Update...Update...Update

So I started my new job at the beginning of March and I am really really really liking it so far.

I needed a fresh start and I am finally doing something that I really believe in. Every day I help to improve our coasts and help wildlife that rely on those coastal areas.

I have also started walking to work because it’s only 1.2 miles from my house. I have learned that Arlington is very, very hilly. I mean, it’s like San Francisco practically. And I wouldn’t mind that so much if I didn’t have to walk UP the hill…

And every day I wait for the phone call that my cousin Kathy is in labor… she is reeeeady to pop. I just know it is going to happen when I am doing something at work that I can’t leave. Like, I just know the minute the auditors arrive and start interviewing me, Kathy is going to go into labor. I’m excited for Bridget to get here… I love babies.

It's the most wonderful time of the year...

Today is Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of Lent, which is the 40 days (excluding Sundays) before Easter. I've been thinking about things I can give up for Lent and have settled on the old standby: regular soda. I love soda. I love the fizziness, the caffeine, the sweetness, the syrupy aftertaste, the grittiness on my teeth. Mmmm... regular soda. But I know it is terrible for me. T-E-R-R-I-B-L-E. But golly it's good. I also gave up swearing. Not curse words, but swearing. Hence the "golly" in that previous sentence.

I have given up soda before and even though I usually only have one soda a day, since I love it so much and look forward to it, it is really tough for me to give up. But I'd like to give it up for good this time. During Lents past, I have had a huge soda the minute the clock strikes midnight on Easter. So that's what makes this year different. I'm also giving up Gatorade, which I keep next to my bed at night in case I wake up thirsty. LOVE Gatorade, but I know it's bad for me so out it goes.

Wish me luck. Gosh this is going to be a looooong Lent!

Hiatus hiatus.

I have been scolded by several people over the fact that I no longer blog. The end of 2008 was impossible for blogging, and January 2009 wasn’t much better as I committed myself to finding a new job, which turned out to be a full-time job in-and-of itself. But now that I have procured said new job, and am scaling back on my volunteer commitments, I thought it would be a good time to blog again. Is it okay that my blog is about being thirty, flirty and fun, and I am now 31, flirty, and fun? Age is just a number, except when you make it the title of your blog.

Anyway, I am really excited about starting my new job next week, even though it means that moments like these - when everyone is at the warehouse and I can leisurely write my blog at my desk - will be long gone.

I’m nervous about being the new kid. For 6 years I have been the go-to person for all things related to Be As You Are. I’ve been the expert. I’m familiar with every policy, every scenario, and now I don’t even know where the bathroom is, or where the fridge is located. Will it be okay to bring Starbucks to office? Since they are an environmental organization... what if I make some major environmental faux pas like bringing in a Styrofoam container or forgetting to recycle something?

I’m nervous, but excited about what is in store for me. I feel capable of great things and I want to feel good about the result of my hard work.

But I’ll miss these moments. I’ll miss my friends. I’ll miss my security blanket.

We're off to see the wizard...

I am watching The Wizard of Oz. It's on TBS tonight, along with Shrek and How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I'm not sure why they are playing all of these awesome movies right in a row, but I'm happy they are. I took a nap this afternoon and decided to clean my apartment tonight, and I always have the TV on in the background when I'm cleaning. But I love these movies so much that I keep taking extended breaks from my cleaning.

In the 6th grade, we put on a production of The Wizard of Oz. I tried out for the role of the cowardly lion, but instead was cast as the twister. Yes, I was the twister. I was the tallest 6th grader, so I was selected to hold the giant canvas structure that someone's dad painted to look like a tornado and swirl it around the stage. It's an integral part of the plot, yes... but not very glamorous.

Back to cleaning. Have a pleasant weekend all.

Good Morning!

Happy Veteran’s Day! Thank you to all the veterans who have served our country so graciously, and whose holiday allows me to have free parking on the streets of DC today! Thank YOU!

So I get to save $10 today and park on the street, but Georgetown streets are narrow… really, really narrow. It is an everyday occurrence to see fragments of sideview mirrors scattered on the ground next to cars parked along 31st Street. Being the nervous, yet frugal, nelly that I am, I have found a way to take advantage of free parking holidays AND insure my car doesn’t get sideswiped. I like to park on Dumbarton Street, just two blocks up from M Street, which is a one-way street. My theory is that if it’s a one-way street, cars passing by won’t have to swerve dangerously close to my car to make their way down the street.

So this morning I am parking my car along Dumbarton Street when I see a man with a little girl walking out of their multi-million dollar mansion. I glanced at them and thought “That 3-year old girl has more money now than I’ll probably have in my whole life.” But she was really cute so I didn’t hold too much of a grudge against her. I parked my car and started to walk towards my office when I see that the man has taken the little girl to the corner mailbox and she is helping him mail a letter. How sweet, I thought. Then I got a closer look at the guy… it was George Stephanopoulos! He walked his daughter back to the gates of their compound and he watched as she made her way up the steps to the two nannies that were waiting for her at the door, and then George started walking towards Georgetown, right in front of me!

I tried to catch up to him, but I didn’t want to seem like I was racing up behind him. I mentally prepared the things I could say to him (“Hey – that was some election, huh!?” “Great election coverage, sir!” “Does Diane Sawyer really smell like rose water and warm laundry?”) but we were awkwardly standing at the corner together and I couldn’t figure out how to quickly conceal my camera phone, make it look like I just casually noticed him, and say something witty all at the same time. So I just crossed the street and did nothing at all. I figured since he lives up the street I will probably run into him all the time, so I didn’t want to hastily make conversation with him when I am sure there will be a next time. But I managed to get a picture of him from behind, and I found a picture of his house online. So here you go:

I need a walker...

I was walking to work today, Zune in one hand, lunch bag and purse in the other. For no apparent reason, I just turned my ankle and went tumbling on to the sidewalk along Wisconsin Avenue. Of course because my hands were full I tried to just stumble rather than full-on fall, but all that did was just prolong my tumble. It was like it was in slow motion… I took a step to one side, then the other, all while my body was getting closer and closer to the pavement. Finally I just mentally said “screw it” and I fell on to the sidewalk. This little elderly lady was walking behind me and she scuttled over to see if I was okay. I had my headphones on so I couldn’t quite hear what she was saying, so I just said “I’m fine! I’m fine!” and continued on my way to work with a really skinned knee. What is wrong with me? The last two times I have fallen on the sidewalk, it has been for no reason at all… I’m just walking along and all of a sudden I fall.

For Dave...

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And I am watching history being made. GOBAMA!

Seriously?

I was in the Georgetown Starbucks earlier this week (I'm there every day, but this particular event happened earlier in the week) and was waiting by the fixins bar so I could prepare my coffee. The G'town S'Bucks is almost always crowded, and the fixins bar is large enough to accommodate two or three people at most. So I stood patiently near the large table in the window and waited for my turn. There was a lady sitting at the table, and she was all bundled up like it was 30 below outside, which I found odd considering it was like 75 degrees and sunny. She looked very haggard and if she weren't talking on her cell phone I would have guessed that she was homeless. She looked exactly like this:

But I needed a place to stand as I waited, and I set down my coffee at her table as I put my Metro card away, got out my work keys etc.. It was then that I could hear her end of the phone conversation…
"Look, it's hard to take care of yourself when you don't have any money. I'm trying, but you need money to be healthy. So anyway, I finally went to the doctor and they found blood in my urine, and my white blood cell count was very high, which means I'm infected."

In the history of movement, I don't think anyone has ever moved as quickly as I did to grab my coffee and get away from that lady. Who says that in public??? And who goes out in public when you’re a host to some type of freaky infection?

Then yesterday I was waiting for the bus after work and there was a young man waiting at the bus stop next to me. He was very skinny, chain-smoking, and fidgety. He was carrying two huge bags from Ye Olde Vitamin Shoppe, and because he was so fidgety he was pacing back and forth in front of me. It's a pretty dull task waiting for the bus, so I had nothing else to do but watch him and examine the contents of his bag. He had four huge buckets of "Super Mega Mass Weight Gain 2000" powder. Hmmmm... was he trying to gain weight??

Well the bus was taking a little longer than usual and I could tell he was getting more and more anxious by his constant pacing. I had my Zune on and nowhere to be, so I didn't mind the wait too much. Apparently Weight Gain Boy couldn't take it anymore because after consulting his watch about three times, he took off running. I mean, even with his 80-pounds of powder, he was in a full sprint.

About 3 minutes after he left, the #31 bus to Friendship Heights arrived and I boarded. We made our first stop and who should get on the bus but Weight Gain Boy! He was drenched in sweat, presumably from sprinting while carrying the weight of a small adult. I wanted to say to him, "This is why you need to purchase weight gain powder! Just stand still for two seconds and you'll gain some weight. Trust me - you'll gain some weight!" I just don’t understand people!

