Ah

I see Blogger is now cooperating.

Yay.

Korean Bloggers Making A Difference

Hey, that's me!

Oh wait...they mean like real Koreans. Like "in Korea" Koreans.

I don't have a picture of it (my mom has the only one) but when I was little my mom had these shirts made up (back in the height of iron-on transfers) that said "MADE IN KOREA," which of course at the time I had no idea what that meant but now I'm horribly embarassed by it. The point is, I can at least claim that I was made there, even if my blogging doesn't make a difference.

My brother also had one and I think his said MADE IN AMERICA (which would make sense).

Mom, I've been scarred for life.

Parting shots

View from the Kona boardwalk area. The Ironman Triathalon runs right by this. There's all sorts of Ironman merchandise in the shops across the street. I think the Ironman is later this month but we did see lots of buff bicyclists and stuff. There to acclimate?


I was told that I had more to fear of falling coconuts than sharks. This, of course, only made me wary of falling coconuts. That fear was merely heightened when I saw this sign.


More scary coconut trees, the silent Hawaiian killer.

Trial Tomorrow

Just in case I run out of arguments, I have this to fall back on:

"I told you already three times, the law's on my side! I play cards with J.D. Shelnutt, chief of po-lice!"

/Doyle Hargraves, Slingblade

Looney Tunes

All right...I'll try anything at least once. And you could probably get me to try it again just because I'm gullible.

So I'm going to pick a "theme" song that will help me in my trial prep. I've heard of people doing this for finals and this was suggested in one of my other cases, and hey - it can't hurt, can it? Unless of course, the theme is something like I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow or In the Jailhouse Now. Not so much.

The obvious choice would be Eminem's Lose Yourself. I'd use the Beastie Boys but the last thing I need is Sabotage. That being said, any suggestions?

Hear ye, hear ye!

"Someday - and that day may never come - I'll call upon you to do a service for me. But until that day, accept this justice as gift on my daughter's wedding day."

Apparently, that day has come. In return for PG posting my request for Scotch help awhile back, I present you with: To Journal or Not to Journal, by PG

Listening to 2Ls grump about working on law review, while listening to my 1L classmates stress about getting onto law review, makes me think there's an information gap between those who think law review is nirvana and those who think it is... not.

I'd like to run a symposium on law review (and perhaps just law journals generally) before journal competition starts. At Columbia, competition is right after finals, so I'd want to have the symposium out before the end of April, in the hopes that 1Ls will read it and be able to make more educated choices. In the interest of getting the most honest reactions, I plan to make the posts presumptively anonymous; if someone wants her name or school or whatever on it, OK, but otherwise it'll just be "A 2L on the journal of gender and law" or even more scrubbed of identifying detail.

For those having writer's block on how to start talking about this topic, I'd suggest addressing such as Law Review vs. specialty journal, or Richard Posner's critique, or whether one can get tenure as a law professor without having been on law review. I'd appreciate if De Novo readers would forward this call for submissions to their friends, professors, students, or anyone who might have two cents to add to the discussion.

PS - Do not, I repeat, leave your comments here. I'm a moron. I wouldn't know what to do with them. Instead, if you'd like to comment, click here and you'll be magically transported to DeNovo.

In case I get flustered in my trial, I always have this line of questioning to fall back on

[After swearing my witness in, I proceeding with my questioning]

Hey girl
What your name is?
Where you from?
Turn around; who you came with?
I can't explain it but damn sure glad you came here
Your body is banging mamma but where your brains at? (Come on) [expecting an objection of some sort for either the gratuitous commenting upon Witness's body or the comment about where her brains are at; be ready for a quick "Withdrawn"]
You know I love that (I love that)
....
Now where them girls at? (Where the girls at?) [at this point, I'm assuming I'd ask the bailiff to have "them girls" called in the hall]

"Shake Your Tailfeather" from the Bad Boys II Soundtrack. Only slightly edited. Okay, maybe a lot edited.

We interrupt the Hawaii stories to bring you...The Trial Of The Century!!!

Ambimb asks how my trial is going.

The short answer is, um, it's going? And dragging me behind it?

I have my very first trial-trial (as opposed to my default judgments where I wasn't too concerned about terrible things happening [although I think I've managed to have something awful happen at every one of those, too]) on Thursday. This accounts for the copious amounts of vacation posts. That and to annoy Wayne. Anyway, writing about Hawaii is not only easy but it's sort of relaxing.

So back to the trial. It's not very interesting to most people, probably. It's pretty much just a breach of contract case with some statutory provisions that allows us to seek punitive damages. Heh - punitive. I'm sure it's nothing to sweat because it's small claims, but for someone concerned with land sharks and lava bench collapse, I'm pretty worked up about it. I'm taking the Boy Scout approach (Be Prepared). I'm guessing that I probably can't say to much more about it. Better safe than sanctioned/disbarred/explaining myself to the Character and Fitness board/whatever.

I'm also working on two other cases at the moment, one being a child custody case and the other regarding a protective order. Both cases have other, related matters that we're not handling at the clinic, so part of what we're doing is trying to prepare for all the possible outcomes of the other cases. We'll know soon what direction we'll take in both of those cases.

In other words, that's what I'm doing at "work," for all the people who might wonder if I'm really a law student or if I just spend my time posting.

Friday Spies ©

1. What blog, other than your own, do you read the most?

I'm guessing that I can't cop out and say Bloglines. Probably it's a tie between BBQ Daycare and Begging the Question. Apparently I like Bs and Qs.

2. Are you a gadget person? Do you have the latest thingamajigs and whoozits and geegaws? What sort of gadgets do you own?

For being technologically challenged, I do own a few gadgets. Ipod and pod accessories (and a propane grill and accessories), and a laptop with dedicated DVD player and interchangeable floppy/CD burner drives are probably the most complicated things I use. We have the usual, like a digital camera and a camcorder, DVD player and VCR. Mr. McP has two PDAs; I have none. Um, I also drive a car?

3. If I gave you $1000 on the condition that you couldn't spend it on something responsible (e.g., bills), or save it, what would you do with the money? (Can you tell that a Democrat is asking that question?)

Well, I'd say clothes shopping but that would be responsible in my case. I only shop out of necessity unless there's a Hello Kitty on it. If I had the money I'd buy suits and shoes and a nice overcoat. But again, that's "responsible" or something. And presumes I have a J-O-B. A thousand dollars isn't enough for me to go fly anywhere and pay for lodging and food and stuff. But since you insist, I would probably buy lots of little trinket-y junk things. Like sandals with sparkly bits on them. Earrings I would never wear. Lipstick not from Target. Yummy food. Yeah, I would probably spend the bulk of it eating caviar and foie gras.

