Category — Fun and Randomness

source

I’m not sure why, but all day Wednesday I was certain it was Thursday. So yesterday felt like Friday. What a letdown.

Still, here we are, on the cusp of a weekend. You can’t see it, but I’m jumping up and down.*

OK first, a few insane news stories, both from the New York Times. I read these and thought, seriously?

source

Waiter, My Spaghetti’s Alive!
Because production of meets like beef and pork take a greater toll on the environment than other types of foods, some folks in the Netherlands are turning to bugs as a source of protein. One chain of warehouse stores (think Costco, but Dutch) sells mealworms, crickets, locust, and worms. How about a bug nugget: part chicken, part mealworm—kinda like McDonalds’ version.

SERIOUSLY?

What’s wrong with beans? They contain protein AND THEY’RE NOT ALIVE. Frankly, I’d rather eat protein powder Pixie Sticks than some sort of locust lasagna. In fact, the idea of eating bugs is so grossing me out I think I’ll skip spaghetti for at least three months.

source

“Stop picking my ears,” said the corn stalk.
In what I find to be an interesting yet completely insane article, the writer says plants have feelings, too. (So a mushroom walks into a bar…**) People avoid eating animal meat because animals have feelings and can suffer, but they then chow down on vegetables that have similar characteristics to animals. Her question: Where do you draw the line? You wont eat beef because the cow suffered and yet you’ll eat wheat that also weeps when it’s cut down?

SERIOUSLY?

Listen, if you want to avoid eating anything with living cells, be my guest. You’ll last about five days without water (which has microorganisms in it). I guess you could also eat plants that died of natural causes—like the leaves of a tree that was split in half during a tornado—but even then it’s hard to tell how long plants “live” after they’re cut off from their roots. Would you be a murderer for eating green leaves? Does a leaf’s soul escape it once it’s brown? Or must you wait until it’s also crinkly? Yum.

All right, that’s your crazy news for the week. To make up for the fact that I just associated spaghetti with worms, here are a couple awesome videos I watched this week.

Watch this one all the way through. It gets better and better and better as it goes on and you might hate this guy for hogging all the talent.

Same here. I’m tone deaf so his skill (let alone put it all together) boggles my mind.

Because silly babies are cute.

Finally, check out this site, which culls some hysterical letters. Like:

and:

Let’s have fun in the comments! Fill in the form:

Dear ____,

Your gripe:  ____

Sincerely ____.

*Not really. EM, remember?

** “Sorry, we don’t serve mushrooms in here,” says barkeep. The mushroom hangs its head. “Aw, why not? I’m a fun guy.”

source

Yesterday I went to the eye doctor (more on that later) and there were FRECKLES and HOLES involved and COMPLETELY DILATED EYES. For some reason that dilation crap does a number on me. It’s supposed to wear off in an hour but right now I’m on hour six and not fully back to normal. That means no sunlight and the inability to read clearly. It basically turns me into an illiterate vampire.

That has nothing to do with anything, but I thought I should keep you up on my many comings and goes, which are mostly to one doctor or another. (I hear ya, you want to be me.)

For some strange reason, after I got home from the eye doctors I had an intense desire to vlog for you. Maybe that’s because I couldn’t—kind of how I never had the desire to be a runner until my knees stopped working. Right, so no vlogging because I figured it’d be a little weird if I were in a dark room and squinting the whole time.

So more book recommendations. I’m trying to pick ones that should be available at the library, too. On that note, if you like…

ADORABLE BUT SOMEWHAT DORKY TEEN BOYS WITH MAJOR CRUSHES

The back cover says: Quentin Jacobsen has spent a lifetime loving the magnificently adventurous Margo Roth Spiegelman from afar. So when she cracks open a window and climbs back into his life – dressed like a ninja and summoning him for an ingenious campaign of revenge – he follows. After their all-nighter ends and a new day breaks, Q arrives at school to discover that Margo, always an enigma, has now become a mystery. But Q soon learns that there are clues – and they’re for him. Urged down a disconnected path, the closer he gets, the less Q sees of the girl he thought he knew.

