Public Display of Playboy

On Christmas Eve, Taylor and I went out to run some last minute errands and enjoy the relative emptiness of downtown. We got on the metro with the other last minute shoppers and poor sods who didn't get the day off. At the same time, another guy got on and sat down in a front row seat. He proceded to dig around in his backpack and pull out, in plain view for everybody to see, a Playboy magazine. He opened it up, holding it with a tilt that made it completely visible to me, and started reading.

Is it illegal for somebody to read material with adult themes in public view? Well....what if it's in braille and can't be read by prying eyes?

I figured: I guess it's true, men do get Playboy for the articles. Taylor said: Don't assume there's no centerfold in there. I bet they can do that in braille.

Then we got off.

The train, that is.

Divinely Delicious

My work buddies Vanessa and Arul and I went to tea at the appointed hour of 2:30. At tea time, the conversation meandered, as it will, to the topic of the portrait sandwich. Remembering the recent eBay sale of a grilled cheese sandwich emblazoned with the likeness of the Virgin Mary, we wondered if the cook would make one for us. The natural question arose: If you could choose any diety to grill onto your lunch, which would it be?

Nominations?

Special Delivery and The Ultimate in Upscaling

Now that we live in a city with an inifinite number of cars and a finite number of parking spaces, we can't go out to the store just any time. I have no other option but......to have everything delivered. In my old, frugal days, I would never have paid for that which I could do myself. But, if there's nowhere to park, then I can't do it myself, can I? Therefore, I simple MUST: order my groceries from www.peapod.com, order my clothes from www.landsend.com, order my books from www.amazon.com and order my movies from www.netflix.com. In fact, just about everything can be mail ordered. It's the new American Way.

So, yesterday I signed up for Netflix. It's only $18 a month. Sure....we COULD watch free television or walk down the street to the video shop or exercise or do volunteer work or do the macarena. But for a few extra pennies, we can have mindless, commercial-less entertainment delivered right to our door. For our first selection, I chose "Plan 9 from Outer Space". Here is the description. Be sure to watch the trailer. Note the distinction of being not one, but two-time winner of the Turkey Award for worst film. It's gotta be good. When that award was being decided, the panel obviously didn't watch "The Four Cheerleaders of the Apocalypse". Taylor rented that while I was recovering from surgery. I had to take extra percocet for the pain.

In other news: Up until a few years ago, Lorton Maximum Security Reformatory in Northern Virginia served as a repository for violent criminals and others in need of new direction. Apparently, a few years ago the institution finished reforming all inmates and closed up shop. In a cruel move, somebody had the building and grounds declared "Historical". Who thinks this stuff up? Now, Fairfax County has to figure out what to do with the cell block. Answer: Upscale condos in a community setting. I am not making this up. The cells will be studio lofts and the recreation yard: a pedestrian mall. And, of course, there's already a gym on the property. I can see the ad copy now:
Luxury Condominium Community: Solid construction, secured building, onsite gymnasium, completely open floor plans, loads of character, each unit sleeps four to eight.

They can have Martha Stewart do the interior design and decorating touches. Her next theme: Decorating for small spaces.

I think we'll try to go down there and take the tour. I'll see if I can't get some pictures and figure out how to post them. It's free advertising for the developers. However, I think I'll hold out for an island loft with a lovely sea breeze and a view of the Golden Gate when Alacatraz goes condo.

New Name

I got tired of the old name of my blog. "Tales of the Unexpected" sounded pretentious. Plus, many of the things that occur in my life are not entirely unexpected. For instance, I KNEW I was going to see Oompa Loompas at the chocolate factory. But the tunnel of chocolate love ride was unexpected. So, it's some of each.

And while we're here, I'd like to say that I don't much like the sound of the word "blog". I think it's because it starts with the sound "blah" and ends with the sound "awhg". There's nothing likable about it. blog blog blog blaug blawg blaw blah

So, it's not a blawg, this is my online journal. It is pretty much the same as letters I used to write to friends. Now they are to everybody. And...it is based on a true story.

The Pilgrimage

Preface from the Author: Thank you to those who emailed and left comments regarding a verb tense issue raised in my last post. To summarize: the verb should match the subject. Now, all join in a chorus of: DUH! One helpful reader noted the superfluous use of the term "very". I have considered this issue, and shall try really hard to avoid its use.

Of all the really significant places on the East Coast, Taylor wanted to visit the Hershey Chocolate factory first. So, yesterday we undertook a pilgrimage to Hershey, Pennsylvania to worship at the Chocolate Altar. The weather cooperated with really sunny skies despite predictions of snow. We paid for it, though, by way of a really cold wind.

