Lies That Chelsea Handler Told Me Part 3

"So, I'm an a.s.shole," I stated more than asked.

"Well, yes, Stephanie. You're thirty-four and trying to smuggle drugs in your coslopus. That is so 2008. Get your s.h.i.+t together."

Chelsea knew I was heading down a slippery slope that was taking me nowhere. Anyone else teaching someone a lesson might have included a stern sit-down or a time-out, but for Chelsea, it had to involve turning me into Maria Full of Grace. Maria Full of Grace. It was sort of a compliment. It was sort of a compliment.

I love that b.i.t.c.h, but to this day I sleep with one eye open whenever she's around. The best irony of all is that people sleep at Chelsea's all the time, and everyone knows never to sleep with their door unlocked. So, in a house with six bedrooms, a house that she paid for, Chelsea really has access only to her own room.

After reading this chapter, I've never felt more responsible in my life. It really makes me sound like I have my s.h.i.+t together, and it's only because the people I surround myself with have their s.h.i.+t less together. So, thank you. Steph's performance at the wedding was something I will smile about for the rest of my life. After reading this chapter, I've never felt more responsible in my life. It really makes me sound like I have my s.h.i.+t together, and it's only because the people I surround myself with have their s.h.i.+t less together. So, thank you. Steph's performance at the wedding was something I will smile about for the rest of my life.I would also like to add my own photo to this chapter as a warning of what someone looks like when they dance on Ecstasy.-Chelsea

Steph in Cabo, 2007. This is what dancing on Ecstasy looks like. Steph in Cabo, 2007. This is what dancing on Ecstasy looks like.

Chapter Three.

How to Make a Marriage Work HEATHER MCDONALD.

Ironically, Chelsea's middle name is Joy. This makes sense, as she experiences a lot of joy in her life, most often at the expense of other people. One particular instance that comes to mind is the only time in my life I ate a pot brownie. I am not a pot smoker at all and have never consumed pot, but I rarely have the ability to deny myself a tasty treat, and if there is one thing I love, it's extra gooey double chocolate brownies.

One weekend I was performing stand-up with Chelsea, and we joined some friends of hers in Provincetown for an afternoon boat ride. After a full meal and three c.o.c.ktails in the afternoon sun on the water, nothing sounded better to me than a yummy brownie. I knew they had baked some pot in them, but I was thinking only about the effect a moist chocolate delight normally has on me, which is what I was craving after a salty Mexican lunch. So I did what I always do when a brownie pan is in my direct vicinity: like a lady, I took a knife and cut off a sliver of brownie, and then another and then another. Everyone but Chelsea and the captain were eating the brownies. Chelsea is not a dessert person and is certainly not going to waste calories on even the best high, but what I realized later is that to her, the best high is being sober when everyone else is high and laughing at their stupidity. I'm a drinker, so I had never experienced the kind of high that lasts fourteen hours, like this one did. All I could do was laugh.

Hours after the boat ride ended, we were back at her friends' house. Chelsea walked into the room where I was lying on a couch, and looked at herself in the mirror. She was horrified by her outfit, which consisted of a tunic and wide-legged slacks, and asked me, "Why didn't you tell me I was dressed like a lesbian? I look like Paula Poundstone."

She did did look like Paula Poundstone. She had had Johnny Kansas grab her some clothes after the boat ride, because she was too lazy to get them herself, but had never bothered to look at herself in the mirror. Her comments sent me into a tailspin. I had never laughed so hard in my life, and Chelsea was on the floor crying at my reaction. look like Paula Poundstone. She had had Johnny Kansas grab her some clothes after the boat ride, because she was too lazy to get them herself, but had never bothered to look at herself in the mirror. Her comments sent me into a tailspin. I had never laughed so hard in my life, and Chelsea was on the floor crying at my reaction.

The only thing that could have brought Chelsea even more joy in this situation was if she had been able to get it on film or take an extremely unflattering photo of me, high, with my legs spread on a couch, and send it to three million of her Twitter followers, with a comment that read, "Mother of two Caucasians and one half-Asian." Fortunately for me, she couldn't find her BlackBerry at that moment, which happens about three times a day.

