You axed for it . . .

Books on Bookcase #1

1. The Greatest of Marlys by Lynda Barry
2. One Hundred Demons by Lynda Barry
3. The Far Side Gallery (1, 2, 3, and pre-history) by Gary Larson
4. The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein
5. Beg the Question by Bob Fingerman
6. Persepolis (I and II) by Marjane Satrapi
7. The Final Solution by Michael Chabon
8. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon
9. Mysteries of Pittsburgh by Michael Chabon
10. The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break by Steven Sherril
11. Jenny and the Jaws of Life by Jincy Willet
12. Brief Interviews with Hideous Men by David Foster Wallace
13. Oh, My Word!; Take my Word For It!; and Upon My Word by Frank Muir and Denis Norden
14. Cruel Shoes by Steve Martin
15. CivilWarLand in Bad Decline by George Saunders
16. The Very Persistent Gappers of Fipp by George Saunders and Lane Smith
17. Coyote v. Acme by Ian Frazier
18. The Art of Survival by A.E. Maxwell
19. The Neal Pollack Anthology of American Literature by Neal Pollack
20. Red Dust by Ma Jian
21. Waiting by Ha Jin
22. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt
23. The Club Dumas by Arturo Perez=Reverte
24. Chump Change by David Eddie
25. Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
26. Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer
27. Into Thin Air by Jon Karkauer
28. The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde
29. The Well of Lost Plots by Jasper Fforde
30. Lost in a Good Book by Jasper Fforde
31. The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri
32. The Gashlycrumb Tinies by Edward Gorey
33. Amphigorey by Edward Gorey
34. Gates of Eden by Ethan Cohen
35. The Cheese Monkeys by Chip Kidd
36. Chip Kidd by Veronique Viene
37. Wigfield by Amy Sedaris, Paul Dinello, and Stephen Colbert
38. The Griffin & Sabine series by Nick Bantock
39. The Venetian's Wife by Nick Bantock
40. The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales by Smith and Scieszka
41. McSweeny's Quarterly #5
42. McSweeny's 6 Find Them and Convince Them
43. Palace Walk by Naguib Mahfouz
44. Dorothy Parker Anthology
45. Beowulf
46. Fathers and Sons by Turgenev
47. Rudin.On The Eye by Turgenev
48. A Woman of Independent Means by Elizabeth F. Hailey
49. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
50. On The Road by Jack Kerouac
51. The Lottery and Other Stories by Shirley Jackson
52. Eats, Shoots & Leaves by Lynne Truss
53. Ex Libris by Anne Fadiman
54. The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark by William Shakespeare
55. A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare
56. Macbeth by William Shakespeare
57. Plays by Chekov
58. Spotted Horses; Old Man; The Bear by William Faulkner
59. A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemmingway
60. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
61. Dracula by Bram Stoker
62. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
63. Edgar Allen Poe Anthology
64. The Decameron by Boccaccio
65. Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
66. Collected Stories by O. Henry
67. Old Goriot by Balzac
68. The Stranger by Albert Camus
69. The Picture of Dorian Gray and Other Writings by Oscar Wilde
70. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
71. Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger
72. Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger
73. Side Effects by Woody Allen
74. Without Feathers by Woody Allen
75. Getting Even by Woody Allen
76. Hoidays On Ice by David Sedaris
77. Naked by David Sedaris
78. Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris
79. Barrel Fever by David Sedaris
80. Take the Cannoli by Sarah Vowell
81. The Partly Cloudy Patriot by Sarah Vowell
82. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
83. Stories by Franz Kafka
84. Life with Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse
85. Life of Pi by Yann Martel
86. The Adventures of Ibn Battuta by Ross E. Dunn
87. Bunch of Dictionaries, Lonely Planets, and Knick Knacks.

How lazy can you get?

Yay! Travelogue coming soon to a blog near you. Once I go on my trip that is. Cushings Island off the coast of Maine, here I come!

*packs telescope, ship's log, and other pirate essentials*

Avast, ye scury landlubbers! Harkon thee well. 'Tis less than half a fortnight ere the bells toll and 'tis Talk Like a Pirate Day. Are ye ready? Let's see (out of our patchless eye, of course) how ye scalliwags fare in tangling with the lingo. If ye dare.

Happy Birthday, Nanaji!

(he's the one to the right of the monsterous, menu-weapon-wielding, menacing statue -

I mean, honestly. How many children to you think he ate? The statue; not my Nanaji.)

Pandi's 'Pinions

Special Edition!

Everybody raise your glasses of bamboo juice! Li'l Baji and Gunnar are engaged! I'm so excited because they are very happy. The wedding will be so much fun - we are going to dress up, eat, and party. Soon, I'll officially be a Swedistani Panda! I will be able to make bamboo samosas with one hand and build IKEA furniture with the other! Mabrook and best wishes from all the pandas in Blogistan.

xoxo, Pandi

Happy Birthday, my little waterbaby!

Competitiwe Adwantage

Guest Post by First Year Med Student/Part-time Plumber Oz

My embryology prefessor is an Indian guy. He's got a way thick accent. His lectures are very scattered and he rarely follows his outlines. This wouldn't be so bad in any other subject, but embryology has its own, [seemingly] very esoteric vocabulary, so it's nearly impossbile to keep up.

I was talking to a girl in class and she was telling me that she was going to leave and go study, and not stick around for the next lecture.

"I'm just not getting anything out of this. He's all over the place; and I can hardly understand what he's saying!"

I politely agreed with her, but we all know better: though he was all over the place, I knew perfectly well what he meant by "hot wallv."


Post Script Post
Happy Bananiversay, my little monkey!

I went for a ride in my friend's brand new, convertible, candy orange Mini Cooper S the other day. And it bit me. Hard.

Then I went for a ride in my dad's brand old, convertible, lipstick red 1961 Austin Healy today. And it did not bite me at all.

Lesson to be learned? Stick to Austin Healys.

Pandi WAS going to give his 'pinion on the movie Broken Flowers, but Upyernoz beat him to it.
Pandi WAS going to give his 'pinion on the book Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, but it had some very naughty parts and he wasn't allowed to read much of it.
Pandi WAS going to give his 'pinion on the new free cell phone, but it hasn't arrived yet.
Pandi WAS going to give his 'pinion on the song Seed 2.0, but it's even naughtier than the book.
So, instead, Pandi sings this song to Literaunty for the funny, HEAVY prezzie she gave to us via MC Chef and Broheme:

Brass Monkey
That funky Monkey
Brass Monkey, junkie
That funky Monkey. . . .

Ah, the daily commute.

Heard on the Metro:

"Attention. Please look up from your newspapers and Blackberrys now and then to be aware of your surroundings. If you see any suspicious behavior, please report it to a Metro official ee-mee-dee-ately. Remember: Be prepared, not scared. This has been your Metro tip for the day."

"Naw, naw, naw, see we is in homeroom together. Fah real! Naw, I know, I saw yo schedule. Gurrrl. Oh mah Gawwwwd, shat up, I love this song; this mah SONG!"

"Doors closing (bing bong to the tune of "Jane Says")."

"I've got a meeting with someone the White House tomorrow . . . "

Seen on the Metro:

A gorgeous view of the Potomac River coursing below us with the butter yellow sun shining above us.

A roach. A rat (on the rails, not in the train). A smear of some bodily substance making a clear view through the windows impossible.

The cool, deep green of the Virginia trees as we emerge from underground and seemingly into the endless sky.

This guy twitching and scratching and flinching wearing a ratty, stained t-shirt that barely provided any protection for his scabby skin topped off with a loud purple hat. He could be the stunt double for Tyrone Biggums. No joke.

Smelled on the Metro:

You don't wanna know.

This post goes out to that slow-moving, decrepit, disdainful, chain-smoker's wheezing, lung-hacking, locks-wrenching hairdresser I had a brief encounter with on Friday:

Errors in Communication Between My Hairdresser and Me,

in the Form of What I Said and What He Heard.
BY JEZ BURROWS
- - - -
"Just a little off the length, and a little thinned out?"
"Could you make me look like a clown's apprentice?"
- - - -
"A little shorter, thanks."
"I want the style that would emerge if you combined all three of Charlie's Angels."
- - - -
"Just the usual - little shorter and thinner."
"You know when you have a bubble bath and you shape it all around your head? I want it like that."
- - - -
"If you could take some of the width off, that'd be great."
"If you could make it hard for me to appear in public, that'd be great."
- - - -
"Of course it isn't OK - you've disfigured me beyond repair. I look like a mushroom."
"That's perfect. Take my money."