First off, Q is so adorable you’ll want to date him. Also, the mystery involved around Margo is exciting and interesting up until the end. But most importantly, Paper Towns manages to be both beautiful and hilarious. (Seriously. There’s one scene where I laughed so hard I started to cry. And The Man thought I went insane—until he read this and laughed his butt off.)

A WRINKLE IN TIME

The back cover says: By sixth grade, Miranda and her best friend, Sal, know how to navigate their New York City neighborhood. They know where it’s safe to go, and they know who to avoid. Like the crazy guy on the corner. But things start to unravel. Sal gets punched by a kid on the street for what seems like no reason, and he shuts Miranda out of his life. The apartment key that Miranda’s mom keeps hidden for emergencies is stolen. And then a mysterious note arrives, scrawled on a tiny slip of paper. The notes keep coming, and Miranda slowly realizes that whoever is leaving them knows things no one should know. Each message brings her closer to believing that only she can prevent a tragic death. Until the final note makes her think she’s too late.

Newbery award-winning When You Reach Me is a lovely tribute to A Wrinkle In Time, one of my childhood favorites. You don’t have to love A Wrinkle In Time to appreciate this book. It’s hard not to love the characters. And the plot? The mystery is woven beautifully and the twist at the end is pitch perfect.

ADVENTURE

The back cover says: Imagine waking up one day in total darkness, unsure of where you are and unable to remember anything about yourself except your first name. You’re in a bizarre place devoid of adults called the Glade. The Glade is an enclosed structure with a jail, a graveyard, a slaughterhouse, living quarters, and gardens. And no way out. Outside the Glade is the Maze, and every day some of the kids — the Runners — venture into the labyrinth, trying to map the ever-changing pattern of walls in an attempt to find an exit from this hellish place. So far, no one has figured it out. And not all of the Runners return from their daily exertions, victims of the maniacal Grievers, part animal, part mechanical killing machines. Thomas is the newest arrival to the Glade in this Truman-meets-Lord of the Flies tale. A motley crew of half a dozen kids is all he has to guide him in this strange world. As soon as he arrives, unusual things begin to happen, and the others grow suspicious of him. Though the Maze seems somehow familiar to Thomas, he’s unable to make sense of the place, despite his extraordinary abilities as a Runner. What is this place, and does Thomas hold the key to finding a way out?

What I love about The Maze Runner is the nonstop action. That plus the mystery—why the heck are we trapped here and WHAT THE HECK IS IN THAT MAZE?!—make the book unputdownable. Why yes, that is a word.

Quick, if you were trapped in a land enclosed by a giant maze, what would your strategy be for finding the exit? (Don’t think the maze in The Maze Runner is that easy to beat, though.)

source

When I posted about the mental health benefits of reading, some of you expressed interest in my favorite YA books. (And by “expressed interest” I mean “seemed at least mildly interested.” I take what I can get, people.)

I was going to post them all today, but with descriptions (which I think you’ll agree are kinda sorta important) this blog post would have been eerily similar to a 10th grade term paper. So I’ll split this up into a few smaller posts. You’re welcome.

First a disclaimer: Don’t ask me how any of these compare to Twilight. Honestly, I haven’t read the books. I did see the movies, so I get that it’s basically about a 100-year old vampire who stalks a teen girl, who then falls so in love that she can’t live without said dead old man. And there’s a guy who can’t afford shirts.

And then a note: I think I’ve made my love for The Hunger Games series pretty clear. I won’t elaborate because there’s really nothing to say besides GET THYSELF TO A BOOKSTORE and buy the trilogy pronto.