As for the actual lies Chelsea has told me, some people reading this may think I am incredibly stupid, as I am often called by Chelsea Joy herself, but the lies she told me were all lies I was elated to hear. It never entered my mind that what she was telling me, as her steel blue eyes stared straight into my chocolate almond-shaped ones, wasn't 100 percent fact. Chelsea was not only my very generous and fun boss, she was my girlfriend, and we confided in each other all the time, so when she told me one Thursday morning that she was pregnant, I believed her.

I felt even more special when she swore me to secrecy. Of course, she was going to confide in me. I not only had given birth v.a.g.i.n.ally to two healthy boys, but was also a tender stepmother to my stepdaughter, Mackenzie. At the time, Chelsea was living with her boyfriend, Ted, who was divorced with two teenagers and pus.h.i.+ng fifty-three.

THE GIRL WHO CRIED FIRST TRIMESTER.

This is how it began. Every Thursday, Chelsea Lately Chelsea Lately provides us with an incredible spread, so we creatively call that day Bagel Thursday. One Thursday, as both Chelsea and I were scooping out the centers of our bagels-girls and gays, if you haven't done this yet, do it! You slice the bagel, scoop out all the carb-infested middle, then toast what's left, and pile on light cream cheese, tomatoes, and cuc.u.mbers, and a hint of fresh lemon juice. You get all the crunch and flavor with half the calories!-Chelsea casually turned to me with a plastic knife covered in cream cheese and said, "I took a pregnancy test today and it was positive. Can you pa.s.s me the lox? Why is it so orange? Never mind." provides us with an incredible spread, so we creatively call that day Bagel Thursday. One Thursday, as both Chelsea and I were scooping out the centers of our bagels-girls and gays, if you haven't done this yet, do it! You slice the bagel, scoop out all the carb-infested middle, then toast what's left, and pile on light cream cheese, tomatoes, and cuc.u.mbers, and a hint of fresh lemon juice. You get all the crunch and flavor with half the calories!-Chelsea casually turned to me with a plastic knife covered in cream cheese and said, "I took a pregnancy test today and it was positive. Can you pa.s.s me the lox? Why is it so orange? Never mind."

"Wait, what? Are you serious?" I whispered.

"Yes, but don't say anything to Ted," she warned me.

"It's not his?" I screeched as my pupils dilated two millimeters.

"No. Of course it's his. I just don't know if I want to keep it. Can you imagine if I had Ted's baby? He won't let me out of his sight now. Imagine if there were one of me in a baby form. Besides, I can't do stand-up comedy while pregnant. That would be disgusting. Really? I'm going to stand up in front of thousands of people eight months pregnant jumping up and down doing my masturbation bit? I don't think so."

At this point I was still open to having another baby, and if I were to have gotten pregnant, I absolutely would still have done stand-up while pregnant. Why the h.e.l.l not?

"Chelsea, just think of all the new material you could do on ultrasounds and having to pee all the time and the excessive weight gain. It practically writes itself." I imagined Chelsea with a Baby Bjorn strapped to her chest and a fat four-month-old with her same huge mouth looking out at me.

"Heather, calm down. Take it down a notch. I am not joking when I say I will not give up alcohol for nine months. If I'm pregnant-"

I cut her off. "Chelsea, there is no such thing as a false positive on even the cheapest of pregnancy tests. There are lots of false negatives but never a false positive. I once used one from the Ninety-nine Cent store that told me I was not pregnant when in fact I was already ten weeks along with Drake, but it doesn't work the other way around. You have to tell Ted. He will be thrilled!" I said gleefully, imagining gray-haired dancing babies throughout the office. (Ted has very s.e.xy salt-and-pepper hair.) "Oh, my G.o.d, can you imagine Ted getting all involved in designing the baby's room, bringing swatches of cribs and s.h.i.+t to the office for me to look at? Could anything be more annoying?" Chelsea said as she rolled her eyes.

"You don't get swatches of cribs, Chelsea. It's swatches of bedding and wallpaper, but they have these round cribs so any which way the baby rolls he or she can look out at your view of the marina. Oh, you have to do a whole nautical theme for the baby's room with old-fas.h.i.+oned sailboats."

"Heather, if you tell anyone I swear I will-"

"Of course I would never say anything, Chelsea. I won't tell a soul, but I think it's really great. I mean just think about all the..." As I continued to speak, Chelsea just turned her back to me and walked out of the kitchen in the middle of my sentence, which is something she does to me a lot, so I don't take it personally, but what I was going to say was "just think of all the free high-end maternity clothes you are going to get!"