Pop Quiz

Q: You get a flat tire driving along one of DC's many treacherous streets teeming with potholes, jagged curbs, and broken pavement. You don't even notice your flat tire until several streets later because it is normal to experience shuddering jangles and jerks as you drive around town. You parallel park your car in a safe area and find that the right rear tire is badly punctured. You are wearing flip flops and therefore cannot kick the lugnuts off with your tools and put the spare on yourself. You call AAA because you pay them $56/year for pretty much no service and the least they could do is fix your freaking flat tire. You are told that someone will come within the next two hours or sooner. It is noon and 90-odd degrees outside. Do you:

a. Get a courteous call in a few minutes that a repair truck will be arriving in two hours, at precisely 1:54 p.m.

b. Make a polite status inquiry call at 2:00 p.m. when nobody has shown up only to find out that the dispatch has called and said someone will arrive at precisely 2:13 p.m.

c. Make a frustrated status inquiry call at 2:30 p.m. only to find out that there will be an additional 45 minute wait until the repair truck can come.

d. Make an infuriated status inquiry call at 3:30 p.m. only to learn that "the dispatch was just about to call you because the truck is about 10 minutes away now."

e. Memorize the cracks in the sidewalk, realize that what you had mistaken for a walnut was actually a dead bat on the ground, and donate blood to at least five to eight mosquitos before the truck finally shows up at 4:00 p.m.

f. All of the above.

I was all ready to write a "Dear Blog" letter to let my blog down easy; to assure it that it was me, not it; to end our relationship in as dignified and tearless a manner possible. Then, I thought I'd employ all of my stealthy ninja-like moves to assassinate it in the dead of night; or middle of the afternoon; or perhaps after tea. Finally, I thought I'd just go out with a big bang and list a bunch o' crap about me before I had to shut 'er down. But y'all won't let me!

I've been too busy hostessing with the mostessing, going to work, coming home from work, visiting family, attending weddings, attending baseball games, and watching fat kids watch other fat kids dance. So. It comes to this. An excerpt from Sarah Vowell's Take the Cannoli on her post-Hall-of-Presidents visit at Disney World:

Boy, all that glory glory hallelujah sure makes you hungry. We exit the theater and agree that it is time to "Liberate Your Appetite" with a late lunch at the Liberty Tree Tavern . . . The maitre d' announces customers as if they're representatives to the Continental Congress, barking their last names and that of their home state. He gives the bell to a small child from "the Great State of Pennsylvania" who is supposed to ring in the meal. The child yells a phrase the maitre d' whispered into his ear: "Hairy! Hairy! Hairy!" Probably he's supposed to say "Here Ye," but I'm not one to knock the healing power of childhood Disney mispronunciations: When I was four, my parents made an appointment with an ear, nose, and throat specialist the moment they realized I was half deaf, rendering the Mickey Mouse Club theme
lyric "Forever let us hold our banner high" as "For every little polar bear to hide."

"The Vowell Family from the Great State of Illinois" is seated and served the Patriot's Platter - a family-style Thanksgiving dinner. I'm not quite sure if I feel particularly patriotic about strawberry vinaigrette on my Declaration Salad, though I gladly pledge allegiance to the mashed potatoes of the United States of America.

100 Things About Me [Part 2 of 2]

1. I have attended safety school, public school, Catholic school, non-denominational private school, college, and law school.
2. I have attended Mass, a Seder, and Diwali
3. I loathe running for the sake of running, grammatical errors in published books, and wintergreen anything.
4. I have lived near a river all of my life: Taff, Ohio, Hudson, Mississippi, and Potomac.
5. I never really learned how to drive a manual transmission car but I have driven a U-Haul truck (with Cressie hitched to the back) across several states alone.
6. I have enjoyed scuba-diving, parasailing, and snorkeling.
7. I am a pack rat; I get that from my Mom who gets that from her Dad.
8. If I were to compare my handwriting to a leaf, I'd have to go with either the ginko or the tulip.
9. If I had to choose only one cuisine to eat the rest of my life, it would be Italian. I mean, come on: pasta, pizza, gelato, cannoli, cappuccino, macchiato, do I have to go on?
10. Almost every time I get my hair cut, the stylist comments on how thick my hair is.
11. One of my earliest memories is being enraptured by watching my father shave in the morning and then getting a shaving cream design of cookie monster on my little palm as a treat.
12. Another early memory is of pretending to make French Toast (plastic pieces that fit onto a toy plate) for my mother and asking her if she wanted sesame seeds or powdered sugar on it.
13. In my youth and into my adulthood, my father and I share this ritual: he sees my light on in my bedroom late at night; he knows I'm reading and sings out, "Baby doll, go to sleep!"; I respond, "Okay, Dad! Good night!" and continue to read for several more hours.
14. I took four years of Spanish in high school and remember very little of it.
15. In school, I used to envy the kids who had braces.
16. I probably don’t drink as much water, eat enough greens, or get as much sleep as I'm supposed to.
17. I have voted for the Independent presidential candidate for every single election since I could vote except in 2004.
18. I have seen Frank Sinatra in concert and was probably the youngest audience member there.
19. I wish I could use and take advantage of my Palm Pilot (now TP's) as much as my sister does.
20. I used to love Welch's Grape Soda. Liquid candy!
21. I dislike small minds, small dogs, and small girls wearing thick make-up and skankified clothes.
22. I can give a pretty decent tour of Washington, D.C.
23. I have ridden a camel, horses, and a very large dog.
24. I have been on a helicopter, a cruise ship, and various motorcycles.
25. I used to hate but now I love tomatoes, olives, and dates.
26. When I was younger, I used to break my fasts with chocolate chips.
27. I can raise just my left eyebrow.
28. After a bout of chicken pox, I lost a chunk of eyelashes on my lower left eyelid which never grew back.
29. The only time my parents ever spanked me was when I was in Pakistan and had to take a horse-pill-sized malaria pill but couldn't choke it down. Well, couldn't without a little added physical incentive, that is.
30. Dad used to enjoy waking me up in the morning by holding the palm of his hands, recently wetted by after-shave, under my nose until the fumes, yes, fumes, woke me up.
31. I was once so addicted to Atari that I formed calluses on my hands from holding the joystick so tightly.
32. I like ice cream. I like cake. But I don't like ice cream cake.
33. With my Dad being a cardiologist and not needing copies of EKGs after he had reviewed them, I had an unlimited supply of scratch paper growing up.
34. Newcomer to a new country, my Mom was so concerned about my English language skills that she forbade me from purchasing comic books for fear that they would ruin my grammar. That didn't stop me from devouring them when we visited friends who had a stash though.
35. Going for Hajj is still the most spiritually overwhelming experience I've ever had.
36. I have one bookshelf dedicated to travel guides and languages, one to classics, one to comics, one to compilations of humorous pieces, one to DVDs, one to non-fiction, one to mysteries and sci-fi, one to mild fiction, one to edgier fiction, one to outrageous fiction, one to photo albums, one to series, one to hardbacks that don't fit anywhere else, and one to books I haven't read yet.
37. I have twin sisters-in-law.
38. I really have enjoyed meeting all of the bloggers and blurkers that visit – be it in person or just virtually.
39. This list thing reminds me so much of the lyrics by L7: Enough talk about me, Let's talk about you, What do you think of me? What do you think of me, me, me...
40. Once, when I was choking on an Everlasting Gobstopper, my Mom saved me by performing the Heimlich maneuver.
41. One of the things I really dislike about myself is my boundless capacity to hold a grudge or want revenge; but I'm working on that.
42. I have been lovingly called the following: Monkeyboots, Junk Monkey, Buck-toothed Monster, The Buck-Toothed Kid, Tuckered Out Mouse, and Snarling Beast.
43. In my pre-teen days, I was so enamored with Star Wars that when a special behind-the-scenes show came on television one pre-VCR year, I recorded it onto an analog, audio, old-school tape with my tape-recorder. As a clip featured Han Solo warning jubilant Luke Skywalker, "don't get cocky, kid," you could hear my Mother doing the dishes and my parakeet chirping in the background.
44. When I sleep, I don't so much toss as I do turn, like a goat on a spit, in one place.
45. At family functions, I tend to tower over everyone else.
46. I love irony, sarcasm (when witty and dry, not mean and stupid), absurdity, and twists.
47. I will readily admit to being a Buffy fan. Joss Whedon rules!
48. I was a Girl Scout, a 4-H member, and a Guppy.
49. I wanna rock and roll all niiiiight, and party ev. er. ee. day.
50. I'm done.