I was 10 minutes late for work today.

When you live or work in the city, there are a couple rules of the road you learn along the way that go against the niceties you learn in the suburbs: it’s perfectly okay to begin crossing the street even when the little red hand is flashing and it says you have 2 seconds to cross. If it’s rush hour and the Metro train car is jam packed AND you have someplace to be, it’s fine to push your ass in there as long as you don’t make eye contact with anyone. And if you see your bus about to pull away and you are within five feet, it’s okay to bang on the side of the bus to make the driver stop to pick you up (again, just don’t make eye contact with any passengers because they hate you).

If you don’t know, after 6 years the cost of parking in Georgetown got way too outrageous for me and I had to give up my $16 a day parking space. That’s over $4100 a year that I’m blowing, so I got creative. I discovered that there’s a parking lot in upper Georgetown, about 2 miles past my office, and they offer parking for $6 a day as long as you are out by 7pm. From there, I walk two blocks to catch the Circulator bus, which is the Cadillac of metro buses. It’s a pretty red color with fun yellow stripes, and the interior is quite plush with cloth seats, some of which are elevated for a better view. And most Circulator buses have worn out Metro card readers, so when I put my Smart Trip card on the magnetic strip it doesn’t read my card, so I usually ride for free.

Yes, the Circulator has many wonderful features, but it also has a downside: Ro’shaunda, the lady who runs the Georgetown to Union Station bus line. She is a mean lady.

I have admittedly encountered some timing issues with my new commute, but I figured out that if I drive in the far left lane throughout Rosslyn and across the Key Bridge, I can cut over two lanes at the last minute and shave about 7 minutes off of my commute. Sure it’s an asshole move, but it’s a small price to pay to avoid the glares as I roll into work 10 minutes late. And if I catch the 8:41am bus and don’t stop at Starbucks, I can walk into work at 9:00am on the dot.

So this morning I made the grave error of not having enough cash on me to pay my parking guy, so I had to stop at the bank. But I drove extra fast and found myself at my garage the same time I normally get there. I walked extra fast to the bus stop, and as I rounded the corner I saw my 8:41am bus at the stop. I picked up my pace to make it to the bus just after the doors had closed. I waved politely at Ro’shaunda as if to say “Hi! One more passenger for the Circulator, ready to board!” and you know what Ro’shaunda did? She shook her head “no” and waved her arms forward as if to say “I am OUT of here!” That bitch! After all of my careful planning and reckless driving, she couldn’t wait literally five seconds to let me get on the bus?

Well, Ro’shaunda, it’s war. The next time I’m waiting for you to open the back door of the bus, I won’t politely wait like I usually do… I’m going to yell “BACK DOOR!” just like all of the other rude passengers do. And I’m not going to dispose of my soda before I get on your bus… I’m going to conceal it, and if it spills, so be it! And yes, I am going to hit the “Stop” button before we get to Whitehaven Street, even though it’s your last stop and you stop there no matter what. I know that annoys you… I’m going to get inside your head, Ro’shaunda. Sleep with one eye open.

A trip back in time...

There are several time-honored traditions in my family: we always have my aunt’s lasagna on Christmas Eve, we always play a board game after Thanksgiving dinner at Kathy and Sean’s house, and if you find yourself with a few hours to kill on a Saturday, you take a drive to a far away restaurant. It’s very simple - we Burkes get cravings for certain foods, and distance will not be an obstacle in obtaining said foods. My aunt and uncle had been at the beach all week, having left Chris at home all alone to fend for himself, so he and I decided to take a trip to Gettysburg last weekend.

Okay, actually we decided to take a trip to Fazoli’s Italian Restaurant in Hagerstown, MD, and if you have ever been to a Fazoli’s you’ll know why we decided to drive 75 miles for dinner. The breadsticks are divine! Well upon further investigation we discovered that Fazoli’s had closed, which gives me yet another reason to take a trip to St. Louis where Fazoli’s are plentiful… but I digress. So after hearing about the demise of the Hagerstown Fazoli’s, we decided to go to Thurmont, MD, where there exists a restaurant called Cozy, which has cinnamon raisin bread so delicious it made Chris say (and I’m quoting him) “DAMN that’s good!” and where I fell in love with a special cake frosting made by an up-and-coming baker named Duncan Hines. Thurmont is only 20 minutes from Gettysburg, so after our coma-inducing meal at Cozy we decided to take a drive up there and see what all the fuss is about.

I had heard that Gettysburg is one of the most haunted areas in the US, so we also decided to take a nighttime ghost tour through the Jenny Wade house. Jenny Wade was (cue the spooky music) the only civilian killed during the Battle at Gettysburg and her restless soul is said to roam the house where she died. She was also the only animal-friendly ghost we could find, and since we had Chris’ Bassett Hound, Maggie with us, Jenny would have to suffice.

Let me just interject a funny tidbit here: it was warm out, and while we were eating dinner (at 4:30pm) we had to leave Maggie in the car but because she is a princess, Chris left the car running with the air conditioning blasting while we ate dinner. It’s tough to be a pet in our family, let me tell you.

So we drove to Gettysburg and found the Gettysburg museum (it’s like 6000 acres so it’s hard to miss) but no Jenny Wade house. I found an information booth at the museum and asked where I could find Ms. Jenny. The guide looked at me like I was Pee Wee Herman asking to see the basement of the Alamo. She kindly informed me that Jenny Wade’s house is next door to the Holiday Inn in the CITY of Gettysburg. We were at the Gettysburg battlefield… very different than the city. So Chris, Maggie and I got back in the car and drove to Gettysburg proper, which was much more my speed: quaint little shops, adorable tree-lined streets filled with old houses. It’s a shame that one of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War had to take place there because otherwise it would be a very livable community!

We walked around the town until dusk when we had to meet up with our tour group. Our tour guide (replete with spooky lantern!) informed our whole group that we were very lucky because we had a special ghost hunter on our tour this evening! She then pointed to Chris and Maggie (who I believe at the time was busy chewing on her paw) and explained how dogs have better ghost-finding abilities and senses than humans do, so perhaps we would experience even more paranormal activity! Not likely.
We walked to a haunted football field where Jenny and her two best guys friends would hang out a lot and where their ghosts are often seen. Some of the tour group was still convinced that Maggie would lead us to the ghosts, but as we listened to the stories of ghostly activity that has taken place at the football field, Maggie barked at a plastic bottle and ate a stick. I think they gave up on her after that.

After the walking portion of the tour, we put Maggie in the car and toured the house where Jenny died. It was actually her sister’s house - Jenny and her mom lived up the street and had come down to bake some bread. Why they needed to bake bread in the middle of a war is beyond me, but it was a different time back in yesteryear. Jenny was standing in the kitchen behind two wooden doors, and an errant bullet managed to penetrate both doors and hit her while she was kneading the dough and she died. We went to the cellar where they kept Jenny’s body until they could bury her and where the ghost of her dad is said to live. I sat next to Chris on a bench in the corner until the tour guide told us that Jenny’s dad liked to sit in the corner and he gets mad when girls sit in his seat. I stood from that point on.



So we made it through the whole tour without seeing one ghost, but I’m not giving up on Gettysburg. The Travel Channel is filming a special about the Jenny Wade house in October, so maybe they’ll find some ghosts. Until then, I’ll continue to visit my baker friend Duncan at the Cozy in Thurmont. DAMN it’s good!

PS – I also want to mention how old this trip made me and Chris seem. We took a tour of Gettysburg… on a Saturday night… after eating dinner at 4:30pm… and as we were walking up the stairs into Jenny Wade’s house, Chris’ knee gave out on him. Just sign us up for the retirement villa now.

Gotta love Georgetown on a Friday night.

I've always been one for keeping up with the lingo the kids are using these days, and on Friday night I learned a new phrase. On Friday night I was driving home from feeding assorted cats and dogs all over DC, and I was about to cross the bridge from Georgetown to Arlington when I saw two vehicles stopped at a light across from me. They seemed to be minding their own business, but the two girls walking across the street saw the vehicles and yelled a very interesting phrase... "Yo, hit them switches!"

Now I've always been very good at deciphering languages, but this phrase didn't seem to make any sense to me until... the vehicles began to raise up and down. Apparently they were equipped with some kind of hydraulic device that rendered them able to lift various parts of the vehicle into the air. "Yo, hit them switches" must be another way of saying "Excuse me, gentlemen. Would you please activate the component that lifts and lowers the vehicle?" I will be adding that to my vernacular!

I love commotion.

So yesterday I was on my way to feed the dog that I'm watching, and the house is across the street from Rock Creek Park. I guess we had a quick, strong storm come through yesterday afternoon, and when I got to the house I saw that a large tree branch had fallen on top of a BMW parked along Rock Creek Park. Upon further inspection, I saw that part of the branch was actually driven straight through the windshield. Well, most normal people would just see the car and think "That sucks." and then move on with their lives, but for some reason I was so mesmerized by the incident that I wanted to see the owner's reaction when they got to the car, or at the very least share the awe of the misfortune with some random passerby.

