To the citizens of the United States of America, in the light of your failure to elect a competent President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective today.

Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories. Except Utah, which she does not fancy. Your new prime minister (The Right Honourable Tony Blair, MP for the 97.85% of you who have until now been unaware that there is a world outside your borders) will appoint a minister for America without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire will be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed. To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:

1. You should look up revocation in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up aluminium. Check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'favour' and 'neighbour', skipping the letter 'U' is nothing more than laziness on your part. Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters. You will end your love affair with the letter 'Z' (pronounced 'zed' not 'zee') and the suffix ize will be replaced by the suffix ise. You will learn that the suffix 'burgh' is pronounced 'burra' e.g. Edinburgh. You are welcome to respell Pittsburgh as 'Pittsberg' if you can't cope with correct pronunciation. Generally, you should raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. Look up vocabulary. Using the same twenty seven words interspersed with filler noises such as "like" and "you know" is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. Look up interspersed. There will be no more 'bleeps' in the Jerry Springer show. If you're not old enough to cope with bad language then you shouldn't have chat shows. When you learn to develop your vocabulary then you won't have to use bad language as often.

2. There is no such thing as "US English". We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter 'u' and the elimination of -ize.

3. You should learn to distinguish the English and Australian accents. It really isn't that hard. English accents are not limited to cockney,upper-class twit or Mancunian (Daphne in Frasier). You will also have to learn how to understand regional accents - Scottish dramas such as Taggart will no longer be broadcast with subtitles. While we're talking about regions, you must learn that there is no such place as Devonshire in England. The name of the county is Devon. If you persist in calling it Devonshire, all American States will become shires e.g. Texasshire, Floridashire, Louisianashire.

4. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as the good guys. Hollywood will be required to cast English actors to play English characters. British sit-coms such as Men Behaving Badly or Red Dwarf will not be re-cast and watered down for a wishy-washy American audience who can't cope with the humour of occasional political incorrectness.

5. You should relearn your original national anthem, God Save The Queen but only after fully carrying out task 1. We would not want you to get confused and give up half way through.

6. You should stop playing American football. There is only one kind of football. What you refer to as American football is not a very good game. The 2.15% of you who are aware that there is a world outside your borders may have noticed that no one else plays American football. You will no longer be allowed to play it, and should instead play proper football. Initially, it would be best if you played with the girls. It is a difficult game. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which is similar to American "football", but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like nancies). We are hoping to get together at least a US Rugby sevens side by 2005. You should stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the 'World Series' for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.15% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders,your error is understandable. Instead of baseball, you will be allowed to play a girls' game called rounders, which is baseball without fancy team strip, oversized gloves, collector cards or hotdogs.

7. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry guns. You will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous in public than a vegetable peeler. Because we don't believe you are sensible enough to handle potentially dangerous items, you will require a permit if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

8. July 4th is no longer a public holiday. November 2nd will be a new national holiday, but only in England. It will be called Indecisive Day.

9. All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and it is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean. All road intersections will be replaced with roundabouts. You will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time,you will go metric with immediate effect and conversion tables. Roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

10. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips. Fries aren't even French, they are Belgian though 97.85% of you (including the guy who discovered fries while in Europe) are not aware of a country called Belgium. Those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called crisps. Real chips are thick cut and fried in animal fat. The traditional accompaniment to chips is beer which should be served warm and flat. Waitresses will be trained to be more aggressive with customers.

11. As a sign of penance 5 grams of sea salt per cup will be added to all tea made within the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, this quantity to be doubled for tea made within the city of Boston itself.

12. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all, it is lager. From November 1st only proper British Bitter will be referred to as beer,and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager. The substances formerly known as American Beer will henceforth be referred to as Near-Frozen Knat's Urine,with the exception of the product of the American Budweiser company whose product will be referred to as Weak Near-Frozen Knat's Urine. This will allow true Budweiser (as manufactured for the last 1000 years in Pilsen,Czech Republic) to be sold without risk of confusion.

13. From November 10th the UK will harmonise petrol (or Gasoline, as you will be permitted to keep calling it until April 1st 2005) prices with the former USA. The UK will harmonise its prices to those of the former USA and the Former USA will, in return, adopt UK petrol prices (roughly $6/US gallon- get used to it).

14. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you're not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you're not grown up enough to handle a gun.

15. Please tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us crazy.

16. Tax collectors from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all revenues due (backdated to 1776).

Thank you for your co-operation and have a great day.
John Cleese (although it really started here)

Happy Birthday, Cybermom! Here's your present: something you've always wanted . . . a brand new (and by 'brand new,' I mean 'slightly used') son-in-law! We love you very much. Tell Dad to treat you to something nice on our behalf.
xoxo, baj 'n the crew

Pandi's 'Pinions

Weather: The blustery day with 40 mph winds is only good for appreciating hot chocolate. Winter is hard on baby pandas and bloggers/blurkers alike; so if you get chapped lips, papercuts on dry skin, or any kind of ouchie, Neosporin is the way to go.

Movies: Hamoon is an Iranian film that traces an intellectual's memories and dreams in order to discover what went wrong with his marriage. Although there were some visually interesting moments (for example, when the main character accidently knocks over his maid and causes all of her groceries to cascade down the stairs in a rather striking way), the movie, as a whole, was lame. The Felliniesque dream sequences were grating and the characters were unloveable. I like my Iranian films with pastoral scenes, lyrical metaphors, and lil kids. Also, dudes in charge of subtitles? Make a sincere effort not to put white text against a white background, mmmkay? It really makes for hard reading.

Books: Reading Lolita in Tehran chronicals an Iranian teacher's interactions with her select group of women students as they delve into, discuss, and learn from forbidden Western literature by Nabokov, Fitzgerald, James, and Austen. While the concept is fantastic and admirable and her writing is lush and thoughtful, there are portions of the book that I think could stand some editing and cleaning up. Plus, Ms. Nafisi, I know you are pleased with the cleverness and impact of the phrase"reading Lolita in Tehran," but you really don't need to repeat it over and over and over again. It's the title of the book. We get it.

Special Feature:

Bruff McGruff's $0.02

Can someone explain to me the difference between You Got Served and Bring it On? Because from where I'm standing, except for the gender of the playahs, there is very little.

Anyone care for a slice of Key Lime Pie?

Congrats to LB on her sterling review and her raise! I'm so proud of you, Matthew! True to tradition (when you get a raise or a new job, you have to treat), she treated us to brunch this morning at Cafe L'Enfant for coffee, cheesy crepes, and cool cantaloupes. Thanks, LB!

The rest of the day was spent banging around, re-wiring junk, and generally making a big mess. Oh, and playing Literati. Also, watching Globetrekker on PBS. Ah yes, and watching Maria Full of Grace, an Oscar-nominated movie (which I kinda thought was a glorified after-school special) about Columbian women who act as drug mules and live and learn or die and don't learn. The acting and plot were realistic enough, but there were parts that I just didn't buy: the scene at customs, the scene at the sister's house, the scene at the pay-off. *shrug* But then, what do I know about running drugs in one's belly anyway? Well, a lot more than I did before tonight, I tell you whut.

The good news is that the basement bones finally have some basement flesh to cover them. I'd heave a sigh of relief if I didn't fear inhaling some of the insulation that is hanging Sword of Damocles-like overhead.

The bad news is that it still isn't summer yet. Dang, it ain't even spring. *looks at watch, taps foot impatiently, burrows under flannel covers* Wake me up when it's 80 degrees, will ya?

A day in the life:

TP: "Hi, honey, I'm home." (not real greeting, but it will suffice for this post's purpose)
Me: "Hey, how was your day?" (not real response, but see above)
TP: "Fine, nothing new."
Me: "Really? Nothing to report?"
TP: "Nah."
Me: "Seriously? No news about work or friends or anything?"
TP: "Nope."