The Hershey attractions consist of several really, REALLY gigantic parking lots, a cheesy amusement park, and a tourist trap called Chocolate World. Taylor was really disappointed to learn that the public is no longer allowed to tour the chocolate factory. The public gets to go to Chocolate World, which is essentially a really huge candy store plus a consolation ride through a reenactment of the chocolate making process. For those of you who are familiar with DisneyLand, imagine what would happen if "Mr Toad's Wild Ride" and "It's a Small World" got together and had "Mr Hershey's Chocolate World".

After learning all there is to know about the Great American Chocolate bar, we wandered over to the amusement park. I was really content to stroll around listening to the Christmas tunes piping over the PA system and trying not to freeze to death. But Taylor wanted to go on a ride. Shortly, we found ourselves on a choo choo train. It took us on a really short trip around the park at about 2 mph, except when it stopped for ten minutes to fix brake problems. During this time, I finished freezing to death whilst wondering why a train that tops out at 3 mph needs brakes at all.

On our way out of town, we drove down main street in Hershey to admire the really famous Hershey Kiss street lamps and sniff the renowned chocolate air. For our final hurrah, we took a loop around the actual factory, savoring the Hershey aroma. And outside a warehouse door, I saw a couple of Oompa Loompas taking a smoke break.

Really.

Fun for the Whole Family

The very most special part of Christmas are (is?) the TV specials. We're watching Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer right now. You know, the one with the Burl Ives snowman.

While watching, we're engaging in that venerable family tradition: "The Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer drinking game." You have to drink every time Rudolph's nose whistles. Bottom's up!

This family value laden holiday special contains some social commentary that I missed as a kid, what with the cruelly-teased, nasally-gifted star; the gay dentist elf oppressed by the elf role of toy making; the misunderstood monster whose real disability is a toothache; and a herd of underloved, island-dwelling toys pining to be played with. And just like in real life, everybody comes to love and appreciate each other for a wonderful happy ending....


PS: I spent quite a bit of time trying to decide if the verb in that first sentence should be singular or plural. Guidance would be appreciated. Thank you for your support.

Measuring consumer confidence

According to "reliable" sources, the American economy is great and consumers are feeling just super. So...brimming with rediscovered consumer confidence, Taylor and I ventured out on Sunday to Bethesda to find some of the legendary thrift shops, feeling confident that we could bring ourselves to part with five or ten dollars on some kitchen equipment. We found one shop that dared to defy the day of rest and open on a Sunday. The place, cleverly named Deja New, occupied a large old wooden colonial style house that looked at least one hundred years old and gave the impression that nothing had been thrown away since the day it was built. The two story, several thousand square foot house was wall to wall "treasures" piled precariously all the way up to the ceilings. The overflow covered the front yard three feet deep. We went into a porch area with a concentration of kitchen implements. The floor was tilting and the whole room felt like it would fall off if just one more George Foreman grill was added to the pile. I found a hardhat, aptly placed in the kitchen room, and donned it for a measure of protection. We managed to dig up a few scroungy pieces of pyrex, and I scored an ice cream scooper. The whole event set us back three dollars. We failed to located two items on our list: a large covered skillet and ear muffs (the latter is not a cooking implement, not even for me).

As we were heading out, Taylor confessed that she had half a mind to buy a, gasp, NEW covered skillet. Just then, we saw a mall and pull into the parking garage. Maybe I should have taken note of the anchor store, Nieman Marcus. When we emerged from the garage, the elevator dropped us off exactly in front of Williams Sonoma--surely this was the guiding hand of fate. We gravitated toward the skillet display, as if pulled by forces beyond our control (marketers). "This skillet looks pretty good," said I. And then, "Uhh.......Where am I? Why am I on the floor? Are you an angel?" I can't exactly remember what happened, but when I came to, Taylor was fanning me with what looked like a pricetag for brain bypass surgery. It turned out to be the pricetag for the skillet.

In fact, we already have a very nice copper skillet from Williams Sonoma that Taylor's mother gave us some time back. Now I know why she worries that she hasn't saved enough for retirement.

You may be wondering why we need a skillet, if we already have one. Well, Taylor, in her infinite wisdom, decided to protect the precious skillet by leaving it in our storage unit in Portland. I may have to go pick it up and unprotect it. I am not making this up: it would cost less for me to fly to Portland, get the skillet out of storage, and bring it back to DC, than it would to buy a new skillet. I wonder if I could tax deduct the travel as a business expense....