I lingered near the car, glancing at it and then looking up at the tree the branch had come from, shaking my head and quietly mumbling "Wow." when people walked by. But not one person even glanced at the car. It was like these jaded people had seen cars all over town with tree branches sprawled across the hood. It was a real letdown. Jerks.

I love ya, ma.

It is a sad, sad day. Estelle Getty, better known as Sophia Petrillo, has died. I felt like I knew her better than I did my own grandmother. She was a real firecracker and the world isn't as funny without her in it. Everyone who knows me knows that I love the Golden Girls, so as my tribute to Sophia Petrillo, I would like to share some of her funniest lines.

Sophia: I found my lucky handkerchief
Rose: Where was it?
Sophia: It was in my bra
Rose: What was it doing in your bra?
Sophia: I was blowing my breasts, Rose!

Dorothy: Ma, I DON’T snore.
Sophia: Please! I had to turn you away from the window so you wouldn’t inhale the drapes!

Rose: Sophia, why are you in such a bad mood?
Sophia: Excuse me Rose, but I haven't had sex in fifteen years and it's starting to get on my nerves.

Dorothy: Well Blanche is certainly taking her sister's novel better than I would. I would kill my sister Gloria if she ever wrote about my sex life.
Sophia: You would kill your sister over a pamphlet?

Rose: You must be tired after your cab trip.
Sophia: Why? I RODE in the cab! I didn't push it!

Sophia: Make way for the victors.
Rose: You won the big game?
Sophia: No, Rose. We lost and we all changed our names to Victor.

Rose: Heaven is full of cows, chickens, horses and pigs...
Sophia: I hope Heaven has boots!

Blanche: Well, what do you know? Sophia has a past!
Sophia: That's right! But unlike yours, I didn't need penicillin to get through it.

Sophia: [playing Scrabble with Dorothy] I win!
Dorothy: Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute. There is no such word as that!
Sophia: There certainly is.
Dorothy: Fine. I'll look it up, and if it isn't in the dictionary, I win.
Sophia: We don't have a dictionary.
Dorothy: Yes we do.
Sophia: Not anymore, the robbers took it.
Dorothy: They stole our dictionary?
Sophia: That's right. Too bad.
Dorothy: Ma, "disdam" is not a word! You made it up.
Sophia: It's a word!
Dorothy: Fine. Use it in a sentence.
Sophia: You're no good at disdam game!

Dorothy: We're interested in arranging a funeral.
Mr. Pfeiffer: Isn't that lovely. The three of you planning ahead for Mother.
Sophia: Hey, Puh-feiffer, how would you like a punch in your puh-face?

Blanche: I am abhorred!
Sophia: We know what you are Blanche. I'm glad to finally hear you admit it.
Blanche: Sophia, I said "abhorred".
Sophia: A whore, a slut, a tramp, it's all the same.

Blanche: Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go take a long, hot, steamy bath with just enough water to barely cover my perky bosoms.
Sophia: You're only gonna sit in an inch of water?!

Sophia: Look Rose, God doesn't make mistakes, we were all put on this planet for a purpose. Blanche, you're here to work in a museum so that art can be appreciated by humanity. Dorothy, you're here as a substitute teacher to educate our youth. And Rose, you're here because the rhythm method was very popular in the 20's.

Dorothy: Ma, why do you constantly look for ways to amuse yourself at my expense?
Sophia: Because we don't have cable and I can't crochet. This is who I am Dorothy. Learn to live with it, or medicate me!

Blanche: Dorothy's looking through her high school yearbook to see who's all dead.
Sophia: That's my pussycat, fun, fun, fun!

Blanche: Sophia, I've decided to wear this little watch on a chain nestled cunningly in my cleavage. Do I need anything else?
Sophia: Implants.

And finally, to the tune of "Thanks for the Memories"...

Thanks for the Medicare / For Blue Cross and Blue Shield / For a hip that finally healed / Remember, on prescriptions, generic is a steal / We thank you so much!

With love,
Pussycat

It takes a village ... of idiots.

I had a dream last night that I met a guy named Paddy Guerran at a bar, and then in my dream I had a "flash forward" sequence (literally in the dream it said "Three years later.") and Paddy and I were getting married. So if you are out there, Paddy, come and find me! And also know that I'll likely refer to you as Pat, because Paddy just feels a little too Old World for me. Sorry!


So my sister has yet to send me the pictures she took on the 4th of July, but in the meantime I have to relay a story. We went to the Borgata Casino on July 3rd for their fireworks display. (Apparently they didn't get the memo that July 4th fireworks usually take place on the 4th, but whatever.) The show didn't start until after 9pm, which is way past baby Brendan's bedtime, but it was his first 3rd of July fireworks show so a bedtime exception was made.

After the show ended, we had to wait for the crowds to die down and then get the car from the valet. During this time, Brendan was stimulated by the blinking lights and recycled air of the casino (as we all were!) but the minute we got into the quiet, cozy car, he wanted to fall asleep. Now, apparently if you let a baby doze off for even just a few minutes ahead of their bedtime, they wake up from the nap crabby, screaming, and with little desire to go back to sleep for the night. So it was the job of Brendan's parents, uncle and three aunts to make the most inhospitable sleeping environment for him during the 20 minute ride home.

It started innocently enough: Aunt Cindy distracted him by letting him play with her ring and then her bracelet, then Aunt Kimberly sang the Cookie Monster hit "Cookie Starts with C", dad Sean gently tapped on his head, and Uncle Chris turned on every light in the car. Even with all of these distractions, Brendan still wanted to go to sleep. That's when we had to pull out the big guns... THE cd.
Brendan is quite a dancer, and his favorite song to dance to is "Temperature" by Sean Paul, so a CD with that song is always kept in the car for situations like this. We turned that song up as loud as possible to get him to start dancing. It worked, so we continued to the next song on the cd, "Miss New Booty" by Bubba Sparxxx. Soon the music and dancing wasn't enough to keep him awake, so we resorted to singing. Yes, six white adults were in a car driving through Atlantic City singing "Booty booty booty booty rockin' everywhere!" at the top of our lungs to to a one year old. But it worked! We made it home and got the little guy in his crib in just the nick of time.



Seriously people, when I tell you that my family is crazy, I really, really mean it!

Eek!

So I wanted to blog tonight, but I forgot that Pawject Wunway started tonight, so therefore my evening was IMMEDIATELY booked up! I had to begin judging each of the designers before I got to know them. I have a love-hate thing going with Blayne, and Suede is sooo on my nerves. This cast seems a little ... dull yet arrogant compared to previous casts. And how has Heidi Klum gotten so far knowing so little English?

Anway, I will leave you all with a funny photo that a classmate from grade school posted on Facebook. This is from kindergarten. Can you guess which one is me???? I'll give you a hint: I was the tallest kid in my class until the boys hit puberty around 5th grade.

Pop off, son!

Hello blog-readers! (if any of you are still reading this...)

It's another crazy Friday night and here I am, writing my blog. Don't be jealous! I did go to dinner with Chris and Maria and Dave to celebrate Dave's big 5-0 (actually it's the big 3-1, but after 30 you might as well just say you're 50... you have one foot in the grave anyway) but Chris and his itchy self decided not to go out afterwards, and since he was my ride I had to go home too.

After dinner as we waited for the valet, I decided to go across the street to get Ben's Chili Bowl to go since it's a DC landmark and I've never eaten there before. Let's just say that there is a very good chance that it will remain a place that I've never eaten at before. As I waited in line, a homeless man in a wheelchair refused to move from the entrance, so no one could get in and no one could get out. As a security guard/hot dog cook tried tro get him to move, the homeless man peed in his pants. In the doorway. Did I mention that I was wearing flip flops? It was easily one of the most disgusting and sad things I have ever seen. I never knew that something could make me lose my appetite but that did it! So, Ben's Chili Bowl, you will remain a mystery to me.

The 4th of July was fun... pictures will follow. We had a family trip to the beach, including my sister and her boyfriend and their little dog too! It was B-Dogg's first 4th of July, and just to show how out of shape I am, I pulled a muscle in my arm while tossing Brendan into the air above my head. It just made him laugh so hard whenever I would raise him up over my head, so I kept doing it and doing it, and the next thing I know I pulled a muscle. But it was worth it! If you're lucky, I'll also post the pictures of me and Chris riding the tandem bicycle... we looked like we just rolled off the short bus.

Speaking of B-Dogg, he was recently baptized (I welcomed him into a life of guilt as a Catholic) and he turned one year old! His birthday party was probably more fun for the grandparents, who as retirees viewed the birthday party as a chance to get wasted :) Chris and I were sent to the grocery store to buy more beer for them, and of course Chris discovered they also sold huge mylar balloons shaped like ponies, so we checked out with the most random purchase ever: a Heineken mini-keg, a case of bottled beer, and a giant pony balloon.

