two of them were resting their heads together, and it looked so easy and comfortable that I tried to do it with Britt. Unfortunately, she moved at the last second, and I ended up falling off of my chair and onto the floor. Thank God for my spanky pants. If I hadn't been wearing my uniform, things would have been even worse. Believe me, it didn't do anything to help convince Schuester that I'm not battling a substance abuse problem.
You're no help,
S.
---
October 7th, 2011
Dear Stupid Book That Doesn't Do Anything,
Once again, Team Gay has let me down. Schue had his panties in a wad during glee earlier this week (guess Miss P still isn't giving it up), and he couldn't say anything good about anyone's performance. Kurt took it pretty hard when he was told that his jazz hands weren't really appropriate for a song from Fiddler on the Roof, but he was all smiles after practice when Blaine took his hand and told him that our illustrious leader clearly didn't know what he was talking about, and that Kurt's rendition of "Far From The Home I Love" was the most moving thing he'd seen in months.
Britt didn't do much better, since Mister Schuester didn't think "My Headband" really fit the assignment of a song that was capable of inspiring great emotion, so I tried to cheer her up by following Blaine's example and telling her that it was obvious the headband was a metaphor for a bigger issue, and it was his fault if he couldn't see that.
She just looked at me and asked what a metaphor was. I love that girl, but sometimes, I really wonder what it's like inside her head.
No love,
S.
October 31st, 2011
Dear Stupid Piece of Crap That I Know My Mom Is Reading,
I guess I should be more upset about the invasion of privacy, but whatever. It's not like she didn't already know what was going on. I'M STILL NOT GOING OUT WITH YOUR FRIEND JUANITA'S SON, MOM. I LIKE GIRLS, OKAY.
Anyway.
Everyone was talking about Halloween this week, and Kurt and Blaine said they were both going as Leonardo DiCaprio's character from "Titanic" because both of them had crushes on him when they were little. Kurt is going to be him from the fancy dinner scene, and Blaine is going to be him from the end right before he becomes a popsicle. (Not one person commended me for not making the obvious jokes. Does anyone see my vast reserves of inner strength but me?)
So I was thinking about this and decided that Britt and I should go as characters from the movies that first gave me the idea that I might like girls, since they're some of Britt's favorites, too. I put together costumes for both of us, and wore mine to school so I could surprise her with both of them at once. I thought I looked really hot in my little schoolgirl skirt and cardigan (that spiked ball thing was pretty badass, too), but she burst into tears when I showed her, because she didn't want to kill me, and everyone knows that The Bride kills everyone, even though the signs only say "Kill Bill," and it's such false advertising and she didn't want us to fight or have to kill me and…it's another day when I really wish I could see inside her head.
Still upset that I didn't get to see her in the yellow jumpsuit,
S.
---
November 23rd, 2011
Dear Stupid Book That I'm Still Tempted To Throw Away,
Sorry it's been a while Why am I apologizing to a book? This is why diaries are stupid.
Anyway, I know it's been a while, but I swear I've had my reasons.
It all started a few days after Halloween. I was sitting in the back of the choir room watching Blaine and Kurt be their usual blissfully happy selves, when Blaine turned around and caught me in the act. He got this funny look on his face, but he didn't seem mad, so I figured it was no big.
That's why I was so surprised when he cornered me in the hall after Rachel finally stopped petitioning for a medly of Barbra Streisand's greatest hits for our Sectionals performance. "Is something wrong?" he asked, and I tried to brush him off, but he just wouldn't take no for an answer. He's so nice. I wonder how Hummel stands it.
Finally, I told him I was trying to see how he and Kurt managed to be so happy, and he got this sappy grin on his face. "Let's go get some coffee," he said, and walked me out to the parking lot. I asked him if Kurt wasn't attached at his hip, and he just smiled and said that Kurt was staying late to work on something with Rachel.
Twenty minutes later, I was a blubbering mess in the middle of the Lima Bean. I don't know what it is about that guy, but he has this way of making you feel really good about yourself, even when you feel like crap. Maybe it's in the bowties. He has to have some reason for wearing them. Whatever it is, it works. At least, it worked for me.