Having failed in the skillet quest, we went hunting for ear muffs. Nieman Marcus seems like a place that would sell a nice muff for the ear. We wandered in, past the guard whose eyes followed us as he whispered into his lapel. I'm sure he was just saying: "Customer assistance needed in the ear muff department", even though it sounded a little like "Joe! Scruffians that smell of thrift store headed your way." Directly, we found a nice display of scarves, hats, gloves and, yes, ear muffs. The scarves didn't look like any scarf I've ever owned. I thought I heard Taylor say she saw Mink Stole in the store, but I looked around and didn't see her anywhere. We're close to Baltimore, so I guess it's possible. We did find a collection of ear muffs. Apparently, before these were keeping DC commuters' ears warm, they were keeping a nice bunny rabbit's own ears warm. At that point, Taylor announced: "I have to get out of here." And we took our animal-loving, cold-eared, skillet-less selves back to the garage and left before our hour of free parking expired.

I guess the conclusion is that our consumer confidence is worth one three dollar bill.

It wiggles at room temperature

If you've read from the bottom up like I told you to, you'll have read the piece about the tutoring program I volunteer for (for which I volunteer...). My student, who shall be called "C", is a bright, polite, studious young man who will, no doubt, one day get his PhD. I've been asked: "Why does he need your help?" Let's assume this is not a personal dig, and say that everybody needs help along the way.

Last week, C and I were going over vocabulary words in preparation for a test when we came upon the term "tepid". C said: "I don't know what a tepid is." I looked at him for a second and he continued: "Is it some kind of animal?" "Nope," I said, trying not to give the answer away. "Then," he asks, "What is a lukeworm?"

Mountains out of molehills

The world has taken a long weekend, leaving little to satirize (ok, I didn't look at the news recently). So, I have a recovered memory to share. Easterners will feel my pain. Westerners will wonder what the deal is.

Anyway, flash back to the long distant past. Taylor and Pixel and Scruffy and I are driving eastward into Pennsylvania on a turnpike, singing songs and playing the alphabet game. Scruffy is winning. There in front of us, in our windshield view of the world, appears that which is called "The Appalachian Mountains." The following transcript is based on a true story:

Me: "These are the Appalachian Mountains."
Taylor: "Mountains???"
Me: "Yes. The Appalachian mountain range runs up the east coast."
Taylor: "I don't think those are mountains. Maybe we're not to the actual mountains yet."
Me: "No, they ARE mountains. Really. They're just old and worn down, like Melanie Griffith."
Taylor: "Nah. This looks like the Willamette Valley. Pretty and rolling, something that lives between mountains, not the mountains themselves."
Me: "I swear. They're mountains. They're just more subtle and sophisticated than the garrish, unseasoned volcanic mountains out west."
Taylor: "Well....ok. I guess they're mountains. Hey, what does that sign by the road say?"
Me: "Summit. 917 feet."
Taylor: "Riiiiiiight......"

Cat Tree Hailed as Success

The following report is submitted by our correspondent on the furry face beat--Taylor.

This breaking news just in....cat tree hailed as huge success by feline prisoners. The five and a half foot structure just arrived today and the inmates couldn't be more delighted. Already the fleece is flying and there is an air of playfulness returning to the cell block. One inmate we interviewed told us, and I quote: " meaow meow meaow!" Which loosely translated means: "I like it almost as much as the box it came in!"

Only time will tell if the new object retains it's appeal. For now the random frolicking and fleece scratching say more than words ever could. More on this situation as it develops.

Coming to you from the living room--this has been Taylor. And now back to you....

Travelling Backwards at the speed of stupidity

I don't have anything to write about this, I just liked the title. Can't figure out why that might have come to me while riding through DC this morning....

The Results Are In

I have determined which gamble was unnecessary. It was the used catbox. The thing is huge--with a wierd "privacy tent" thing that takes up about as much space as a small coffee table. It is very noisy--so noisy that Pixel is afraid of it. However, Pixel is afraid of noises that humans can't even hear. How's that for neurosis perfected? And, worst of all, the thing STINKS like you would not believe. There are those among you who may be muttering: "Ha! I could have told you that." Well, now I have empirically determined this to be a true fact (unlike many of the "facts" being used to determine domestic and foreign policy). I was taken for a ride by the scoundrel on Craigslist (www.craigslist.org -- check it out).

So, today when I get home, the catbox will be disappeared--like a political dissident--never to be heard of (or smelled of) again. Yay. No more unnecessary gambles for me.