This is all I have for right now. I have a big Saturday ahead of me: cleaning (my roommate Belle sheds like crazy and needs to have her litter box cleaned), doing laundry, and sitting on Dave's deck in the sunshine, so I have to get to bed. I promise not to wait a whole month before writing again, and as soon as I have 4th o' July pictures I will post them!
Gnight y'all!

It's Thursday.

So I could start off apologizing for not writing in so long, or not fulfilling my promises to write about strawberry picking with Dave and Hx (fun, sweet, and dirty) or dogsitting baby bulldog Bridget (fun, slightly stressful, and rainy) but why dwell on the past?? I just have not been in a blogging mood lately. Nothing in the world is striking me as blog-worthy, except one small, giant thing: Tim Russert. I really admired him for sticking to his guns and his devout religious beliefs, even when it wasn't the popular thing to do. After his memorial service at the Kennedy Center yesterday, an astonishing thing happened (or not-so-astonishing if you consider his life of service and religion): A double-rainbow extended clearly from one edge of the city to the next. Not just a faint, single rainbox, but a clearly-defined rainbow with a buddy right next to it. I've worked in DC for 6 years, and yesterday driving home was the first time I had ever seen something like this. We should all lead lives that make us deserving of two rainbows.

I'm tired and sitting in the dark. Grrrrr...stupid storms.

Who is the sweetest bulldog ever? It's Bridget!

I don't know how this is possible, but my electricity is currently half off. As in, my AC and fridge work, but no other electricity in my apartment works, and all of my neighbors have full power. What gives? On an up note, the Dominion Power representative who is coming out to check my issue sounded hot. Insert funny "get my power restored" sexual innuendo joke here.

Okay, I have to get up early tomorrow to go to the warehouse, so I have to go to sleep now. And PS - I am so full of turkey burger right now it's not even funny. But I refused to eat the tomato on the burger, insisting that Mr. Smith's Piano Bar of Georgetown just didn't get the tomato-salmonella outbreak memo. I hope Dave and Erin don't get sick, or they're going to hear a huge "I told you so!" as they get their stomachs pumped.

If my blog were alive, I would have killed it by now.

So I realize that it has been ages since I’ve updated my blog. Thank you, loyal readers, for continuing to check back for updates, and the good news is that yesterday I ordered wireless broadband access from Verizon, so my laptop will finally be able to be used for something other than playing solitaire. Since DSL “is not yet available in my area” (Arlington is apparently an area inhabited by the Amish) I had to resort to dial-up. That lasted for about 2 hours, at which point I actually shook my fists in a fit of rage after waiting 90 minutes for “See You Again” by Miley Cyrus to download. So the bottom line is that I’ll be able to write my blog from home! Yay!
So, let’s see… what’s new with me? Well, I’m going to become a mother. Before anyone gets in a panic that the there’s been another Immaculate Conception, I am becoming a mother to a cat. It’s actually my cousin Kathy’s newest cat (they have several) who isn’t getting along with the other kitties. After determining that cats are now allowed in my apartment, I decided to take Belle into my care on a trial basis. I say it’s on a trial basis, but I’ve already made a couple purchases for her so I can’t imagine giving her back. The first purchases were my favorites:

Yes, my intention is to make my cat look like a drag queen.

Speaking of drag queens, I took a Memorial Day trip with Chris and Dave Johnson! We went to the beach house and eventually my whole family came up for the weekend. Some highlights:

Driving to central Jersey to meet up with Neil AstraZeneca, Timmy, and a lady named Mario to go to the fabulously tacky Empress hotel. If you’ve never been to the Empress, just picture an 70’s era hotel with a rave going on in the lobby. We hung out poolside next to the hot dog stand (the irony really is amazing, isn’t it?) and met a man named Hollywood. Hollywood looked like he had spent the last 16 hours in a Mystic Tan booth, and upon emerging, bee-lined it to Liberace’s closet to select his outfit for the night. Chris made a wise observation later in the evening: “If you are ever having a bad day and feeling down, just look yourself in the mirror and say ‘Well, at least I’m not Hollywood.’”

Ending our night at a bar across from the Empress that had an 80’s dance party going on in a room that adjoined a male strip club. (a stripper was walking along the bar and tried to make conversation with me, at which point I simultaneously dropped my lip gloss and almost knocked over my drink. Very smooth, I know!) At one point we formed a conga line around the dancefloor and I tried to do the Roger Rabbit. It was one of THOSE nights. We stopped at a surprisingly crowded White Castle on the way home, I kept slapping myself to stay awake on the drive home, Chris and I did danced the Turbo Polka (WOOO!) and we got home at 4am. Overall, a pretty good night!

“You know, Betty Boop is the American Hello Kitty.”
- Chris, upon seeing a lifesize statue of Betty Boop outside an antiques shop.

Well I don’t want to have all of my fun at once, so check back for blog updates on the following topics: strawberry picking with Dave and Hex, petsitting for Bridget the baby bulldog, Brendan’s first birthday preparations, and how I suddenly know a bunch of pregnant ladies!

PS-I did it!

Panic at the disco? No, confusion at the parking meter.

One of my favorite activities recently has been watching people outside my office window trying to operate the centralized parking meter. No one – and I am not exaggerating – can figure out how to use it on the first try. It usually goes down like this:

After carefully studying the parking restriction sign (“No parking between 7:00 and 10:00am, Monday thru Friday, or after 4:30pm on weekdays or Saturdays and/or cloudy Sundays, or on the third Tuesday morning following the summer Olympic games, unless parked no more or less than 5 feet from the curb”) and consulting their watches about 14 times, the person - usually a tourist or someone from the suburbs who’s already a nervous wreck because they have to drive in city traffic - will decide that they can park on the street. Depending on whether or not there’s parallel parking involved, this whole process can take up to 7 hours.

Then the person will exit their car. It’s funny because at this point they think they have conquered the worst part by having found a parking spot in Georgetown, but they have no idea what they are in for next. They approach the centralized meter and begin reading the 14 paragraph instruction guide on the front of the meter. But what they will soon realize is that the instructions might as well be written in hieroglyphics - there is NO understanding them. Inevitably the person will give up on the instructions, remove wads of cash from their wallets and start trying to insert it in various openings on the meter, none of which are correct. If you get to paragraph 10, preamble 6, verses 2 to 70 of the instruction guide, you’ll know that you can also pay the meter with your credit card, but no one gets that far.

After unsuccessfully trying to jam money in every crevice of the meter, the next action is always the same: with mouth slightly agape and brow furrowed, the person steps back from the meter and looks around. They look from left to right, up and down, as though perhaps the parking meter fairy might step out of shadows and come to their rescue. Or maybe they think the candid camera crew will pop out and reveal that the person is not retarded, but rather the meter is impossible to use and the whole transaction has been caught on tape. Either way, they start looking around, but it doesn't help. I once saw a woman flag down a police officer and ask him to help her use the meter. I couldn’t tell what she was saying to him, but I understood the body language of the police officer. He kept shaking his head, averting his eyes, and stepping backwards ever so slowly, as if to say “Lady, I am a PO-LEECE OFF-CER, not a parking attendant! Figure it out your damn self.”

Another time I witnessed a very advantageous homeless man teaching himself the ways of the parking meter, and when the next confused parker arrived, he stepped in to offer his knowledge at the low, low price of just $5. The only problem was that he was homeless, and people in Georgetown don’t take too kindly to homeless people trying to teach them things.

Eventually, through Divine Intervention or with the assistance of a Harvard-educated neurosurgeon, the person figures out how to pay the meter and they stomp off to wherever they’re going. But as long as this process continues, I am going to take advantage of it and continue blogging about how the Georgetown parking meter reduces even the most confident, well-educated individual into a befuddled imbecile on the verge of tears.

Brendan AND Tina?? It's simply the best!

So this weekend I finally met my new "nephew" Brendan. I know I'm biased, but he is the cutest kid in the world!! He has a massive head of hair that makes him look like a 3-year old (with a super cool Korean "bowl cut" replete with sideburns!) but this tiny little 11-month old body. He is sooo cute! I taught him how to making popping sounds with his lips, and I made him laugh and smile, which is the most important thing in my book!

And today tickets went on sale for the concert of the century. The queen of rock-n-roll, Miss Tina Turner, is ending her retirement and coming to DC! I can't wait to see my idol in person! It is truly a dream come true!!

Welcome to America!