[time lapse of several hours puttering around the house, making dinner, eating, reading, watching Mexican gameshows]

TP: "Oh, remember Magnapop?"
(They are an Athens/Atlanta band with whom TP had a passing acquaintence in the 1990s when he was invited to garage-jam with them.)
Me: "Yeah."
TP: "Well, I got an e-mail announcing that they are on tour. They are coming to DC next week so I told them that they could stay here."
(pause. digest implications. arch eyebrow.)
Me: "Ah."

In other news, apparently my grandfather likes monkeys too. See? It runs in the family!

1. I'm pleased that "Million Dollar Baby" won this, that, and the other Oscar award last night. I'm glad that "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" won as well. I'm relieved that "Sideways" won no more than one and kind of annoyed that it even won the one it did (pretentious, irritating flick that it was).

2. This site (stolen from Chan) is pretty amusing: Maniac Muslim.

3. Excerpts from "Modern Muslim Cooking of Indo-Pakistan" by A. Nisa Bhatti, First Edition 1964:

From Furniture:
A clock is essential in modern kitchen. Modern cookers necessitate the observing of cooking time which can only be determined with the help of clock which will increase the cooking efficiency. Modern kitchens are also equipped with radio set as an amusement for the housewife while cooking, and to make the atmosphere of the kitchen more pleasant. There should be a [chair] for housewife to sit easily and do her knitting job or any other such thing along with the supervision of the kitchen.

From Practical Hints:
Try to prepare food with a variety. If you have 1lb. of meat, cook in two or three varieties. Though it involves some extra labour but your family will enjoy the hour spent on the table. The look of the food must be appetising. It is natural that the mouth will water when there is something good looking on the table. The way the food is fixed on the table is also very important. The artistic fixing of food sharpens our desire for that and the more the desire for a foood the more easily it will be digested, of course. Almonds are sometimes bitter in taste. It is better to taste them first by slicing slightly on the side or else it will spoil the whole charm.

From Selection of Foods:
Meat: With the exception of calcium meat contains all the necessary minerals and salts needed by the human body. It is especially good source of phosphorous and iron and contains a small amount of carbohydrates. It is also rich in many of the vitamins so necessary to a normal healthy body. The completeness of meat as a food is rather evident. It is certainly a most honourable tribute to any food product.

I'd post some of the recipes (the pigeon korma looks very interesting), but I have to attend to my knitting job and check on how charming my almonds are right now.

Happy Birthday, H-Biddy! Here's your present. Have a wonderful, beautiful day.

The University of Blogging Presents to baji An Honorary Bachelor of Self Deprication Majoring in Gossip Signed Dr. GoQuiz.com ®

Username:

Blogging Degree
From Go-Quiz.com

ps - comments below to congratulate Mr. and Mrs. Abez and family still open. :)

Congrats, Mabrook, and Mubarak to our favorite literati smack-talking rival, honorary pirate, and template designer extraordinaire Sensai Abez and her new hubby [insert mystery name and his blog] on their wedding! Since she is still keeping it on the semi-Q-T, I can't reveal much, but I do have this exclusive photo of the happy couple:



Best wishes, du'as, and long-distance hugs!
xoxo, Blogistan

Pandi's 'Pinions

Fear and Trembling is the newest in a line of funny, dark, and twisted "boss-from-hell" movies such as 9 to 5, Office Space, and especially Swimming with Sharks. It is edgier and yet more delicate than the first two, but gentler and more whimsical than Swimming with Sharks. The movie traces the career swan dive of an eager and well-meaning Belgian woman who is hired as a translator in a large Japanese corporation. Caught in cultural misunderstandings, suffering at the merciless and mercurial hands of her superiors, and becoming a victim of plain old bad luck, she uses her humor, imagination, and cleverness to lose face in order to save face. One French panda thumb up and one Japanese panda thumb up = two English subtitle panda thumbs up!

Guest Post Series: My Grandfather

(post published here (a) unbeknownst to him,

(b) via an e-mail to me, and

(c) because I'm just THAT lazy.)

The night of the 15th/16th created a historical chaos in northern Pakistan. Somebody released a rumour that a tsunami-type earthquake was going to hit us! Mosque loudspeakers blared, summoning the faithful to pray for forgiveness, grab Baby and run. Where to? Never mind, just run! Soon the Grand Trunk Road was jammed with anything on wheels, including cars, trucks, bicycles, and even wheel-chairs! Northerners were fleeing south, southerners north, creating a royal traffic chaos. Traffic cops were among those running helter-skelter.

"Yajooj Majooj aa gaye!" (Gog and Magog have come!) screamed many.

Our phone rang in the wee hours of the morning: "Auntie, we are sitting wrapped in quilts in the open outside our hostel."

Had the administration launched an instantaneous refutation of the rumour, the chaos might have been prevented, since earthquakes cannot be predicted even with the most sophisticated seismographic knowhow available.

PANDI'S 'PINIONS

Book Review:
Fray - Two bamboo slayer thumbs up. Joss Whedon's graphic novel picks up where "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" left off, give or take a hundred years.

The Amazing Adventures of the Escapist - Two panda headstands up. Michael Chabon's comic book picks up where "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay" left off, going back several decades.

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Two space panda hitchhiking thumbs up. Douglas Adam's silly sci-fi book is an amusing little read and is worth checking out if you intend to see the movie version coming out soon (starring Martin Freeman from "The Office" and, more recently, "Shaun of the Dead").

Movie Review:
Donnie Darko, The Director's Cut - Two special feature panda bleats up. The story is still amazingly convoluted and indecipherable, but the extra footage does make a difference and adds some depth to the already fathomless flick.

The Grudge - One tumble session down. This was just a bunch of creepy shots strung together and really was nothing we haven't seen before. I liked it better the first time I saw it when it was called "The Ring".

Restaurant Review:
Etete Restaurant - One bamboo stalk up. The new local Ethiopean restaurant is clean, high-tech (stereo system and plasma screen), and serves good food, but I prefer Meskerram's Kik Alicha.

Stay tuned for the next installment of Pandi's 'Pinions when he reviews Fear and Trembling.

Previously, on Hawaiilogue: breaking and entering birds, nuts trying to open nuts, and a bloomin' Orion. Cue the theme song, roll the opening credits, and begin the show.

Day Six: The sunshine welcomed us warmly as we made our final trek to the breakfast buffet. The palm trees swayed in the distance, the colorful birds twittered merrily above, and the beautiful beach beckoned us to stroll upon its soft sand one last time. Then . . . Packin' Time (you can't touch this!) *break it down with crazy sideways crab dance*

After stuffing our clothes into our bags and our bags into the car, we checked out and drove to Hilton Waikoloa Village for our whale watching cruise. As we waited on the beach for the Red Sail Sport's catamaran we realized that we left the binoculars in the car. TP and I ran to retrieve the binoculars (one person per nocular) and that was the most exercise I had all week. We returned just in time to be the last to board the Noa Noa. We were given a safety speech, offered some pupu (hors d'oeuvres with a crazier name), and told to LOOK OVER THERE! A BALEEN WHALE! Once we knew what to look for (the bit of black breaking the surface of the water) and listen for (poofs of water when the blowhole blew), we saw the humpback whales popping up all over the place. Fearful of dropping my digicam into the ocean, especially after witnessing someone do just that, I had to photograph what I could from a safe distance away from the edge.


In the distance, we could see the snow-capped Mauna Kea. It was pretty exciting to see these giant beasts slide quietly by and in such close proximity to us tiny land-lubbers. Like Dory, I wished I could speak whale.

In the evening, we stood on the shores of Kona Beach for our last Hawaiian sunset before going into town.