4. What are your five favorite sitcoms of all time, other than "Seinfeld" and "The Simpsons"?

Um, none, now that you've taken those out. Northern Exposure was my favorite tv show but I'm not sure it's really a sitcom. Same for Strangers with Candy. Wait, is Monty Python's Flying Circus a sitcom?

5. Organize a film festival based on a theme. Choose a theme and a handful of movies with that theme, and tell us what you've chosen.

McPan Presents: F. Scott Fitzgerald, the movie festival
Yep. I'd have to go with my main man, Scott. I have a "thing" for him. My senior thesis was about his particular style of narration (I think I called it "cinematic narration" or "cinematic narrative"), so I would be interested in seeing more (good) adaptations of his work.

I would definitely show the 70s Great Gatsby and the newer one with Paul Rudd. I thought the newer one did a better job of the shirt scene (You know, where he's throwing all the shirts at her and she's crying into them and saying they're beautiful) but you can't beat a classic with Robert Redford.

I'd like to see a remake of Tender is the Night (the main focus of my thesis). The one with Jason Robards is okay but I think it could be better.

Fitzgerald also worked in Hollywood, often as an uncredited writer.

And of course, there are lots of films and tv movies based on his shorter works.

I think there's plenty of material for the McPan Presents film festival. Now if only someone besides Charlsie cared about Fitzgerald...

Day 6 - Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, A tale of a fateful trip, That started from this tropic port, Aboard this tiny ship

So our cancelled whale tour from Day 2 was rescheduled to Friday. We drove into Kona and our engine light magically turned off...whew. I didn't want to explain that yes, this was our third car already.

We got to the marina way early because we are anal like that. There weren't any bathrooms at the gas station, so we had to drive back up the road to the state potties. Now, most of the state facilities in Hawaii were actually very nice and clean. This one, however, was horrible.

The first two stalls were missing doors. The next one was, um, unusable. The fourth had a door and was clean but didn't have any paper. The last one was the handicapped stall: clean, with a door, and plenty of paper. I'm against using them on principle but I was going to make an exception this time. After all, nobody was around, and it seemed unlikely that some handicapped lady would come in right then.

I closed the door and locked it, turned around to take off my shorts and there it was - a huge green and orange gecko, right behind the flusher. EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!! First of all, I've never seen a gecko in real life. It sort of looks like the Geico gecko, which was both silly and terrifying. I mean, what if this gecko started talking, selling me insurance? Scary, right? Plus, it was a lot bigger than I thought geckos would be. It was probably, including the tail, 5 inches long. He was mostly green and around his suction-cup-toes he was orange with a fading to yellow on the outer edges. But his eye was looking at me. Scary!

Faced with the choice of screaming or fainting, I chose simply to be in shock and stare at it, hoping it would disappear so I could pee in peace. It didn't go away. I didn't want to use the bathroom and then risk having the gecko attack me when I flushed. And I wasn't going to not flush. It was agonizing. I finally decided to just take some paper from that stall and go to the 4th stall. Whew. The gecko never moved, thank God.

After I got out, A was like, what the heck was taking so long? I told him about the gecko. He pretty much laughed at me and said he wished he'd seen it. No sympathy at all.

So after the gecko trauma, we boarded our whale tour boat. I had a bad feeling about this three-hour tour karma-wise, given our penchant for making fun of Gilligan's Island (I had the entire face blacked out but A thought it was funnier just to have the little eye bars). I'm Mary Anne and A is the Professor. The couple to our right was married at the time, so they were the Howells. Gilligan and Ginger got married a few years ago and we just saw the Skipper last month.


Fast forward 10 years...

Definitely tourists. We were asked if we were honeymooning (apparently our rings are still "shiny"). Hah! It'll be seven years in a couple of months.

This whale was doing a whole production - slapping his tail repeatedly, waving his flippers around, etc.









Then we saw a whole herd (yeah, pod or whatever - if it's animals in a group, it's a herd) of spinner dolphins. They actually jump in the air and spin something like 7 times per second. We saw one do it and we saw another jumping up and doing side flops.




This dolphin went right by the bow of the boat. Cool.

Nuts!

I forgot that we had gone to the Mauna Loa macadamia nut factory in Hilo. I love factories. I love that Food TV show Unwrapped where they make candy and all sorts of foods. I love the show Stripped on Style and they show you how they make makeup and Lee press-on nails and toothpaste and stuff. I love Discovery channel shows that make planes and submarines and stuff. In other words, I'll watch practically any factory stuff, except maybe the box factory scenes in An Officer and a Gentleman.

So we had to go when we found out there was a factory in Hilo.


There is a large gift shop inside this building. Apparently, there is a lot to merchandize regarding macadamia nuts (or macs as they call them).


Here's a peek inside the factory windows. They're making bags of macs right now. There was a can line going on on the other side. It was pretty cool.

They also had a mac cookie factory and a mac ice cream (macs mixed in or chocolate-dipped bars rolled in macs) stand.


Here's macs on a tree. They're the little green circles - they might be hard to see. At the factory, they burn the shells for fuel.

We bought an assortment gift pack a few days earlier on the other side of the island. My favorite were the Kona-glazed nuts. A's favorites were the Maui onion & garlic flavored. As you can imagine, I strictly enforced a 10-foot rule that evening. PU!!!

Day 5 - Car trouble in paradise

Car trouble, Part I
Hilo is on the other side of the island, about 2 1/2 hours away. We got up early to make the drive. About 20 miles outside of Volcanoes, it gets really voggy (volcanic fog - nasty because it has ash bits and stuff and it was really thick...like soup. Not this Soup.) and we have to stop and put the top back on. It remains voggy almost until Hilo.

Six miles outside of Hilo, the engine light comes on *ding* and the car stars hiccuping and bucking every time we try to accelerate past 35 mph. A pulls to the side and calls the rental company. There's a car depot or whatever at the Hilo airport, so we make it there with the car jumping around like those souped-up cars they make jump with remote controls.

For the second time in a week, we ask to get a new car. They seemed incredulous that we had already made one exchange. Rental car lady, in a semi-sarcastic way: What was wrong with the first car? Engine problems?

They gave us a new car but not without trying to charge us for the gas used (1/4 of a tank...sheesh) at their rip-off rate of $3.40/gallon. A argued them down and we didn't have to pay.

New car in hand, we're off to see the Kahuna and Akaka Falls, north of Hilo. The Kahuna fall was a mere 100 footer. The Akaka was the real kahuna; it was over 400 feet. "That's a tasty burger."