In a surprisingly fast turn of events, Brendan Alexander Lee Yoshida will be making his debut in our family next week! My cousin Kathy and her husband Sean have been waiting and waiting and waiting for the adoption agency to say that BALY was cleared for departure from South Korea, but there was a tiny mix-up and now Kathy and Sean have to fly to S. Korea on Saturday to pick him up. I'll be watching their dog, Molson, and their cats in Ashburn until they return with BALY on Thursday. I'm a little sad that I will no longer be the baby of the family... but Chris said he would help me devise a plan to steal the spotlight from the baby :) Dave said our plan should involve the following:

If we get adorable puppies and kittens, everyone will once again pay attention to me and Chris. I'm contacting the shelter as we speak! :)

This isn't technically funny...

Everyone who knows me knows that thoroughbred racing is in my blood. I grew up at the racetrack - at the ripe age of 10 my dad would send me to the betting counter to place his bets for him (I think I may have been the only 10 year old who knew how to wheel an exacta or bet a trifecta) and he'd give me an extra $2 to bet on my own horse. At the time I didn't think anything of it, but now I really question the moral correctness of allowing a third grader to gamble. But I didn't end up with a gambling problem, so I guess I lucked out! And when it was time for me to graduate from the 8th grade, while other kids were going to celebratory dinners with their families, my dad had scheduled a thoroughbred race to be held in my honor! We all went to the track, had a nice dinner, and then when my race was up, I got to go down to the winner's circle and present the winning rider and horse with the "Congratulations Kimberly Burke" purse. I know, I know - it's amazing I turned out as normal as I did!

So even though I'm an animal rights-giving bunny hugger, I still enjoy watching the ponies race. I have no idea how damaging it is to the horse, nor do I want to know. And of course I had to watch the Kentucky Derby this weekend, which was an extremely sad event, and as soon as I found out there was an injury I started tearing up and had to turn off the TV. The whole point of this post is to make a note of something that I realized when the race was finished. Prior to the race, Hillary Clinton joked that she wanted people to bet on Eight Belles - the only girl in the race - to win. I thought that was very clever and cute. But after the race, I realized that not only had Eight Belles come in second, but she came in second to a horse named Big Brown. And not only had she come in second to a horse named Big Brown, but she also had to be killed after the race. I'm very sad to say that this does not bode well for Hillary Clinton! RIP Eight Belles ... and Hillary Clinton.

You'll be seeing more of me!

Yesterday I purchased my very first laptop! I am quite excited about this purchase, because among other things it means that I will be able to blog until the cows come home! Currently my internet use is limited to the 1 hour a day I eat lunch at work, but now my useage will be limitless! Woooo! here is my new baby:

I'd like to thank the good folks at the Dell headquarters for making this purchase so easy! It's amazing what great customer service you get when you flirt with the rep.

Oh btw - the Georgetown Starbucks is getting to be like The Ivy in Hollywood - if you go there enough, you're bound to see a celebrity! This morning I saw some basketball player from the Cleveland Cavaliers (they are in town to play the Wee-zards) and when I came back to report my good news, DJ Lou told me that her friend saw Rob Lowe there! I'm getting a job at Starbucks! :) Perhaps Mr. Lowe was here to relive his Georgetown days as Mr. Billy Hicks in "St. Elmo's Fire":

Okay, that's all I can blog today. I had to pick my lunch up at Uno's and that cut into my internet time. Have a lovely weekend everyone!

Fewer calories? No, just a smaller size.

Seeing as it's the last day of the month, it is no surprise to anyone that I am totally broke as a joke. Earlier in the month I decided that it was important... no, necessary to purchase many items at Costco, including bottles of shampoo and conditioner that are so large that they should last me until I'm 80. My logic was that if I spend a lot of money but get a large quantity, I'll be saving money because I won't have to make the purchase again for a few months. That theory is all well and good until you run out of money! So now I have no money, but my hair looks great!!

Here's a picture of me and my shampoo bottle...

So because I'm broke, my diet has consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Lipton Cup-O-Soup. Today I decided to splurge and buy a bag of potato chips to accompany my sandwich and to help ward off starvation. Being a semi-health conscious girl, I opted for the bag of chips that advertised 40% less fat that a normal bag of chips, but with all the flavor of the full fat version. When I sat down to enjoy my crispy snacks, I realized why said potato chips have less fat: they just put fewer chips in the bag. I was literally amazed at how many chips WEREN'T in my bag!

And finally, yesterday was the annual Ben & Jerry's Free Cone Day! Because of the whole semi-health conscious thing, coupled with the fact that a scoop of ice cream at that place is $4, this is the one time of the year when I eat there. We took an office trip down the street to the parlor and waited in line for about 30 minutes for our free icy deliciousness. Unforch, right when we got up to the counter, they ran out of cones! So we had to settle for a cup, but it was still very yummy! Kat and I both got the cake batter flavor of ice cream, and we both quickly realized that "cake batter" is another name for "vanilla and chocolate swirl". But it was free so who am I to complain? I'd like to leave you with the image of Powla and Katie from Free Cone Day 2008.

Gone to the dogs.

This Saturday was the 10th annual Boardwaddle held in Ocean City, NJ. It features a basset hound "pawrade" to help raise money for homeless basset hounds. I went with Chris and Maggie, my 8-month old "niece". It was easily the cutest display of animals that I have ever seen in my whole life! The pictures are below, but let's back up to Friday. Friday featured the basset hound Olympics, which was hilarious. They had a "high jump" that started at 2 inches off the ground. Given the low clearance on (and stubborn nature of) a basset hound, there were some contestants who did not get past the 1st round. Some just walked right through the bar, knocking it over, and others could not jump over such a hurdle. The bar was raised up to 12 inches off the ground for the final round, but no bassets could clear it so it was moved down to 10 inches. The event was won by an 80-pound guy named Bo. He was being fed treats every time he cleared the pole, so I believe that is why he had the motivation to win!

And before I show you the photos of Saturday's pawrade, let me tell you about Friday night's dinner. Chris was nice enough to take me to dinner at Wolfgang Puck's American Grille in the Borgata. We were leaving the restaurant when who should we run into but old Wolfie himself!

What are the odds that the last two celebrity sightings I had were of men named Wolf? Crazy, right?? Well I was all ready to go over and give my compliments to the chef when I was told that we were leaving. Leaving. Leaving without taking one photo, getting one autograph, or even saying one 'Hello' to Mr. Puck. Apparently celebrity sightings are so commonplace to Chris that he is 100% totally unaffected. I was whisked out of the restaurant and told that I needed to act nonchalant and unimpressed. So for the rest of the evening I did what any normal person in my situation would have done: I pouted. Chris offered to go back to the restaurant so we could get a picture with Wolfgang, but I said no. I didn't want to seem chalant and impressed afterall. So dear readers, I was 2 feet from a world-renowned chef, but you will just have to take my word for it!

And now the pictures of the pawrade! The first photo of Maggie was taken on the way to the pawrade, and the last photo was taken on our way home. A two-mile walk with 400 basset hounds really tired her out! Here's hoping many homeless bassets will be provided for because of the pawrade!

I've kept you in suspense long enough.

Hello Dear Readers,
The story of my papal experience is a funny one, of course. After running around like a mad woman on Tuesday night (first stop: Dave and Hex's to get camera, take pictures with Remi and get an invite for dinner, followed by Tracy's to get Hokies camping chair, watch the end of the Biggest Loser, and tour her deck, followed by trip to Giant for provisions of peanut butter and jelly, Goldfish crackers, trail mix and bottled soda, then home to pack up and eat dinner) I finally felt prepared to see the pope. I set my alarm clock for 5:30am and fell asleep at 1:00am.

The morning came way too fast, but because I was CERTAIN that every person in the world was going to line the pope's route, I decided I had to forge on with my plan. My hair was mildly straight from the day before, and I didn't feel too dirty, so I decided not to take a shower so I could get downtown even faster and get an even better seat! I parked in Georgetown and started walking. The first person I encountered was Julie Carey, reporter for NBC 4 news, along with her camera crew.
Here's a rundown of how our conversation went:

Julie: (eyeing my camping chair and backpack) "Excuse me, are you headed to see the pope?"
Kim: "Yes. Yes I am."
J: "Oh that's great! I've been walking up and down Pennsylvania Avenue looking for people who have come early to get a good view, but no one's here yet. Since you're the first person I've seen, would you mind going over to our news truck to do an interview?"
K: "You mean nobody's here yet?"
J: "That's right. Can we do an interview?"
K: "Ummm ... did you walk all the way down to the White House?"
J: "I did. No one is here. Can we do that interview now?"

That's right, people. At 6:00am, I was officially the first person to secure my spot on the popemobile route. If that doesn't get me a ticket into heaven, I don't know what will! And let's not forget how I got 4 hours of sleep and didn't shower, so I had to conduct said interview looking like a half-dead, disheveled version of myself. Plus I was a little sweaty from the 50 pounds of gear I was hauling, so let's just say I'm more than glad that no one caught my interview when it aired later in the morning. If they had, I think I would have looked something like this...