LB and TP wanted to try a drink of kava, a member of the pepper family and a relative of our good buddy betel. They stopped by this place and watched a burly guy ladle a grimy, muddy-looking liquid out of a huge cauldron and serve it to them with a smile. Kava is like an herbal tea (still legal in the U.S. but perhaps not for too long) that has the effect of making your tongue tingle and then is supposed to leave you feeling relaxed and tranquil. That's assuming you can gag it down in the first place. That is one nasty, foul-tasting drink, yo. Here is a sample of some reviews on the taste:

"It was sort of like drinking dirty phlegm."
"It numbed my mouth well enough but I only was able to choke down three or four tablespoons before my gorge threatened serious rising action."
"Like chalk swimming in body sweat."

My take on it? Not quite make-you-want-to-pull-your-eyelashes-out bad, but I'm certainly not going to suggest anyone try it if they want to keep their taste buds happy (and who doesn't?). Grody to the max. Plus, no real effect on us. Granted, we only had a few sips each before our throats began picketing and warning us of a strike, but still.

We chased the atrocious kava drinks down with some disagreeable Thai food. We rounded up the night with some extra-special fun security treatment for Dad at the airport. Finally, we braced ourselves for the long journey home replete with a drunk and unruly passenger (who was greeted by the police when we landed in LAX), sleepless flights with awful movies, seemingly endless layovers (why must all of the seats have arm rests, WHY?! Interrogrumpy!), and bitingly cold and snowy weather upon our arrival. But just so I don't end on a completely downer note, check out this sunrise and enjoy:

When the dusty deconstruction and renovation of the basement requires the relocation of the band equipment to the relatively safer and cleaner upstairs, my poor bookcase and CDcase are unfairly imprisoned:




You don't even wanna know how the guitars have subjugated the dressers and how the rest of the drums are encroaching upon the television's territory.

Happy greeting-card-sponsored, faux, profit-based, marketing-ploy, forced, saccharine-doused, media-spun Valentine's Day, y'all! Pick your card.

(psst - TP, this song's for ye.)

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures
and instructions for dancing
But I . . . I love it when you read to me
And you . . . You can read me anything

The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb
But I . . . I love it when you sing to me
And you . . . You can sing me anything

The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know

But I . . . I love it when you give me things
And you . . . You ought to give me wedding rings
And I . . . I love it when you give me things
And you . . . You ought to give me wedding rings
And I . . . I love it when you give me things
And you . . . You ought to give me wedding rings
You ought to give me wedding rings

--Magnetic Fields

Just got back from watching Million Dollar Baby which I very much enjoyed. A multi-layered story revolving around a grizzled old trainer teaching a determined woman how to box had adrenaline-raising fight scenes and deep, touching quiet scenes. If you like your dialogue delivered in gravelly voices, your humor subtle, and your denouement wrenching, then this is the flick for you. Some of the characters were a little over-the-top (stereotypical trailer trash bits come to mind) and some of the scenes were pretty graphic (ouch, getting bull-dozed in the face and then getting your nose re-set doesn't look like fun at all), but for the most part, the movie was well-developed, the actors were skilled, and the plot moved along smoothly and steadily. Good job, Clint and Hillary! Oh, and Morgan, you can narrate or voice-over the movie of my life anytime.

Mah blizzog if Snoop wuz mah web dizziner. Wanna peep yours? Clizzickity clizzick.

To my Christian homies, Double up, A-men!

Shark Tale: A

Day Six, coming up. After I finish off this bag of anahola granola my awesome cybermom sent in a care package. Woot (crunch crunch) woot!

Day Five: Not much. Honestly. Breakfast, beach, and bird-watching (a cardinal came into our room at one point).

TP and I took a walk around the gardens in the afternoon. We came upon a coconut palm grove and found a coconut on the ground. Since we left our machete at home, TP went into total caveman mode as he tried to pry open the coconut, grunted meaninglessly, threw it violently against the tree, and dragged his knuckles along the ground before pounding it in frustration. We took the coconut for a walk. When we found a large chunk of lava rock near a cliff overlooking the ocean, TP seized the rock, heaved it high, and tried to bash the nut open. No luck. TP sulked and retired into a cave where he expressed his anger and confusion via artistic but simplistic cave drawings depicting the coconut as his friend and enemy.

That evening, we saw Neil Young dining at the table next to us, a traditional Hawaiian musical trio perform in the lobby, and an incredible expanse of the world-reknowned, clear, starry skies at night (Orion is still my favorite).

Next up: a drink that tastes like raw sewage with a hint of brimstone.

Day Four: Since all I had for dinner the night before was about half a bag of potato chips, I actually managed to make two full trips to the buffet for breakfast this time. I hadn't had whole milk in ages so I allowed myself a generous ladling of it when it was anahola granola time. At 9:00 a.m., we met up in the lobby for the garden tour of the resort's grounds. Our guide, whom I dubbed Groundskeeper Willikikihamawananameha even though he had neither a Scottish accent nor a Hawaiian name, greeted us, expressed his astonishment at the huge size of the group (there were eight of us), and led us outside. He pointed out the majestic Royal Palms ($20,000 a pop to transplant from Cuba), the stumpy Dwarf Date Palms, and the fake-sounding Cardboard Palms, all imported from lusher lands. He drew our attention to the fuscia-colored Bougainvillea, the intoxicatingly fragrant Singapore Plumeria, the awesomely-named Monkeypod Tree, and the always attention-grabbing Bird of Paradise:



I tucked a fallen plumeria blossom the behind my ear, watched a boy capture a chameleon and hold it out for all to see whether it would change colors, and accepted my last mosquito bite (note to self: vegetation = pain).

*grabs tennis shoes, shakes fist into the air, and passionately proclaims "as God as my witness, I'll never get bitten (in Hawaii) again!"*

The beach was closed this day because the undertow was too strong. As a result, the cabanas were free (normally, they require a reservation and $30) and y'all should know by now how we love free. Sat in the shade of the cabanas for a while, sat in the sun for a while, got up too fast, forgot about low blood pressure, almost fainted at the edge of the edgeless pool, quickly laid down in the cool grass under the cabana near Mom, felt better, and went inside for a nap.

For lunch, we all went to Arnie's Clubhouse located next to the Arnold-Palmer-designed golf course. The tasty meal was healthy and shot an eagle. We avoided the water hazards by enjoying the refreshing, signature Arnold Palmer drink (half iced tea, half lemonade). However, the vanilla, all-butter pound cake with ripe berries and fresh cream scored a hole-in-one! Wow, that was a corny dining review. Oh well. Fore! I mean, yum!

We tucked TP back into bed to nap off his traditional "I was on an airplane and therefore automatically caught someone's germs" cold and headed down to Kona for some strolling and shopping. The area which we were visiting was very different from our neighborhood: filled with souvenir shops, sporting a stingy strip of beach, and crawling with tourists. At Country Samurai Coffee Company, we were given a brief tutorial by the rather no-nonsense owner on how his coffee beans are picked, washed and dried, husked, roasted, and graded. Gotta say, after downing shot after shot of espresso in Italy and France, Hawaii's Kona coffee is pretty tame. The thin, weak coffee the hotel gave us in the room, we found out later, was only 10% Kona. The 100% stuff is smooth but kickless. We meekly purchased some of the samurai's Extra Fancy blend and then hightailed it out of there before he went all Kill Bill on us.

Returned to rescue TP from boredom, watched Alias (why do I keep watching that show and where the shaq is Sark?! interrostud!), and discussed the merits and pitfalls of going on a helicopter ride over the island.

Next up: a bright and intelligent attorney tries to open a coconut with a big rock.

In other news, I'm almost finished with The Known World (thx, oz!), I invite you to cast yer ballots on the blogpoll to your left.