More important, Chelsea and I are roughly the same size. Well, her hips are smaller, but they wouldn't be after she had a baby. My mind started wandering with thoughts of convincing my husband, Peter, to have just one more baby, based on the fact that I could get all of Chelsea's hand-me-downs, both maternity and post-baby wardrobe. Once her hips expanded a little I'd be able to fit into all her designer dresses and not just her tops. Also, Chelsea's shoe size is eight and a half, and mine is nine, but many women's feet grow when they get pregnant and never go back to their original size, so I could benefit on that end, too! I left the kitchen shaking. I was actually more excited about the new office baby than I was about my delicious toasted cheese and jalapeno scooped-out bagel.

When I returned to my desk, I looked over at Fortune Feimster, my lesbian/officemate. I was just dying to tell her my juicy secret. She loves babies almost as much as I do, but I refrained, and instead went to my keyboard and typed in "Pea in a Pod" in the search engine. I started browsing all the new maternity clothes, which were so much more flattering than when I was pregnant three years earlier and cuter than ever. If it took a few months for me to get pregnant, my baby would be six months behind Chelsea's, and if, G.o.d willing, they were the same s.e.x, could you imagine the baby's duds I'd get from her? Chelsea is obsessed with morbidly obese babies; she'd be overfeeding hers like crazy, so the little fat a.s.s would probably wear each onesie only once, maybe twice, before my normal-proportioned baby got it.

That night, before Peter had even poured my first gla.s.s of b.u.t.tery chardonnay, I told him about Chelsea's pregnancy. He interrupted me with a "Will you just calm down? First of all, we're not going to have another baby just because Chelsea is having one, and she has said a million times she doesn't want kids, so she'll probably abort."

"Peter! Shhh!" I hissed as I looked around to see if either of our boys was within earshot. "Don't talk like that." Then I got back on track. "She just has to get used to the idea of how cute the maternity clothes can be. Maybe E! will build a daycare center in our building. Ted would do anything for Chelsea. That would be so convenient."

I imagined being able to use the carpool lane on the 405 Freeway every day from the Valley to the Westside legally. I currently keep a toddler dummy in my youngest's car seat, and if I'm really running late I'll actually take one of the children with me and have Peter pick him up later. With a real infant, I wouldn't have to constantly be looking in my rearview window for a cop while planning my excuse. I know if I got pulled over, I would ask the cop if his girlfriend, wife, or boyfriend was a Chelsea Lately Chelsea Lately fan, and G.o.d willing, they would be, in which case I would offer up Chuy popping out of a cake for their next birthday party in exchange for being let off. fan, and G.o.d willing, they would be, in which case I would offer up Chuy popping out of a cake for their next birthday party in exchange for being let off.

The following few days I was so distracted thinking about Chelsea's and my pregnancies. This could be the glue that would hold us together for life. There was no way she would have more than one kid. She wouldn't let a mistake like this happen to her again, so her child would need a friend who understood the trials and tribulations of having a parent in show business. My older son already has two best friends who are both only children. Their parents invite us to USC games and to stay at their ski house and lake cabin, all to appease their lonely only child. When Chelsea's kid got to be about three or four, it would need a friend to go to the Bahamas with, and there was no way Chelsea was going to deny her child his or her best friend. Chelsea would spoil this kid rotten (see Chunk). So guess who would get to go on private jets to Atlantis, Cabo, and Aspen? That's right, me and my cute family of then six. Sorry, single Sarah Colonna. Enjoy your time now, because it is not going to last forever, and neither will your eggs-or, rather, your one egg by the time you read this.

On Wednesday, after we finished taping, Chelsea was walking down the hall outside the writers' offices yelling, "Who wants to go to Katsuya tonight?"

Chris Franjola rolled his chair out from his cube and shouted, "I'm free, Chelsea."

"Yes, I want to go," yelled Sarah Colonna.

"I wouldn't mind a little tuna tartare," stated Steve Marmalstein.