Akaka Falls

On the way back to Hilo we stopped at the World Botanical Gardens. Let's just say that I wouldn't advise anyone to go there, even for the free bananas. We were supposed to go to the Hawaiian Botanical Gardens but we got mixed up. The WBG are not our friend. The only thing worth seeing were the Umauma Falls.


Pearls before swine
We eat an excellent lunch at the Hilo Bay Cafe and go shopping in town. We went back to Hilo Hattie's so A could get another crazy shirt. When we walked in we got little keys and if our keys opened the treasure chest at the jewelry counter, we could win something. A's key opened it and he had the choice of a mug or a pouch with the prize inside. He went for the pouch. It was a 1/2 off certificate to open an oyster. They had all these oysters in water and you would pick one out and they would open it for you. With the certificate, it would be $6.00 to open an oyster. That sounded like reasonably cheap fun, so we did it. When she opened the oyster the pearl was pretty big. It was really nice, a soft white. That's when the sell began.

They try to get you to let them set it in their stuff, which of course is like $100 for a simple pendant or several hundred dollars for a ring. I guess they have a point, because how many people just need loose pearls in their pocket, right? I tried on some rings but the pearl was so big it looked silly. I chose a pendant instead.

Then, because we had bought a setting, we could open another oyster for free. This time, A fathered twin pearls (remind me not to bear this man's children - he apparently is very fertile) that matched the pendant. I hemmed and hawed over what I would do with two pearls running around and decided that I was tired of this scam. So we left with a pearl pendant and two loose pearls. Later that night I decided to have them turned into earrings so we actually ended up going back and having that done. And as you can guess, with the setting, we got another pearl. Obviously, this is a horrific cycle of cracking open innocent oysters, so I tried to put a stop to it but A opened up another one.

Car trouble, Part II
Definitely more broke than when we went in, we headed back to the Kona side. We had just gone through Volcanoes when *ding* the engine light came on AGAIN. We were flabbergasted.

I read the owner's manual (I like that sort of thing; I have learned many interesting things by reading the owners manual) and it said that if the light wasn't flashing, we were probably okay, unless the light didn't turn off within the next few "normal driving cycles."

We made it home and it didn't have the bucking bronco problem the previous car had had. Just to be safe, we stayed home for dinner that night.

Day 4 - Because I like nothing better than boring Wayne with my vacation

After all the lava, we needed a realxing day at the beach(es).

Hookena, Round 2 *ding*
We decided to go back to Hookena because it was close. The waves seemed less rough than before so I plunged right back out there. The ocean thought, hey, I remember knocking this girl around - that was fun! And so commenced to continue its beatdown of me. This time it knocked me down and took a fin. I got the fin back but A lost his second snorkel (hahahaha). I decided to just concede the win to Hookena, so I went and sat far away on the shore (I'm afraid of land sharks too). A went out and boogieboarded or whatever it's called. I did crosswords.

After a couple of hours, we decided to try out another beach, Honaunau. I had read that this one had great snorkeling. It's right where a boat ramp used to be so it was easy getting in. And guess what - I saw turtles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We ate lunch and decided to go to Kealauu again. We got an underwatera camera at the gas station for $20. We later saw the same camera at Wal-Mart for less than $10.









Seriously, this shiny blue fish was gimungo.















I thought this fish in the lower left corner was pretty scary looking.










Here's me giving a thumbs-up (aka in some parts of the country as a gig'em sign....This is neither to confirm nor deny that I have been or ever will be any type of Aggie, no matter what the smallish Aggie alumni group at St. Crispin's might say about me. Mainly I just like to aggravate them) while trying to look like I'm not panicking or drowning.

And here's A. Apparently I am good with an underwater camera.

Day 3 - A takes me to...The Volcano

Volcanoes National Park was about an hour and a half away. We drove with the top down and it was a really nice day. We wore pants and brought sweaters and stuff on the advice of everyone who had been there and said we definitely needed coats and stuff. The bad part was that, if you were trekking to the lava flow, um, it's really stinkin' hot. So we were really hot. I wished I had trekked in my swimming suit.

This picture was taken about 20 minutes from the park entrance. See - pretty!

Once we got to the park there were all sorts of signs about the poor air quality, etc. and warnings about the 900 ways you can die from a volcano. Nice. And they charge admission to this place? We actually didn't pay. Maybe because of the poor air quality they were having a free day or something.

There was lava flow visible that day, so we hiked out to see it. Below is where the lava meets the water but it was about 10 miles roundtrip. That's pretty far, especially when there's no shade, water, facilities, etc. and oh yeah, you could DIE on the way there by other unrelated means. We were several miles away when we took this picture. See - scary!



And of course, the requisite lava-embedded street sign.


Here I am, on my way to what I thought might be the end of me. At least I'm wearing a hat. I heard baseball caps are all the rage for young women on the way to imminent death. On the trek out, we weren't sure how long it would take until we saw lava. A long time, it turned out. A said I was starting to drag like that part in Stravinsky's Rite of Spring (all others think the dinosaur scene from Fantasia) where the dinosaurs are dragging their tails and plodding along to their death and inevitable compacting into fossil fuels. Of course, on the way home, I was like a horse heading back to the barn, galloping at full speed. We managed to cut off nearly 20 minutes of time and we still didn't know where we were going for sure.

Okay, back to the lava story....It was sort of hard to show in the pictures, but the hardened lava is actually very shiny and glittery. I instantly thought of E. Spat and her attraction to sparkly stuff. However, if you are surrounded by sparkly stuff in the sun for 4 hours with no end in sight, it begins to numb your brain. You can sort of see it better in the picture below. It's crunchy when you walk on it, like broken glass or plastic shards or whatever. It also is very uneven, so the six mile hike seemed much further. After the first 1/2 mile there aren't any trail markings and so you're on your own to not wander onto the lava bench (area of fairly new lava growth to the island but collapsible at any time because of the hot lava still flowing underneath it) or wander back up to the top of the mountain. You were on your own as far as finding the lava.

After about an hour and a half I said, "These rocks are hot." A responds, "I think we'd better move away, then." About ten minutes later, we found this!

Now that's hot! There were about three different lava streams going at once. I know it sounds dumb, but man, it's hot! You could see the heat waves rising for as far as you could see. The lava was pretty slow moving and quick to turn into this silver Terminator stuff but the lava underneath would still sort of smolder. It would get so hot that little chips of the hardened lava would actually pop off. The place sounded like a bowl of Rice Krispies. Eventually the hot lava would pop off enough places and start flowing again.