Day Three: What's better than a cheese omelet? An omelet that has two kinds of cheese. I heart cheese. Cheesy Cheesy Cheese. So, after filling my belly with a breakfast of eggs and cheese (see what happens when Dad is away?), we explored the beach. With sturdy beach sandals on (I still have my 14 year old, busticated Tevas), TP and I ventured out onto the unfriendly lava rocks and were greeted by slivers of black fish, scoops of black snails, and scurrying, scrabbling black crabs. The surf was pounding roughly on the beach that morning so there were only a few daredevils out in the water. We spent the morning reading our respective books on the beach: Mom with her Koran For Dummies, TP with his E.L. Doctorow, LB with her Hawaii, and me with Kim, which doubled as reading material and, when strategically placed face-down over the bridge of my nose and covering my eyes, sunscreen.

Dad met up with us and we drove over to Waimea, the closest town to us that was still about half an hour away. After browsing around a natural foods health store where TP snagged some rambutans we went to a small shack of a restaurant called Aioli's for some healthy Ahi sammiches. Holy role-reversal (part deux), Batman! Somehow, Mom got away with just having a huge slice of apple pie with vanilla ice cream for lunch. We got back on the road and headed to the east coast.

We reached Akaka Falls State Park and the minute I stepped foot out of the car, I was accosted by mosquitoes. Why did I wear chappals to the tropical rain forest? Because I'm a glutton for itchy punishment. Taking the quarter of a mile trail to the falls, we enjoyed the towering bamboo groves, widdle bitty Kahuna Falls, a puny 100-foot cascade, and the star 442-foot Akaka Falls plunging into the gorge.


The falls were not as thundering and breathtaking as Iceland's Gullfoss waterfall, but they were attractive and distracting enough for me to score two more mosquito bites.

Returning to the car through the forest of banyan trees, native ferns, and more bamboo, we tried to figure out what the piercing, chirping noise we heard was. TP identified it as Hawaii's newest nightmare: the shrieking Coqui frog from Puerto Rico. Turn the volume down and listen to this: Ko-kee! Ko-Kee! No wonder Hawaii is considering calling a state of emergency over this.

On our way back to Hapuna, we stopped at an attraction which you will find in no guidebook but which amazed and delighted us to no end. The first time I saw it whizzing by on our drive the day before, I was stunned. Did I just see what I thought I saw: rows and rows of roosters, each one standing with almost military precision next to his little inverted V (not a consummate V!) house? We found the little farm, got out of the car, and discovered the secret: each rooster's ankle was shackled to his abode. Crazy-doodle-doo!


The sun was starting to set and we were all enthralled by its beauty. If not for the catlike reflexes of yours truly, I would have been dazzled by the sunset and run over a reckless mongoose who darted across my car's path on his way to attend to some urgent business. Here is a pix of the mongoose-widow-maker:


Next up: Groundskeeper Willikikihamawananameha

Day Two: Woke up at 6:00 a.m., went out onto the balcony, and watched the full moon sink into the Pacific horizon. I tried to take a decent pix of the moonset but my digicam wasn't quite up to the task. We were Dadless this morning because his conference had begun for the week so we were left to our own devices until he was free after noon. We got our daily shot of macadamia nuts at breakfast (seriously, they put it in everything from pancakes to granola to omelets to coffee) and made a beeline for the beach. Not surprisingly, the beach was pretty empty that early in the morning. The white sand was incredibly soft and I took much joy in curling my bare toes into it. Merrily, we strolled along, keeping a close eye out for rocks and shells that washed up on shore and could either viciously scrape our tender feet or sit pretty and look nice on our desks. Or both. The beach did not extend very far before a huge wall of lava boulders separated the private beach from the public one.



A little toe-dipping session later, we decided that we'd wait for Dad before leaping into the waves. Instead, we thought ahead to snack time and agreed to go into town for some groceries. We drove past the brownish-black a'a' with their brilliant, bleached coral graffiti for about an hour until we reached Kailua-Kona, home of the Ironman Triathalon: a 2.4-mile ocean swim, 112-mile bike race, and 26.2-mile run all within 17 hours. Alas, the event is held every October, so we could not participate. The grocery store's selections were heavily influenced by Japanese tastes and that's how we ended up with green tea ice cream flavored hard candy, fish jerky, lichee candy, sushi, and panda biscuits along with our salt and vinegar chips and dark chocolate bars. TP and I sat in the parking lot and gobbled down the sushi. It really wasn't as distasteful as it sounds because the parking lot was clean, quiet, and shaded by swaying palm trees, and overlooked the sparkling blue Kailua Bay.

Dad was free from his classes at noon, so we plied him with sushi and then all trekked down to the beach. The resort provided each of us with soft, clean beach towels and lounge chairs on the sand. We staked out a section that could accommodate all of us and was away from everyone else. Then, the leaping began. Mom watched over our gear as the rest of us, in varying displays of courage, plunged headlong into the ocean. Dad, in his short, rainbow-patterned, 1970s swim trunks, and TP, with his two-stitches, still-healing finger now unbandaged, were the most daring with their dives and body surfing and splashing around. The waves were strong enough to keep us awake but not so dangerous that they kept us on land. Because we were in a secluded area that was surrounded by jagged lava rocks, we had the whole section of the beach and water to ourselves. An hour or so later, we were all tuckered out and flopped onto our chairs to gaze upon the ocean and zone out. We read, we snacked, and we created great works of art in the sand. The towering waves and darkening skies triggered conversations ranging from the tragedy of the recent Asian tsunami to the stunning suddenness of the sun setting on the ocean in a blink of an eye.



Our evening ended with a conference-sponsored pasta dinner in the courtyard of the hotel. Booo-ring. Zzzzzzzzz.

Next up: Akaka waterfalls, rooster prisoners, and wayward mongooses . . . er . . . mongeese . . . uh . . . moxen?

Day One: I woke up in Hawaii. Any story that begins with that sentence is okay by me. So. The 50th state in the union, Hawaii (a.k.a. the Sammich Islands) is the world's most isolated archipelago (about 2000 miles from L.A.; about 6000 miles from D.C. - hence the eye-reddening flights) and is made up of six to eight islands (can't seem to find a consensus on that so maybe Two Scoops can help out here). We were kicking it on the Big Island, the only one that has both snow and active volcanoes.

After LB and Dad did some recon around the hotel and beach, we all met up for a lavish all-you-can-eat buffet brunch. I loaded up on divine and yet healthy for you Anahola Granola. Over tart pineapples, sweet strawberries, lime-drenched papayas (TP graciously ate my share), pastries, cereals, juices, and mild Kona coffee, we discussed the plans for the day. Most of us grunted "beach" several times, but Dad insisted that we visit Honolulu on the neighboring island of O'ahu. We found out that the trip would involve getting up and being at the airport (45 minutes away) at 5:00 a.m., catching a flight to O'ahu, getting shackled to a guided tour, and slapping down about $300/person. We thought about taking a ferry instead, but apparently, it hasn't been built yet. Even though we all wanted to see Pearl Harbor, we kicked up a fuss and finally, Dad relented. I think the main reason he complied was because by then he found out where the golf pro shop was. As a compromise, we decided to visit the Hawaii Volcanoes National Park.

We drove for two and a half hours along the upper curve of the island, through the big city of Hilo, and into the park. Our side of the island was leeward and therefore usually sunny and dry. This side of the island was windward and wet and although we packed our rain gear, in the end, we had no need for it. We gave ourselves a little tour of the visitor's center and the volcano house while waiting for the official (free) tour to begin. At tour time, a tiny, young Japanese girl appeared and in a thick accent declared herself our guide. She rattled off some of the endemic flora and fauna, told us the legend of the ohia trees, cursed the invasive ginger plants, and gave us a brief lesson in geology which I will share with you now. Settle down, class, this won't take long.

