runaway juror

The trial was short but exhausting. The case hinged on one man's allegations that he was maliciously harassed by a homeless man. All throughout the jury deliberations, I did my best not to refer to police officers as the po-po or any of the law enforcement monikers I learned from Snoop Doggy Dogg's first album. I also refrained from lines like, "My civic duty? More like my civic booty!"

And now that it's over (not guilty, reasonable doubt), I can go back to my normal life of equal opportunity judging. First, I'd like to judge all the people who clog up the aisles at Costco because they're salivating over teriyaki meatballs and organic raisin bran. I don't know what magical power dome surrounds these sample tables, but it transforms normal people into crazed vultures who just stand there idly waiting for their three-inch cheese sandwich morsels, oblivious that their carts impede the flow of well-meaning people who desperately need a bag of frozen dino nuggets to appease the house dictator whose name starts with "N" and ends with "ATHAN."

Last night, we watched Atonement and throughout the movie I kept thinking about all the people who spew the line, "Well, the book was better than the movie," and while I have been that person, (sadly yes, but don't worry! I have since re-stocked that pseudo-superior part of my brain with banal warehouse shopping escapades and fart jokes) I loved this movie, completely independent of the book. I'm sure I would have cried but my decrepit black heart got in the way. And tangentially, I've been told that The Notebook is supposed to make one cry, but I don't have enough estrogen to sit through it (see also: why I only got to page 85 of Eat, Pray, Love--she was still gorging on gelato and her self-induced existential crisis when I gave up).

I'll confess to you dear, internet friend, I don't remember the last movie that caused me to weep big ugly tears. The only movies Mike and I watch are ones that have any of the following 1) Bad guys, 2) Large guns 3) Matt Damon driving in reverse and shooting bad guys, and 4) Bruce Willis shooting down a helicopter and restoring electricity to the tri-state area without screaming, "DUUUDE!"

Do you and your significant other clear out the action movie section at Blockbuster or do you both have your paws on the tissue box when Christian Slater tells Marisa Tomei that he has a baboon's heart, but--spoiler alert--it's untamed!

patriot games

Today I spent the entire day cooped up in a hot room downtown, waiting for my juror number to be called. This is the second time in five years I have been hit with jury duty summons, so I'm doubting this is random. This is what I get for voting. Maybe Big Brother knew that this is a hectic week of deadlines and project plans so they lured me downtown with promises of $10/day paychecks and a chance to live out my Law and Order fantasy. How did they know that's what I call my left and right biceps?

Also, the wifi was spotty which prevented my access to blogger. Maybe Big Brother decided to give me some hours to work on the next great American novel or draft a business plan which would disappoint me after all these years of hyper-surveillance, wouldn't they know that I would just fill a notebook with biting comments about my fellow jurors? Like the woman who sat next to me, reading the encyclopedia of golf or the man on my left who looked like a human Ewok. I wanted to tell him that he could get out of jury duty if he explained that he really lived on Endor because that's outside of King County.



I present you with this photo from the weekend. We dropped Nathan at my brother's for an overnight stay and so we were finally able to have a real date that did not involve my cutting anyone's meat or cheering someone on for eating peas. We ate at Ama Ama in West Seattle where I fashioned a tiny lamb slider into a perfect illustration of how I am really a giant!

We also watched 10,000 BC and half-way through this boring Quest for Fire rip-off, I asked Mike, "How old were you when this movie was made?" And that was the highlight of the entire film.

So I ask you, dear internet friend, about your jury selection woes. I'm curious and I promise I won't judge.

I hope Nathan inherited his father's detective skills

As you may have guessed, I did not plan Nathan's haircut very well, both the execution and the removal of locks. As I stood horrified at what I had done and stared at my hands the way a person does it in the movies after he's killed for the first time, there were dark brown hairs all over the bathroom rug. In my mad effort to hide the evidence (even though, hello Mona, the evidence is bald and rushing at you to refill his sippy cup), I lifted the rug carefully and carried to the balcony, where I shook my son's hair remains over our yard. Only, the hair didn't land on our yard, it landed right outside our fence on the sidewalk leading to our door.