We also stopped at the craters, elevation a little over 4,000 feet. There was more than a 20 degree difference in temperature from where we hiked to the crater - I guess this is where we needed the coats. Interesting tidbit - Mark Twain went to Hawaii and looked at the same crater we did, except 100 years ago, it was a ginormous lake of lava just bubbling up and stuff. Scary.


Moral of the story - Volcanoes are hot. My vacation didn't end the way I thought it might.

McPan Goes to Hawaii, Part 2 - Going bananas

Dan, the B&B owner made us a full-cooked breakfast, which we weren't expecting. He even cut up a banana on each plate. I ate it so as not to look weird or anything. That was the first banana I've had in nearly 7 years. The last one I ate was by mistake on my honeymoon. How do you eat a banana by mistake? Well, they had cut it longways into a thin sliver and fried it so it looked like a boomerang and stuck it in my dessert. I think it was supposed to be decorative or something fancy like that. Anyway, I ate about 1/2 of the boomerang and said, This tastes familiar but I'm not sure like what. Then it struck me - I was eating my sworn enemy - the nanner. Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww. And that was the last banana I had eaten.

We had a whale watching tour reservation but they called us on our way out the door and cancelled because of high winds. We went to the Milolii beach again but it was entirely too choppy to try and snorkel.

We considered going to the rare green beach at South Point, which is the southernmost US land (next stop, Antarctica! Seriously!) but decided it was too much work (you drive to the middle of nowhere, take an unmarked path through pastureland, hike to the edge of a cliff and then climb down and don't forget not to turn your back to the ocean or it could eat you up. It sounded scary to me.

We drove back to Kona and found the Keahaluu Beach (or something like that - I'm not so good with this Hawaiian stuff. I was navigator 99.998% of the trip and with my Texanized Hawaiian, I'm amazed we ever got anywhere. Too many vowels. Entirely too many vowels. Ex: Hwy King Kamehameha III came out of my mouth sounding suspiciously like "Mekkalekkahimekkahineyho" from Pee Wee's Playhouse. [Man, why is everything going back to Pee Wee lately?]) which was supposed to be the equivalent of the bunny slopes. Sure enough, it was nice and shallow and hardly any waves, despite the high winds. I hopped in and saw all sorts of fish. I'll have to utilize MS paint at some point and draw y'all some fish. A saw sea turtles!

As an aside - I had the thought that Wheel of Fortune - Hawaii wouldn't be a good game because of the sheer number of vowels. I don't really know much about Wheel but I've heard "I'd like to buy a vowel, please." I'm taking that to mean that vowels cost money. And since the Hawaiians only use 12 letters of our alphabet (I think it's all 5 vowels plus H, K, L, M, N, P, W), it seems like no one would win at Hawaiian Wheel. Just a thought.

Back to the vacation...We had the best sushi I've ever had. EVER! We got one of those boat dinners for two but it didn't come in a giant boat like they sometimes do. Just a big wooden platter. For 20 pieces (10 nigiri, 10 sushi roll pieces), soup, rice and all you can eat teriyaki (normally eww but this one was really tasty), $30 was totally a bargain! They had a bigger dinner for 2 and we saw someone else get it. It came in the giant boat.

Tummies full of fish, we made the drive home. On the big island, there's one road that circles the island. I think on the north end there are two roads that run parallel but everywhere we went there was only 1, Highway 11. It was one lane on each side except in Kona and Hilo (the two big cities, Kona on the west coast and Hilo on the east). This meant things could take a long time. And it also meant that you were pretty much stuck behind who you were behind until they turned or something.

We signaled and made a quick turn into our driveway. Our car was all the way into the driveway (so not hanging out in the street or anything) when we heard Eeeeerrrrrrrrr! and CRASH! I said, I think we've been hit and looked at the side mirror. There was a truck, all smashed up to bits and stuff and a minivan. The guy in the minivan jumped out and started yelling at us that we didn't signal long enough. We called the police and got back in the car. Nearly 40 minutes later, a fire truck with its lights on came. It was shortly followed by an ambulance and 5 police cars, which was a bit overkill but I overheard one of the police officers tell the other one that they were going in this direction anyway and they thought they'd join the fray.

As it turned out, the minivan was behind us and the truck behind it. Both were tailgating, so when one slowed the other crashed into him. I wondered why the guy in the minivan was shouting at us and never said anything about the guy who rearended him at a high rate of speed. The police were cool about it and actually seemed puzzled that we would wait for them to show up since we weren't actually involved.

The next morning, the B&B proprietor said it was probably more of a locals against tourists thing and that's why he immediately went after us. He also said we did the right thing by not engaging with them and calling the police because apparently Hawaii has a huge meth problem and you can never be too sure. I did see the minivan driver pee by the roadside (well, I heard him say he had to pee and turned off the headlights and then turn around), for what that's worth.

McPan goes to Hawaii, Part One

Saturday - Come Fly With Me
I had a three hour layover in Stag's stomping grounds - I've never been to LAX before. What struck me as crazy was that they sold things like double-stick body tape in case you forgot to pack yours (to hold your boobs into your backless halter tops, I guess) right next to things like gum and magazines. Wow. I don't think I could live in LA. Too much pressure. Too much body tape. *shudder*

We got into Kona around 10:00 Hawaii time, which was after the car rental counter closed. We were frantic because we called at least three times beforehand to tell them that we weren't going to get there until right when the counter closed and of course, they closed anyway despite their assurances that they'd be there. We took the rental car shuttle to the satellite lot and found that they didn't have any convertibles.

Why not? That's what we reserved.
It rained today, sir.
What's that got to do with it?

That wasn't ever really satisfactorily answered but we had to have a car to get to our remote B&B and so we took a Jeep Wrangler. Which drove like a Jeep (i.e., it sucked). We had paid for me to be an extra driver but I couldn't see out of the darn thing so that was a waste. They had told us to come back the next day if we wanted to exchange the Jeep for a convertible.

We drove to the B&B an hour away. The road was really curvy and there were no streetlamps after the Kona area. It was like that scene in Pee Wee's Big Adventure where he's driving the car and the yellow street signs get more and more complicated.



Most of our driving past the Kona area was at 35 mph and you really couldn't go much faster without danger of falling into the ocean. Not so good for vacation. We got to the B&B and the owner came out to see who it was. My first thought was, holy cow - we're staying with Bill O'Reilly. Seriously. He kind of looks like him. He had a big dog that looked like a boxer mix that was barking his head off at us. We went to our room and went to bed. ZZZZZ.

The next morning we woke up and saw this outside the bedroom window.


We tried to get the top of the Jeep off but were completely inept. I busted out the owner's manual (when in doubt, read the directions) and managed to get some of the little holder-thingys off but the window zippers were dysfunctional. We decided to put the Jeep back together which was another adventure in itself.

