Pride

Rainbow Brite! What have they done to you? You used to be a slightly portly child with russet blond hair and twinkle in your eye. Now you are a tall, blond, skinny slut.

It's amazing what you can learn when you throw yourself a Rainbow Brite birthday party in 2011.

Panda Under Pressure to Procreate

For the seventh year in a row, Washington DC panda Mei Xiang has been artificially inseminated, after another unsuccessful mating attempt with her partner Tian Tian. What zoo keepers fail to realize is that while they are striving to save a nearly extinct animal, Mei Xiang is just “not that into it.”

The panda has made it clear that she is done raising cubs. “I already gave birth to one rare bear, what more do you people want?” she reportedly told officials while groggily emerging from her post-insemination anesthesia.

Though China has a strict one child per family rule, it does not apply to panda’s living abroad and the pressure’s been on for Mei Xiang to have another cub since rearing her son Tai Shan in 2005. The 13 year old panda, still nearly a child herself has been forced, according to an official wishing to remain anonymous, to have “awkward and downright uncomfortable dinner and movie dates” with Tian Tian. According to Hildegard, the giraffe next door, Mei Xiang confided to her that on numerous occasions “she faked it” with Tian Tian. “I understand where she [Mei Xiang] is coming from,” says Hildegard. “Tian Tian has really let himself go over the years.”

The hippos have also weighed in on the topic. Harry the Hippo claims he has seen Mei Xiang drink heavily during times of supposed pregnancy. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen that crazy bear with bamboo in one paw and a forty of Natty Boh in the other.” Mei Xiang has also been finding her way into the pens of the maned wolves, cheetahs, and ostriches, whom have all been asked to not engage with the bear.

In an email statement Mei Xiang writes the “demands made on my fertility have taken toll on me.” While she has not purposefully harmed herself, the scrutiny of the media and its love affair with pregnant celebrities, has caused her to “behave in ways” she is “not proud of.” Her publicist says that Mei Xiang has decided to enter rehab for an undisclosed period of time to “deal with her issues and make amends with the people she loves.”

Mei Xiang will receive her pregnancy results early next week. If it is positive, she says she hopes the father is Tian Tian.

Panic! at the CostCo

Being the diligent, dutiful daughter that I am, I often head to the suburbs and help my parents out. On this particular Sunday, I took my pa to CostCo. Several things to remember here:

1) NEVER go to CostCo on Sunday. You may suffer a panic attack and find yourself cowering in an empty display Jacuzzi.
2) Old people like to buy in bulk. My ma and pa regularly purchase 8 tubes of toothpaste and 14 loaves of raisin bread at a time.
3) Steer clear of the freezer section. It’s easy to be enveloped by the cheesecake and chicken cutlet selection.

I dropped my dad off and after hunting for parking for 20 minutes (and nearly hitting several pedestrians and carts) I make it to the entrance and managed to blend into the crowd and avoid the ID check at the door. I then find my dad near a tower of computer monitors, sitting in one of those electric carts. Now, my dad can’t get around like he used to, but I was still surprised to see him in the cart. I was even more surprised to see him drive the cart. He flung the cart forward and quickly braked, just as he grazed a woman’s backside. He proceeded to move the cart again, this time barely missing a child. Of course, my pa being the charmer that he is, he got nothing but smiles from everyone as he jerked along the aisle.

After several more close calls, he sailed into a display of Tide. I then begged him to stop using the cart, but he waived me off, telling me not to be so silly. Moments later, I found myself pinned against a giant assembly of Ginsu knives. My dad had lost control of the cart and hit me! Now, had it not been for the combination of substantive girth and exceptional prowess that I possess, the entire display would have tumbled. Instead, my dad clumsily reversed the offensive vehicle and the giant attached basket unclenched its hold on my knees.

I then ran away and found myself in the pet section, where I sprawled out atop a pile of 100lb bags of Purina. I took some deep breaths, went back to find my dad, got the stuff he needed, and got in line.

Four hours later we made it home.