I'm sure a normal person would have taken the time to rush downstairs and sweep up the mess before the postal worker arrived and concluded that everyone in our house is into Sinead O'Connor. But it was late, it was my turn to drop Nathan at daycare, it had started raining, and I had important tasks to complete, including breaking the news to my husband that I had turned our son into Susan Powter's spawn.

And I just left the hair where it fell, next to our house, bothering no one.

When I got home, the hair was gone. Mike had swept it up that afternoon He asked me if I knew anything about the strange tufts he found on the ground.

"See?" He said, pointing at some of the strands. "Isn't that weird?"

"Yeah, that's completely weird. I don't know who would do that." LIE! I am a lying liar who lies! I don't know why didn't fess up right then. Maybe I was afraid that he would chide me again for cutting Nathan's hair even after I relinquished my role as family barber. I guess I didn't consider hair being that terrible a crime; our neighbor left a tire, a towel, and a plate of half-eaten enchiladas on the sidewalk for TWO DAYS and no one said anything. Another neighbor planted a lawn gnome in her garden. I know! What nerve!

The next day I let my husband wonder about the kind of person who cuts his hair in front of a stranger's house. What kind of madman would leave that calling card? What kind of one fry short of a happy meal weirdo walks up to a fence and says, "This feels like a good place for a haircut."

So cut to today when my husband, who has been spending his week off tidying the house and yard, called me at work and asked, "Guess who's hair I found when I was cleaning out the gutter?"

"Um...Nathan's?" I asked in my feigned innocence voice.

"Yes Nathan's! You are so busted. I don't even need CSI!"

So what lower-cased crimes have you been caught committing? Am I the only one?

Nathan's hair has turned his world upside down

dispatch from the youngest AARP member

I have a feeling that Nathan's new pediatrician sees a lot of gifted children. Since November when he diagnosed Nathan as having the same speech skills as Robert DeNiro in Awakenings, (before the meds!), I have been watching my son and writing down every new word. I have been reading to him more, talking to him more, which really cuts into my watching Real Housewives of New York City time. There's a Ramona on that show! Even though she is an utter waste of space, you can guarantee I will watch every Tuesday night and Saturday afternoon. And early Sunday morning if I'm awake. And again on Tuesday night if I have imbibed enough Red Bulls to keep me going until the next new episode!

His speech appointment is next month, the earliest date they had available. Maybe the clinic had some voice analysis program so when I called, they calculated the frequency of "ums," "cool deal" and "awesome," and stamped a big red "PARENTING = EPIC FAIL" in the notes section. Hey that's vocal profiling!

Maybe I should just take Nathan to a doctor who only sees one-month-olds because he could waddle circles around those babies! I'm thinking of taking Nathan to a different doctor, one who isn't into instilling fear into a new, bumbling mother who isn't worried that her son doesn't match up exactly to pediatric checklists. My son doesn't speak in iambic pentameter, but he laughs hysterically when he jams his finger into my bellybutton and giggles out a, "Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!"

And for a out-of-left-field segueway, I wouldn't go to Heidi Klum's gynecologist. It's not an un-fierce ice tranny mess down there, I'm just saying you wouldn't mistake my vagina for the controlled concern for light and linear perspective in impressionist paintings. If Heidi Klum's vagina is Project Runway, then my vagina is Project John F. Kennedy International Airport.

And to leave you with another The Hell, Mona? moment (THMM), I received my AARP card. Seriously! It has my name on it and everything! And all I had to do was marry someone 27 years my senior. That's how you save money, my young internet friend: marry a peepaw! I'm all about the peepaws! I'll hoard all the cash I'm saving at the early bird buffet and take it to bingo hall and double it! Who's with me?

What Was I Thinking: Special Monday Issue

This was my son last night, quietly contemplating how he had never received a terrible haircut in his whole life.



This is Nathan this morning, after a failed haircut and an even worse job to even said haircut. I wish I had a time travel device to step back to 6:30 AM to snatch the scissors and electric clippers from my bleary-eyed delusional self. It started out with a trim, but then Nathan jerked his head and I thought I could shear off a bit to even it out. And five minutes later, I turned my son into a Susan Powter look-alike.