Pacific Ocean 1, McPan 0
We went to a nearby beach called Hookena (There are probably some apostrophes and accent marks and stuff but I'm not going to bother with that right now) that was supposed to be very calm and good for snorkeling. We get there and the beach itself is very tiny but the bay is quite large. The waves are churning up a bit and I was scared but A said it was fine. I got in and the ocean promptly kicked my ass.

As we were trying to get past the waves and into the calmer part, there were a lot of rocks. I kept stumbling on them and trying to hold onto the boogie board (A said floaties wouldn't help me, even if they did have Hello Kitty on them and an accompanying Hello Kitty float ring as well) for dear life. A shouts to stop turning my back to the waves because I can't see them coming. He says, "Turn your shoulder into it like this and sort of hop with it." That would have been great advice...if I was a foot taller like he was. Instead, the wave caught my shoulder and cartwheeled me back almost to the shore. I hit some rocks at some point and got up with a huge scraped shoulder, a scraped knee and some nice bruises on my arm. Sweet. Then I realized that I had lost my mask and snorkel but had bit down on the mouthpiece and so I still had that. I shouted, I lost my mask! A shouted, I lost my snorkel! This wasn't looking good.

I found my mask and then lost it again as another wave overtook me. I found it again. A never found his mouthpiece but he did recover the snorkel part. The ocean was definitely winning. I went to sit on the beach towel. A took my snorkel and went back out. He made it out past the waves and saw some fish. This encouraged me to go back out. I didn't get very far and I certainly didn't see anything except a bunch of sand and the floor of the beach as the ocean kept beating me up. Bully.

A lady who looked like the poster child for too much plastic surgery came up to me while A was out swimming.

See those red flags?
Yes.
Know what they mean?
No. Um, don't swim there maybe?
Oh, I was asking you.
Well, I don't know.

She then proceeded to try to engage me in further conversation and I tried to ignore her by watching this other lady who was bringing her parrot to the beach. Fortunately A came up and we decided to leave.

We went to another beach at Milolii. It has a name but I can't remember it. It's about a 10 minute hike from the parking lot through a bunch of volcanic rock and forest area to get to it, so we weren't expecting a lot of people. In fact, we only saw 3 other couples out of all our trips there.

Snail seen on way to Milolii beach. I should have put my foot next to it for scale. This snail was about 6 1/2 inches long, no joke!

The sand was salt and pepper but if you looked closely it looked more like five pepper pepper (the stuff I use at home). There was green flecks (olivine), red, and pinkish bits. It was really cool but very rocky. There was virtually no sand once you got into the water - just rocks. I saw my first fish (that's fish plural) there but it got deep really quick and so I chickened out and sat on the sand some more.



We decided to exchange our crappy Jeep so we drove back to Kona. We got to the car lot and said we wanted to exchange this for the convertible. The counter dude seemed shocked that we wouldn't want a Jeep. A explained that we didn't want this to begin with and we were told we could come back for a convertible today. "But there's nothing wrong with it." They reluctantly handed us the keys to the convertible. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

After dinner, we went home and sat on the lanai (a wrap-around porch in the back of the house that all the rooms opened out onto) and stargazed. It was amazing how many more stars we could see. At home, we just see the main stars of Orion (the belt, his shoulders, the sword). In Hawaii we could see tons of stars within Orion and all around him. It was really cool.

BTQ makes my eyes bleed

According to my aggregator, BTQ and Divine Angst were the most prolific posters when I was gone. Wow...28 posts each in 8 days.*

Thank goodness a large majority of BTQ's posts were about basketball (which I don't really care about), so I could just skim those.

And, as previously promised, where I've been. I didn't count states wheree I didn't spend at least 1 night. But considering that I've been in car trips from Texas to Pennsylvania, you know I've been to some of those states on the right-hand side. Like, uh, Arkansas (okay, not on the right hand side but between Tex and Penn). I think I just ate a sandwich there and probably peed at a gas station.



create your own personalized map of the USA

*This is not entirely true. Wayne managed 33 posts but probably had fewer words in those 33 posts than one Milbarge on basketball post. Oops, and I just noticed that Mr. P had a whopping 51 posts! That makes all of me bleed. I are sad now!

And because everyone else did it (PS - can't seem to get rid of the meganormous spaces, so deal with it):

Bourbon Congratulations! You're 127 proof, with specific scores in beer (120) , wine (116), and liquor (78).

Screw all that namby-pamby chick stuff, you're going straight for the bottle and a shot glass! It'll take more than a few shots of Wild Turkey or 99 Bananas before you start seeing pink elephants. You know how to handle your alcohol, and yourself at parties.

Link: The Alcohol Knowledge Test written by hoppersplit on Ok Cupid

Pictures and more details of Hawaii to come. I have to go yell at Wal-Mart first, though, for managing to send us home with a "picture" CD with almost NO PICTURES on it.

...and we're back

Great...I did an audiopost from Hawaii and I just now realized it never posted. That or someone hacked into Blogger and deleted all the fun I was having.

At any rate, time for a shower and more sleep. I'm really confused...

You all can go to Texas; I'm going to Hawaii

Okay...this is the official warning. The last time I took a trip, all hell broke loose. My mom didn't realize I was gone. Fellow bloggers didn't realize I was gone. I think I got into trouble with about everybody I know at some point or another.

So...I shall be gone and I have no idea what the internet situation is out there. I mean...it's an island. In the middle of the ocean. That would be a loooong telephone line. Please don't pick a fight with me while I'm gone. Please don't think I'm dead (MOM). Please don't rob my house or anything like that. If you do, take out the recycling on Monday because that would be a big help.

I'm likely turning off the computer after I post this, so if you have any smart ideas that you'll pick a fight real quick or something...um, don't?

If you need to get in touch with me, I think Coob is going to be only an island away. Call him and I'm sure he'll get the message to me.

And for the record...

(I like that phrase. I swiped it from Mr. Imbroglio, who had to use it after every accustory comment I made, haha, in order to clear his good name.)

I have been officially reinstated for Stag Trivia. (Un-instatement here.) on the condition that I not use "tastebuds" as an answer anymore.

So, uh, watch out or something.

Friday Spies ©

1. Tell me what's in your desk drawers right now.
Thank goodness you specified desk drawers. I have the feeling someone would have listed what's in their drawers and that would be TEE EMM AAAYE. Seriously. Well, I'm at home and the computer desk is some fake-Ikea-looking thing so there aren't any drawers. But lying around is a whole crapload of paper, 2 billion CDs and some crossword puzzles. Oh, and some 3-D glasses (not mine).

