"Boy, I wish I was a turtle..."

John and I indulged in a bit of nostalgia by catching matinee of the new TMNT flick, a fun little romp that, while I felt had so much potential as a more adult movie, really did hearken back to the easier, innocent days of cartooning, with bad one-liners, epileptic action, and silly plots.

The real entertainment value in the show, though, was the audience of mostly 6 to 12-year-olds and their mothers, many of whom were singing to old 90's version of the cartoon theme song. To which their children would blink owlishly and go, "Huh?"

At one point, the mother behind me admonished her fairly young son:

"Pedro, don't put the plastic bag over your head. It's not a good idea."

While I was silently holding in a bout of raucous laughter, I had to wonder what my niece would manage to do in the same situation. Once upon a time, my sisters and I would cut the bottom corners off shopping bags and wear them like swimming suits. I always assume this was a girl thing to do with shopping bags.

Apparently, trying to suffocate yourself is a boy thing.

Now that I've changed my first diaper (with minimal assistance from Bowie's mom) and have had to touch another girl's hoo-ha (so THAT'S what the Vaseline is for!) I am beginning to speculate what life holds for my young niece. Will she be like her cartoon-loving, action-figure-collecting parents? Will she sing cartoon theme songs at the top of her lungs after leaving exciting but substanceless movies?

Will she, too, walk out of the theatre avidly declaring her wish to be a Turtle?

I'll say it again: Bowie is DOOOOOOOOOOMMMED.

Me+Seafood+Coffee=BLARRHHGGH...

I had the most scrumptuous meal yesterday at the Plum Tomato, complete with complimentary dessert and cappuccinos (because our waiter was the most awesome guy ever!)...but now I am severely paying for my gluttony.

See, since the perfectly made cappuccinos were on the house, and Sean the waiter had very kindly brought them to us, I couldn't NOT drink it, even though I'd already indulged in a Coke with my seafood linguine.

Consequently, I was vibrating ever so slightly as I went to bed last night, woke up at the slightest noise (including my own breathing) and had nothing but heart-pounding-sit-up-straight-in-your-bed-sweating-and-screaming nightmares the entire night. Including one where our house was repeatedly robbed and Sammy was stolen, along with John's entire book collection (all but his latest Kim Stanley Robinson book. Because apparently, even the thieves didn't want to read it.)

I had to call in sick because my eyes and brain weren't working. Still aren't, actually. And my muscles are tired from clenching all night.

The moral of this story: no coffee after 2:00 pm for me. I already knew this, of course, but....FREE COFFEE!!! How can I possibly heed my own rules when free stuff is involved??

私はそれをした!!! Ha-roah Nuuohhk!!!

I've finally booked my trip to NYC, almost exactly 10 years since I was last there!

John and I will do all that is NYC, including going to Times Square to do the "Hiro" thing.

I'm so excited! Wheeeee!!!

Uggos need not apply

WE NEED MEN!!!

GOOD LOOKING MEN!!!!

Harlequin is hosting a casting call for cover models!

Got pecs? Abs? A cute butt? A nice face?
(Okay, so 3 out of 4 ain't bad....)
Come on out! You never know where you could go from here!

Tell all your cutey male friends!

(Men with personalities need not apply.)

4 out of 5 dentists are screaming

Because apparently, good oral hygiene isn't enough incentive...

Toothbrushes that play music???

YES. There's nothing classier than hearing the Village People's "YMCA" reverberating through my skull first thing in the morning and just before I go to bed.

Or perhaps I'd prefer Destiny's Child's "Survivor", simply as a reminder that fighting plaque and tooth decay will ensure a long and healthy cavity-free life.

Ooh, no, wait! I want the Black Eyed Peas "Let's Get It Started"!! Because the annoyance factor far outranks that of Queen's "We Will Rock You" toothbrush.

What they really need are toothbrushes that play music to remind you of those long, excruciating and painful visits to the dentist--I'm thinking Kenny G, Yanni, Enya, The Bee Gees, etc.--so that you'll pay extra attention to brushing properly.

Next on the patent office's list: dental floss that will beam YouTube clips of gum disease suffers directly into your brain.

Aunthood: day one

If Baby Bowie were a machine, she'd specialize in making poo, crying, and confounding and amusing people for hours with her vacant, milk-drunk stares and chubby-cheeked expressions of befuddlement.

Her first 24 hours home have been exciting, exhausting, and nerve-wracking...and I'm not even her mother or father. When she cries, at least three people are on their feet, trying to decipher the particular tone of her cry. Is she hungry and therefore require a breast full of milk? Did she make a poo-pee and therefore require a diaper change? So far, those seem to be the only things she requires...and thank god. If she were crying for higher education, I'd be at a distinct loss.

I got to hold her for the first time today, and let me tell you, it was terrifying. After about 30 minutes, my hand, supporting her lumbar, was cramping. I fretted over moving because of her delicate neck, and her baby body heat had cooked my internal organs. It's like holding a squirming round roast cooked medium rare and covered with down...or a soft loaf of freshly-baked bread with a bomb inside it.

Fiona's been reduced to the function of milk dispenser, and cows to Bowie's incessant, nearly hourly demand for sustenance. Apparently, sucking on my knuckle is not enough.

I can't wait for the day she can feed herself.

Fortunately, I have yet to change a diaper or do any of the other things required of Bowie's parents...hopefully, they won't catch on to that anytime soon, because I am inexplicably beat.