Whether its due to (a) Vulcan the blacksmith (not the mind-melding humanoid Vulcans, you nerdlinger) tooling around in his forge (b) the wrath of the goddess Pele in full force or (c) bouyancy and gasses pressuring molten rock away from the core of the planet, liquid hot MAG-ma (said in Dr. Evil's voice with pinky placed appropriately near the smirk) spurts up and out of the weak parts of the earth's crust. Sometimes, the magma reservoir (it took us several moments to figure out that's what our guide was saying when she said "lezivah") erupts via a fixed hot spot (imagine the nastiest pimple-popping session EVER) while the plates on the surface continue to float and shift. Here, the Pacific Tectonic Plate was moving westward while the volcanoes did their thing and when the lava cooled, each Hawaiian island was formed (just like Iceland!). So the farther west you go, the older the island (i.e. Niihau - population 230 - is the baji of the archipelago). The farthest east, the Big Island is the baby of the family and since there is still some volcanic activity, it is still growing. Isn't that the cutest thing? No? Maybe this is:




Anyway, back to the tour. Turns out, our guide led us along the same route we had just taken. We did learn quite a bit (a crater is less than a mile, a caldera is greater) and oohed and ahhed over the Kilauea Volcano below:



Despite the warnings that the goddess Pele (or "Pere" who sometimes wears a "lead dress") would be angered if we took any of her lava rocks away, we took our chances. Here she is venting some steam:



The lava fields were just incredible and really made you feel as though you were on a completely different planet or moon (with convenient human-friendly atmosphere, how sweet!):



I thought of my fellow Scrabbie-lovers when I learned that this particular lava is known as "aa" because, as the joke goes, when your tender, bare feet land on the incredibly sharp shards of lava, you exclaim, "ah! ah!" We drove along the Crater Rim Road for some wide, unobstructed views of the desolate landscape and ended our day with a walk through the rain forest to the Thurston Lava Tube (the III).



We thought about driving down to the coast to witness the current eruptions and the molten lava slowly sliding into the sea, but we hadn't had any lunch, the sun was starting to set, and we were still on Eastern Standard Time. We drove back to the hotel along the spectacular coast and up the lush mountains and down deep gullies of the northern edge of the island, marveling over what we had seen. Dinner (sushi, sushi, suuuuushi!), discussion (What's with volcanic islands (Iceland and Hawaii come to mind) and outrageous prices? The price of gas was between $2.60 - $2.75/gallon! And yes, I had a car and therefore had a perfectly legitimate excuse for indulging in my obsessive gas price comparison shopping), and deep sleep.

Next up: Body surfing on the Pacific Ocean

Pre-Day One: TP, LB, and I battened down our respective hatches, wove our way through the airport full of smarmy, cowboy-wannabe, black-hatted and booted Republicans (in town to celebrate their prez's inauguration), and beat the "Blizzard of '05" that blanketed the East Coast by a matter of hours. We flew over snowy hill and dale and even the Grand Canyon:



Five hours, two snooty flight attendants, and one middle row seat later, we arrived in LAX. It was such a warm day in sunny Cali that we walked from our arrival terminal to our departure terminal outside, shedding our coats and sweaters along the way. We took some perverse pleasure in reading the monitor's announcements that the DC airports were now completely shut down. After a bit of fretting over whether my parents would make the connecting flight (their flight to Cincinnati had been cancelled, the re-rerouted flight through Hotlanta had been delayed, and the United Airlines bozos at the ticket counter couldn't comprehend that someone could fly one airline and then connect onto another airline), we all had a happy family reunion in Terminal 7.

Another five hours, another middle seat, and one crappy movie later, we arrived in KON. It was such a gloriously warm night in tropical Hawaii that Dad and I almost walked to the rental car lot until we realized that walking over a mile away in the dark and on little-to-no-sleep was probably not a good idea. Hopped a shuttle bus to pick up the rental car, swung around and picked up the family and luggage, drove about 45 minutes through the night surrounded by black lava flows and palm trees, and checked into our rooms at the Hapuna Beach Prince Hotel resort. We were given cool, moist towels with which to wash some of the travel grime off of our faces and glasses of passion fruit juice with which to re-hydrate our desiccated bodies. Local time aside, my body screamed that it was 4:00 a.m. our time and well past my bedtime. So, as the waves crashed on the rocks outside, I crashed on the bed inside and sank into some sweet sweet sleep.

Next up: Dad wants to go to Honolulu but his idea is shot down.

Ahoy, mateys! We're back after a wonderful trip to the lovely, tropical "Big Island" where we had lots of fun (stood at the edge of a volcano (yes, it's dormant now, but still!), watched a plunging waterfall in the forest, and contemplated the ocean crashing against lava rocks and our toes), sat in the sun (every. single. day.), and spent a lot of mon (if by "we" you mean "dad"). When I woke up last time, this was the view that greeted me:



I was up and traveling for 32 straight hours and just woke up from a nap of12 straight hours and was greeted by this:



I miss Hawaii. :(

Travelogue and more pix comin' up.

TP and LB and I are leaving for Hawaii! Hot Kona coffee, hot volcanos, hot beaches under a hot sun. Woot woot! Y'all behave while we are gone. I'm off to search for buried monkey pirate treasure.

See ya, suckahs!

Hmmmm . . . highest sense of paranoia (x) tightest security ever for a presidential inauguration (+) hordes of area Muslims attempting to converge for Eid prayers (/) icy road conditions = __________. Yipes! Anyway, Eid Mubarak, y'all!

Guest Post Series: My Grandfather (post published here unbeknownst to him and via an e-mail to me)

When I was in Jeffersonville, two salespersons, a boy and a girl, visited our house [in Islamabad], congratulated [Aunty R] on having won a hi-tech camera in a lottery and sold her some washing powder. We had never participated in any lottery and anyway the "prize" was too "sophisticated" for anyone in the family to understand, so they kept it safely until my return. The other day I noticed the nice-looking heavy camera carrying case and on being told the story, opened it and tried to figure out how the contraption worked. The user's manual was a third-rate production that had crude sketches and diagrams which could not be located on the camera and there were mysterious gadgets on the camera which didn't find any mention in the manual! The camera was dead as the dodo, so I decided to carry out an autopsy, using only a screwdriver and hammer.

In the "morgue" lay the shattered bits and pieces of plastic, wires, toothed wheels, knobs, levers, switches, and other "hi-tech" stuff, but their total weight was only a few ounces, far less than what the manual specified. Yet the body felt heavy, so I pounded away with the heavy hammer to break it further to discover why it was so heavy. Lo and behold, inside each of the three "sinuses" of the camera, moulded and fitted skilfully, were chunks of solid pure lead (Pb). I intend melting them down into one chunk as a paper-weight.

It reminds me of a story I read when I was in school. A man bought a cat and instructed his servant to feed it one pound of meat daily. The servant complied faithfully but only for a week or so. One day the cat was heard meowing and meowing pitiably. The master ordered the servant to fetch a pair of scales.

"Did you feed the cat today?"
"Yes, Sir!"
"When and how much?"
"Ten minutes ago. One pound, Sir, just as you ordered."
"OK, the scale shows exactly one pound. That's the meat. Where's cat?"

The camera manual specifies its weight as 510 grams. The lead chunks alone weigh 510 grams. Where the devil's the camera?

Early Eid Mubarak, y'all!

Just finished The Time Traveler's Wife which I really enjoyed (some time traveling, a love story, some humor, some pathos, some good music discussions) but which I would not recommend to readers with delicate sensibilities (some juicy, racy stuff). It was kind of like Memento meets When Harry Meets Sally. Next up: What The Body Remembers by Shauna Singh Baldwin. The debut novel is about two women married to the same man and the drama swirling around all of the characters in the days of pre- and post-Partition. So far, so good. This excerpt is dedicated to everyone's favorite chooriyan-hound, Chai:

The bangle seller has entered the tunnel, waking Roop from her musing.