2. How many states have you visited or lived in, and which of the others do you most want to visit?
Dude, I'm saving this question for later. I have packing and stuff to do.

3. What was the last cd you purchased, and what was the last movie you rented/bought a ticket to?
The last actual CD I bought (since I got my iPod I haven't really bought any CDs but just got music off of iTunes) for myself was the Kill Bill 2 soundtrack. I bought Mr. McP the Johnny Cash Live at Folsom Prison CD for his birthday in January.
Oops, I just notice this was a 2-part question. The last movie we saw was...probably Vera Drake. And the last movie I rented was probably Biloxi Blues. And yes, I paid for both of them...ahem...unlike some people.

4. Have you ever sung karaoke? If not, what song would you be willing to sing in front of people? Yes. Highlights included George Michaels, Simon & Garfunkel, Beach Boys, my best impression of Louis Armstrong, Madonna, and I can't remember the rest. Cheap beer and some Wendy's was involved.

5. What was the best concert you've ever attended, either because of the performance or because it was otherwise memorable?
I've only been to one (I'm assuming that things like band concerts that I had to be there for don't count, as well as things like the opera), so that is not only the best but the most memorable. Wynona Judd, with Billy Dean opening. Hey, I was like 12. Cut me some slack.

PS - if you didn't like this feature, blame these guys. They made me do it. And even though I think the Supreme Court said something about those CIA contracts being unenforceable or something, I'm pretty sure they'll enforce their end of the bargain if I don't comply. Okay, so mainly that just entails forcing me to cut up my personal pan pizzas into small pieces from now on but whatever.

Mail call: RENEW IT OR LOSE IT

Seriously...I hate you guys. /Cartman

Sports Illustrated isn't fit to catch my shoe polish dust. My first inkling that it might not be worth whatever very little money I paid for it came last summer. Its fate was sealed when I started having bad dreams about it. Now with threats that sound rather mean, I'm convinced that it sucks.

X marks the spot

Office Mate asked me for some candy.

I pulled my giant grocery bag-o-candy out of my super secret hiding place (okay, not super secret - it's just the lower right hand desk drawer) and she says, "Ooh, you've got Twixes!"

This of course prompted an earnest discussion over what the proper plural of Twix is. Or if Twix is plural already. I mean, normally it comes in a double package (two sticks per wrapper) so maybe each one is a Twick. Plural --> Twix? Or is it like testatrix --> testatrixes? OR is it like matrix --> matrices?!?!

I have a lot of questions. And I'm going on spring break the minute class is over today.* So I will leave it up you all to figure that out while I'm avoiding the sun, sand, water, sharks, volcanoes, swimsuits, snorkels, manta rays, and relaxation in general in Hawaii.

*What I mean by that is that I am not going to classes any more this week. I still have to finish some packets for Journal but then I am going shopping and then the worrying about "How will I relax" begins.

What does this mean for me? you may ask. Probably nothing. I will probably blog frantically on Friday, trying to get my blog-fix for a week and then maybe audiopost from Hawaii if my phone works there. Otherwise, entertain yourselves by reading the people who are currently on Spring Break but won't be next week - suckers!

Luke...I am your father

As it turns out, audioblogging is hard. I mean, it's hard to think of stuff that is a) funny to people you've never met b) with someone you've never met c) and will fit within 5 minutes.

Therefore, I think some future audio posts will be reenactments of movie scenes. Dubbed in "Texan." Think "Great Moments in Punditry." Um, in Texan.

And for the record, if you're wanting to reenact A Few Good Men with me, I am calling shotgun for the role of Col. Jessup right now.

283.2 Miles to Graceland

It's a two-fer!

Giddy by my wildly successful audiopost with AI, I foolishly decided to make the equivalent of a drunk-dial except while completely sober and see what Mr. Johnson was up to.

The results were so homogay that we actually did a do-over. Elvis barked less this time. I monopolized the conversation less. By at least 2% less than the first take.

Like the button says, Play this audio post.

Look Ma, no hands!

This post (okay, not THIS post but the audio post) was done with NO HANDS! Well, not NO hands but only ONE hand (used to hold the phone). Wow!

I received a very odd phone call the other day from someone with the really odd name of Ambivalent Imbroglio. He asked for E. McPan. I heard that she had an unlisted number but rather than disappoint Mr. Imbroglio, I just played along. The results are here.

And may I just say, before you click over, that Yes, I really am that gullible; and Yes, I know I have a voice made for mime work.

I mean, anyone can have a face for radio, but it takes special people to have a voice for mime work. Seriously.

That is all.

Top Ramen - Ornamental Flavor

Oh geez. My brother (and this one really is related) has a post explaining why "Oriental" is not derogatory to use in reference to people from Asia. Aka "Asians."

Of course, he slips this in under the guise of band and band queers...

My favorite line: "you have an oriental rug not oriental people!"

Hilarious. Personally I don't give a damn because I don't categorize myself as Asian. Seriously. When you hear my voice, you'll think I'm the biggest redneck that ever lived. Jeff Foxworthy ain't got nothin' on me.

All that being said, I do feel a little weird eating "Oriental flavor" Ramen in the case that it turns out I really am "Oriental" as opposed to "Asian" or something. So I just call it ornamental. Which means that A calls me ornamental as well.

I'm a dork

Typer Shark is my newest favoritest game on Yahoo. Man. I got to the 13th level (set on Hard) and then I had to stop so I could go to bed.

It rocks.

If you're like, into typing and stuff.

Coast to coast, like butter on toast

So Milbarge has fixed hockey.

I said that I would post a really smart response, but, eh, I'm too lazy.

Instead, I'm asking you (again, I know) to dig deep and come up with stuff to write about. Funny the way this blog works - you write stuff for me. Anyway, the big prize in hockey is of course the Stanley Cup. Each player and staffer for the winning team gets to do whatever he wants with the Cup for at least one day. It's been all over the world. Waterskiing. Made into a Jello Mold. On a spinning teacups type of ride. Locked in a car (for a commercial). So it's like famous and stuff.

Anyway, since there's no hockey this year, I'm giving y'all the Stanley Cup. Tell me what you would do on the one day you have with it.

I'm listening.

Legal Quandary made me do it

Under penalty of death or mistreatment by THL, I answer the following questions:

Coke or Pepsi?
Neither. I luv Diet Dr. Pepper. I will drink Diet Vanilla Pepsi and Diet Coke if forced. But I will send back Diet Pepsi (the plain kind) every day of the week.

Peanut butter - smooth or crunchy?
Crunchy!!! I think Smuckers makes a natural crunchy peanut butter. It's da bomb.

