Ladies and gentlemen! Kids of all ages! Get yer du'as in now, now, NOW, for us to live a happy, healthy, harmonious life in this hyah house:


Front Room (note, none of this stuff is ours)


Dining Room where many a pizza will be et.


Kitchen where many a bucket o' ice cream will be stored and perhaps et.


Stairs that go both up AND down.


Bedroom where many a nap will be taken.

I don't know how many of you take public transportation on a daily basis, but for those of you who do, allow me to share this brilliant gem that just made my day:

Metrobus Seat Hog Gets a Lift
By John Kelly

Thursday, January 26, 2006; Page C09

"It was like a movie scene."
That's how a reader I will call Bert described an incident he witnessed on the 34 Metrobus in Georgetown last week.

A guy was sitting in the middle of a two-person bench seat, refusing all requests to scoot over and allow someone else to sit down.

"Everybody here paid $1.25," said one irritated passenger. "Why should you have two seats?"
This went on for a while -- the fellow lounging, the pressure building -- until a particularly large passenger decided to settle things. When the bus came to a stop, he grabbed the seated man, lifted him up and threw him unceremoniously out the rear door.

(I love it when people are thrown unceremoniously. Has anyone ever been thrown ceremoniously, I mean besides the occasional virgin into a volcano?)

Bert's fellow passengers were stunned. "It was like urban jungle justice," Bert said. On the one hand, the cad had received a deserved comeuppance. On the other hand, something very close to an assault had just taken place.

The ejected passenger did not take his ejection lying down. He suddenly popped up in front of the bus , blocking its path. He was like that Chinese guy who stood in front of a tank in Tiananmen Square, except instead of being a lone protester bravely defying authoritarian rule, he was a little seat-hogging jerk who was keeping everyone from getting home. Bert hopped off and got on another bus. So did all the other passengers. By the time Metro Transit Police arrived, the bus-blocker had fled.

"We don't know whatever happened to him," said Metro's Cathy Asato.

Wagamama is opening a new store in Copenhagen this spring. Where was it when WE were there? And why the Shaq is there no Wagamama in the U.S.? *weeps bitter tears*

ps - happy b-day, ye scurvy, swill-eatin' blackguard, gojira! *mwah*

This had me and my co-workers laughing so hard that tears were coming out of our eyes and our tummies hurt. As though we had been roundhouse-kicked in the gut.

When one is pregnant, one has a tendency to walk and stand with horrible posture. This, in turn, leads to back aches and sleepless nights. In an effort to avoid that, I've been trying to keep my back straight and my head up - which is no easy feat when you are trying to avoid the chilly driving rain slithering down your neck or the blast of cold wind slapping your cheeks. So, back straight, head up, I was in the shower yesterday and came to the startling realization that when I cast my eyes down, the mountain of my belly obscured the view of my feet. I presume they are still there. I even have photographic evidence that they, at one time, existed. I'm looking forward to making their acquaintence again. Oh yeah, and to see my wee one too! Bonus!

One down, two to go

This weekend has been incredibly windy. The National Weather Service even issued an advisory regarding the 50 MPH winds that are toppling trees, powerlines, and small children. But that's not all, folks!

Yesterday afternoon, the gusts were so strong that it ripped our crackheaded (literarily) neighbor's fence clean off the lock. Those mongrels? The banes of my existence? The filthy rags on paws who might be good if only the owners would show them some love, some soap and water, and some inside time at night? They were free. Uriah Heep was the first to bound outside and roll around in the grass (maybe for the first, maybe for the last, time). Darnell Wookieboots followed and after a few moments of stunned joy, began marking the ever car's tires and every house's fences. Cindy Lou, the mildest and perhaps most brainless of them all, stayed on the porch the whole time. Uriah found a man walking down the alley and in sheer happiness began circling him, jumping up on him (he could only reach his knees), and wagging his tail as fiercely as he could. Darnell ventured farther up the alley until we (looking on from the upstairs window) lost sight of him.

I had to attend a baby shower but when I returned, I got the full report: Darnell could not resist the enticing smells of the rotten garbage that had tipped over when our neighbor's fence slammed into the trash cans and knocked them over. He feasted and feasted until one of the neighbors figured out what was going on and dragged him back to the backyard and tied up the fence with some rope. Cindy did nothing, said nothing, and probably realized nothing. Uriah? Your guess is as good as mine. He may be frozen stiff and will thaw out in the spring. He may be still leaping and circling that stranger. He may have made it to Rock Creek Park and will live in paradise for the rest of his days. All I know is: one down.

Well, that, and this video rocks.

So it's come to this. There are a few bands playing this month and next that TP and I would like to see but until the smoking ban is instituted in D.C., I can't go. Instead, we spend our time doing things like watching seriously disturbed and disturbing Netflix movies, catching up on our reading, and spending no less than FIVE WHOLE MINUTES in the soy sauce aisle at the Asian grocery store. Nevermind that it's Restaurant Week in D.C. and we could be out on the town. But, I'm not complaining. My mouth is too full of Pocky Sticks.

Hear ye, hear ye. The results are in. Henceforth, ye shall refer to the wee one as MISTER baby robot pirate monkey, thank you very much. And, apparently, like father, like son: TP came home yesterday with a busted lip from his Hi-Yah! class and lately, the baby has taken up Hi-Yah! classes as well - especially right when I'm trying to snooze. Ah me. Now where did I put my mouthguard?

On tap for tonight: The Unwanted Woman.
Genre: Another one of those wacky Iranian films.
Cost: Free.
Place: The Freer.

As though the physical, emotional, and dietary changes aren't enough, it looks like my reading habits are undergoing a makeover as well. I got halfway through "The Shipping News" before E. Annie Proulx's curt writing style grated on my nerves and I put it away. I'm going to fall back onto some tried and true reading for now - J. D. Salinger, David Sedaris, William Goldman - but as for new books? Looks like "Eats, Poops & Leaves" is looming large in my future. Ah me.