I love Katsuya. It's a super chic sus.h.i.+ spot close to the office. My kids can wait another hour to see me tonight, My kids can wait another hour to see me tonight, I thought as I yelled down the hall after Chelsea, "I can go, too!" Then it hit me. Chelsea was pregnant, so she couldn't eat sus.h.i.+. The mercury in the fish is said to cause autism. You would think Chelsea would have known this, since she was good friends with Jenny McCarthy. Good thing I was going, so I could remind her to order some chicken teriyaki. I thought as I yelled down the hall after Chelsea, "I can go, too!" Then it hit me. Chelsea was pregnant, so she couldn't eat sus.h.i.+. The mercury in the fish is said to cause autism. You would think Chelsea would have known this, since she was good friends with Jenny McCarthy. Good thing I was going, so I could remind her to order some chicken teriyaki.

At the restaurant, before we'd even slid into our booth, Chelsea asked the waiter, "May I have a Belvedere on the rocks with just a splash of soda and a wedge of lemon please?"

"Chelsea, you can't drink. The baby's head will come out a quarter of the size it is supposed to," I whispered as we continued to scoot down the bench farther into the booth.

"I'm only going to sip it so the others don't get suspicious," she said. "If I don't order a drink, they'll know something is up."

"So you're definitely keeping it?" I asked with relief.

"Keeping what?" asked Chris.

"My car. I'm going to keep it for another year," Chelsea said nonchalantly as she winked at me.

Oh, my G.o.d, my prayers had been answered. Chelsea really was going to have this baby. I was so happy. I love Katsuya and I love the Westside. Maybe by the time our babies entered kindergarten, we could move from the Valley to the Westside, since Chelsea's baby was going to want its best friend in the same cla.s.sroom. Of course I would want to go to St. Martins, the Catholic school in Brentwood, but Chelsea wouldn't be down with that. Then again, Ted had been raised Catholic. Or we could send both kids to that amazing public elementary school I'd heard about on the morning news, where the parents sleep in tents the week before registration to make sure their kids get in. I would do that. Then my older boys could go to Loyola, an all-boys high school that is too far from our house now.

I was thinking how this was all going to be so great until halfway through the dinner, when Chelsea ordered another Belvedere and soda. So much for sipping her drink. It hadn't even been twenty minutes. Then she proceeded to eat an entire bowl of steamed clams, a plate of tuna sas.h.i.+mi, and a plate of yellowtail with jalapenos. I kept taking my chopsticks and eating as much of the heavy-mercury-filled uncooked fish as humanly possible, but as soon as a dish was done, Chelsea would order more for the table. At this point I felt full and p.i.s.sed off. Everyone knows you don't consume alcohol or eat sus.h.i.+ when you're pregnant.

When Chelsea got out of the booth to go to the bathroom, I followed her, which annoyed everyone, because I was opposite her at the end of the table, so every single person had to exit the booth. When we got in the bathroom I looked around to make sure we were alone and then said, "Chelsea, seriously, you can't continue to drink unless it's after your fifth month of pregnancy, and only if it's chardonnay. I know because that's what I did, and both the boys seem to be fine. But you really can't eat all that seafood. It's been proven to cause autism, I think. What is your plan? Have you ever eaten gluten-free lasagna? It is not good. Come on, Chelsea, this isn't fair to Ted. It's his baby, too! You're already dealing with older sperm. How hard do you want to roll the dice with your offspring?" I was referring to a syndrome that started with a D D and ended with and ended with own own.

"Heather, I'm not pregnant," she said as she washed her hands.

"The blood test came back negative after you took a positive EPT test? EPT tests are the best. They're like seventeen dollars each." I was totally perplexed.

"Oh, my G.o.d, Heather. I didn't take any pregnancy test. I thought it would be funny to make you think I was pregnant, but now it's just getting annoying. Look at yourself."

"You really aren't pregnant? I'm so b.u.mmed."

"Well, I'm sorry. Come on, me pregnant would be the worst. If you think I can be a b.i.t.c.h now, imagine if I were fat and couldn't drink," she said as she pulled open the door and exited the bathroom.

Michael Broussard (Chelsea's and my book agent), Eva (Chelsea's right-hand woman), and me in Cabo on a staff trip. These are the reasons we all put up with her s.h.i.+t. Michael Broussard (Chelsea's and my book agent), Eva (Chelsea's right-hand woman), and me in Cabo on a staff trip. These are the reasons we all put up with her s.h.i.+t.