100 Things About Me [Part 1 of 2]

1. I was born in Merthyr Tydfil, Wales
2. My family moved to the United States when I was three months old and I've been traveling ever since.
3. If I could, I would become a professional world traveler.
4. The locals of every country (except China) that I've ever traveled to believe that I am from their country.
5. I love my parents, my sister, and my husband.
6. I have taken piano lessons, tried flute for a while, and am quite adept at singing the tunes that the non-vocal instruments create in songs.
7. Without cable, I have become more attracted to home improvement television shows, cooking shows, and travel shows than ever.
8. I was once in such a rush that as I was exiting my bedroom, four of my toes cleared the doorjamb; my pinky did not. It broke and despite its perpendicular angle to the rest of my toes, my father insisted that it was just bruised.
9. I believe there is an appropriate Simpsons quote for every occasion, and that, if someone can quote The Simpsons they can't be all bad.
10. I'm a fan of British comedy.
11. When I was a child, I decided to extend the track of my motorized miniature car and proceeded to roll the car along my arm, up my neck, and into my hair where the wheels became inextricably tangled and had to be cut loose.
12. I have a hard time comprehending the fact that some people don't read for pleasure.
13. I like cheese, monkeys, and pirates; one equally as much as the others, but rarely in conjunction with each other.
14. I first learned the sign-language alphabet when I was reprimanded for talking in class with my friend and we decided to continue our v-e-r-y. s-l-o-w. c-o-n-v-e-r-s-a-t-i-o-n-s. in silence.
15. I prefer dark chocolate over milk, hot weather over cold, and comedy over tragedy.
16. I've never smoked, had an alcoholic drink, or taken any drugs that were not over-the-counter.
17. Despite my disinterest in sports and apathy for exercise, I participated in the following in school: kickball, dodgeball, softball, field hockey, tennis, swimming, badminton, track, basketball, and gymnastics along with some unnamed sport that involves all of the children grasping an edge of a parachute and whipping it up and down to make a ball in the middle fly up.
18. I love the smell of laundry, jasmine, and Vera Wang's perfume.
19. I once had as pets the following: parakeets, fish, hamsters (one of which went rabid), a box turtle (who ran away), cats, chicks, and by default, my neighbor's dogs (upon whose warm bellies I would sometimes rest my head in the summer and nap).
20. I used to count among my favorite televisions shows the following: The A-Team, Voyager, Manimal, Remmington Steele, and Saturday Night Live. I will only admit to SNL now and even that I don't like as much anymore.
21. I enjoy an eclectic mix of music. I used to say I liked "all kinds of music except country" but now that has grown on me and pop music irritates me instead and I'll never really get into industrial quote music unquote.
22. In college, I joined in on the Rocky Horror Picture Show's audience participation night. More than once.
23. I work for the U.S. Government and have the badge, fingerprint record, and meager paycheck to prove it.
24. My car is a 1992 Toyota Cressida named "Cressie" which I can parallel park with ease.
25. My favorite lotion is Santa Maria Novella's rose milk lotion.
26. I've had the best and the worst pizza in Italy.
27. I can spend an inordinate amount of time browsing the beauty products aisles.
28. My favorite accent is the Scottish accent.
29. I love "Catcher in the Rye," "Marathon Man," "Me Talk Pretty One Day," and "Ex Libris" inter alia.
30. When I was younger, I could form a 'jump rope' with my arms (hands clasped together) and jump through them.
31. I have held, at one time or another, the following paid, some more than others, positions: garbage collector, house painter, travel writer, attorney, cherry picker.
32. My hair is long and dark brown that turns reddish in the summer sun.
33. My mother used to call me in from playing outside by alerting me to the fact that the Muppet Show was on; these days, Brak, Samurai Jack, or Spongebob Squarepants would probably do the trick.
34. I am plotting the death of my blog.
35. I'm still stunned that Bush got re-elected.
36. Other than Eid, Talk Like a Pirate Day is my favorite holiday - which is not a sanctioned holiday, but should be.
37. I always try to read a book before the film-version comes out, regardless of whether or not I plan to see the remake.
38. Despite the many "are ewe tew twains?" we are asked, I am five years older and five inches taller than my sister.
39. I have bestowed upon my sister the title of beloved, enemy, stalemate, friend, best friend, and beloved.
40. My sister lives anywhere between 1.0 and 1.2 miles away from me, depending on which route you take.
41. I love movies and have seen probably more than my share over the years.
42. Despite having done quite well in A.P. Calculus, I'm bad with numbers.
43. If I don't get to become a professional world traveler, I wouldn't mind opening my own bookstore, and spend my days reading and discussing books with people, and not caring whether I sell the books or not.
44. I enjoying making up my own words whether or not Literati or Scrabble acknowledges them.
45. I am assisting a friend in creating a sci-fi graphic novel.
46. I dislike public speaking immensely.
47. I have no appendix, wisdom teeth, or perfect sight.
48. I have a fairly dark sense of humor and get reprimanded often for it.
49. I love caffeine in chocolate, coffee, and tea form.
50. One of my favorite possessions is a gold ring that was given by a prisoner in WWII Hong Kong (on charges of being a British spy), to my Uncle (also imprisoned for the same reason), to my Grandmother (who was also in Hong Kong at the time), to my Mother (upon finishing the Quran) to me.

Our newz:

Our newest lil' stick o' butter is a boy!


Our buddy Nazia will be singing the national anthem at the upcoming Washington National's game. Masha'Allah, tu tu tu (as Shaheen would say).

Our friendly neighborhood plumber (if by 'neighborhood' you mean 'same time zone resident') celebrated his birthday yesterday - Happy Birthday, Mothman!

Our patience with skeeters has reached its limit, whipped right past it, risen to the boiling point, and exploded in a rage of white-hot rain of fire and brimstone.

Our tix are ready for the wedding of our buddy Gavin and his "Tiffany Blue" obsessed bride-to-be.

Our order has been placed for "Kung Fu Hustle" on deeweedee.

What's new witchu?

O's final guest post:

Conclusion:
The hardware store provided new and improved parts, but they were no match for my uncanny ability to blunder. The pipes still dripped ever so slightly. Note: there is no grey area in plumbing. A pipe either leaks or it doesn't.
As my visit was coming to a close, I had no choice but to leave my client with a leaking drain pipe. (It's a good thing we're family!) I flew home dejected.

Epilogue:
The slight drip was weathered patiently for two days, when a second expert came and fixed the problem by simply "tweaking" current fixture with plumber's putty. Ego aside, I'm glad the problem was fixed.

Fin.

Cast:
Onlookers: baji and TP
Client/assistant: LB
Theorist/failed plumber: O
Expert/the Wolf: himself

What have I been up to?
Hosting Chai and Ismo from Georgia. In the 90 degree heat. Feeding them grilled cheese sandwiches that TP made. Making them sit at home and watch deeweedee after deeweedee.

Hosting Oz from Louisville. In the 100 degree heat. Feeding him tacos that TP made. Making him dust, do the dishes, and repair LB's sink.

Hosting Giz and Iz from B'ham, UK. In the 110 degree heat. Feeding them salad that TP made. Making them stay awake to see the monuments and then forcing them to sleep with no A/C.

Hosting my parents from Jeff. In the 80 degree heat. Feeding them daal that TP made. Making Mom pay for the repair of our skylight and making Dad scrape and sand that door.

Then.