Holiday Shopping

Bustling department stores are always a trying place before Christmas and I usually do my best to avoid them. However, I was in desperate need of a black skirt and decided to head to the trenches and shop downtown. I milled around the store for a bit, pleased by the shiny decorations and cheerful staff. My fellow browsers were polite and unhurried. As I entered the dressing room, my arm sagging from the weight of seven skirt possibilities, I realized all rooms were full except for one marked “out of order.” Turning back, I stood by the entry to wait and was soon joined by another customer.

A clerk approached us, apologizing for the line. Both of us were content with waiting and told her not worry, it was not a problem. The clerk resisted our pleas and insisted on investigating the dressing room situation. She came back quickly and told us there was one available, the room marked “out of order.”

I asked her what was wrong with it, expecting her to tell us the lock was busted. Instead she answers “oh, somebody peed in it, and they won’t let us bring the steamer up during store hours.”

I told the clerk I would be happy to wait till another room was available.

Polka Dots and Moonbeams

Last night, North America was the place to be. Well, technically it was earlier this morning. At 2:41 am EST the moon began to slip into a full lunar eclipse, made extremely rare by the fact it fell on the same day as the winter solstice. While my occult friends celebrated privately, my plain old lunatic buddies and I headed to the National Cathedral for some hard core moon gazing. While not exactly the best place to view the night sky, due to the 24/7 wash of light aglow on the grounds, my gal pals and I were certainly not alone. As we parked in our moon roofed Volkswagen, not a single moment passed before we were approached by two telescope wielding men who immediately began chatting us up. Feeling obliged to fill the silence made by their questions and my suddenly mute friends, I answered that no, we did not want to find a darker spot with them. I smiled and nodded as Chatty Man continued, telling us that “light is the enemy of the astronomer.” They finally walked away when they realized we were staying put.

For the next 20 minutes, we drank hot coco and enjoyed the show, mesmerized by the bright white that slowly turned to orange. We wandered into the Bishop’s Garden, which was darker and provided a haven from the below freezing winds, as well as a better place to bay at the moon. The sky was even more brilliant from the garden, but as we slowly became popsicles, we decided to head back to the car until the total eclipse occurred at 3:16 am. As we traversed the winding, icy path back up to the Cathedral, we came across some kissing couples, groups of friends, and a woman lighting dozens of votive candles in a flimsy shelter. Though it did not appear that any sacrifice was taking place, we scurried up the hill quickly and made it to the car….only to find the same two guys (Chatty Man and Silent Robot) set up directly in front of the car. As we piled in, knowing how awkward it would be once we fired the engine a mere five feet from them, they put their hands to their faces, blinded by our headlights, and began crying about how all of the light was messing with their set up. We drove about 40 feet away and waited in a shadow cast by the Cathedral for the magic moment of the total eclipse to arrive.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the window, causing one of my friends to scream and one of my other friends to pee her pants just a bit (ok, that was me). It was Chatty Man, motioning us to roll down our window. We did and he began to tell us how cold he was, which made me totally afraid that he was going to ask to sit in the car. At which point I would have locked the car and told the driver to hoof it. But he did not ask to sit in the car. He asked us to come to breakfast with him and his buddy. Stifling giggles, I politely declined on behalf of the group. Though he cajoled for some time, I told him we wanted to stay for the whole eclipse. He seemed to understand, told us where he would be if we wanted to meet up, and walked away. Just as we were about to roll up the windows, Silent Robot stood in front of the car, pointed at us and voiced in a flat tone “you should really come with us.” He then ran into the darkness, vanishing along with his friend.

Love expresses itself in odd ways, and though sadly we had no moon music mixed tape for the occasion, the only thing I can say is that it truly was not just a total lunar eclipse, but a ...

We later drove by the Diner, where they would be and considered briefly accepting their invitation, but alas the mood had passed. Perhaps in another 372 years.