In other news, the mail order cat tree is going to be delivered today. Film at 11....

Bicycle Chic

You read it right. That's chic, as in stylish. Not only is biking to work good for my health and my righteousness, but it seems to be good for my hair. This is counterintuitive, I know. But when I bike to work and take off my helmet, my hair is better than when I ride the metro and take off my helmet...

Is this good or bad? It's hard to say. It is only my own opinion that my hair is better. So far nobody has said: "Hey, your hair looks so great today." Or, "Your hair isn't quite as bad as usual. " Or, what I'm really hoping for: "Have you lost weight?"

The Fortune

The other night, Taylor & I went out for Chinese food. The main point of Chinese food is that it's a way to get dinner with your horoscope. Here is what my fortune says:

Avoid taking unnecessary gambles.
Lucky Numbers 4, 12, 24, 30, 40, 44

What, were you expecting stock tips or something?

I've been trying to figure out what unnecessary gambles the cookie is trying to warn me about. Here are a few possibilities.

1. Yesterday, I bought a used cat box. This is definitely a gamble. It is a self cleaning catbox (sort of). It runs a fork through the litter after the kitty does its thing. It's name:
TURBO CRAPMASTER 3000

There are two features which may qualify this gamble as "unnecessary". First, the previous owner (Chucky the cat), made it very stinky, which seems to defeat the purpose. Second, Pixel is afraid of it.

I was so hoping to be able to say: "Thank you, Crap master!"

2. This morning I rode the metro to work. A gamble for sure, especially since this is the stop where there was a very impressive accident last week which left one train on top of the other. I guess London's not the only place with double decker public transport now.

At the next station, a nicely dress man came into the train and said in a loud clear voice: "Good morning everybody". He then sang a hymn about Jesus and washing in blood and other ghoulishness. He finished by blessing us all and bidding us good day. As prophet was serenading us, on comes a metro employee with a pile of very large placard signs depicting, "The Terror Alert Levels". The sign shows the colors, what each means, and what to do "if something happens that affects the Metro". I was reading it to see if there are instructions for a drive by hymning. I guess the gay pride rainbow is out now, replaced by the terror alert rainbow. Such is progress.

3. We ordered a new cat tree on the web. I don't know if this is a gamble or not. Scruffy will get back to you on that, as soon as she is done destroying the carpet in the apartment.

Fancy pants pot luck

The apartment complex in which we now reside held a potluck this evening. Being devoid of weapons of meal destruction (cook pots), we took a bottle of wine. The dinner was very nice, and everybody was friendly. We met Robins and (um, can't remember the wife's name). These kids are 25 year old lawyers for the federal govt. They referred to me and Taylor as "the older generation." Ouch.

Some diplomats were at another table. As we were leaving, I heard some guy saying that he is from Boston and then asking the probably-diplomat: "So, when you engage in multilateral work, what you doing?" Sheesh. Mr Boston was trying to sound smart I guess. I can only imagine the answer was: "In DC, there is not much multilateral work right now. We're just planning to continue relaxing for the next few years."

The Scruffy Claws

Last night, Scruffy was running around and suddenly was rolling on her back yowling. Upon closer inspection, it appeared that her front claw was stuck in her back foot, leaving her unable to walk or scratch the carpet. Being of good conscience, I helped free her from herself. Taylor, however, had a different take on this situation.

"That's how it feels when you sink your claws into us. Just think about that for a minute."

Can you believe Taylor is the one called "The Cat Whisperer"?

Back to work

I rode my bike to work today. That was a workout. Mostly, I rode on the sidewalks and menaced the pedestrians. I rode through Georgetown on M street, the pedestrians there (aka "sidewalk manatees") get in the way too much. I can pretty much keep up with traffic. Or, maybe the cars are just too nice to hit me. My bike could scratch the paint on their new SUV.

Now I must get back to my extremely important, technical, highly intricate work...tea time.

Day 4 5 6: Are we there yet? Are we there yet? .... Yes

Day 4: Trying hard to remember.....Drove across Iowa and Illinois. We burned rubber, made it in about 6 hours, which worked out to about 75 mph including stops. Spent the evening with Ken and Sarah and their pee wees, Declan 4 and Teaghan 20 mos. There, we went to the yuppiest bowling alley I've ever seen. Declan is pretty good at throwing a bowling ball overhand style. Stay out of the way.

Stayed the night in Chicago. Chicago drivers are terrifying. Makes me look forward to rush hour in DC.