Going to Jaleo (a Spanish tapas restaurant) with family and friends and getting fed a sample of or an entire dish of:

1. Garbanzos con espinacas 'Que bien cocinas, Tichi' - Moorish stew of chickpeas and spinach
2. Patatas al 'Cabrales' - Potatoes with 'Cabrales' cheese sauce
3. Cazon en adobo al estilo de Cadiz - Marinated fried shark like people do in Cadiz
4. Manzanas con Manchego - Apple and Manchego salad
5. Pollo al ajillo con salsa verde - Grilled chicken with green sauce
6. Espinacas a la Catalana - Spinach sauteed with pine nuts, raisins & apples
7. Tortilla de patatas al momento - Classical Spanish potato & onion omelet made to order
8. Patatas bravas - Fried potatoes with spicy tomato sauce & alioli
9. Arroz con setas al Idiazabal - Traditional rice with mushrooms and smoked Idiazabal cheese

I'm such a horrible hostess.

BBC's 50 Things To Eat Before You Die

1. Fresh fish - yes, especially spicy tuna rolls
2. Lobster - yah, but was injured in Maine and am once bitten, twice shy now
3. Steak - yep
4. Thai food - you know it; but i'd like to eat it in Thailand some day
5. Chinese food - but don't enjoy it in the US; France, Italy, and Pakistan is a different matter
6. Ice cream - duh
7. Pizza - double duh
8. Crab - aye, especially Maryland's famous crabby patties
9. Curry - triple duh
10. Prawns - i'm sure some have found their way into my meal, but i wouldn't choose it
11. Moreton Bay Bugs - no, gah! i need to get to Australia!
12. Clam chowder - yeah, wikkid pissah
13. Barbecues - yes, even in South Africa
14. Pancakes - ah, Mom's chocolate chip pancakes. . .
15. Pasta - at least once a week
16. Mussels - yes, thanks to TP
17. Cheesecake - Godiva Chocolate Cheesecake is to die for
18. Lamb - i'm Muslim, aren't i?
19. Cream tea - ummm, don't think so
20. Alligator - yes, in Florida
21. Oysters - nay
22. Kangaroo - a thousand nays!
23. Chocolate - that's like asking me if i breathe
24. Sandwiches - sir, yes, sir!
25. Greek food - mmm . . . feta and olives
26. Burgers - affirmative
27. Mexican food - cheese and avocados and salsa - who could resist?
28. Squid - no
29. American diner breakfast - yes, at all hours of the night and day
30. Salmon - raw, baked, grilled, seared, and (Mom's favorite) cajun style
31. Venison - see above comment on barbeque
32. Guinea pig - never. ever. ever. jeez.
33. Shark - sure did
34. Sushi - do you people not know me at all?
35. Paella - yes, especially in Madrid
36. Barramundi - what the . . . apparently BBC really wants me to go to Australia
37. Reindeer - awww, poor Rudolph
38. Kebab - seriously?
39. Scallops - yep
40. Australian meat pie - oh, come on, mate! enough!
41. Mango - yes, in fresh, iced, and liquid forms
42. Durian fruit - only in popsicle form
43. Octopus - no, but i think that LB and/or TP has; does that count?
44. Ribs - certainly no porky ones
45. Roast beef - great with horseradish
46. Tapas - yes, especially in Spain and in DC
47. Jerk chicken/pork - yep, jerk chicken in Belize
48. Haggis - i'd eat a guinea pig or a kangaroo before i ate that

49. Caviar - no thanks, snooty two-shoes
50. Cornish pasty - yes, in York

37 out of 50. How did you gourmands do?

Another guest post by O:

The bane of my current existence: plumbing.

When the topic of replacing a faucet came up I was ready to give it a go. I mean seriously, who among us hasn't watched "This Old House" and though to ourselves, "wow, I could probably do that?" I willing undertook the project - though with the requisite amount of [suppressed] trepidation; after all, I am a theorist and have actually never done this before.

Of course, when dealing with plumbing I do know to shut off the water. (After all, I didn't want Desi Arnez to come running in and say "O! You've made a big mess in here...") I've read that this can be tricky, as the valves are notoriously prone to self-sealing from disuse. They turned freely, the water was off and I removed my client's faucet (for I am visiting, and thus have no faucet of my own on which to focus these whims of construction) without a problem. I'd also read that this removal can be difficult and so with two of the admittedly more difficult steps completed, I was well on my way.

It may have been at this time that I began to get a bit smug. I cannot recall; subsequent toiling and analysis has clouded my memories of my mind-set at that time. Perhaps I thought to myself that I was really, really good. If these thoughts weren't yet in my mind they surely entered after I proceeded to successfully install the new faucet! Bright and shiny without a leak in sight! At this point in time I knew with little doubt that I was indeed really, really good.

With the faucet in place I was then well on my way to the removing and then replacing the drain plug. The removal went smoothly and after a bit of improvisation - oh yes, I can improvise plumbing fixtures now! - I reassembled the pipes and called my client into the workspace for the inaugural "running of the water." Success!


It was at this time that I distinctly remember interlocking my fists and shaking them over my shoulders. [First right, then left.] This jubilation was witnessed by my assistant. I'm sure my smile was so genuine it could have passed for photogenic... And then in happened.

Drip, drip, drip.
And it wasn't just one joint; indeed all three connections began to cry. I was crushed but not defeated and so for the better part of the next hour I pondered and reconfigured: drip, drip, drip. I removed and resealed: drip, drip, drip. I furrowed my brow and stroked my chin: drip, drip, drip. Defeat.

The next day brought a trip to the hardware store and hope that newer fittings would seal correctly. A pipe was cut - oh yes, I'm cutting pipe now! - and placed optimistically. Still leaking. Again I resealed and tightened the fittings with in mixture of frustration and rage. Still leaking.

Finally the expert was brought in. ["I'm bringing in the Wolf"]. Yes, I was depressed, but I was also happy that the burden was being shifted to someone who was more than just a theorist.

I briefed the expert on the current situation.

Onlookers: Do you guys need anything?
Expert: Yes, a plumber!
Me: [inaudible snickering]

After sighs of consternation and grunts of force ("man, you really torqued it!") the drain was removed and carefully analyzed. Subsequent discussion and expert analysis yielded a morale-saving conclusion: the new drain was designed to fit neither the sink nor the pipes in our project.
And so tomorrow brings yet another trip to yet another hardware store.
Stay tuned...

Down but not out,
O

Editor's note: The following is a guest blog...

O's Observations

So I've been visiting this week and thought it appropriate to pen a few observations about the past couple of days. Of course, I'll do this in scientific, non-literary, list format:

1. When a crowded metro car is a welcomed respite from the heat, you know it's hot outside.
2. Boy scouts are very patriotic.
3. The satisfaction one gets from touring a museum is inversely proportional to the price of admission.
4. The British version of "The Office" is vastly superior to the American attempt.
5. Holding - and eating with - a spoon while grasping it like a tennis racquet is funny.
6. Eating pizza keeps one young. (Actaully, I've known this for quite some time. I just though I'd share my knowledge...)
7. Apparently my parents were right; filp-flops are too casual to be worn indoors.

Can't post.

Must read Harrrrrry Potterrrrrr (said with trilly Desi/pirate "ahrrrr") before third wave of family members come to visit.

And eat. Thx for the haleem, Literaunty!

And sleep. Sweet, sweet sleep; oh, how I've missed thee.

Yeah, sure, the International Spy Museum with its KGB lipstick pistol and crawlable ventilation shaft. Alright, okay, the National Air and Space Museum with its Spirit of St. Louis and Apollo 11 Command Module. But the best? The favorite? The kick-ass, never disappointing, most exotic one of all? The Freer and Sackler Galleries.

As if the extensive, world renowned Asian art (the Peacock Room!), the serene inner courtyard (with fountain!), and the lovely rooftop Victorian Garden (ka-BLOOM!) is not enough, this month's free (FREE!) 10th anniversary "Made in Hong Kong" film festival brought us Kung Fu Hustle in all its hi-yah, slap-sticky, outrageous, over-the-top, silly, cartoony goodness.

A +.

