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!