He carries two jute bundles, dingy brown, with the promise of sparkle inside. They oscillate from three ropes tied to each end of a long stick with its fulcrum on his shoulders, supporting the fragile hidden circles of bright coloured glass. Rolled tight under his arm, a reed prayer mat awaits his need to kneel before his Allah.

He rests his bundles on the floor of the tunnel and squats. With a practiced flourish, he unties the first bundle before Roop. Colour prisms splash, shoot and shimmer on the haveli's mud-plastered walls.

"Gujri!"

Gujri comes, wiping her hands on a corner of her chunni. Seeing the bangle seller, she returns with three small bruised bananas and lays them on the ground before him. "Give her a dozen bangles," she orders, then retuns to her rasoi. . . .

Vermillion reds, mustard golds, purples and green glass. Red glass, pink glass, glass that has passed through fire, melted, then spun down a wood cone to Roop's size, cooled, till it formed a hot skin that could bear the touch of a paintbrush tip, dotting it with gold, threading it with silver.

Such tinkling, shimmering fragility, doesn't she want a few?

(editor's note: In observance of Martin Luther King Jr. Day, the staff has been given the day off. Today's post is a republished post that originally appeared on Abez's blog this weekend as part of a blog-exchange program. The normal(ish) posts will begin again on Tuesday. Thank you.) *streches arms over head, heaves contented sigh, returns to curled up position on couch for nap*

How to mortally wound yourself around the kitchen - or -

the secret ingredient is blood!

1. Prepare a batch of cookie dough. Be sure to sample the ingredients before adding them to the mix: finger-swipe of melted butter, spoonful of brown sugar, cheekful of chocolate chips until said cheeks are bulging outrageously and you cannot deny the moniker "squirrel nutkins" as passersby shake their heads at you. Blend the ingredients well with an electric or old-timey hand mixer. Just before tossing the beaters into the sink, save time, water, and soap by licking the raw batter off of the metal strips. Scoff at the threats of Salmonellosis and attempt to clean off even the hard-to-reach inner curves of the beater. Pull a muscle in your tongue (possibly the styloglossus if not for the sheer enjoyment of saying "styloglossus") Cry out in pain. Pause. Continue licking the batter off with slower movements and care. Lesson the first: your tongue is not an acrobat.

2. Prepare rice. Assemble your materials by lining up the canister containing the basmati rice and the pot in which to cook the rice. Step back and enjoy your accomplishment thus far. Measure out 1 cup of rice. Rinse the rice out several times and offer mild curses when some grains escape with the runoff water. After rinsing, add 1 and a half cup of water to the rice and set it on the stove to boil over high heat. Add a chunk of butter and a pinch of salt. When the water is boiling rapidly, lower the heat to a simmer, cover the pot, and walk away. Set the timer for 10 minutes. While waiting for the timer to go off, clean up your workspace. Lift the canister containing the rice by its lid. Watch as the base separates from the lid in slow-motion. Wait for the canister to crush your toes and the rice to fly into your hair, your eyes, and possibly your lungs. Lesson the second: let someone else clean up the kitchen for you.

3. Prepare an apple. Wash the apple. Contemplate its beauty. Grab a knife. Recall how your mother would deride such crutches as a cutting board when chopping, slicing, and peeling a variety of fruits and vegetables. Attempt to emulate your mother. Grasp the apple with your left hand. Work the knife gently around the apple with your right hand to divide the apple in half. Put aside one half of the apple and begin to core the other half. When you are sure that you have a good and steady grip on the knife and apple, plunge the knife directly into your hand. Die. Lesson the third: you are not your momma.

Guest Post Series: Abez

Travelogue Bajiland: Day Three

Our third day in the Land of Baj was marked by sun, sand, and salamanders, all of which were present in our hotel room left of the Arc de Triomphe and right of the Basket du Sock. The salamanders, a rare indigenous breed whose taste remotely resembled gelato, earned a C+ for their crunchiness and slightly puckish taste.

The Salamander was a C+

After packing up and checking out, we tarried south towards a charming little cafe on the Coastu Coast that smelled slightly of the sea and strongly of the weed. It reminded me of the creepy little joint in that old movie that no one but myself has seen, Sea-Dive, which starred Johnny Obscure and Jill Oblivion. As I sat there eating crepes and drinking cappuccino, I couldn't help but think of the quote that captured the very essence of the film; "Tartar sauce, the fish that doesn't swim."

Having finished breakfast, Mothra (my travelling companion) and I went in search of a copy of a Washington Post. No other magazine would do, because only the Washington Post allows me to paste links that other people cannot read because they're not subscribers. After visiting a few overpriced shops for tourists, we asked a man who appeared to be local (he was sleeping on a bench) where we could find the 'real' shopping area. My French isn't too good, but I did understand the instructions to a land where the sun didn't shine. We thanked him and went on our way.

We walked along the Boulevard de Boullion for what felt like millions of miles until we realized we were lost and the soles of my hush puppies were yelping for mercy. Mothra thought we needed a rest, and from my place on the ground underneath of a mailbox, I had to agree. We popped into another little cafe for coffee and the house speciality, a mysterious looking blob of brown stuff on toast that the waiter assured me was vegetarian. Or Sumerian. Or valerian. It turned out to be valerian; the root. Quite disgusting. Very much not like gelato. Not even like salamander. D-.

The Boulevard de Boullion

We eventually gave up for the day and Mothra hailed a cab with his index finger extended in the air. Had we known that this was a culturally rude gesture, we might have hailed the cab differently, but at the time we could only wonder why cabs would drive up and then pass dangerously within inches of us before speeding away. We made it back to the hotel, seven hours later, and fell exhaustedly onto the furniture. It had been a long and exciting day, although we never did find a copy of the Washington Post.

The Washington Post's Style Invitational asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are some gems:

• Bozone (n): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
• Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
• Inoculatte (v): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
• Karmageddon (n): It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
• Dopeler effect (n): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come very quickly.
• Beelzebug (n): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

Abez and I are working on creating a new dictionary with such fantabulous entries such as:

• Beardage (n): Lower facial hair. Used in conjunction with "sporting" (i.e. "that mullah is sporting some major beardage.")
• Blurker (n): One who visits a blog but does not comment upon it and/or maintain one's own. (psst - we still love you, you cute little blurkers!)
• Bowpit (n): The inner side of the elbow (derived from a variation of "armpit" while Gojira and I were sweating and zoned out in a park in Dublin).
• Busticated (which I recently learned is an actual word but will get high honors as a fake word nonetheless).

And those are just the "B"s! Any contributions?

As an apology for tampering with my bank account and switching my social security number with that of another "icubaji" who lives in Virginia and doesn't even have an account with them anymore but for some reason they have her SSN linked to my account and prevented me from accessing my account on-line (and for previously screwing up last year with the same account mix-up so that my checks were sent back for insufficient funds because her account had zero moolah in it) which meant I had to go to the bank in person and talk to no less than three people to straighten it out, I got this:



Apology accepted. But next time (and I sincerely hope there is not a next time) just remember that I'm more of a daisy girl than a carnation girl. Jackholes.

Three days until Counter-Inaugural kicks off its week-long events including poetry readings, student walkouts, and Underground Hip Hop and MC Battle Against the Inauguration and the War.


One week until the feds are going to close about 100 square blocks of downtown DC for Inauguration Day and to restrict traffic on another 100 square blocks.