Day 5: The cats have figured out the drill and go directly under the bed after breakfast. So, this morning, we kidnapped them during breakfast and shovelled them into their boxes. Drove something like 750 miles from Chicago to DC. Went through very pretty countryside. We hit the part of the PA Turnpike that the map shows as a "scenic route" just at sundown. We saw the most lovely tail lights ever. Made it to our new apt around 9pm. We had to sleep on the floor. At least there was no bed for Pixel to hide under. She's on the verge.

Day 6: Movers arrived with our junky treasures. Now we have a bed and a pile of boxes. Just what we always wanted. We were most happy to see the rolls of toilet paper that Taylor used for packing.

At this point, Pixel has completely melted down. She crawled into a large duffel bag and has been hiding under the clothes all morning. We're making bets about how many days before she comes out. Scruffy, on the other hand, now owns the place but is annoyed about the one door she is not allow to go through. She'll have adjust.

Our apartment is small but tidy. I'm not sure we're chic enough to be here. The garage is full of shiny new cars, none of which have DC plates. I saw quite a few Diplomat tags. Maybe this will be what they call "a networking opportunity."

We have not seen W anywhere. I've heard he lives around here. Probably just a nasty rumor.

Cheers from the center of the universe.

Day 3: The long and not-so-winding road

It was cold last night in the greater Laramie, Wyoming metropolitan area. Had to scrape the car. I hope the 2 cases of wine in the trunk didn't freeze. It is now apparent that the "dig the cat out from under the bed ritual" is going to be how it is.

We drove all the way across Nebraska (450+ miles). Except for the obvious "red state" issue, it wasn't as bad as we expected. Nebraska is actually kind of pretty in that "Little House on the Prairie" kind of way. In fact, it wasn't as boring as Wyoming. And, the speed limit posted in the west is 75, but in practice, the only limit is in your foot. The zen of 100 mph is the Nebraska state of mind.

Today, we didn't feel sorry for ourselves and the future of the earth. Instead, we studied Canadian geography. Did you know that the capital of Yukon is Whitehorse?

This evening, I learned another important fact. Holiday Inn also allows pets. So, tomorrow night, no more Motel 6 for this furry family. We are staying in the Oak Lawn Southwest Holiday Inn in Chicago. The luxury room with the king size bed was very tempting, but in the end, we opted for the room with two standard size beds. I am not sure I can lift a king size bed. You think I'm making this up.... Also, we had burritos for dinner.

Day 2: What Can I say

Cats first: The cats are doing fine. Well, this morning I had to pick up the bed so Taylor could squeeze under and capture them. Good thing Motel 6 has cheap beds that are light. The cats just sit quietly in their boxes all day, in a very uninteresting fashion.

They have adjusted somewhat and were quicker to come out from under the bed this evening. Maybe that's because we didn't give them their cat tranquilizers today (saving those for ourselves). Scruffy is very interested in that other cat in the mirror. It's in there somewhere, and she wants to sniff its butt. (Taylor says it's okay for me to write that since nobody is going to read this anyway.)

Here is a haiku contributed by my friend Carl:
So you call this thing
Your "cat carrier". I call
These my "blades of death".

Because the cats are not performing up to their contract, I spent the day videoing our drive. What's more torture than hundreds of miles in a car without a break? Watching a shakey video of hundreds of miles in a car, taped through the bugs on the windshield. To add interest, Taylor performed the song: "Let's go on a safari up my sister's nose."

Next: I'll "blog" the election. They're even talking about election blogging on the news now.

So, I don't know about queers threatening straight marriage, but family values just attacked ours. That's right. Thanks to bigotry and misunderstanding, the marriage Taylor & I had on March 12, 2004 in Portland Oregon was invalidated. We are now part of a small club along with Rosie O'Donnell. Well, if John Ashcroft comes over and tries to take our certificate, he's gonna have one serious wardrobe malfunction by the time I'm done with him. (Do you think they're gonna say that's a threat and arrest me?)

As for the other results, there is no point in commenting. You've heard it all.

A haiku about this:
He says he is a
Republican. Then what's that
Giant deficit.

At the moment, Canada is closer than DC. It's looking better and better. Now, where are those cat pills?

Here are some uplifting thoughts courtesy of Linda in Maryland where, I think, they've never outlawed nor in-lawed gay marriage (also known as "marriage" to the radicals):

Some good election news: While 11 states have voted to write anti-gay discrimination into their constitutions, we should not allow this to overshadow the bigger picture.