A year ago today, to celebrate TP's birthday, we went to a nice Indian restaurant for dinner and loaded up on yummy food. By the time we left, I had a full belly and was very sleepy. On our drive back, TP made a right when he should have gone straight and prompted me to turn my head and look at him sideways. When he made another right instead of turning left to get us back on track, I pointed out his directional mistake in none too dulcet a manner: "This is not the way home, Bozo!" He gently explained that he wanted to swing by the National Catheral for a quick look at the gardens before the sun set: "Calm down! I know where I'm going, Monkeyboots!" I glared, sat back with my disgruntled arms (you know, arms lightly crossed which is not the same as "angry arms" which involves tightly crossed arms), and kept quiet. As we neared the Cathedral grounds, I brightened up because it really is such an amazing work of art and architecture and the gardens in full bloom are a sight to behold.

We parked in the shadow of the towering stone building and under the watchful eyes of the many gargoyles, strolled through the garden, stopped and smelled the voluptous roses, and pinched off bits of lavender, mint, and fennel. When we wound our way to the gazebo to watch the grand finale of the sun set, TP got down on one knee, proposed to me, and made me -- ME: little miss tomboy who had to have short hair because her long hair tangled in the limbs of the trees she climbed, who preferred Thundercats to Strawberry Shortcake, who would take a hi-yah movie over a sappy love story anytime -- cry. He placed on my finger a temporary engagement ring that sported a design of elephants facing each other and whose trunks formed hearts all the way around.

We lived happily ever after.

The End.

NJ, yaar, I am American (via Wales and sometimes, for kicks, Scotland) and Paksitani, yo! You bettah re'ckinize!

Which reminds me that after my meeting Hijabman, I should update the Six Degrees of Blogeration.

For thine information:

TP's band (as of this weekend named "Group Captain Mandrake" - from "Dr. Strangelove") is now back in full swing even though the basement is still half in shambles. The drywall is up, the carpet is down, but there are still noticeable gaping holes in some of the walls and exposed wires threatening unwary travellers. Abandon hope, all ye who enter. Also, bring down some chips and sodas.

My sister-in-law came to visit us this weekend and we took her out for South Indian vegetarian food, made her sleep in an un-air-conditioned room, and taught her how to make bhindi. I'll turn the whole family into desis yet!

Baby panda was born at the zoo this weekend - the size of a 'stick of butter'. Awww. And yum!

For all you well-wishers, here's a pix of Squeaky McGee. And here he is on his way to attend a very important meeting with some very important people.

In anticipation of my laziness and failure to update, let me be the first to wish Najm, TP, and Julestress a very happy birthday.

A few years ago, my cousin and her family came to visit us over their winter holidays. We adults dropped off the boys at another cousin's house while we hit up Leesburg's outlet mall. To keep them occupied and entertained, the other cousin took the kids to Chuck E. Cheese's where they stuffed their faces with pizza, ran around like wild beasts, and played videogames. Engaging in a bout of acrobatics, magic, and perhaps contortionism, the youngest of the boys (I call him "Squeaky McGee") managed to mangle his finger in the machinery of one of the games. We raced back to find him miserably clutching his bloody finger and howling like a banshee when anyone tried to inspect it and see if he needed stitches.

We drove him home with a huge wad of tissues wrapped around his little finger and along the way, I tried to explain to him the concept of infection ("like, you know, BUGS and stuff might grow in there!") and clotting ("dude, let us look at it and we can get the tissues to stop turning red!"). No cajoling, no reasoning, no threats worked. When we got him home, I pulled out my secret weapon.

"Check it out. If you let me look at it, I promise, I won't hurt you. I'll be very gentle. If it hurts, tell me and I'll stop right there. Just let me make sure it's not all black and gross. Then, I'll let you have one of these."

(long pause, contemplation, reluctant agreement)

It worked. The tears dried up, the mouth fell open in awe, and the finger was cleaned, neosporined, and bandaged.

Last night, after mutilating my own thumb, I found one last secret weapon. It still manages to heal, to glow in the dark, and to bring a smile to my lips. Viva SpongeBob!

This weekend, I:

• Talked to a blind guy about the National Federation of the Blind 2005 National Convention being held in Louisville, about siblings, about Islam, and about the couple in front of us who spent FIVE MINUTES, no joke, giving instructions to the cat-sitter on how much to feed the cat (1.5 cups of chow per day which could be given as (1) three-quarters of a silver cup in the morning and three-quarters of a silver cup at night or (2) one and a half white plastic cup in the morning and none at night or (3) one silver cup in the morning and half a white plastic cup at night).
• Checked out Dad's garden where I snagged the first cherry tomato of the season, admired the okra, and lamented the loss of the kk which is being started over from scratch after the lawn guy thought they were weeds and ripped them down last summer.
• Enjoyed Mom's internet-recipe-based goodies.
• Got mah nails did.
• Attended an Indian/Vietnamese/American mehndi featuring the Hilton sisters, a young "Spanish Lady," the "nerdy duo," and various other 12 year old girls dancing with the suggestive, uncomfortable, adult moves. Bonus: almost tossed the contents of the goodie bag into my mouth until I realized it contained pearl earrings and a pearl necklace. Subtract points: dumping a cup full of kheer on Mom's lap.
• Tried to reprogram the garage door opener.
• Was made aware of my first white hair.
• Laughed my throat raw hanging out with the cousins and aunts/uncles/elders.
• Held, smiled, and cooed at delicate premie Adam (born 4 lbs 9 oz) and then tried to rough-house, pinch, and swing hefty Hamza (now somewhere around 358 lbs).
• Attended an Indian/Vietnamese/American wedding featuring the "All In-Laws Chorus Extravaganza," thank you notes immediately hand-delivered to the tables while guests went to the buffet, and friends with whom we plotted and came up with all sorts of machinations to avenge ourselves for Gavin's prior wedding schemes. Bonus: amazingly ordered wedding. Subtract points: eggrolls were so oily that when I pressed down on it with my fork, I could see the oil pooling up and around the tines.
• Made aloo samosas (puff pastries, zindabad!).
• Drank copious cups of chai, gorged on gosht, and finished a whole bag of those crunchies - you know what I'm talking about, right?
• Got some new kicks.
• Hulled two boxes of strawberries and watched them disappear within the hour.
• Read nothing, took two naps, ate way too many red hots, and couldn't shake the holiday weekend mode until around 3pm today.

Spent the evening at the annual summer concert at Fort Reno where I found more enjoyment in watching the kids pinwheel their arms around and dance like maniacs and zoning out watching the fireflies (or lightening bugs, if you prefer) flit and flicker in the park than I did listening to the Evens. Don't get me wrong; I think Ian MacKaye is a fantastic artist and Amy Farina has a decent enough singing voice when she sings solo, but Ian's attempts at soprano singing and Amy's whispery spoken word is not the kinda stuff I wanna listen to when I wanna rock out. Now those Sleater Kinney girls I heard shredding last weekend? Intense.

Anyway, for the upcoming holiday weekend, it's wagons west for yours truly. Y'all behave while I'm gone. Savvy? I'll leave you with a quote from Annie Hall that is apropos to nothing but makes me smile:

There's an old joke. Uh, two elderly women are at a Catskills mountain resort, and one of 'em says: "Boy, the food at this place is really terrible." The other one says, "Yeah. I know." (pause) "And such small portions!"

Well we got no choice
All the girls and boys
Makin all that noise
'Cause they found new toys
Well we can't salute ya
Can't find a flag
If that don't suit ya
That's a drag

School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces

Today was the last day of my training and since they didn't fire me, I presume I passed the final exam. Woot! No more classes, no more book, no more teacher's dirty looks! Too bad my summer vacation lasts all of 12 hours. Tomorrow if my first official day at work. Wish me luck.

Ever had to (1) listen to your husband bellowing in anger and confusion when he (a) failed to read the large-fonted warning to wear protective gloves when applying insulating foam sealant around the outside of the house and (b) tried to apply it barehanded and bareheaded, (2) try to help him get out the sticky goop all over his hands and hair, and (3) get the scissors and cut a chunk of hair off of his head because the sealant won't come out with the equally toxic remover with which he has already doused his hands?
No?
Just me then.