One week and a day until Turn Your Back On Bush demonstrators will protest by literally turning their backs on Bush as he coasts by on his route to the White House. A.N.S.W.E.R. will be demonstrating on the north side of the parade route. D.C. Anti-War Network will hold their rally at 9 a.m. and will be joined by the Women's March and Funeral Procession (New Orleans jazz style) in the afternoon. CodePink and Billionaires For Bush will host a Black Tie and Boots Inaugural Ball the night before and then return in full force the next day when they will auction off Social Security at 10:30 a.m. and host another ball that night. ReDefeatBush will be holding "the world's first CounterInaugural Ball" that night.

For all of you out-of-towners, you can join in on the festivities/mourning as well! In case you are wondering where I'll be after a full day of activities listed above, perhaps you can find me here, at the NOT MY PRESIDENT! Punk Rock Counter-Inaugural Ball, rocking my broken little heart out.

Now, I love robots as much as the next person. Maybe even more so. But $138 for a Prada Robot Trick Keychain?


Eesh. However, since it IS Marlene's birthday, let's all sing for her and pitch in and get her this similarly priced but perhaps more to her liking keychain. Happy Birthday, Marlene!

Public Service Annoucement:
Dannon's Raspberries 'N Cream, Light 'n Fit, Carb Control Yogurt.
Barftastic.
What was I thinking, you ask?
It was on sale.
Now I know why.

This message was brought to you by your friendly neighborhood tastebuds.

In the never-ending appreciation for free stuff, we visited the Freer Gallery of Art (part of the Smithsonian Museum complex) to attend a screening of the first in a series of films shown for the Iranian Film Festival of 2005 (one of TP's joys in life). We were supposed to see The Unfinished Story, a facty/fictiony film about two documentary filmmakers attempting to make a film about Iranian smugglers and their clients who run into the real deal and help them by pretending they are actors performing in a film. Alas, the reel was languishing in Brazilian Customs.

The replacement film we saw, The Canary, is an Iranian film set in Palestine. This film is about a young boy who is entrusted with the care of the local priest's canary and who tries to protect the canary from loud noises, local bullies, and the war itself (not an easy task in rat-a-tat, constant bombs and bullets, Palestine). Iranian filmmakers seem to enjoy creating stories through the eyes of children (see The White Balloon and The Color of Paradise), but do so by exploring tragedy and humor with sensitivity and subtlety. Not so much with this film. The heavy-handed portrayal of the freedom fighters and the faceless Israeli military was jarring and disturbing which, perhaps, was the director's intention. Next up: The First Letter.

I just ate an entire avacado by myself. Granted, I made it into guacamole first. Then, I spread some of it on a slice of toasted rosemary sourdough bread. Tasty. Then, I did it again. Yummy. Then, there was only a little bit left anyway, so I finished it off. You know, to save room in the fridge. Yep. That's why.




Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?

Just finished reading The Kite Runner (tragic, painful, not recommended bedtime reading unless you want nightmares) and Insomnia (typical Stephen King fare that was less nightmarish than The Kite Runner). Next up: The Time Traveler's Wife (upstairs) and Monkeybicycle (downstairs). But first, going to see In Good Company which has been reviewed as being "sappy, underachieving and weak plot" but which I'm seeing for free and y'all know how I feel about free. In other news, someone warn Yasminay not to behave like this guy if she doesn't get her french fries.

*whisper* shhh. HB is asleep. quick bullet point post before she wakes up.

• The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou was not as good as the other Wes Anderson flix (prolly b/c Owen didn't co-write) but Willem Dafoe's character cracked me up.
• Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter... and Spring was a visually entertaining art film (watching the seasons of man and nature pass by on a little house in the middle of a lake) and with only about 40 lines of dialogue through the entire movie, it was easy to FF a lot. Here's upyernoz's take on it.
• Fort DeRussy is best visited any time of the year as I have yet to see a single other person visiting it when I go there.
• A long walk through Arlington Cemetery is an excellent way to burn off multiple pounds of butter inhaled at Udupi. Mmmmmm. All you can eat holiday buffet . . .
• Getting into fights with belligerent strangers over coveted parking spaces is a wonderful introduction to city living.
• The brand new National Museum of the American Indian: meh. I did like the colorfully beaded Chucks though.

Happy New Year, y'all! And Happy Birthday, Bloggie! And Happy Sixty Degrees In January, DCites!

Since I'm too busy entertaining one cousin (it's hard work sitting on the couch under a blankie, eating a tub of MnMs, and watching "Anchorman"), another cousin has come to my rescue and will guestblog today. Enjoy!

I gave "The Known World" to the book courier (aka your mom) today. Cheap-ass me won't pay for shipping when I know bloody well that you guys are meeting up for a vacation in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, thousands of miles away. But it's just one book... (please notice the sarcasm between those lines).

Pakistanis do it all the time. We brought back dupattas, shalwars, and all kinds of easily mailable stuff from Pakistan. Now jewelry I can understand, as it's pricey and the whole mail insurance thing doesn't really work in Pakistan. But a voluminous bag of plastic kulfi containers? Honestly. There really was a gentleman in Pakistan who showed up at my Khala's house to give my mom a bag of plastic kulfi containers. I had already explained to this guy on the phone that we had too much stuff - we already had an extra bag, AND my mom was traveling by herself back to the States - only to have him drive over with a bag of flipping kulfi containers! And for all the offers of "it's okay; I'll pay you for it" who really wants to say,"sure, I'll lug your kulfi containers across the globe; just give me1800 rupees."

I was out when this meeting went down, but my mom was resolute and politely turned this guy and his kulfi containers away! I'm so proud of her. Chalk one up for tact and good old fashioned common sense. So by me sending a book with your parents, I'm doing the exact same thing! Oh man, I'm so Pakistani. Please excuse me while I go retire to the couch, tuck up my feet, wrap a blanket around myself, and make the "ssssssss"inhale-through-the-teeth-sound while saying it's cold. I'll have a Pakistani accent in two years... you can be sure of that. Of course, I'm really not anti-Pakistani. Indeed this guy's actions had more to do with his age and tact than his ethnicity. It's just that he happens to be Pakistani. While I was there, I really did meet so many extraordinarily polite, accomodating people. It really is a hospitable place. But every now and then, you'll get a guy like that, and he just warrants a funny story...

Ahoy, me bloggers and blurkers! Me blog is turning one this weekend (aw, she's learning how to share her toys and walk by holding on to a table!). As a gift, me beauty Abez, First Mate Extraordinaire, designed a new template worthy of many chests of robot monkey pirate booty. So put yer hooks together and give her a hand or I'll keel haul ye and shove ye into Davy Jones's Locker. Arrr.

Batten down the hatches, swab the deck, hide the snax! H-Biddy sighted off the starboard bow!

Yay, despite the dioxin poisoning, Viktor Yushchenko is leading the Ukrainian presidential election! Poor guy. Look at him! And speaking of elections, y'all get out your mice and elect Yaz's blog for the Asia Blog Awards 2004's "Best Pakistan Blog" (even though *shhhh* she is a Cali girl). I've submitted my vote for the day (one vote per day until 12/31) and now, after driving eight hours through the back roads of North Carolina and Virginia and passing untold amount of roadkill, shuddering at each bright red yet smiling piggy faces advertising the ubiquitous BBQ pits, and deliberately slowing down when roadrage Billy Jacks ride my tail, I'm going to sleep.

[update now that I'm awakish: vote for Abez for Best Blogs in Asia! Now, someone give me the link for voting for Owl and we'll be all set for the election season.]

Hulk been charged with notifying you that Baji gone to Nawth Carolyyynah. Hulk thought he try hand (big and green as it is ha ha) at being blogguest for her until she come back. Hulk mighty hunger distracting Hulk but first Hulk must comment on something. Hulk think. Oh.

Hulk note that it that time of year when people make amends for past, make resolutions for future, and . . . make lists! Some lists are stupid and make Hulk want to SMASH! What wrong with kids today? Honestly! Some not so shabby *Hulk adjust bifocal glasses on Hulk pert nose*. Some very handy with links to other lists. What on your Top Seven List of 2004?