And that was it for Chelsea. She never thought about that lie again or what a toll it took on my life for six days. As I washed my hands, I watched the soapy water slide down the drain along with my dreams of the in-office daycare, lightly used designer maternity and baby clothes, family vacations on yachts, and prestigious Westside preschools. I looked in the mirror feeling a little bloated from all the sus.h.i.+ and then suddenly remembered I hadn't taken my birth control pill that day. I immediately pulled it from the inside pocket of my purse, popped it into my mouth, and swallowed it dry.

DANCING WITH THE STARS.

One of my lifelong career goals, besides securing a hair product endors.e.m.e.nt deal, is one day to be a contestant on Dancing with the Stars Dancing with the Stars. I work The Secret, and Fortune and I have a vision board in our office of things we want to accomplish. On the poster is a photo of Justin Bieber from J-14 J-14, a Pantene ad with that woman from What Not to Wear What Not to Wear, and a photo of me dressed up in a Dancing with the Stars Dancing with the Stars costume complete with sequins and a hot pink feather boa. Unlike other people in the office, I am honest about my desire to be on TV and believe that being on costume complete with sequins and a hot pink feather boa. Unlike other people in the office, I am honest about my desire to be on TV and believe that being on Dancing with the Stars Dancing with the Stars would really help my career. I'm sorry, but I dance with my sons in my bedroom while watching the show, and the waltz does not look that difficult. Let's just say I'm not afraid to look to the side and walk backward. Besides, how cute would my kids look all dressed up and cheering me on in the audience? would really help my career. I'm sorry, but I dance with my sons in my bedroom while watching the show, and the waltz does not look that difficult. Let's just say I'm not afraid to look to the side and walk backward. Besides, how cute would my kids look all dressed up and cheering me on in the audience?

So one day, in our usual morning meeting, Chelsea, who is very ADD but has never been diagnosed and therefore does not take Adderall, all of a sudden turned to Tom, our executive producer, and said, "And we need to get back to the casting director from Dancing with the Stars Dancing with the Stars about who we think would be good on the show," and then shoved another forklift of arugula and hummus into her mouth. about who we think would be good on the show," and then shoved another forklift of arugula and hummus into her mouth.

"You don't want to do it?" I asked Chelsea.

"No, that show is a nightmare, besides the fact that I'm a horrible dancer."

Then Brad piped in: "Well, the obvious choice is Chuy."

"We already pitched him, but they can't take a little person because there are too many dances he couldn't really perform with a regular-size dancer," Tom said.

"There has got to be another little person professional ballroom dancer whom they could hire who could be his partner," Brad argued.

At that point I wanted to scream out, "Chuy complains about walking from the kitchen back to his office. He is not going to be able to properly dance the cha-cha for three minutes straight!" But I didn't. I also didn't say I wanted to do it, because anytime I pitch anything involving myself, the other writers say things like "And let's take a wild guess, you're going to play Sarah Palin."

Then Chelsea said, "No, they know that both Chuy and I are out, so they'll consider someone from the round table."

Oh, thank G.o.d. Of course it still didn't mean I'd get it, because chances were they were also talking to the Daily Show Daily Show correspondents, but there was a chance. correspondents, but there was a chance.

Then Brad uttered the unthinkable: "Fortune should do it. That would be hilarious."

"Fortune, you really are a good dancer," Chelsea said. "We all saw you at the Christmas party. You get a little too sweaty, but you have rhythm."

"Thank you. My mother put me in jazz dance cla.s.ses when I was seven. I guess it really paid off," Fortune replied, grinning like a Ches.h.i.+re cat.

"It would be fantastic," Brad said enthusiastically. "Think how much weight you'd lose, Fortune. It would be a total transformation."

"I bet they'd put you in Life & Style Life & Style magazine and write about how you got your magazine and write about how you got your Dancing with the Stars Dancing with the Stars body," Tom said. body," Tom said.

At this point, jealousy was boiling over in me. I had started to shake a little when Chelsea said, "Okay, great. So, Tom, you'll talk to them?"

When Fortune and I returned to the office, she looked at me and said, "Heather, I know how much you want this."

"Fortune, don't be ridiculous. If they want you, you have to do it. Don't worry about it. But, honestly, I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Totally understandable." Fortune put in her ear buds and began typing.