So after my interview, I went to find the perfect popemobile viewing area. I settled in at the corner of 22nd and Pennsylvania. The time? 7:30am. This was the mob scene I had to fight to get my spot:

Needless to say, I was pretty bored for the first 3 hours of my journey. Luckily I had yet another reporter and camera crew come by to keep me company. On the ONE DAY that I don't shower and I'm sleepy and sweaty, not one but TWO people ask to interview me. A girl can go her whole life without being interviewed, but it happens to me twice in as many hours, and I look like a mess. This next reporter was from the Associated Press, and he asked me the same questions as the first reporter. I contemplated filling out a FAQ sheet and just handing it out to every reporter that requested an interview so I could save my voice for when the pope arrived, but I felt that would seem like I was trying to take attention away from pope ... but dare I say, for a few short hours, I was getting more press coverage than he was!

Eventually more people arrived and after a mere 6 hours, the popemobile passed me in about 6 seconds. But it was an amazing 6 seconds! As you'll see, I was joined by thousands of other papal well-wishers, as well as more police and secret service than I knew existed. Here are some photos of the event, and thank you to everyone who kept me company that day with their phone calls and texts! I'll put in a good word for you with the Big Guy Upstairs!

He's Heeeeere!

It's the moment every good little Catholic girl dreams about... the pope has come to town! While I did not get a ticket to the mass he's saying at the Nationals Stadium on Thursday (I put my name in my church's lotto but alas, the Lord had other plans for me.) I have mapped the route that the popemobile will be taking to get the pope around town.

My plan is to get up at around 5am tomorrow morning, armed with Dave's camera and Tracy's camping chair, go downtown to the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and Rock Creek Park, and sit for 6 hours until the popemobile drives by. Having seen the pope when he came to St. Louis in 1999, my sister was able to offer me a bit of advice: stand on a corner so the popemobile has to turn in front of me, because despite its cumbersome size, that thing can pick up some serious speed on the straight-away. I'm not going to sit around for 6 hours to see a blur in white whiz by me at 45mph.

I'll have pictures to share (hopefully!) on Thursday. I'm fully expecting the whole thing to turn out like it did on The Golden Girls, when Sophia went to see the pope when he came to Miami, and when he was shaking her hand, his papal ring fell off into her hand. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's going to happen to me. Wish me luck!

Why would you leave TV on for cat?

It's always difficult to get out of bed on a Monday morning, but today was unusually difficult. I slept with my window open, so at 4:17am I woke up to the sound of birds chirping. It was mildly relaxing, so I fell back asleep. Then at 6:00am I woke up to the sound of gunshots. Yes, gunshots. I listened for a minute while I decided whether or not I should call the cops (I mean, I live in Clarendon. People look at you funny if you are talking too loud on your cellphone, so gunshots are beyond rare.) and then I heard the shots again, then again. I finally figured out that the Old Guard boys across the street at Fort Myer were doing some kind of practice, maybe for a presentation for the Pope?? At any rate, I have a mind to go over there are complain about the 21-gun salute they chose to perform at 6am. Yes, Tracy, if I go over to complain, you can definitely come with me.

After I fell back asleep after the gunshot incident, I had one of my "I'm really good friends with a celebrity" dreams. I never dream that I'm dating or married to a celebrity, I just dream that I'm really, really good friends with them. In past dreams, I've done everything from trying to talk Courtney Cox out of getting a divorce, to playing footsie with Nick Lachey at a bed & breakfast we purchased together. In every dream, I remember thinking "Celebrities are just people. How come I'm not friends with more of them?"

So last night's dream was the MOTHER of all "I'm really good friends with a celebrity" dreams. In this dream, I was BFF with Mr. David Beckham!! He came to my office to pick me up and we just walked around the city together (although the city wasn't DC, it was Las Vegas). Occasionally people would come up to him and be like, "Oh my GOD! Can I get a picture with you??" and I would just stand off to the side, letting people take away from my time with David because, after all, we were best friends... I could hang out with him anytime.

Then we got into his Maserati and we were looking at houses that were for sale. He showed me a picture of one of the homes he wanted to buy and it looked like a castle. He said "Wouldn't it be amazing to live in a castle?" and for some reason my answer was, "You live in a place called Beckingham Palace! What more do you want?" and then I told him that "Beckingham Palace" was a "queer" name for a residence and we both got a good laugh about that. Then we exited the car and started to play "kick the can" with some kids on the street, then I had to go back to work because Brent was going to be upset that I was gone for so long! I didn't want to wake up! I just wanted to fall back asleep and continue my dream.

This weekend I met the cats I'm taking care of next weekend for my petsitting job. They were really sweet, and I can't wait to get started. This isn't a picture of the cat, but boy this is a cute picture, isn't it?

Woof! Woof!

I know, I know… I’m an awful blog-keeper. But with a life as exciting as mine, it’s hard to choose what to write about!!

Well, I guess the most exciting thing to write about is the fact that I got a second job! I’m working for a company called Fetch! PetCare, and I will be a dogwalker/petsitter. I am really excited about it because I love aminimals so much and since I can’t have any pets in my apartment (though my landlord made an exception for the roaches that infested my dirty neighbor’s apartment!) I thought this was a good way to interact with dogs and cats, plus I’ll get paid for it! It’s a national company and my boss is soooo sweet – I met her this weekend and we talked for a really long time, so I was really glad she offered my a position. I might even get to go on my first assignment next weekend! YAY!
And this job came along at the perfect time, because I was actually considering getting a robotic dog to keep me company. Before you say what a loser I am, just know that I’ve always lived with dogs or cats, and now that Adam’s doggie is gone I don’t even get to interact with dogs in the office anymore. But luckily for me, I won’t have to get a robotic dog and people won’t think I’m crazy.

I also had dinner with my dear friend Dave last night at a very swanky, upscale Arlington restaurant named … El Pollo Rico! It’s my favorite place to get a delicious bird.

And finally, I am very grateful to Dave and Hex for providing me with ample soil to help my tiny plants grow. Here they are, in all their glory. (the Pepsi can was added to show scale, so please don’t think I’m the kind of girl that sits around with soda cans laying around ... and without a coaster!! Uh-uh … not this girl!)

Hungry Like Wolf?

So there I was, walking back to the office after my usual morning Starbucks run, and who should I see walking towards me but none other than Mr. Wolf Blitzer!

He was carrying a briefcase and walking briskly to Starbucks. It's strange because when I got back to the office and spread the news of my celebrity sighting, Lori said that she saw him in Starbucks earlier in the morning. The man must really need his coffee! Also, she said that Wolf checked her out! So I'm going to be the first to start spreading a Wolf Blitzer infidelity rumor. Wolf hearts Lori!!

In unrealated news, I was approached last night by a giantic wild beast of a cat! Okay, it was just a housecat that must have been a mix of some very large breeds because she easily was 30 pounds. I started to pet her, then I went inside to set down my groceries and grab a can of cat food for her (while I do not have a cat, I keep cans of cat food because there are quite a few cats that roam the area around my apartment). I figured she would have already run off to chase birds or something, but when I came back outside, she was waiting by the door for me. I fell in love. She was declawed (I would never do that to a cat, but if I ever got a cat someone would have had to have them declawed first because my couch would make a good scratching post) and soooo sweet. I pet her for a while and then all of a sudden she darted off. So I guess we weren't meant to be. I can't have pets in my building anyway, but if I could, i definitely would have stolen this cat!

I'm an addict.

I’ve been trying to top each of my pranks with even bigger, more creative pranks. I can’t stop myself. I believe I have a practical joke addiction. I can hear the words of Mrs. Schnoring, my 8th grade teacher, echoing in my head, “There’s a time and a place for that type of nonsense, Miss Burke.” I think I have officially turned into Jokey Smurf.


All I want to do is come up with innovative, daring practical jokes, and I’m losing sight of the fact that they are jokes. The stunts I’ve started to pull aren’t even funny! For example, last night in the parking garage I saw that co-worker Dave’s convertible top on his Miata was down. Unable to resist my desire to do something funny to his car (in the past I have affixed “secret admirer” notes to his windshield, and left a single tortilla chip on his dashboard) I reached in, turned the ignition, and severed his brake line. Just kidding!! (see, even in the context of explaining that I can’t stop with the jokes, I make a joke. I’ve got a disease!) I turned his ignition, and then I turned up the volume on his radio and then turned off the car, hoping that when he got in the car he would think that the parking attendant was blasting the stereo as he parked his car. Or I don’t even know what outcome I was hoping for … it was just an aimless practical joke.

I’m pathetic … but I’m not alone. I just read a story about a doctor who had a skeleton in his office, and he attached fishing wire from the arm of the skeleton to his desk. In the middle of a consultation with a patient, he would start to pull on the fishing wire, thus causing the skeleton’s arm to start moving, and thus freaking out his patients. Is it wrong that after reading about this, I briefly considered becoming a doctor just to be able to pull a similar prank??? I need help.