Ahem, moving on. Here’s what you should buy if you like …

TRAVEL AND CUTE BOYS

The back cover says: Anna is looking forward to her senior year in Atlanta, where she has a great job, a loyal best friend, and a crush on the verge of becoming more. Which is why she is less than thrilled about being shipped off to boarding school in Paris—until she meets Étienne St. Claire: perfect, Parisian (and English and American, which makes for a swoon-worthy accent), and utterly irresistible. The only problem is that he’s taken, and Anna might be, too, if anything comes of her almost-relationship back home.

I don’t usually pick up contemporary YA where the plot revolves around a romance. (And, please, get the idea of romance being like a romance novel out of your head. We’re talking about first crushes and first loves here, not rippling abs.) Still, Anna and the French Kiss captivated me from the first page. Reading this book is like taking a mini trip to Paris—the setting is so vividly described that it’s almost another character. I also loved the relationship between Anna and Étienne. It’s full of those “does he like me, did he just look at me” insecurities we all had as teens.

CRYING (AND HOLOCAUST STORIES)

The back cover says: It’s just a small story really, about among other things: a girl, some words, an accordionist, some fanatical Germans, a Jewish fist-fighter, and quite a lot of thievery… Narrated by Death, Markus Zusak’s groundbreaking new novel is the story of Liesel Meminger, a young foster girl living outside of Munich in Nazi Germany. Liesel scratches out a meager existence for herself by stealing when she discovers something she can’t resist- books. Soon she is stealing books from Nazi book-burnings, the mayor’s wife’s library, wherever they are to be found. With the help of her accordion-playing foster father, Liesel learns to read and shares her stolen books with her neighbors during bombing raids, as well as with the Jewish man hidden in her basement

Honestly, even if you hate historical fiction you need to read The Book Thief. I’ll give you three reasons:

1. It’s narrated by Death.

2. It’ll make you laugh and cry bawl.

3. It’s one of the best books I’ve ever read.

That’s all for today. (She said like a kindergarten teacher during story time?) Tomorrow I’ll tell you about a few more books I love.

In the mean time: What’s your favorite type of story? (Take that to mean whatever you want it to mean.)

I thought I’d be posting pictures of my new apartment today but, yeah, not a lot of unpacking happened this weekend. OK, maybe just a box or two. I worked over the weekend and The Man took the opportunity to watch an inordinate amount of college basketball. From the lack of angry shouts, I’m guessing his teams did well.

Anyhow, you’ll have to wait to see the place. I mean, to see more than this:

Oh, you don’t like the wall of boxes I created? I thought it was modern art.

So yesterday I read this New York Times article about the telephone—and how no one likes to use it anymore. (It’s worth a read despite the fact that everyone the writer interviewed worked in the publishing industry. Apparently she couldn’t find a single person without a publishing connection. And, for anyone who’s about to say Jonathan Adler isn’t in publishing: That’s right; he’s an interior designer who WROTE A BOOK.)

Still, I couldn’t agree more with the article. Frankly, I hate talking on the phone. I know that’s strange since I conduct dozens of interviews, but in real life I avoid the phone as much as I can.

This is not a new thing. I never liked talking on the phone, even when I was a tween and it was so cool to talk for hours with your friends. The Man and I had marathon phone conversations when we were 500 miles apart and dating, but that was a fluke—desperate times and desperate measures and whatnot.

Here’s the thing: It’s boring. In order to focus on what the person’s saying, you have to step away from the computer. You have to just sit there and pretend to forget about the 9,000 other things you should be doing. Sure, you could do something productive, like cook dinner, but even then you’re probably not giving as much thought to the conversation as you would while writing an email.

And that’s my main gripe. It’s 10 times easier and faster to write a detailed email. For scheduling purposes, email and text give you time to consider your calendar—or whether you want to say yes or no. And you can still watch TV or listen to music or whatever while emailing.

(I should mention I talk on the phone with my mom, though. She’s not yet a fan of The Email.)