The rest of the day was very difficult. For a while things would be fine and then I'd remember Dancing with the Stars Dancing with the Stars and get a major hollowed-out feeling in the pit of my stomach. When I got home that night and told Peter what had transpired, he said, "Look, Fortune is going to sprain her ankle or blow out her ACLU or something. This season alone they've lost like five contestants to injury. Fortune is bound to get hurt, and then they will replace her with you like they did when little Bow Wow got replaced with his dad, Big Wow Wow." and get a major hollowed-out feeling in the pit of my stomach. When I got home that night and told Peter what had transpired, he said, "Look, Fortune is going to sprain her ankle or blow out her ACLU or something. This season alone they've lost like five contestants to injury. Fortune is bound to get hurt, and then they will replace her with you like they did when little Bow Wow got replaced with his dad, Big Wow Wow."

"I don't think his dad's name is Big Wow Wow. I think it's Master D or something. Anyway, maybe you're right. But then again, Fortune is pretty flexible, and being gay helps. Lance Ba.s.s went really far in the compet.i.tion."

The next day in our meeting, the show came up again and when Chelsea said, "Tom, the people at Dancing with the Stars Dancing with the Stars want to see tape on Fortune, so have Johnny film her dancing to something." want to see tape on Fortune, so have Johnny film her dancing to something."

I started to tremble. Speak, Heather! Speak, Heather! I screamed inside my head. I wanted to say, I screamed inside my head. I wanted to say, Well, can you put me on tape, too, so we can both be considered? Well, can you put me on tape, too, so we can both be considered? But I was afraid the other writers would jump on me and say I was awful for trying to take something away from Fortune, so I kept my lips sealed. But I was afraid the other writers would jump on me and say I was awful for trying to take something away from Fortune, so I kept my lips sealed.

"Sure," Tom said. "We can shoot it after today's taping in Studio Two. Fortune, you ready to put your twinkle toes to work?" Tom winked at Fortune.

"Absolutely. Thank you," Fortune said and began to blush.

Thoughts tumbled through my head, everything from the fact that envy was a sin and it wasn't very Christian of me to wish Fortune bodily harm when she attempted the jive, to the principle in The Secret The Secret that there is no such thing as compet.i.tion because there is enough room in the universe for everyone to be successful. I kept very quiet for the rest of the meeting. that there is no such thing as compet.i.tion because there is enough room in the universe for everyone to be successful. I kept very quiet for the rest of the meeting.

Later that day Chelsea called me into her office and said, "Heather, I know you're upset about Fortune getting chosen over you for Dancing with the Stars, Dancing with the Stars, but she is really excited about it right now. It's her time to s.h.i.+ne. You know how I feel about everyone being equal around here, and you've gotten to do a lot." but she is really excited about it right now. It's her time to s.h.i.+ne. You know how I feel about everyone being equal around here, and you've gotten to do a lot."

"I know. I'm happy for her." What I wanted to say was, Equal? Then if everything is equal Equal? Then if everything is equal Chelsea Lately Chelsea Lately is Communist North Korea and you're Kim Jong-il. Just give Fortune one of my dates where I open for you or a Cheescake Factory gift certificate. I'm willing to give all that up to be considered for is Communist North Korea and you're Kim Jong-il. Just give Fortune one of my dates where I open for you or a Cheescake Factory gift certificate. I'm willing to give all that up to be considered for Dancing with the Stars. But instead I just left her office with a fake smile. Dancing with the Stars. But instead I just left her office with a fake smile.

When I returned to our office to write our jokes for the daily topics, I could feel my lip tremble. Please, Heather, do not start crying Please, Heather, do not start crying, I told myself. I realized my period was two days away and there was no stopping the tears from streaming down my cheeks.

Fortune, who had begun talking about Monster Trucks, turned her head and noticed me crying. "Heather, oh, my G.o.d," she said as she jumped up and shut our office door.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what is wrong with me. I'm getting my period," I said as I wiped my eyes.

"No, Heather, it's a joke. Dancing with the Stars Dancing with the Stars is not looking to cast one of us. Chelsea asked me to go along with it. Heather, you know there is only one star in this office," she said, referring to me. is not looking to cast one of us. Chelsea asked me to go along with it. Heather, you know there is only one star in this office," she said, referring to me.

I wiped my eyes dry and felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Fortune is the best lesbo/officemate I could ever ask for.

THE CHALLENGER s.p.a.cE SHUTTLE.