1. Afghanistan
2. Austria
3. Bahamas
4. Belize
5. Canada
6. Costa Rica
7. China
8. Denmark
9. Egypt
10. France
11. Germany
12. Greece
13. Iceland
14. Ireland
15. Italy
16. Mexico
17. Netherland Antilles
18. Pakistan
19. Puerto Rico
20. Saudi Arabia
21. South Africa
22. Spain
23. Sweden
24. Switzerland
25. Tunisia
26. Turkey
27. United Kingdom
28. United States
29. Vatican City
30________________

Jonesing for Japan. Aspirations of Australia. Possibly Portugal.

addendum:

2 Scoops - dude, where've you been? have barely seen you bopping around Blogistan of late but hope you are eshtudying well and insha'Allah, in a few weeks, all your bar woes will be a thing of the past. may you pass with flying colors, use your power for good, and never regret choosing a path to uphold truth, justice, and the . . . er . . . global way. come visit for some post-bar exam gelato anytime. we might even be able to coax The Hulk out for some high times in the big city. miss you, lil' bro.

I'm nearing the end of Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer. As before, I find his writing gripping and erudite even when the subject is so beyond my purview of my experiences. While the story of the young self-proclaimed "super tramp" who met his death in the Alaska wilderness is tragic, I kinda agree with this guy's take on the matter:

His ignorance, which could have been cured by a USGS quadrant and a Boy Scout manual, is what killed him. And while I feel for his parents, I have no sympathy for him. Such willful ignorance . . . amounts to disrespect for the land, and paradoxically demonstrates the same sort of arrogance that resulted in the Exxon Valdez spill - just another case of under-prepared, over-confident men bumbling around out there and screwing up because they lacked the requisite humility. It's all a matter of degree. McCandless's contrived asceticism and a pseudo-literary stance compound rather than reduce the fault . . . McCandless's postcards, notes, and journals . . . read like the work of an above average, somewhat histrionic high school kid - or am I missing something?

At the other end of the spectrum, ever feel this way about a book?

You fling the book on the floor, you would hurl it out of the window, even out of the closed window, through the slats of the Venetian blinds; let them shred its incongruous quires, let sentences, words, morphemes, phonemes gush forth, beyond recomposition into discourse' through the panes, and if they are of unbreakable glass so much the better, hurl the book and reduce it to photons, undulatory vibrations, polarized spectra; through the wall, let the book crumble into molecules and atoms passing between atom and atom of the einforced concrete, breaking up into electrons, neutrons, neutrinos, elementary particles more and more minute; through the telephone wires, let it be reduced to electronic impulses, into flow of information, shaken by redundancies and noises, and let it be degraded into a swirling entropy. You would like to throw it out of the house, out of the block, beyond the neighborhood, beyond the city limits, beyond the state confines, beyond the regional administration, beyond the national community, beyond the Common Market, beyond Western culture, eyond the continental shelf, beyond the atmosphere, the biosphere, the
stratosphere, the field of gravity, the solar system, the galaxy, the cumulus of galaxies, to succeed in hurling it beyond the point the galaxies have reached in their expansion, where space-time has not yet arrived, where it would be received by nonbeing, or, rather, the not-being which has never been and will never be, to be lost in the most absolutely guaranteed undeniable negativity. Merely what it deserves, neither more nor less.

--italo calvino, If On a Winter's Night a Traveler

Little to no time to update so mini-shout-outs instead.
anju - congrats and good luck on the newish job.
arsh - grill me some tuna and portabella mushrooms and asparagus, stat!
ayan - dude, get a new camera and update already.
bness - are you back yet?
baq - i'm scared to see if you've updated b/c the longer the time in between posts, the denser the material.
binj - new audiopost on the horizon?
chan - see you next month!
chij - you still around?
cray - you have a June deadline or else Faiza is gonna get it.
faiz - R.E.M. has a cover song of "I Will Survive" too.
shah - in addition to going into stores and sitting on their couches and not buying anything, I also enjoy going into hotels and using their bathrooms and not staying there.
gun - november? you gotta be kidding me.
hb - where you at, grrl? bring me back a croissant, some coffee, and lots of pix.
hem - happy birthday 4 real!
chai - oz is coming on july 19th, wanna coordinate?
iz - you still around?
kk - i miss our literati games. well. i mean, i miss cajoling, threatening, browbeating you into playing literati.
kn - i can't believe i've had Catch-22 on my bookshelf for a decade and never got around to reading it; but i'll remedy that soon, bromise!
mnm - wanna meet up in old town sometime when you return?
meeks - happy birthday! now update.
moiz - good luck on yr exams.
najm - i can't beliewe i missed out on susha! waaah! wanna go to udupi today?
nj - are you going to post one of your novels on your new, girly girly blog?
owl - any plans for a granny visit/side-trip to me this summer?
pop - i was in the national cathedral gardens last night and there was a circle of red poppies that made me think of you!
ppp - happy graduation, princess!
saru - mabrook on yr new kicks.
noz - fine, if you go to syria this year, then i'm going to portugal next year.
ushi - give aunty Q a big hug from me.
vl - don't fret, when you get older, your metabolism will slow down and you'll get your poundage before you know it.
yaz - happy graduation, rockstar!

Full tank of gas: $30
Four new tires and an alignment: $300
New compressor to fix the busticated A/C: $1200 (psst - hijabman, 'twas TP's doing, not mine)
Cressie purring like a kitten: Priceless, plus $1530.

Happy Birthday, Li'l Baji!

and

Happy (early) Birthday, Hemmie!

Pandi's 'Pinions

Bel Canto by Ann Patchett caught me off guard. For some reason, the first time I heard about it, I sort of dismissed it as nothing more than the latest in a string of factory-produced chick-lit that seemed to pervade the market. A glimpse of the synopsis left only the words "world-famous soprano" and "relationships" and "love" in my mind and so back to the shelf it went. Several years later, with a week of each other, my cousin Osman (whose tastes in books I hold in great regard) and my friend Rage (ditto), berated me for not having given this book a chance. A while back, the book crossed my path again and demanded my attention. I just finished it and I have to agree: it was exceptional. It was complex yet simplistic; foreign yet accessible; fantastic yet believable. The whole book, save the last five pages which I felt were tacked on and unnecessary and untrue to the plot, was gripping and intriguing. A peek into each character's minds, motives, methods. A slice of elegance and terror. A dip into unpredictable and commonplace human behavior. The author deftly handles the character development, the plot, and the pace in a way that leaves you never bored. Grade: A.

Today was action-packed as LB and I went for facials (thanks, Cybermom, you rule!), then I met up with Hijabman (who kindly hand-delivered my t-shirt that I will try to remember to wear when I treat him to the traditional welcome ice cream scoop), then I met up with TP with the intention of checking out this month's line-up at Rock-n-Romp but was too late so instead, we walked through LeDroit Park (some portions less historicky than others), then we had dinner at Etete (recall Pandi's 'Pinion which you can find here), then we walked over to the 9:30 Club to get our tickets for the Sleater-Kinney concert ($1 service charge jerks), then we came home.

Anyone else remember this McCarthyist rhyme:

(group) Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar?
(finger pointer) LB stole the cookies from the cookie jar!
(LB) Who me?
(rabid mob) Yes, you!
(LB) Couldn't be!
(confused public) Then who?

and so on and so forth, ad infinitum, ad nauseam?

It's interesting how when you are hungry, I mean really hungry, your sense of smell intensifies. Today on the metro, after a pathetic lunch, I was joined by a woman who apparently fell into a swimming pool of perfume, dried off, and sat next to me. The scent was cloying, sickly sweet, overwhelming. I tried to hold my breath and then surreptitiously to hold my nose and engage in shallow mouth-breathing until she disembarked a few stops later. I gulped several lungfuls (is that a word? No? Well, it is now.) of blissfully fresh air while I could.

Alas, her replacement was a living, breathing, walking fart. Seriously. I know, I couldn't believe it either. This morning, some intestinal gas was born (possibly in an explosion), disguised itself as a fat human woman, put on some business casual clothes and a little make-up to start the day. Maybe the fart had a light lunch but more likely a heavy lunch balanced out with a gallon of diet soda. Then it decided to board the metro and sit right next to me. Right next to me. For the entire rest of the trip. I was trapped by the sealed window on one side and the stinky-wind-made-solid on the other side. It wasn't as unbearable as the perfume and certainly not as deadly as 'The Sea Captain,' but it was, in its own way, mentally disturbing and kinda made me want to vomit out of my nose. As soon as I escaped, I healed my withered and abused lungs and burnt nasal passages* with some blisteringly hot, but clean, outside air. I bought some flowers too. And gave them to TP. The end.