Like the article mentions, the telephone is an intrusion. Imagine this: I’m eating dinner or watching a movie and the phone rings. I can:

A. Pick it up and interrupt my dinner or movie.

B. Ignore it, adding “Call ___Enter name of old person here___ back” to your to-do list.

In both cases, the caller assumes you’ll drop everything to talk to them. And getting back to a phone call? Much more time consuming than responding to an email or text.

So what have we learned today?

How about you: do you like to chat on the phone?

I was going to blog about something real today, like how this is what my apartment looks like:

…but I’m tired from the move and two days of unpacking.

So I thought I’d conduct a totally unscientific survey. Ever wonder what people like about your blog? I do all the time, usually when I’m lying in bed at night weeping with worry that you guys will all leave me.*

Anyhow, I’d love for you to fill out this survey about what you love and hate about blogs. I promise I won’t keep the results a secret. I’ll use them to make my blog better, and I’ll share them with you so you can do the same. Win-win.

If you don’t have a blog? You can sleep easy knowing you’ve done your part in making my blog better. And isn’t that your ultimate goal?

Also, each time a reader fills out this form an angel gets his wings.** I’m not OK with denying angels their wings, but if you are …

Leave any additional comments about blog reading in the comments.

*Yes, I do this.

**It’s a Wonderful Life anyone? Anyone?

source
I CANZ FINE SPACE BAR

Yet another reminder that you can still enter my Cascade Ice giveaway. If you’ve already entered, fill out the form again for extra entries. If you don’t want to win the prize but would just like to send me $50, that’s OK, too.

Guys, when you work from home you get used to speaking your first word of the day at 6 p.m. So when someone comes to visit—say, a mother who offers her physical abilities for your quest to pack your apartment before movers get there—holy brain explosion, Batman.

Which is why Monday was more eventful than it would normally have been.

source

I was sitting at the computer, minding my own business, when my mother came into the room. “I think something’s going on at the gas station,” she said.

You should know: I live outside a no-name gas station. We pay for the lovely view so I like to appreciate it by check gas prices every morning. ($TKTK)

So she opens the blinds—I keep them shut because the sunshine makes me sparkle—and we notice that there’s a police squadron outside. Not only that, but the street outside is empty.

You should know: The street outside is NEVER empty. It’s packed at 6 a.m. It’s packed at noon. I’ve never looked, but I’m pretty sure it’s packed at 2 a.m.

source

Right, so the first thing I think is that the zombie apocalypse is finally here. I grab the anti-flesh eating spray just in case. And then my mom runs to every other window. The gas station lot is empty and blocked off, a line of cars waits to exit the garage, and a police car is blocking all the exits.

After we determine a zombie apocalypse is unlikely (we don’t spot any flesh-eating humans, though we’re seven floors up and may have misjudged) we decide it’s more likely a crime scene.

source

I log onto Google and search: Northern Virginia + gas station + murder + cops + what the heck is going on??!?!!! There’s one result that helps—which, considering my search terms, is a minor miracle. I read the news to my mom: A man was killed in a hit-and-run accident and police are searching the gas station’s surveillance tapes for the license plates.

This makes total sense, even though the accident happened two days before. Of course they’ve blocked off the entire road so CSI can comb through the rubble and measure the skid marks. Sure, they don’t technically need miles of open road, but I brush it off as my city’s CSI unit being less skilled than Las Vegas’.

source

And then something happens. A motorcycle cop speeds up the road. Then another. Then eight more.

You should know: I was pretty certain there was a serial killer on the loose because WHY ELSE WOULD THE ENTIRE D.C. POLICE FORCE TAKE OFF IN HOT PURSUIT?

A clan of black SUVs follows the motorcycle cops, and since they’re the type you see on TV my mom and I decide something fishy’s going down. We’re about to draw up a list of suspects (including one of the cops; there’s always a bad one working against the squadron) when a long black limo rolls down the street.

We realize what’s going on.

source

There is no serial killer.

No murder.