"Look," he told me. "I know what it's like when you have that special person who makes everything come into focus, and I know how scary it is when you're trying to figure out how to tell them - even when you already know they care. With Kurt, I didn't know what to do. I thought about doing some big gesture, and I did arrange to sing that duet with him, but what really worked was telling him how I felt."
"Yeah," I told him. "I tried that, and it clearly worked, because she and four-wheels didn't break up for weeks. I thought something might happen when she finally realized what a grade-A douchebag he is, but they've been broken up for months and she still wants to be 'just friends.' I didn't know how much those two words could suck before now."
"Well," Blaine said with this ANNOYING look that practically SCREAMED 'I am Blaine Anderson, and my bow-ties have the power to heal your wounds.' "Has she ever said anything about it? Given you a reason to think she might be holding out for something?"
"No," I practically spat at him. I was kind of tempted to whip my hair back and forth, like Willow Pinkett-Smith, but I was out of razor blades, so all it would have done was force me to re-tighten my pony. (So not worth the effort.) "Okay," I finally admitted, before I told him the whole story about how she wants me to let everyone know I'm 'Lebanese.' (I KNOW WE'RE NOT LEBANESE MOM. I'M STILL NOT GOING OUT WITH RAUL. WE'VE GONE OVER BOTH OF THESE, OKAY?) I kind of wanted to punch him the whole time, but I have to admit that it helped. Not that I'll ever breathe a word of that outside of your tacky, kitten-covered covers. (Did my tia take lessons from the Rachel Berry school of taste? Ugh.) Anyway. It felt kind of good to get it out, and by the time we were done, I knew what I had to do. If anything was going to work, this was going to be the one.
So that's why I'm home so late tonight. See, Brylcreem Boy was on to something when he said that what I really needed to do was make it one hundred percent clear that Britt-Britt knew that I didn't just want to be with her, but I wanted everyone to know it was about more than just wanting to climb her like a jungle gym liking her as more than just a friend in private. After all, when Blaine told Kurt how he felt, he'd already laid the smackdown on the Gargler council about singing with him all romantic-like in front of everyone at Regionals, so Kurt already kind of had an idea that something might be up.
Schue, in his ever-creative wisdom, decided that this week we all had to pair up boy-girl and sing a song that could work as the first dance at a wedding. (Way to celebrate diversity, Mister Schue. You're so subtle. None of us knew you assigned us this so you wouldn't have to think of your own song when you and Miss P tie the knot next month. God, you suck.)
Britt and Kurt won with their take on - get this - "Sexy MF" by Prince. Most teachers would have thrown a fit about two teenagers dropping it like it's hot and thrusting their badonkadonks all up in everyone's faces while chanting 'sexy motherfucker shakin' that ass. Shakin' that ass, shakin' that ass,' but Will Schuester, as has been shown repeatedly thought the years, has about as much common sense as those stupid sweater vests he wears. I think they only won because he's so big on inappropriate rapping. It's the only logical theory. (Not that I'm complaining. Britt looked damn good in the black sequined hot pants she was wearing for it.)
Anyway - Kurt and Britt may have won for the assignment, but just between you and me, I'm the one who really took home the prize. Blaine's idea of me singing Celine Dion's "The Power Of Love" directly to Brittany (with him chiming in every so often to throw a line Kurt's way, just so we couldn't be accused of completely throwing the assignment out of the window) sounded kind of crazy, at first, but the way she smiled when she realized what I was doing totally made it worthwhile. (Who knew she had a secret love of all things French-Canadian?) So what if half the class flipped out and the other half asked if they could watch? (Guess which side Puckerman was on?) The way she jumped out of her seat and threw her arms around me when the song was done ranks way up there on the list of Most Awesome Things Ever, and the kiss that followed? Well, let's just say Buttercup and Westley ain't got nothing on us.
I guess I should stop writing in your tacky-ass pages now. She came home with me after all of that happened, and even though I'd love to scandalize you (and scare Mom away from ever reading you again) with all the details of what we've done and what we're about to do, I'd rather go make out with my hot girlfriend some more.
Maybe you don't suck so much, after all,
S.
P.S. - Note to self: Buy Blaine a thank-you of some sort. Maybe a big box of condoms and an economy sized bottle of lube. I don't know if he and Kurt have gotten it on yet, but if the way Hummel was moving his junk during that number was any sign, he'll be keeping Blaine pretty busy before too long. (Who knew he had it in him?)