Mean things I’ve done to Erin Doyle

Through some self-reflection, as well as describing my actions to my cousin Chris, who replied with “KIM! Why are you so mean to this girl?” I have decided that perhaps sometimes I cross the line and am mean to Erin Doyle. She’s a very sweet girl … in fact, I refer to her as my little buddy. But for some reason I just can’t help doing mean things to her just for a few laughs. I swear I think she likes the attention. But anyway, you can be the judge … in the three years I’ve know Erin, here are some of the things I’ve done to her that might be considered mildly mean-spirited:

- When she got into my car recently, I told her not to put on her seatbelt and then I slammed on my brakes. (She wasn’t hurt at all.)
- When I got into the backseat of Laura’s Jeep, I sat behind Erin, who was in the passenger seat. Erin had moved up slightly but I asked her to move up further. When she went to scoot up, I pushed her seat from behind so her knees hit the dashboard.
- I accused her of hooking up with the homeless man that lives in the alley behind our office.
- When I discovered that she had stored her yogurt on my shelf in the company refrigerator, I accidentally knocked her yogurt on the floor.
- At Christmastime, I called her a mean little elf. Recently I told her that she looks like a mean little sea monkey.
- I used the scary spare arm from the BSUR mannequin to poke her and brush her hair.
- When she posted her bedroom furniture for sale on Craigslist, I made up a guy’s email address on Yahoo and I responded to her ad saying “That bed looks familiar … didn’t I hook up with you after Clarendon Ballroom one night?”
- When she responded with an embarrassing comment to my company-wide email regarding an employee, I doctored her email to make it look like she responded to the whole company and I sent it to her saying, “Did you mean to send this to everyone?”
- I told everyone she has VD.
- She was really hungover at work one day and I refused to take her home, and instead I bombarded her with internet images of liquor and beer.
- I called her godless and laughed when Dave called her barren.
- I glued her big eraser to her desk.
- I helped Dave break the antlers off the hand-carved moose pen her sister bought her.
- I invited myself on her vacation to visit her parents, and then I demanded that she sleep on the couch so I could have her bed.
- I helped Dave spread a rumor that she has overly-sweaty palms.

You have to admit, some of these are pretty funny! Some of my best work, if I do say so myself. I’m just helping her to become less sensitive … she should thank me! Erin, if you are reading this, you’re welcome!

Céad míle fáilte!

It’s St. Paddy’s Day, wee lads and lassies! Time for the wearin’ o’ the green! Time to sing songs like “When Irish Eyes are Smiling” and “Dear Old Donegal” (just ask me and I’ll sing for you the fast part at the end with all the Irish surnames!) and everyone’s favorite, “Who Threw the Overalls in Mrs. Murphy’s Chowder?”. Everyone is in good spirits on St. Patrick’s Day!

Everyone, that is, except my coworker. To protect her identity, I’ll call her Tori. This morning, I came beaming into the office and greeted everyone with a “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya!” in my impeccable Irish accent. I know some people forget that today is St. Patrick’s Day (heaven forbid!) so as a way to make everyone feel as welcome as the flowers in May, I bring small green items to give to people who forgot to wear their green. Today I decided to bring St. Patrick’s Day themed temporary tattoos. So cute, right?? Everyone took me up on my offer to pick out a tattoo to show they were Irish, or at least an honorary Irish person for the day. When I so graciously offered a tattoo to Tori, she practically threw daggers at me with her eyes. In a voice reminiscent of the girl from “The Exorcist”, Tori informed me that she hates St. Patrick’s Day. “I’m not Irish and I’m not Catholic, so I hate St. Patrick’s Day.”

I quickly took a step back from Tori’s side, so as not to receive a painful burn from the lightning bolt that was sure to strike at any moment. Who can hate St. Patrick’s Day? No one I’ve ever met from here to the Emerald Isle has ever hated St. Patrick’s Day. Growing up, I attended Holy Infant School, run by the Sisters of Mercy from County Meath, Ireland. Every St. Paddy’s Day, the whole town would come out for the school’s festival, which included performances by the Holy Infant Irish Dancers (yours truly danced for 3 years) and McNamara’s Band (the schoolboys couldn’t dance so they got to partake in the singing portion of our routine). We even got a day off from school for St. Patrick’s Day! So it stands to reason that no one I’ve ever met has hated such a wonderful day.

Therefore, I’m on a mission today. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to get Tori in the St. Paddy’s Day spirit. I’ve been bombarding her with email images (shown below) that exemplify the essence of Ireland. I’ve sent her St. Paddy’s Day trivia and let her know that other faiths believe in Saints, not just us Catholics. I told her how two women in a convertible threw green beads at me as I waited to cross the street this afternoon, just because I’m wearing green. I even played Irish music throughout the front office, and yes, I danced a jig for Tori from my days as an Irish dancer. That seemed to make her smile (ok, laugh) but I haven’t converted her yet. But I will, or my name isn’t Kimberly Kathleen Burke. As they say in Ireland, Slán agus beannacht leat.

It's all about me!

So I had big plans to blog today, but instead got tied up filling out this email survey that designer dave sent to me. So I decided to post it for all to see ... Happy Weekend, everybody!

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? Between 4 cousins, 3 of us have “Kathleen” in our names somewhere, so it’s a family name.
2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? I’m sure I cried watching American Idol last night.
3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? Yes, but I’m changing it all the time.
4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Smoked Turkey
5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? No.
6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Hell yeah!
7. YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? Oh no, not at all. :)
8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS ? Yes.
9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? I doubt it.
10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? Fiber One Honey Clusters or Fruit Loops.
11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? No, but I re-tie them when I put them on.
12. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? Yes.
13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Butter Pecan.
14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? Their hair and their laugh.
15. RED OR PINK? Have you seen my apartment??? Red. Definitely red.
16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I need to be better with managing my money.
17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? I miss my sister. I wish we lived closer to one another.
18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU? Yes!
19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Jeans and black Pumas.
20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? A bagel. It’s Friday and it’s Lent, so I had to forego my usual turkey bacon sandwich from Starbucks.
21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? The sound of Kathleen typing and a 90’s mix on Rhapsody. Currently “Machine Head” by Bush is on.
22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Yellow.
23. FAVORITE SMELLS? Peonies! Stargazer lilies. Anything fresh or clean-smelling. Freshly cut grass. Autumn crispness.
24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? Lori, because she is home sick but we have 2 Kohl’s orders shipping today.
25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS? I like him a lot.
26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Baseball, hockey, football – in that order.
27. HAIR COLOR? Blonde
28. EYE COLOR? Green/hazel
29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? No.
30. FAVORITE FOOD? Potatoes and cheese, but not together. And balsamic vinegar.
31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? I like them both.
32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? Thirteen, and before that Michael Clayton. I did not like either!
33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Black.
34. SUMMER OR WINTER? Spring and fall.
35. HUGS OR KISSES? Yes please.
36. FAVORITE DESSERT? Cherry pie.
37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? ?
38. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Dave, because he sent it to me.
39. WHAT ARE YOU READING NOW? This email ... duh! Haha, just kidding. I’m between books at the moment, so I’m reading a lot of Newsweek and People.
40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Starry Night.
41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON T.V. LAST NIGHT? The Golden Girls (I watch at least 1 episode every day) and American Idol.
42. FAVORITE SOUND? Ocean waves, cardinals chirping, laughter.
43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Rolling Stones.
44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Cancun. I need to change that!
45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? I can make people laugh. Hard.
46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? St. Louis, MO.
47. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING BACK? Everyone’s!
48. WHAT TIME IS IT NOW? 10:37am.
50. FAVORITE QUOTE. You have to laugh at yourself, because you’d cry your eyes out if you didn’t. –Emily Saliers

As difficult as pi??

Why do they say that something is “as easy as pie” when “pie” is not a very easy thing to do? On Sunday night, I attempted to make an apple pie, and it was sooo not easy. First I had to peel and core the apples, which sounds simple until you realize that all you have in your kitchen that’s suitable for “peeling” or “coring” is a butter knife or a steak knife. Have you ever tried to do something as delicate as peeling an apple with a steak knife? I’m just lucky that all of my appendages are still intact.
Then the directions stated that I’d need to put my pastry mixer on low to create the crust topping. Uhhh … my pastry mixer? I don’t even own a regular mixer, let alone one just for mixing pastries. I found a whisk that I thought would be a feasible substitute for said pastry mixer, but the crust never made it to the crumbly consistency that the instructions told me to achieve before pouring it over my apples. So I used nature’s pastry mixer, aka my hands. Crumbly was finally accomplished!

Clearly this pie was anything but easy. So I started to think that perhaps I’m misunderstanding the phrase … maybe it’s supposed to be “as easy as pi” but pi isn’t easy. It’s a constant, and it’s an irrational number (thank you, Mrs. McGuire, my 10th grade Algebra teacher) but it’s not easy at all.