*when we were kids and someone would expel some gas (for some reason, a favorite activity and subject of discussion for my family), Dad used to exclaim, "you burnt my nose!"

Oof, it was so hot today that my brains were dribbling out of my ear a little bit. ("lil bit" said in De Niro's voice). I came home and what is waiting for me but more homework. Okay, Akvetcher, here ya go:

If I could be a writer, I'd totally be a travel writer. I mean, come on. Getting to travel all over the world and writing pithy comments about silly observations and making bank for doing it?! (interro-fantasy!) Oh, Lonely Planet, wherefore hast thou forsaken me?

If I could be a chef, I'd be an Iron Chef. With Alton Brown on my team. But without that yellow-pepper-eating-weirdo Takeshi Kaga smirking at me. And the secret ingredient is: chocolate! No joke, Musicalchef, it's on.

If I could be a movie critic, I would use the following grading system, from highest to lowest:
Movies I'd see in the theater mutliple times and then purchase on deeweedee
Movies I'd see in the theater and then recommend to family and friends.
Movies I'd wait for on deeweedee so I could rent it from Netflix.
Movies I'd wait for to show up on cable.
Movies I'd wait for to show up on network teewee.
Movies I'd accidentally see and then warn everyone within earshot to avoid at all costs.
Movies I will cross the street to avoid seeing, acknowledging, or helping escape rabid dingoes.
Movies I'd gouge my own eyes out before watching.
Movies I hate.

If I could be a time-traveler, I'd like to visit last weekend and find out where it went.

If I could be a pirate, I'd be the best buccabloodyneer that 'ere sailed the seven seas. My loyal monkey crew and robotic limbs would make me nigh invincible. I would literally rule with an iron fist! I would be indominatable! Landlubbers would cower before my might! *ding* ooh, my veggie lasagna is ready.

So I reckon I'm supposed to pass this stick along, but it's really too hot to engage in such strenous activities so I'll just leave this stick right here for anyone of you to pick up. Did I mention that my veggie lasanga is ready?

Going through some old pictures. Can you believe, from left to right, these guys are going to med school, becoming an aspiring politician, and finishing dental school? Still. I mean, honestly. Isn't there an age limit on playing "jhuula mayan, double roti kaayaa"?

*Editor's note: one, if not all, of those three might do me serious bodily harm if I included the pix of the jhuula mayan antics. Hence removed. Out, out, damned blackmail material!

Things to do this month:

• See Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks at the Black Cat
• Go to Fort Reno for the summer concert series.
• See Sleater Kinney, the Eels, and possibly Ted Leo at the 930 Club.
• Celebrate LB's birthday (over the course of a week).
• Get a haircut (it has, after all, been about several months since my last one).
• Catch up on Smallville eps in my downtime.
• Decide between DirecTV and Comcast Cable.
• Sit around and/or take naps as often as possible.
• Scrape the remaining paint off of the antique door.
• Wish Dad a happy Father's Day.
• Find out if TP or I won the New Yorker cartoon caption contest.
• Plant some flowers out front and some veggies and herbs out back.
• Get me a shotgun and kill all the skeeters I seeeeeee.
• Make and eat lots of guacamole.
• Read, read, read.

In spite of the international and cosmopolitan nature of this blog, I though I'd guest post a bit about my own life.

Memorial Day is celebrated differently throughout the United States, but in Indiana it is most famous for one thing: the Indianapolis 500. Though I officially live in Kentucky now, I thought it fitting to pay homage to my 18-plus years in Indiana by attending the "greatest spectacle in racing." There were quite a few notable moments of this weekend, but I'll mention only four most superlative:

Funniest moment:
Seeing a [not so fit] guy with classic rock album covers tattooed on his torso. This included, but certainly was not limited to, having 'Leonard Skynard' tattooed across his stomach. I know this because, of course, he was shirtless, shoeless, and perhaps toothless - the perpetual beer can was in the way. [Note: He was not Leonard Skynard]

Cool/corny sports moment:
The roar of the crowd of 500,000 people as Danica Patrick took the lead to become the first woman EVER to lead in the Indianapolis 500. Sadly, she was unable to maintain it. [Perhaps, like Earl, she had to 'shut 'er down?']

Most nostalgic moment:
Though I've never really been into auto racing, it was exciting in a child-like sort of way to see real cars driving the way they once did on my slot car racing track in the living room.

Most disturbing moment:
Seeing a grown man approach a group of college students only to see him pause and wait for his daughter [...12 years old, tops...] to catch up, so she could watch with pride as her father had beer poured down a funnel and into his mouth. ('That's my dad...')

So there you have it - my first Indy 500. Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for me to continue to try to get fired.

Yum, pocky sticks are a good snack. I prefer chocolate-covered pocky sticks, but, apparently, I'm reverse. What are you?

You Are Reverse Pocky

Your attitude: rebellious and clever Non-conformist, but curiously a trendsetter With you, up is down... and it's a wild ride!

What Flavor Pocky Are You?

And if pocky sticks are not your thing, how about Eshtar Vars?

Star Wars Horoscope for Libra

You are on a lifelong pursuit of justice and determined to succeed. You convey the art of persuasion through force. You always display your supreme intelligence. You have a great talent in obtaining balance between yourself and your surroundings. Star wars character you are most like: Obi Wan Kenobie

What is Your Star Wars Horoscope?

No, I haven't finished If On A Winter's Night A Traveler.
No, I haven't completed The Once and Future King.
No, I haven't gotten past Chapter Three of The Final Solution.
No, I haven't had a chance to dip into The Road to Makkah.
No, I haven't even reached the halfway point of America (The Book).

But when Osman and I were discussing The Kite Runner and he said, "Did you ever read the book Bel Canto? It was VERY good. If you did, I'll tell you why I'm mentioning it. If you didn't, then you stink and you'll not get the analogy," and when I saw it sitting right there in a bin amidst stalls jam-packed with fresh strawberries, antique furniture, oil paintings by a 10 year old girl of bucktoothed animals, painted bowls, hand-crafted jewelry, and flapping batik fabrics at Eastern Market today and when I heard it screeching at me to pick it up, I had to get it.

*Adds another book to the mountain.*

Friday morning began with a lecture on a "likelihood of confusion" refusal of a trademark pursuant to Section 2(d) of the Lanham Act and the example the instructor discussed, Vaccaro's Italian Pastry Shop vs. Vaccaro's Inc., came complete with free cannoli for all. Lunch was enjoyed outside with some dearly missed sunshine. The commute home was traffic-free since most of the city's denizens fled to their Memorial Day weekend haunts early. Dinner consisted of pizza from the newest Mount Pleasant restaurant, Radius (NY-style crust, but that's about it), preceded by two healthy scoops of triple shot espresso hand-made ice cream (Grade: A+) from Dos Gringos. All in all, a fine start to the weekend.

Second week at the job and still feels like high school. Grouse about having to wear nice clothes to school and try to get away with casual-borderline-pajamas. Go to class in the morning and whisper to each other until the teacher shushes us. Figure out where to sit for lunch in the cafeteria: "cool kids" table or "anti-social/loners/snarky" table (guess which one I invariably choose). Return to class and fill out attendence sheet lest you be counted as tardy. Get homework and study hall before we break for the day. Jeez, how *old* am I anyway?

Well, this evening I am going to be a fancy-pants adult and attend the Shakespeare Theater's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" at the Carter Barron Amphitheatre. And, you'll be pleased to hear, it's my favorite type of play: FREE! What are all y'all doing this weekend?

Bad News: Watermain break early Saturday morning means extremely limited bathroom and kitchen privileges.

Good News: Lunch at Udupi means excellent food and running water.

Bad News: Missed out on seeing Gang of Four play at the 9:30 Club on Friday night.