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Rating: PG-13, for language
Word Count: 2,700
Summary: Santana's at a loss for how to win Brittany's heart. Will keeping an eye on Kurt and Blaine give her a better idea of what to do?
Note: Written for the lovely beyond compare whenidance and originally posted here as part of the Beyond Dapper mini hiatus exchange. I'm just now getting around to posting it here because...well, I suck. :P Does not follow canon for Season Three. Big thanks to flyblckbirdfly, as always.
September 10, 2011
Dear Stupid Book,
Why do I still hold hope for the hopeless? When Tia Elvira told me she had a special surprise for me, I thought it might be something cool. You know, like a gift card to Sephora, or maybe that membership to the gun range I've been hinting about forever. I should have known better, because all she gave me was you. You're not even a cool book full of awesome stuff like how to make pipe bombs or new ways to hide razor blades in your hair without cutting yourself every time you adjust your ponytail. (Note to self - buy more Band-Aids and Neosporin.) I'm supposed to fill you myself. What kind of stupid present is that? Unlike my homework, I can't even blackmail the newbies on the squad to do it for me, because this is supposed to be all personal and stuff. So lame.
When I showed it to Mom, she got all smiley and said it would be good for me to have a place to write about my feelings. Like I don't spend enough time singing about them in glee club. Feelings suck. All they do is make things complicated and stupid.
Take things with me and Brittany. Everything was great when we were just friends who got our scissoring on over the weekends and after Cheerio practice, but it's gotten so complicated since I told her how I feel. Stupid Holly Holiday. I blame her for all of this. Maybe I've been going about things the wrong way. Instead of taking relationship advice from a woman whose longest commitment was a two-week fling with Mr. Schuester (ew), I should focus on someone who actually seems to know what they're doing.
But who? I mean, I'm in high school. It's not exactly a hotbed for functional relationships. Frankenteen can't seem to make up his mind between Quinn and Berry half the time, and he about passed out when I told him that a three-way was clearly the only answer to his dilemma. Sure, Quinn and Rachel would probably kill each other within a week, but anything that would lead to more solos for me can't be a bad thing. It's a total win-win. (Why am I the only one who sees the brilliance in this? One day, when I'm President of Everything, people will look back on this and know they made the right choice.)
Mike and Tina seem happy, but the way she always starts boo-hooing when she talks about how much she loves him screams overcompensation. She's so going to major in women's studies and play roller derby in one, two years, tops. Trust me, we can smell our own.
Whatever. There has to be someone who doesn't suck at this stuff.
Thank you for being no help whatsoever,
S.
---
September 20, 2011
Dear Stupid Book,
Don't ever let anyone know I said this, but I am such an idiot. I've spent the last week and a half trying to think of the perfect role models to help me figure out how to win Brittany, and I completely forgot about the obvious choice. Kurt and Blaine aren't just so obviously in love that they make me want to puke, they're probably the only openly gay couple in the Lima public school system. If there's anyone who can show me what to do in order to convince Brittany we'd be perfect together, it's those two
(Oh, God. I'm about to take relationship tips from Hummel and the Hobbit. I didn't know it was possible to sink this low.)
It hit me today when Blaine put on his little show at lunch. The way they did their stupid little dances, the way Blaine threw Kurt his sunglasses - those two are totally stupid for each other, and they don't care who knows it. If I'm going to get Brittany, I need to be just as stupid as they are. Wait. That didn't come out right. What I meant to say was that if those two can put themselves out there and show everyone how they feel, so can I.
Why am I wasting my time with you?
S.
September 29th, 2011
Dear Stupid Book,
Okay, so that didn't go the way I expected. I thought that if I sang to Britt the way Blaine sang to Kurt, she'd have to see how important she is to me. I spent a week trying to think of just the right song, but when I finally had the chance to sing it in glee club, Mister Schuester made me an appointment with Miss Pillsbury so I could talk about my "obvious problems with delinquent behavior." I told both of them that it wasn't some stupid cry for help, but they wouldn't listen. What happened to the Mister Schue who ignored all of the warning signs and lived to be inappropriate? I think I liked him better.