According to Free State Justice: <-- Yesterday, there were some great victories for equality. Ten years ago, the citizens of Cincinnati, OH passed an anti-gay law that has prevented the city from passing any legislation to protect gays and lesbians. Yesterday, Cincinnati voters repealed the measure by 54 percent to 46 percent.

Three states – North Carolina, Idaho and Missouri –for the first time have elected an openly gay official to the state legislature. Now, these states will be less able to discount the LGBT community, as members of the community will have a place at the table.

In Oregon, the only state with the financing to run a competitive campaign against the anti-gay ballot measure, 43 per cent of the people voted not to amend the constitution to bar same-sex couples from marriage.

Day 1: The Close Race

The vote to drive or not was initially tied--two votes yay, two votes nay. After some consternation, contested votes, allegations of fraud, begging for people food, and disqualifying votes from non-humans, the yays won by a mere two votes....

It was a patriotic and daring decision to traverse our great country. Go more than 100 miles inland and democrats can be in hostile territory. We're now in a charming motel 6 in Boise (that's boy-see, not boy-zee) Idaho. The cats, who are left wing extremists, are hiding under the bed.

Our last morning in Oregon was a perfect one... pouring rain. The cats quietly took their spots, lovingly drugged by Taylor. Before we even got out of the driveway, Pixel decided she wanted to go to the catbox. Thankfully, it was a false alarm. Later on, Pixel proceded to the catbox and stayed there for much of the afternoon. It was the feline version of getting upset and locking yourself in the bathroom.

I wish I could tell more funny stories, but with the cats drugged, there was not alot going on.

Right now, I'm just rooting for Ohio. GOOOO Ohio dems.

Leaving Eve

The house is almost empty, the neighbor is beside herself about having to live next to ... gasp... renters, I bought a cool video camera, and the cats are studying for their driving test. The camry is stuffed to the gills and I have "Low Rider" going through my head. There was snow in Denver and my flight was delayed an hour. Snow is something I had not planned for.

More news as it happens. Off we go.

"The science of getting freaky gansta style

I just got back from a weekend camp with a volunteer tutoring program. The program pairs up DC public high school students with tutors to work together weekly until the young pupil graduates from high school. I have been working with my student for about 5 weeks. He is in tenth grade and wants to be a pharmacist. This weekend, tutors and students went to "camp" at Prince William Forest Park in VA.

The event is a thinly disguised experiment designed to study wild free range teenagers in an uncontrolled environment. Based on highly scientific methods, we have learned the following about this fascinating animal called "Urbanicus Teenagerus":

The teenager is a social species, prone to travelling in packs. The males of the species compete for the spot of pack leader. The competition includes tussles for physical supremacy accompanied by shows of dominance. When the female members of the species are nearby, there are displays of masculinity and attempts to win female approval by means of performance and physical advances. The female of the species engage in prolonged periods of small group bonding during the day. The females prowl around searching out the males and engaging in dance-like rituals to show their interest and attract as many mates as possible.

Accompanying the teenagers is a distantly related species called "tutors" (too-tors). This species spends much time trying to control the teenagers, keep them quiet, get them to sit down, and peel them apart when they "get freaky". To a significant extent, the teenagers do not notice these tutors. However, tutors are a tenacious species and do not surrender easily. After two days, the tutors gave up and packed the teenagers into a yellow tube.

On the second night of the study, a large celebration ritual took place. During the celebration, loud rhythmic noise played for hours while the teenagers proceded to engage in their most intense mate attraction rituals. This ritual, which the teenagers call "getting freaky", is distinguished by rhythmic gyrations and shocked looking tutors. This scientist, in an attempt to infiltrate the pack for purely academic reasons, undertook to "get freaky" by "showing her stuff". The teenager species were particularly amazed, and declared this researcher to be, and I quote: "GANSTA". Further research on the meaning of gansta is being proposed and grants are being sought.

More scientific analysis of teenagers is pending, however the researcher is now late for her airplane.

Hello World

It's Wednesday night. I decided I need a blog. Everybody's got one. I just read Jessica Cutler's blog (http://washingtoniennearchive.blogspot.com/). I know I can write better than that. The content may differ slightly.

Things to look forward to: Poison Ivy Haikus, details of my new life in DC where I live in a 1 bedroom apartment that costs more than my 2200sf house in Portland, and charming annecdotes about the upcoming cross country family drive with me, Taylor, Scruffy and Pixel. Scruffy (age 2 1/2) and Pixel (7) are so excited. They've never seen the country before.