That’s the president’s motorcade.

I told you we’re like Nancy Drew. Too bad we didn’t get to solve a crime, though. That would have been legen … wait for it … dary.*

What’s made your week exciting?

*Any How I Met Your Mother fans? If not, please watch so you get my Barney Stinson jokes.

source

Don’t forget to enter my Cascade Ice giveaway. You have until Thursday and can enter as many times as you want.

OK, so how many of you are watching The Biggest Loser this season? You know, it’s entertaining and all, but what would make it more bearable fun?

The Biggest Loser Drinking Game!

You might think that drinking while watching The Biggest Loser goes against the show’s healthy ideology. So what if it does? This game will singlehandedly get you through each contestant’s sob session. Here we go!!

Take a sip

• Whenever Jillian screams at someone (yes, you’ll pass out before you hit the half hour mark)
• Whenever Jillian has a heart-to-heart with someone
• Every time someone falls off the treadmill
• Each time someone screams while exercising

Take a shot

• Every time Bob promotes a product
• Each time a contestant cries.
• Whenever someone purposefully gains for a weigh-in because they have immunity
• When Jillian and Bob freak out because someone remembered they’re playing for a boatload of money and therefore cheated the weigh-in

Chug a beer

• When someone says they can’t do something and then subsequently does that very thing
• Each time a contestant remembers how far they’ve come during a talk with the camera

Turn off the TV

• Every time a contestant pretends to use a product out of convenience when everyone knows it’s an ad.

And that’s it. Have fun guys! Did I miss anything? Feel free to add your own.

*I take no responsibility for drunken texts, Facebook status updates, or Tweets.

So the other day I was looking at all of my old toys—you know, the classic ’80s ones—and I thought: How could I play with such fat dolls? So I was happy to read this post, which rounds up the top toy makeovers. And I say, “It’s about time!”

I thought I’d add my thoughts to that roundup. So, without further ado, I give you Four Reasons Your Toy Needs a Makeover…

source

1. Real potatoes are fat. Toy potatoes should be slim. I mean, do real potatoes run around wearing lips and ears and a hat? No, no they don’t. Why should we expect our obviously enhanced toys to be just like the real thing?

source

Behold the new, svelte Mrs. Potato Head. Hasbro calls this the new, Active Adventures toy. Yup, she looks real active with those high heels and that purse. If I had a buck I’d bet she’s going shopping.

source

2. If you’d describe your doll as “cute” or “adorable,” you have a problem. Dolls are meant to be “seductive” and “beautiful.”

source

Just look at new Strawberry Shortcake. Unlike her floppy predecessor, her hair is shiny and her skin is creamy. Oh, and she comes with a bathingsuit and pink shoes. What do you have ’80s Shortcake? Ugly brown slippers.

source

3. Next time you see a vintage My Little Pony, ask yourself why on earth they’re shaped like a horse. Sure, they’re ponies—technically. But tell me how many ponies are purple. Or blue. Yeah, that’s what I thought.

source

If my Little Pony can be fuschia, why can’t she have a head 10 times her body size? Personally, I like when my ponies resemble friendly aliens.

source

4. Baby dolls are nice. They prepare kids for teen pregnancy. But must they be so … ugly?

source

Thank goodness Cabbage Patch realized no child wants to parent a dud. Now the dolls come with shiny hair and (much-needed) extensions.

Thoughts on these makeovers? Oh, and what was your favorite childhood toy?

Yesterday I alluded to a story about an orangutan The Man and I encountered when we were dating. This has nothing to do with health or fitness or food. But it’s funny so I thought I’d share. It’s Friday after all.

Before you read this, I think you should know:

1. This is a true story.
2. No, I have no idea what the orangutan was actually thinking. But I’m pretty sure I guessed correctly.
3. Yes, the orangutan really did this.