Anyway, after that little debacle (yes, Mom, if you've broken into this, this is proof I've been studying for my SATs), I sat back down and looked over at Kurt and Blaine. The two of them were resting their heads together, and it looked so easy and comfortable that I tried to do it with Britt. Unfortunately, she moved at the last second, and I ended up falling off of my chair and onto the floor. Thank God for my spanky pants. If I hadn't been wearing my uniform, things would have been even worse. Believe me, it didn't do anything to help convince Schuester that I'm not battling a substance abuse problem.
You're no help,
S.
---
October 7th, 2011
Dear Stupid Book That Doesn't Do Anything,
Once again, Team Gay has let me down. Schue had his panties in a wad during glee earlier this week (guess Miss P still isn't giving it up), and he couldn't say anything good about anyone's performance. Kurt took it pretty hard when he was told that his jazz hands weren't really appropriate for a song from Fiddler on the Roof, but he was all smiles after practice when Blaine took his hand and told him that our illustrious leader clearly didn't know what he was talking about, and that Kurt's rendition of "Far From The Home I Love" was the most moving thing he'd seen in months.
Britt didn't do much better, since Mister Schuester didn't think "My Headband" really fit the assignment of a song that was capable of inspiring great emotion, so I tried to cheer her up by following Blaine's example and telling her that it was obvious the headband was a metaphor for a bigger issue, and it was his fault if he couldn't see that.
She just looked at me and asked what a metaphor was. I love that girl, but sometimes, I really wonder what it's like inside her head.
No love,
S.
October 31st, 2011
Dear Stupid Piece of Crap That I Know My Mom Is Reading,
I guess I should be more upset about the invasion of privacy, but whatever. It's not like she didn't already know what was going on. I'M STILL NOT GOING OUT WITH YOUR FRIEND JUANITA'S SON, MOM. I LIKE GIRLS, OKAY.
Anyway.
Everyone was talking about Halloween this week, and Kurt and Blaine said they were both going as Leonardo DiCaprio's character from "Titanic" because both of them had crushes on him when they were little. Kurt is going to be him from the fancy dinner scene, and Blaine is going to be him from the end right before he becomes a popsicle. (Not one person commended me for not making the obvious jokes. Does anyone see my vast reserves of inner strength but me?)
So I was thinking about this and decided that Britt and I should go as characters from the movies that first gave me the idea that I might like girls, since they're some of Britt's favorites, too. I put together costumes for both of us, and wore mine to school so I could surprise her with both of them at once. I thought I looked really hot in my little schoolgirl skirt and cardigan (that spiked ball thing was pretty badass, too), but she burst into tears when I showed her, because she didn't want to kill me, and everyone knows that The Bride kills everyone, even though the signs only say "Kill Bill," and it's such false advertising and she didn't want us to fight or have to kill me and…it's another day when I really wish I could see inside her head.
Still upset that I didn't get to see her in the yellow jumpsuit,
S.
---
November 23rd, 2011
Dear Stupid Book That I'm Still Tempted To Throw Away,
Sorry it's been a while Why am I apologizing to a book? This is why diaries are stupid.
Anyway, I know it's been a while, but I swear I've had my reasons.
It all started a few days after Halloween. I was sitting in the back of the choir room watching Blaine and Kurt be their usual blissfully happy selves, when Blaine turned around and caught me in the act. He got this funny look on his face, but he didn't seem mad, so I figured it was no big.
That's why I was so surprised when he cornered me in the hall after Rachel finally stopped petitioning for a medly of Barbra Streisand's greatest hits for our Sectionals performance. "Is something wrong?" he asked, and I tried to brush him off, but he just wouldn't take no for an answer. He's so nice. I wonder how Hummel stands it.
Finally, I told him I was trying to see how he and Kurt managed to be so happy, and he got this sappy grin on his face. "Let's go get some coffee," he said, and walked me out to the parking lot. I asked him if Kurt wasn't attached at his hip, and he just smiled and said that Kurt was staying late to work on something with Rachel.
Twenty minutes later, I was a blubbering mess in the middle of the Lima Bean. I don't know what it is about that guy, but he has this way of making you feel really good about yourself, even when you feel like crap. Maybe it's in the bowties. He has to have some reason for wearing them. Whatever it is, it works. At least, it worked for me.
"Look," he told me. "I know what it's like when you have that special person who makes everything come into focus, and I know how scary it is when you're trying to figure out how to tell them - even when you already know they care. With Kurt, I didn't know what to do. I thought about doing some big gesture, and I did arrange to sing that duet with him, but what really worked was telling him how I felt."