Good News: Finally got to see the movie Kontroll: a brilliant and innovative story of the lives of the Hungarian metro ticket inspectors. Funny, dramatic, and clever, it's filmed completely underground with a fantastic mise en scene, a collection of amusing and charming characters (and their rivals, of course) and a pulsing, throbbing soundtrack.

Bad News: Basement still is not completely repaired.

Good News: 75% of the basement walls have been painted, 90% of the floor has been carpeted, and all of the band equipment has been moved back downstairs which means I can actually see my bookcase again and can navigate between rooms without the accompanying crash of cymbals.

Wellsir, either all y'all have become blurkers or the membership drive has dipped drastically. For you three or four readers who still visit, apologies for the cliff-hangery ending of the Costa Rica travelogue, but I just ran out of steam, imagination, and wit. What with the new job and all, I have had little time and energy to dedicate to creative writing. Speaking of the new job, here are some highlights of this week:

Monday: Got photographed and phinger-printed. As the burly guard rolled my digits over the inkpad and onto the paper grid, I jokingly mentioned that I was getting the old-school treatment whereas my new co-workers were getting the high-tech version where you simply place your fingertips on a screen and the computer scans the images. The guard responded, "Yeah, that one there is digickal." DIGICKAL. Winner of the word of the week.

Tuesday: Upon learning that we might as well dress casually since we'd be in training classrooms for the next several weeks, I was quite pleased to saunter into the building sporting my cords, my t-shirt (logo-less, but still), and my bouncy kicks (sneakers that could have passed for dressy if you don't look too closely).

Wednesday: Shaved five minutes off of my 45 minute commute.

Thursday: Upon exiting the metro at a stop where (1) I don't normally get off but wanted to experiment this one time, (2) no less than four train lines met at that station making it one of the busier stops, and (3) right at the height of rush hour that particular platform was more populated than normal because another train had broken down along the tracks, I disembarked from my metro's cabin and practially ran right into my husband who happened to be (1) taking the metro at that exact same time, (2) waiting on the platform that my train was arriving on, and (3) standing directly in front of my open door.

Friday: Gave a presentation (on which I was complimented by the instructors) to half of the incoming attorneys without getting nervous, dry-mouthed, or incoherent. *pulls muscle patting self on back*

May expand and expound. May not. Meh.

Day Six: 05.06.05
Things seen in Manuel Antonio:

• Squirrel Monkeys
• Mollusks
• Sand Bees
• Narrow Bridges
• Pelicans
• Strong Sad

Things zipped passed on the drive back to San Jose:

• Bony Goats
• Bony Cattle (each with its own personal bird valet)
• Crocodile (Crikey!)
• People selling watermelons and strawberries on the highway
• Turtle
• Traffic

Things said at Hotel Brittania upon arrival in San Jose:
"Do you have a reservation?"
"No, but I was told I could just walk in on Friday and a room would be available."
"Did you get the rate?"
"Um, $80?"
"Ah. Yes. $80 plus tax." (pause)
(aware of pause) "Is there another discounted rate you'd like to tell me about?"
"Well, if you want, you can pay in cash and not pay for the tax. Flat $80."
"Ok, I'll do that."
"Do you know which room you have?"
"No, but I'd love the best one you have." (huge grin)
"Ok, I can give you the king-sized bed with A/C which is normally $120."
"That's great! I'll be sure to tell everyone how awesome Hotel Britannia is."
"Yes, please do! Ha ha."


Things seen and/or smelled on evening walk through San Jose neighborhoods:

• Cigarette Smokey Luxury Room of Hotel Britannia
• Creepy, Shaking Drug Addict Teen picking the paint off of a corner of a dark alley
• Puddles of Urine on the Sidewalk
• Black Skies threatening storms but not delivering
• Piles of Garbage in the Gutter (if the storm had come, the piles would be converted into rivers flowing through the streets)

Things enjoyed on our last night in Costa Rica:

• Low-season rates, room availability, and dearth of guests at the hotel
• Asian Cuisine at Tin Jo (oh, ginger and garlic, we missed you!)
• Finding out breakfast was included in the rate
• Saying goodbye to my tough Tevas and TP's too-tight tennis shoes (which we gave to a homeless man the next morning)
  
  
  

Day Five: 05.05.05 (make a wish!)
After being called down by the hotel's roosters to come and eat our breakfast with some apricot yogurt to help choke down the papaya, we went to the room to prep for our walk through the hotel's private biological reserve. We got about 2 minutes into the hike before we realized that the Espadilla Reserve had something the Manuel Antonio Reserve did not: mosquitoes. I went back to the room to apply the repellant liberally even though it was too late for my arms and ankles. We managed to conquer about 5 minutes of the hike before TP found out that these blood-suckers meant business. We returned to the room to allow TP to lotion up. Third time's a charm and we finally started up the hill completely coated in DEET and, soon enough, sweat. The crystal clear starry skies that were glittering and dizzying and fantastic as we walked on the beach the night before had given way to a thick, stultifying layer of clouds that held the heat and humidity close to the earth during the day. Farther inland than the National Park, this reserve received none of the occasional wafts of forgiving ocean breezes.



Although we kept our eyes and ears out for any parrots or squirrel monkeys (mono titi), the only life coming out in full force were the salamanders, bees, and crabs. The highlights of the strenuous walk were the incredibly quick hummingbird that flitted from flower to flower and the brilliant black and emerald poison dart frog who was too swift for me to photograph, but not for Tim, from whom I shall now steal:


The trial had a rope guide, but it was deliberately kept in a 'natural state' (which is code for completely unattended and unused). Leaves, thick and slippery, covered the path and made navigating the uphill and downhill portions tricky. Branches (liberally sprinkled with itty bitty bitey ants) and, at one point, an entire tree created obstacles to climb, crawl under, and yank aside. Keeping in mind Angelus's warnings about the Fer-de-Lance , we fashioned a sturdy walking stick from one of our obstacles which we used to pound the ground along the way to alert and hopefully scare away any potential snakes. Unfortunately, I suspect that we scared away everything else as well. Everything, that is, except the mosquitoes. Ten bites on my hands, ankles, and back (I forgot to apply the DEET to my clothing or else they flew up my shirt! Fresh!). And Costa Rica and I were getting along so well. Not so pura vida after all.

Upon our return, we peeled off the sopping wet hiking clothes, rinsed off, changed into resort clothes, and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in lounge chairs by the pool and drinking pina coladas complete with funny straws, wedges of fruit, paper umbrellas, metal gears, antennae, and a GPS device attached. For lunch, we hit the Blue Marlin for some ceviche and tunaburgers and then walked along the street to see if there was any more to the "town" than what we had already seen. There wasn't. We returned via the beach and stopped along the way for some fresh, chilled mangos, agua de pipa, and a game of billiards (which was very pathetically played by yours truly and the only saving grace was that I still won).

Now, as many of you know, each travelogue comes pre-packaged with highlights and lowlights. Per tradition, each trip seems to include an awful, hideous, atrocious thing that often receives the most attention and glee. In China, it was the mephitic nastiness of the Hangzhou train station bathroom at the end of the day after being visited by countless travelers with their full bowels. In Scotland, it was the black pudding that Gojira seemed quite content to enjoy eating. Here, it was the white-nosed coati. Part raccoon, part R.O.U.S., this fuzzy, cuddly guy ought not have won the coveted "Travelogue Travesty Award." Even almost stumbling over a dead one on the beach didn't elevate the coati to that honored status. What did it was this: he was completely stripped. His fur had either been shredded by another animal or else loosened and separated by the ocean. The once fluffy creature had been transformed into a raw, puckered pink slab of meat. It looked as though the heat had gotten to him and he just pushed his furry sleeves and bared his arms and legs in order to cool off. After making out some of its features and determining what it was, we turned away to enjoy some more pleasant views: the natural rock formations, the sun setting on the ocean, the clouds blushing and darkening. When we walked back to photograph it for you fine folks, the coati was gone. My theory was that the tide took the body away. TP's theory was that the Ticos who came bounding behind us when we first discovered the coati took away to cook it up for unsuspecting tourists. Either way, we have a winner! Just so as not to leave you with such a gruesome image, here's a pretty one instead:



Next up: Bargaining at Brittania