So, the orangutan story:

His arms swept the floor. After spending a few minutes staring at the wall, he was ready to exercise. The orangutan looked around the room. Not bad. His living quarters were pretty big—as far as monkey homes go. And since he was the only orangutan that lived there, the place was all his.

The house was shaped like a slice of pizza: One wall was concrete and bare except for a door. The largest wall was curved and made of thick plastic meant to look like glass. The third wall was solid. That’s where his workout equipment was.

Now seemed like a good time to exercise. The orangutan bounded up a ladder, old tires laced together with thick rope. He did it again. Again.

Soon he got bored.

The orangutan walked toward the glass. Buckets and tubs huddled together along the far wall. Blankets topped the pile. Beside the tower lay a blow-up pool, the shallow kind made for small humans.

Things to keep me company, he thought. But all the orangutan wanted was a nap.

He leapt up the pile, furry orange arms pulling his body to the top of an overturned tub. It was wide and pink, and he fit perfectly on top. He rested his head against the window and shut his eyes.

Tapping. Tap … tap … taptaptaptaptaptap.

He whipped around and saw a crowd of humans on the other side of the glass. Some had boxes that flashed and made his eyes hurt. The orangutan looked around for something he could use to cover his face. A blue blanket lay on the floor, so he reached down and grabbed it. This should help me sleep, he thought, wrapping the blanket around his head.

Tap … tap … tap.

The orangutan sprang up and glared at the humans outside the glass. “Can’t a guy get some sleep?” He yelled. But the humans didn’t seem to understand. They smiled and laughed and waved. And tapped the glass.

That was it. He was fed up. First thing in the morning, he would talk to the zookeeper about the pests outside. For now, he’d have to get creative.

The orangutan jumped off the tub and flipped it over. He climbed into the tub, its pink lip hitting his chest. Grabbed the kiddie pool with one hand. He glared at the humans. “You give me no other choice!” he yelled. The humans laughed. “Now leave me alone!”

The orangutan sank to the bottom of the tub. Then he pulled the blow-up pool over the top, blocking out the nosy faces like a lid.

And he slept.

Have a great weekend, guys. Stay tuned for a fun giveaway on Monday!

There’s a survey making its way around the blogs. I figured I’d join in on the fun and answer some alphabet-related questions about myself. It’s been a while since I spilled my innermost secrets. Why not do it on this lovely Thursday?

So, this is me:

This is my “Bring it on, 29, bring it on” look. Also, I did not Photoshop that arm in there.

A. Age: 28, though my birthday’s fast approaching. As is 30. (Insert ominous music here.)

B. Bed size: King. I’m not a cuddler. (Just ask my sister. She’ll tell you all about that time when we were younger and we had to share a queen bed at my grandparents’ house. I might have kicked her out of the bed. Literally. In my defense, I was asleep.)

C. Chore you hate: Dusting. Make me clean the toilet instead. Dusting makes my eyes itch and guarantees I won’t be able to breathe for a day.

D. Dogs: I don’t have any but I’m a dog lover at heart. Puppies are even better. Cats? I won’t lose readers who happen to be cat lovers by telling you what I think of felines…

Because I love you, here’s a video that will melt your internal organs. Not just a puppy, but a monkey playing with a puppy:

E. Essential start to your day: Eye drops. When I wear contacts, I can barely unseal my eyes without drops. And now that I have a stupid fan blowing at my feet (and in my face) nonstop, my eyes are constantly dried out.

F. Favorite color: I hate this question. My favorite color changes depending on the object. If we’re talking clothing, it’s black—hands down. Cars: silver. (As much as I love black, that color + pollen = a mental breakdown.) Furniture: white. My checking account: green.