White or Wheat?
Either. I prefer white but I grew up on it. I eat wheat to try and make up for all my other bad habits.

Vanilla or Chocolate Ice Cream?
Um, neither. I like coffee-flavored, so I guess that leans chocolate. I do like vanilla bean but not plain vanilla.

Perfect After Sex Food (ASF)?
A bacon-egg-cheese bagel made by Mr. McP. It's perfect any time.

Butter or Margarine?
Whichever is around.

Coffee, tea or neither?
Coff-ee! Coff-ee! I like a nice chai now and then but the kind made by real
Indians (dot, not feather). My sister is married to an Indian and her mother-in-law (I figure her mother-in-law and I have no in-law connection, such as mother-in-law once removed) sends my sister the tea and the chai spices. My sister was kind enough to pass along some to me out of her own personal stash. And I'll be dogged if it weren't the best stuff EVER.

Sweet pickles or Dill?
Sweet. I don't understand dill pickles.

Stupidest thing a boy told me and I believed?
No comment.

What do you want to be when you grow up?
Um, tall? Yeah. Definitely tall.

I'm just a love machine, a huggin' kissin' fiend

My husband got a call about three weeks ago from a high school friend. HSF was getting married in a few weeks and wanted to know if A would be an usher. It turned out that we couldn't go due to work and other time constraints like the space-time continuum. I was in charge of buying them a gift. I'm good at that sort of stuff.

I went online and looked at their registries. Dude...they had like 3 gravy boats. Now, I LOOOOVE gravy. But three gravy boats? That's too much. Seriously. And the other thing is that each one was around $40. I was authorized to spend somewhere around $40-50 and I felt torn. Now, I guess they wanted that $40 gravy boat. But I felt that my $40 could be better spent on something that should actually cost $40. I ended up buying them some sort of vegetable steaming machine.

The wedding (I suppose it happened) is now over. They met on eharmony, so I guess people really a) sign up for it to really meet people b) really meet people c) really sometimes marry them. This all blows my mind. It's bad enough I met Mr. McP in Wal-Mart, in the snack food aisle. But we at least dated for a respectable amount of time and had an engagement long enough for us to break it off at least twice.* So these folks met online, had a brief courtship and apparently, about a 3-week engagement.

You might feel that I'm being critical towards the couple. I'm not. I'm just still bitter that HSF never returned our RSVP card from my wedding 7 years ago. I'm just saying.

*I'm just kidding. I mean that engagements ought to be long enough to change your mind at least twice.

Band Aid

I finally thought of a band story that doesn't incriminate me or make my mom want to cut me out of her will out of shame.

Explanatory background facts:
I went to college on a music scholarship, intending to get a music degree. It didn't happen.

In college, band was a little different. There weren't any people getting out of PE. Most of the band members were people who were actually working toward a music degree, so it wasn't just a continuation of high school. (Well, I say that..never mind, you'll see.)

For those of you who have never marched before, I always marched "8 to 5," which means there are 8 steps per every 5 yards. Each step = 22.5 inches. (Yeah, get used to the fact that I am the ultimate band nerd.) Okay, so it's just like the army - your left foot hits on each downbeat. And it should always be the foot (in 8 to 5 marching, if no other special conditions apply) that hits the yard line. Technically, the ball of your foot should be smack in the middle of the yard line.

There's also a "hierarchy" in band. Of course, the band director is the figurehead, but the real leader is the section leader, who is usually the first chair in each section.

Okay...enough background. On with the story.

So one day, we were out on the practice field and this chick was really just taking this all too seriously. She wasn't the section leader, but she sure wanted to be our mom or something. So Crazy Chick was going beserk and snapping at all of us in her shrill voice. She got right in the face of this one guy, who was, seriously, ginormous. Gi-norm-ous.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, [NAME]?! YOU HAVEN'T HIT THE MARK ONCE THIS WHOLE DAY. I'VE BEEN WATCHING YOU! YOU HAVEN'T HIT THE YARD LINE ONCE! IT'S NOT THAT HARD - EVERYONE ELSE CAN DO IT! WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM? THE BALL OF YOUR FOOT SHOULD HIT THE YARDLINE EVERY 8 STEPS! DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT?! LOOK AT YOUR FEET RIGHT NOW AND TELL ME WHERE THE BALL OF YOUR FOOT IS!!!

[Frustrated] I don't know.

WHAT?! JUST LOOK! LOOK DOWN AT YOUR FEET [NAME]! NO, DON'T MOVE, JUST STAND AT ATTENTION AND USE YOUR EYES AND LOOK.

[Quietly] I can't see my feet.

WH-What?

I CAN'T SEE MY FEET.

It was true. He was so big that he couldn't see his own feet and had no idea if the ball of his foot was ever on the line or not.

Chastised, Crazy Chick just shut up and let him be.

We didn't know whether to laugh or feel sorry for the guy. I think we mainly just laughed because Crazy Chick was so off the wall. What made me think of this was that, a few weeks ago, Mr. McP and I attended our band reunion (it's a long story but at this convention, every school hosts its own reunion party and we've gone for the past couple of years because it's the most convenient place to visit our friends, who all went on to become band directors) and we saw that guy. I guess he made it through.

The moral of the story: Aren't you glad I'm not your kid's band director?

And one more thing - Band people are nuts. Like whoa. If you listen to the audio commentary to Friday Night Lights, I think it's Bissinger who comments about the band and basically says that they worked just as hard as the football team and were a whole lot more psychopathic.

I think that's true because not only is band year-round (as opposed to only football season) but they also try to civilize us for a semester and make us play indoors, which just makes some people more stir-crazy. Where I went to high school, band was pretty hard core. Where I went to college, it was also pretty hard core. The two weeks before school started it would be band at 8 until noon outdoors (and remember, once inside our dorms, there was no a/c). Band from 1 to 3 or something indoors. Then sectionals from like 4-5. And sometimes more band at night. Every day.

And while there were crazy folks like Crazy Chick (No Mongo!), I honestly think that my high school band was a lot worse. The director encouraged the equivalent of vigilante justice, i.e., he would leave "problem people" up to each section and each section would "take care of" the problem. I don't know of anyone who was actually beat up when I was in band, but I'm pretty sure it happened in the years before I got there. Just trust me. We also had officially sanctioned post-game punishments that routinely lasted past midnight, which usually consisted of walking the line painted around the school. I think 1 lap was something like a quarter of a mile. Except you had to walk it at attention and you never got just 1 lap. The worst I ever got was something like 5 lines for not having my shoes polished at the pre-game inspection. After you've had a full day at school, 1 hour before the game, inspection, pre-game rehearsal in full dress, the game, post-game sophomore roll call, and band hall cleanup by the sophomores, each line just pissed you off.