Homemade oatmeal cookies calling Hulk now so Hulk gotta go. Happy (early) Birthday, Baji's Dad! Hulk love you.

Just finished Persepolis 2 by Marjane Satrapi. While the book is not as powerful or compelling as the first, it was interesting to follow her trials and tribulations as a (now) teenager studying in Vienna and struggling to maintain her identity (as an Iranian revolutionist) and still fit in (as a drug-dealer girlfriend trying to be cool). I liked the original story much better and found this to be fraught with cliches. Yes, she is being brutally honest in giving us the raw truth of her youth-on-the-verge-of-adulthood, but so much of it comes off as whining and selfish that I am left unmoved and annoyed. Still, as memoirs go, this one is insightful and intimate enough to sate the eavesdropper in me. Grade: B.

Next up (upon the lavish praise and suggestion of Anju and Sarah): The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. Right after I watch Napoleon Dynamite, now out on dee-wee-dee.

Things I learned this weekend:

If the burly guy who fixes your porch offers to help you slide your antique desser out of the car, politely decline before he gets his meaty hands on one side and scratches the veneer right off of the front corner of it and creates a dime-sized dent on the other corner.

If you want to remove a dent from wooden furniture, you can dip a small rag or towel or wad of cotton in water (damp but not dripping), hold it on the the dent and apply heat from the tip of a hot iron for several seconds. The dent is caused by the cells of the wood being smooshed and the steam from the water and heat will puff them out again. Repeat until dent is gone. Science is fun!

Toasted everything bagels with various toppings and several cups of coffee are excellent snacks on a cold, drizzly Sisters' Sunday.

I distractedly watched about 2/3rds of Jean-Luc Goddard's Breathless before I realized I had already seen it. Meh.

An Indiana University student tossed a guinea pig tied to a makeshift parachute out of an eighth-floor dormitory this weekend.

Winter is now upon us, giving us black ice, school closings, and below freezing wind chill factors. I hate winter. I miss summer.

The weather outside is frightful

But the fire is so delightful

And since we've no place to go

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

Well, it doesn't show signs of stopping

But we've got some corn for popping

And the lights are turned way down low

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

Just finished David Sedaris' Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim which gave me a couple of chuckles but not as many as when I read Me Talk Pretty One Day which split my sides and made me gasp with laughter. And since 'tis the season, I am reminded of Sedaris' diary detailing his experiences working as an elf in Macy's SantaLand in New York City. My favorite exerpt:

We were packed today, absolutely packed, and everyone was cranky. Once the line gets long we break it up into four different lines because no one in their right mind would stay if they knew it would take over two hours to see Santa. You can see a movie in two hours. Standing in a two-hour line makes people worry that they're not living in a democratic nation. They go over the edge. I was sent into the hallway to direct the second phase of the line. The hallway was packed with people and all of them seemed to stop me with a question: which way to the down escalator, which way to the elevator, the Patio Restaurant, gift wrap, the women's rest room, Trim-a-Tree. There was a line for Santa and a line for the women's bathroom, and one woman, after asking me a thousand questions already, asked, "Which is the line for the women's bathroom?" I shouted that I thought it was the line with all the women in it.

She said, "I'm going to have you fired."

I had two people say that to me today: "I'm going to have you fired." Go ahead, be my guest. I'm wearing a green velvet costume. It doesn't get any worse than this. Who do these people think they are? I want to lean over and say, "I'm going to have you killed. "

To listen to the tale, click hyah. For you "readers," click hyah.

Thx to LamissesPieces for being a lovely blogguest. Let's all give her a hand, folks!

so I ve now added hacking ( not really but it makes for more excitement) to my list of activities post-d.c.

Yes SUPPLIES! this is LAR aka lamushy, lamisil, lasheesha, labaksheesha er whatever u will signing in! its good to be back u know I cant complain...i narrowly escaped the thermals-plus-eight-layers-of-clothing-plus-winter-coat season out there, was welcomed back to CA by Bean, Yaz and PPP- who successfully completed her term Yeuuuhh bwooy- and the rest of the clan should be done by this weekend? inshaAllah! and u can say it s back to the basics, fake sushi ( CA rolls) Tigers' Yogurt, kickin it with friends and blurking ( I really got hooked in dc tho) Forget real work, people in the nation's capital don't know how to relaaax , except for baji the chillest realist person out there mashaAllah, I ve had the pleasure of meeting the fam, even the crazy cousins and adopted chilluns online! Unforgettable...

Highlights: Cornel West at Olsen's, working with A an elder Palestinian who volunteered at my organization, B, my kinda person from so-cal (this a crazy sista) and Miz Nuri, mobility across DC/MD/VA fanks to the wonderful Metro...now what do I do? okayy I'll work on it..., Philly, TBM samitches at Cosi's ( is that only in DC? I won't survive), the crazy weekend where some friends visited and we wisited all the monuments, I m glad they came cuz otherwise its very likely I would have come back to CA without having even seen the White House which was like 6 blocks away from what i stayed...what can I say i m too cool to do the touristy stuff ;P, dinner at Alero's with Baj, TP, LB, Najm, iftar with the gang at the old flat, HU homecoming concert, election night. or not, getting care packages, meeting extended fam for the first time, and all kinds of people from the motherland hehe and a tete a tete with baji b4 I left... alhamdulillah

YO ShoUt OuT to my calis and of course baj, lil baj, giggles, tp for the last minute interview, chai, tahaha, Yamin, Yaseen, 1009, erni, sylvie, lupitita ok buhbye

HAHA

Peace&Love

Just finished Persepolis : The Story of a Childhood by Marjane Satrapi. The graphic novella was funny, educational, poignant, and I just wish they taught history via these kinds of memoirs. The narrator, as her 10 year old self, tells her tale of growing up in Iran before and during the Islamic Revolution. I read the book and savored the simple black and white graphics in one sitting. Some parts were hilarious, some parts were gruesome, all parts were fascinating. Grade: A.

In other news: MouseWatch 2004. Thanks to the internets, I learned that although mice do love peanut butter (our bait of choice), they are so light and clever that the traps do not even register their weight as they lick the trigger clean and then go and play videogames and laugh at you. The key is to make them work for the bait, to use some effort and strength, and the resulting pulling and struggling sets off the trap. So with the delicacy of a surgeon, I tied some cheese to one trap and set it. And with the brutishness of Lenny Small, TP smashed some cheese into another trap and set it.

SNAP!

TP: 2 Meece: 0

United Nations on Crack Mix CD for Yaz, LAR, and PPP (but Najm stole PPP's copy).

1. Jaan Pehechaan Ho - Mohammed Rafi (Punjab)
2. Aicha - Cheb Khalid (Algeria/France)
3. Girl from Ipanema - Frank Sinatra and Antonio Jobim (US and Brazil)
4. Dur Dur d'Etre Bebe - Jordy (France)
5. Daydream Believe - Shonen Knife (Japanese band in Engrish)
6. Welcome to India - MC Vikram and Luda Krishna (India via US)
7. Si Senor - Control Machete (Mexico)
8. First in the Gang to Die - Morrisey (England)
9. Jing Jing (Firefly) - Shoukichi Kina (Japanese band in Japanese)
10. Isolda - Cesaria Evora (Cape Verde)
11. Chan Chan - Buena Vista Social Club (Cuba)
12. Darts of Pleasure - Franz Ferdinand (Scootland, blast yer eyes!)
13. Dynamite - Junior Senior (Denmark)
14. United States of Whatever - Liam Lynch (US, just to tie it all up; meant to put the Sifl and Olly version though)
15. California Love - Tupac (represe'in Cali)
16. Suggestion - Fugazi (represe'in DC)