"Yeah," I told him. "I tried that, and it clearly worked, because she and four-wheels didn't break up for weeks. I thought something might happen when she finally realized what a grade-A douchebag he is, but they've been broken up for months and she still wants to be 'just friends.' I didn't know how much those two words could suck before now."
"Well," Blaine said with this ANNOYING look that practically SCREAMED 'I am Blaine Anderson, and my bow-ties have the power to heal your wounds.' "Has she ever said anything about it? Given you a reason to think she might be holding out for something?"
"No," I practically spat at him. I was kind of tempted to whip my hair back and forth, like Willow Pinkett-Smith, but I was out of razor blades, so all it would have done was force me to re-tighten my pony. (So not worth the effort.) "Okay," I finally admitted, before I told him the whole story about how she wants me to let everyone know I'm 'Lebanese.' (I KNOW WE'RE NOT LEBANESE MOM. I'M STILL NOT GOING OUT WITH RAUL. WE'VE GONE OVER BOTH OF THESE, OKAY?) I kind of wanted to punch him the whole time, but I have to admit that it helped. Not that I'll ever breathe a word of that outside of your tacky, kitten-covered covers. (Did my tia take lessons from the Rachel Berry school of taste? Ugh.) Anyway. It felt kind of good to get it out, and by the time we were done, I knew what I had to do. If anything was going to work, this was going to be the one.
So that's why I'm home so late tonight. See, Brylcreem Boy was on to something when he said that what I really needed to do was make it one hundred percent clear that Britt-Britt knew that I didn't just want to be with her, but I wanted everyone to know it was about more than just wanting to climb her like a jungle gym liking her as more than just a friend in private. After all, when Blaine told Kurt how he felt, he'd already laid the smackdown on the Gargler council about singing with him all romantic-like in front of everyone at Regionals, so Kurt already kind of had an idea that something might be up.
Schue, in his ever-creative wisdom, decided that this week we all had to pair up boy-girl and sing a song that could work as the first dance at a wedding. (Way to celebrate diversity, Mister Schue. You're so subtle. None of us knew you assigned us this so you wouldn't have to think of your own song when you and Miss P tie the knot next month. God, you suck.)
Britt and Kurt won with their take on - get this - "Sexy MF" by Prince. Most teachers would have thrown a fit about two teenagers dropping it like it's hot and thrusting their badonkadonks all up in everyone's faces while chanting 'sexy motherfucker shakin' that ass. Shakin' that ass, shakin' that ass,' but Will Schuester, as has been shown repeatedly thought the years, has about as much common sense as those stupid sweater vests he wears. I think they only won because he's so big on inappropriate rapping. It's the only logical theory. (Not that I'm complaining. Britt looked damn good in the black sequined hot pants she was wearing for it.)
Anyway - Kurt and Britt may have won for the assignment, but just between you and me, I'm the one who really took home the prize. Blaine's idea of me singing Celine Dion's "The Power Of Love" directly to Brittany (with him chiming in every so often to throw a line Kurt's way, just so we couldn't be accused of completely throwing the assignment out of the window) sounded kind of crazy, at first, but the way she smiled when she realized what I was doing totally made it worthwhile. (Who knew she had a secret love of all things French-Canadian?) So what if half the class flipped out and the other half asked if they could watch? (Guess which side Puckerman was on?) The way she jumped out of her seat and threw her arms around me when the song was done ranks way up there on the list of Most Awesome Things Ever, and the kiss that followed? Well, let's just say Buttercup and Westley ain't got nothing on us.
I guess I should stop writing in your tacky-ass pages now. She came home with me after all of that happened, and even though I'd love to scandalize you (and scare Mom away from ever reading you again) with all the details of what we've done and what we're about to do, I'd rather go make out with my hot girlfriend some more.
Maybe you don't suck so much, after all,
S.
P.S. - Note to self: Buy Blaine a thank-you of some sort. Maybe a big box of condoms and an economy sized bottle of lube. I don't know if he and Kurt have gotten it on yet, but if the way Hummel was moving his junk during that number was any sign, he'll be keeping Blaine pretty busy before too long. (Who knew he had it in him?)
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