A Tail of TP

While waiting for the bus on a blustery autumn afternoon, I looked around smiling to myself, pleased to see the many sweaters and scarves making their debut for the season. A brisk wind forced my face to turn, where my eyes fell upon a tall long haired girl in crisp new corduroys and wrap around sweater that fell to her knees. As I began to turn my head back towards the traffic, I quickly did a double take. Proudly unfurling itself on the girl’s lower half was a nearly two foot two-ply piece of toilet paper. It waved to me as if saying hello and then quickly seized again, helpless against the gusty breeze in which it danced. I then had a quick conversation with myself. Should I say something, or let it go? In situations of EE (Extreme Embarrassment), I tend to be the Good Samaritan. Spinach in your teeth? I’ll let you know. Lint in your hair? I’ll pick it out. Toilet paper stuck in your ass cheeks? How could I let that go?

I composed myself and inched my way towards the girl. Leaning over, I whispered, “excuse me,” which was as far as I could get without laughing. Fighting the “hehe’s” that were escaping my belly, I continued, “I think you have some toilet paper coming out of your pants.” Perhaps not the most elegant words I could have muttered, but a personal goal of mine is to avoid saying the word “butt” to strangers. Upon hearing this she immediately became hysterical, shouting “where, where?!,” no doubt trying to remember when she last went to the bathroom and how long she had been walking around with mummy gear coming out of her. All I could do was point to her behind as she continued to shout, though really, where else could the TP have been? She quickly threw her hands behind her and began to claw at her backside, quickly freeing the interloper and letting it go, watching it waft away as the breeze carried it from her.

Unfortunately, it was headed towards me. I managed to avoid the path of the soiled consumable as it eventually hit the ground, watching as the girl turned away from it as if nothing had happened. Though I’m sure if that TP could talk…well, let’s just be thankful it did its duty and leave it at that.

The Land of Little Horses

On Friday evening, I attended a party at my boss’ house. Now, I am not sure at what level of uncomfortabless that should lie, but for me, it was about a six. Having walked the two miles to his home through the steamy vapors of a D.C. summer night, I arrived covered in a sheen of sweat, kept at bay only by the linen of my blouse and spurts of Chanel I had previously sprayed. My boss answered the door, and luckily that was the last I saw of him, as he was busy playing Julie the Cruise Director. For the next hour, I drank some beers, chatted with the few people there I knew, began wheezing as a result of the family dog, and answered my boss’ colleagues’ work related questions, which is always fun to do during social occasions. I eventually locked myself in the bathroom and called some friends to meet up. I then slipped stealthily around the corner and down the stairs, escaping without even saying good bye, gasping in rejoice at my freedom (or perhaps as a result of the ensuing asthma attack I suffered because the dog). I then called my Liebschen (who came back to town for a couple days) and we met up at our usual spot in the neighborhood. It was his last night in town and I think the combination of that, with the reality of having to see my boss on Monday and knowing I would have to tell him what a wonderful shindig he threw, just made me sad.

When I woke up on Saturday it was such a beautiful day, sunny and actually cool, that I decided I was not in the mood for a pity party for one. So a few friends and I decided to go to the Land of Little Horses. Just over the Pennsylvania border, among the hallowed grounds of Gettysburg, lays this special place. For the low price of $14.95 (not including feed), a world of tiny farm animals (not just ponies) is yours for the taking. Upon entering the gates, little donkeys and stallions nuzzle at me, waiting to be patted. Goats and sheep, knee high, baaaah softly as they roam their pens. One particular tiny goat nearly fell asleep in my arms as I gave it a little rubdown, which was as good for me as it was for him. I was just about to pick him up and take him with me (he was barely an arm full), when my friends and I decided to wander farther down the little trail where we came upon an old timey western town, complete with a saloon, a church, and jail. All were mini sized (I assume for the children’s enjoyment, not the animals) but we stuffed ourselves into each edifice, not wanting to miss out. We meandered around smaller stalls, feeding some animals and running from others. We finally made our way back to the beginning, where I found my goat, the goat that I nearly put up my sleeve to take home with me, asleep under a tree. Like a scene from a classic pastoral, I sat against the trunk and began to pet his little head and cute little butt. I am not sure how long I was there for but my friends eventually came and tore me from my peaceful spot and away from my new pal.

As we decided where to head next, I bottled the afternoon, knowing that the next time I feel melancholy, a whiff of tiny horses is sure to do the trick.