Yeah...like I said, we took this stuff way too seriously. Of course it bred "champions" and led to many music careers but still...I can't help feeling rather silly that I got swept up into this War of the Worlds-type hysteria. If you don't know what I'm talking about (re: War of the Worlds), click here.

My dog has no nose

How does he smell?

Terrible!

Yep, I'm trying out the post-by-email thing.

Um, okay.

You are

What Rejected Crayon Are You?

As seen on The Paper Mercenary

I've found the perfect man for E. Spat

How do I know he's perfect for E. Spat?

This dude actually wears freaking spats. TO SCHOOL.

On the first day of class, I noticed that he had on a suit. Not just a suit, which isn't too unusual, but three-piecer. Yes, he wears vests. I also noticed he does the handkerchief thing. Not just tucked in there. But specially folded. Like in a ziggy-zag pattern.

The next week, I noticed he had on a stripey shirt and a contrastingly stripey vest. While I appreciate this guy's efforts to look nice or whatever, honestly he looked like a barker. You know...like a carnie is what I'm trying to say.

But when he wore the spats the other day...it just took the cake. I heard from someone that he had already bought a bowler hat. I'm waiting for the top hat and gloves.

I got ninety-nine problems

...but not having an emailed-in post not showing up is not one of them.

I guess I'm just going to have to start phoning them in.

I have some audioblogging thoughts in the pipe, so look for them soon. And by soon I mean sometime before I am dead.

And another thing - I freaking hate Saturday school. Especially when they forget to like, uh, set it up and I wait around an extra HOUR for it to start.

I tried to do a post-by-email

But nothing happened.

At some point, it will show up and then I will look stoopid.

I'm back, baby!

Good thing for Picassa. I can't get into Blogger for some reason and so I'll just post thru Picassa. Obviously, this is for my cousin.

UPDATE: Picassa apparently ate my artwork. I'm back to ImageShack. Grrr.

"Don't let the Southern accent throw you...there's a lot of Jew under here"

I'm going to be super-lame and have another open comments post.

Except this time, if you're going to claim you have a shirt proving you've been to Nantucket, I want proof.

Wednesday night hat blogging

Alt. titled: It was the best of times (cat blogging becomes mainstream among law students!), it was the worst of times (it gets you nominated for crappy awards!).

Alt. titled: Drastic times call for drastic measures. Fitz-Hume announces that if Dylan won't cat-blog, he will. Oh, the humanity!

All that as background for why this post even exists.

Given to me by Mother McPan. I told her that I had thought about getting my sister Special K a furry hat for Christmas because she was living in someplace cold or something and like two weeks after Christmas, I get a package in the mail with this hat in it. So far, I've found it pretty useful. My ears get cold.

The Socks hat, sans Socks button

Crusty old Stars hat (used to play golf in it) and a First College mascot hat. You can't really see it very well.

Worn in Boston.

Worn pretty much everywhere, to the chagrin of people who think nice young ladies ought not to wear hats indoors.

Worn less frequently since every time I wear it, I feel like I'm going to be called on. And for the most part, it's been true.

Zoo hat. So I can be a lion tamer.

Super cool - there's an award for this? Oh wait...Friday night cat blogging. Got it.

Dang. So close.

A little less conversation and a lot more action

Last night:

Why didn't you use your new toothbrush this morning? I set it out for you.

I didn't know I was supposed to use it.

Why else would it be there?

I dunno.

[rolls eyes] Well, the point of me putting it out was so that we could be on the same schedule. You know...cuz I have a reminder set up on my email and if you don't start your toothbrush today then I'll have to make a new one.

[laughs] You and your reminders.

Yeah, well, I also got one that said to change the cat's water filters today. Which I did. And one that said to start a new Flonase. Which I did.

[eyes me like I'm an alien] You're pretty squared away.

Do you think I'm the most squared-away civilian ever?

Yep. One of us has to be organized.

Thanks!

Medication time...medication time

Okay, time to play another game. I know that not everyone was in band. Or has some ink. Or wanted to share (losers).

But this post can involve everyone. You just have to be a good sport. If I could force people at my work to play this (and we were union fellows, so uh, you can imagine what a jolly bunch we were), you all can do it too. To quote Father McPan, "Smile, damn it!"

So...if you were a candy, what would you be? Also give your reason why. Yes, this is a two-parter. No credit will be given for just a candy name unless it's completely obvious. And that is at my discretion.

I'll go first - I'd be a Junior Mint. Why? I'm small. I'm refreshing. And I probably have to be forced onto people (think the Seinfeld episode where Kramer and Jerry are fighting over the Junior Mints while watching a surgery) but then they are probably like, "Yes. Definitely uplifting. I feel better now." Or something.

So go on....I'm listening.

Slightly troublesome

I am 56% the ultimate guy, as determined by a Dodge quiz.

What does this mean? Apparently, "Close but no cigar." You got that one right.

"You can open beverage bottles with one finger, but your pinky is slightly outward. You're only a couple of ounces shy on the 'ol testosterone meter, but you keep your pickup truck in great shape."

Now for the troublesome part...At the bottom it says, "Yup, your answers were posted." Uh-oh. I'm skewing all the results with my manly womanliness. Heh. Can't wait to see what kind of car will come out, due to my moderately estrogen-inspired answers.

Seen at Brian's.

That's Nutrageous! (Common to nowhere except the McPan household)

"So you're a cracker?"

"Yes'm. Whole family's crackers."

Go here and take this test to see if you too sound like a cracker. And come on...somebody should laugh at that line.

Me? I scored 63% (Dixie). Just under the Mason-Dixon Line. I coulda told ya that.

Via Amber over at Class Maledictorian

And the winner is...

Congrats, self...I have won the Crappiest Blog Written by a Woman Small Enough to Fit Into a Suitcase award! Yes, this is one of those awards they like to give during the commercials so the mainstream audience doesn't have to be bored by it. Which probably explains why I'm just wearing some old unflattering green shirt.

Now, this award may sound dull, but trust me, not everyone's award was presented by Senator Kerry. I mean, really. Some people didn't show up to the ceremony at all and Scott picked up their awards. So I totally feel privileged.

And like Hilary Swank, I'd like to thank my lawyer.*

*The minute she said this, I thought, get off the stage, ya moron.

Try to detect it...it's not too late...to whip it...whip it good

Random bit o'knowledge: I have a hard time crossing my eyes. Like, I can't do it spontaneously, which is a real drawback when I'm trying to make a face in class.

But even worse, it means Devo will never ask me to be in a video.