G. Gold or silver: Silver. Unless we’re talking about finances. In which case, gold. Lots and lots of gold.*

H. Height: 5’7” and taller than my sister. (Neener, neener.)

I. Instruments you play: None. And the world rejoices.

J. Job title: Editor/writer, though I’m petitioning for a title change to Empress of Awesome. Think it’ll fly?

K. Kids: My feet say … No thank you.

L. Live: Yup, still living.

M. Mom’s name: Nancy. (Too bad this didn’t ask for my dad’s name. This item would have been much more interesting.)

This is my mom in the wild. I took this with a telephoto lens. I wanted to capture her doing something she does 99 percent of the time. And that’s talk on the phone.

N. Nicknames: Most often, it’s Trace. I feel like someone’s a real friend once they call me Trace. My husband nicknames me whatever word is on his mind at the time, which means I generally have a new nickname every day. And the girls I studied in New Zealand with call me Tracer.

O. Overnight hospital stays: You’d think I’d be in the double digits, what with my failing body. But I’ve actually never had an overnight hospital stay. (← This is how you spell irony.)

P. Pet peeve: Just one? Slow drivers. I’m what you imagine when you think about Massachusetts drivers. You guys may call us Massholes, but that’s just a synonym for efficient. Listen, the point of driving is to GET SOMEWHERE. Not to lollygag on the highway at 65 miles an hour. (I’m talking to you, Virginia drivers.)

This is what happens when people drive slow:

Let me explain: 12-hour drive. All traffic.

Also, servers at restaurants with bad attitudes. As a former waitress, I expect only one thing during a meal: my server to be nice and friendly. I can overlook everything else (wrong order, bad food) except a bad attitude.

Q. Quote from a movie: Bet you thought I’d be all serious here. (Wait, you guessed I couldn’t be serious when movie quotes are involved. Aw, guys, you know me so well.) So:

“Rufus, Brint, and Meekus were like brothers to me. And when I say brother, I don’t mean, like, an actual brother, but I mean it like the way black people use it. Which is more meaningful I think. If there is anything that this horrible tragedy can teach us, it’s that a male model’s life is a precious, precious commodity. Just because we have chiseled abs and stunning features, it doesn’t mean that we too can’t not die in a freak gasoline fight accident.” —Zoolander

R. Right or left handed: Right

S. Siblings: One younger sister, Jill

This is Jill. Here, she’s doing Blue Steel. (From Zoolander. If you didn’t know that, rent the movie. For me.) Although she could be doing Magnum. I can’t tell. To me, she’s only got one look.

T. Time you wake up: As late as humanly possible. Monday through Friday that’s 7:45. Saturday and Sunday? Will you call me lazy if I say 10 a.m. … with an alarm?

U. Underwear: Yes, please.

V. Vegetables you dislike: Onions. No surprise there.

W. What makes you run late: When my feet are burning. You move a lot slower when your feet are on fire. Aside from that, nothing.** I hate being late.

X. X-Rays you’ve had: Looks like someone was fishing for question that started with X… I’ve gotten an X-Ray for my feet, knees, teeth (you should have too!) and, when I’m flying somewhere, my entire body.

Though I’d like to propose we change this question to: X-Men superpower you wish you had? Because those answers would be way more exciting.***

Y. Yummy food you make: How about yummy food I made? Like Fast & Easy Cheesy Lemon Pasta, Taco Cups, Zucchini Pizza, and Buffalo Wing Crack Dip.

Z. Zoo- favorite animal: Polar bear cubs and panda bears. Panda bears are insanely funny. Somehow they’re always falling over. See:

photo from cute overload

Oh, and the orangutans! When The Man and I were dating, we went to the Philadelphia Zoo for the day. And I’ll never forget what happened at the orangutan cage… But maybe that’s a story for tomorrow.

OK guys, your turn. Answer any of these questions in the comments.

*Am I the only one who has trouble getting Mike Meyers’ voice as Goldfinger out of my head in situations like this? All I can think of is, “I like goooooold!”

** OK, maybe there’s one more thing: D.C. traffic. But that’s uncontrollable. And inevitable. And annoying.

*** For the record, I’d like to control the weather. If I wanted to leave the house in summer I’d just think up an ice storm.