Eating pie is pretty easy, so I started to think that maybe the saying is “as easy as eating pie” but I know I’ve never heard that before. So I’m starting a petition to banish the phrase “as easy as pie” from our vocabulary and am investigating who I can sue for false advertising. Surely there has to be some Pie Council somewhere that is just thrilled that they have successfully fooled the public into believing pie was easy. I’m on to you, Pie Council. Sleep with one eye open.

It's Tuesday. Stuart's father left us on a Tuesday....

So I wouldn't say that I've been ignoring my blog, but rather that I have decided to give more attention to other things. Things like Scrabulous and Smarty Pants on Facebook. I had no idea I was so competitive, but I really am! Today I moved into 8050th place worldwide in Smarty Pants with a score of 252,200! Woot! And I have so many Scrabulous games going on I'm now only using words that contain letters worth 5 or more points. It's horrid. No, Horrible. No, Horrendous! Double word points for me!!!



I have an interview next week for the pet-sitting job I applied for. It'll be a lot of work, but considering that I like animals more than I like some people, it will hopefully be a good match! It will be a good way to spend more time with four-legged friends since I can't have them in my apartment.

And finally, a word for Tony Pepperoni ... if you're reading this, I'm seriously mad at you. Laura and I used to have lots of fun in our carpool, but now you've made her very sad and all we discuss is why you won't call her. You are stupid and frankly I think Laura is better off without you!

Hey! Isn't that ... ??

I’ve realized that I think I see famous people way more than the average person. At least once a day I think I see a celebrity. It doesn’t help that my office contains two huge windows that overlook M Street, and if a celebrity is in town there’s a good chance that they will at some point walk past my window. It’s happened before with a tiny little chain-smoking celebrity named Eva Longoria-Parker (though she was just Eva Longoria back then) and more recently with Mia Farrow.

But more often, I’ll hear the next day that someone wildly famous was in town and they were spotted walking along M Street in Georgetown … they were right under my nose and I missed them! That’s happened before with George Clooney, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. So because there’s a real likelihood that I could see a celebrity, I’m constantly getting faked out by people who just look like celebrities.

Case in point: Monday night at the grocery store I actually went a couple aisles out of my way to follow a man I was CERTAIN was Homeland Security Director, Michael Chertoff. (it’s DC … to me, politicians fall under the category of “celebrity”, especially when they get cool guys in black suits and earpieces following them around.) But I was wrong because I saw faux-Michael Chertoff in the parking lot putting his groceries in a beat-up old 4Runner.

That same grocery store visit I thought I saw Johnny Cochran in the produce section. Yes, I know he’s dead. But the man still has to eat! Ok, no he doesn’t … but the guy I saw looked JUST like him.

Recently I thought I saw Nancy Reagan coming out of Kiehl’s across the street. But I understand that trips to Kiehl’s might be difficult when you’re hospitalized with a hip fracture.

And then there was the time that I was SURE I saw Janet Reno in the elevator, but Dave later forwarded me a news article detailing how Janet Reno was in a car accident in Florida at the time I thought I was in the elevator with her.

So the moral of my post today is: If I tell you that I saw a celebrity/politician, I’m probably mistaken. But then again, Eva Longoria, maybe I’m not.

Practical jokes aren't always practical.

Today I learned that it isn't nice to drench a paper towel in a gross perfume that smells like pancake syrup and tape it under a co-worker's desk, even if that co-worker says that nothing annoys her. Such an activity can lead to headaches, nausea, temporary blindness, and a loss of smell. Who knew?? Sorry Lori.

Where does the time go?

In between watching the total eclipse of the moon and going to the gym every night this week (Zumba again tonight, albeit with an easier instructor) I have run out of time to pen my blog. But don't worry, loyal readers - I'll be sure to have an entertaining post tomorrow. I have so much to talk about, like Erin visiting my apartment and discovering that there is a ghost portal directly above my bed! There's never a dull moment :)

For now, I will leave you with a photo of me and my dear friend, Meredith ...

Zoooooomba

Last night’s Zumba class was a killer! I could tell right away that I drank and smoked way too much over the weekend. If you aren’t familiar with Zumba, it’s a Latin-inspired cardio dance class. We do cardio versions of the samba, merengue, cumbia and salsa. You can burn about 600 calories in an average class, but our Monday night class is anything but average! I’m 99% sure our instructor used to be a German prison guard. Just when I think I’m about to pass out, she’ll yell something like “Give me more!” or “Work harder!” I mean, how is that even possible?
Instead of our normal cooldown exercises (slow step-touching, stretching) our instructor had each of us grab a mat so we could lie down to do a horizontal cooldown. I should note that, as a strict germaphobe, I don’t use the mats at the gym because I’d prefer not to contract an antibiotic-resistant staph infection. So my cooldown was spent doing everything I could not to touch the mat. I was trying so hard not to touch the mat or the surrounding floor that I’m pretty sure I achieved the ability to levitate.
Needless to say I was more exhausted AFTER the cooldown than I was prior to it. That might explain why I started seeing spots as I was driving home after class. I was trying to determine if this was a warning sign that I was about to faint at the wheel, but since the gym is only a mile from my house I decided to roll down the window and press my luck. I made it home, but it was touch and go.

I’d like to give a shout out to all of my traveling co-workers that are back in the office today after being on the road at tradeshows since the late 90’s. Oh … they’ve only been away a couple weeks? Well, welcome home anyway! It’s nice to have other people around to take the focus off of me and the mistakes I’m making! You’ve been missed!

Monday, Monday.

Since I'm new at this blogging biz-nas, I (like a dork) wrote down a list of the things that I wanted to write about today.

Random note #1 ... We went on a kegbus for Tracy's birthday this weekend, and on the way to dinner beforehand, Chris, Brent and I saw a man cross the street riding a unicycle. Yes, a unicycle. Who rides a unicycle besides clowns?? Well I was not aware that there was a clown college near the East Falls Church metro, but apparently there is.

RN #2 ... We ate dinner at a place called Elevation Burger. This restaurant is located WELL outside my Clarendon/Ballston/Rosslyn comfort zone in Falls Church, and it totally showed. We arrived to find the parking lot chock full of minivans and Volvos, each containing at least two Eddie Bauer carseats. This should have tipped me off that I was about to enter Yuppie heaven and I should have immediately run the other way. But we entered the restaurant anyway, and let me tell you ... it was like Ann Taylor herself threw up all over every person eating in this place. It was obnoxious. And the thing about yuppie couples is that they feel the need to spread their yuppie seeds by birthing as many children as they can afford to put in Montessori school. The place was crawling with little yuppie children, fresh out of the Mommy-and-Me class at the local gym. The mothers and fathers all socialized ("My Volvo is Baltic Black. What color is your Volvo, Andrew?") while the children occupied every seat in the place, leaving me, Brent and Chris to sit together at a table half-occupied by a 10-foot neon Elevation Burger window sign. Luckily, my veggie burger was delish, as were the french fries and unbaked cookies, so I'll probably go back there tonight.

RN #3 ... The kegbus was amazing! It came with a driver and a hostess. Our hostess was the lovely Kathleen, who remembered that I was from the 314/STL and would therefore drink no beer other than Bud Light. And our driver was also a firefighter/EMT, which came in QUITE handy when Tyler hit his forehead on the bus and we had to decide if he needed stitches (the driver said he didn't need them, so we didn't have to drive the kegbus to the ER). Chris tried to help Tyler by bringing him a cleansing towelette for his wound, but he accidentally brought him a beesting towelette instead so that didn't really help the gash.

RN #4 ... Sunday I watched the Daytona 500, which I find is the perfect thing to do every President's Day weekend when I'm hungover from celebrating Tracy's birthday. 200,000 people attended this year's race, which lead me to believe that I, too, should attend a NASCAR event. Ellen and I will have to decide if we want to go to Dover or to Richmond, and I'll need to get some gear so I blend in. I'm thinking about a Jeff Gordon t-shirt, a camo-colored hunting cap, stonewashed jeans and white hightop sneakers. If anyone else has any ideas to help me blend in with the NASCAR crowd, please share them with me.

OK, back to work. Tonight is Zumba with the really hard instructor! God help me.

Hello World!

So Lori just came into my office and announced she started a blog. "Kim," she said, "why don't you have a blog? Of anyone, YOU should have a blog." So with 11 minutes left in the workday, I have decided to start a blog. Here I am, world! All blogged out. Now I have to come up with funny things to post. Will I have regular readership? A public, if you will? Or will these posts be just for me? Only time will tell. And right now time is telling me that there are 6 minutes left in the workday and so it's time to start collecting my belongings so I can embark on my weekend. OH! There's a kegbus in my weekend plans so I can only imagine that I will have some pretty funny stories to post on Monday!