Luckily, his hair grows as quickly as mine and he's completley oblivious that his mother has made his hair mirror that of a early 90's exercise loon. I can't even blame this fiasco on stuck gum or lice--he's developed a serious case of Incompetent Parent. If his hair grows back to its lucious length, you'll know it's in remission.

the afterparty is at my body!

I attended two parties on Friday and my schedule hasn't been that booked since Little House on the Prairie and Golden Girls were on TV at the same time!

The first party was my co-worker's farewell gathering which was expectedly tearful and poignant and unexpectedly yum in the tum thanks to my sesame oil-soy sauce marinated party wings. I had to make an additional plate of wings sans sesame oil because I forgot that my co-worker's allergic to sesame seeds. Oops!

I guess I should tell you now, dear internet friend, that I am a few IQ points above whatever it is that would legally declare me mentally disabled. Also, I was on my eighth grade Mathcounts team, but only so I could practice pecking out 0.38206537 on my T1-83. If you flipped the calculator upside down, the numbers would read: LESGO2BED. See also: 5318008 for BOOBIES! (I think my new tagline should be: kirida.com: No election coverage here!)

The second party was the Metroblogging Blarch Badness Awards ceremony held at the Skylark Cafe. I got to rub elbows with Monica Guzman from The Big Blog, Pam from Nerd's Eye View, and Dylan, CeRo and Beth from Seattle Metblogs.

And I finally met the tech trifecta team known as the West Seattle Blog! I was very excited to meet the people whose nomination had entered me into the fray. Tracy and Patrick are an awesome power couple whose son's iPod is stocked with classic rock. I am hoping Nathan's future iPod will follow suit, but it will most likely house early JLo, 50 Cent, and maybe N*Sync's second album which would cause Mike to launch the device at my head and shout, "THIS IS ALL YOUR DOING, WOMAN!"

while you were thinking that last night's episode of LOST had the most unrealistic birth scene EVER

Thank you everyone for all the fabulous party tips! What would I do without you guys? Weep openly of course!

I bought several bags of chips with accompanying five-layer bean dip, salsa, and spinach artichoke dip. I cooked up party wings with a sesame oil and soy sauce marinade. There will also be two vegetable platters as well as crackers and brie. Fancy!

I wish I had thought of Pickles and Dimes' Onion-esque idea, though I don't think the higher-ups would look favorably at a BJ wish-list, but thanks Mayberry! Instead, I photoshopped my co-worker's face onto the Terminator 2: Judgment Day movie poster with the words, "HASTA LA VISTA!" above her head. How's that for a poignant bi-lingual pop culture reference?



I'm still bummed because I am losing the closest co-worker I have ever had. Since we live only blocks away, we have carpooled every day. Each ride we have shared our daily ongoings, quips about hot celebrity pretend boyfriends, and criticism of the baristas who put too much foam. And at work, I've had this phenomenal colleague who's funny and resourceful and never sneers at the multitude of folders on my desk.

So I'm hoping that this party is a success because the last bash I threw was my sixth grade slumber party and I had two girls who utterly hated each other in attendance. It was as if I had locked two feral cats in a trunk. Not even my Miss Piggy pajamas could lighten the mood.

And apropos of nothing, if you're in the Seattle area, you should attend tonight's Metroblogging Blarch Badness Awards ceremony. I'll be there! And if you're not in Seattle, could you just get out of my dreams and into my car, my internet friend! That would be great!

HALP!

I have to throw a going-away party for my favorite co-worker ever. Unfortunately, I will not be able to go to Costco to pick up food and beverages. So halp me please! What are good, bountiful and reasonably priced party foods for about thirty people? Also, if you have any any good co-worker goodbye things to do other than signing a card, throw them my way!

My internet friend, you are a smart one. I bet you can get through Sudoku without looking at the answers!

bite me

bite me
Originally uploaded by kirida.

no, please, no more

no, please, no more
Originally uploaded by kirida.

My brain doesn't recycle, it just dumps

1. My friend Di informed me that she can't visit this blog at work because it's been blocked. They think it's PORRRN! Finally! Someone saw through my foul-mouthed mom blog façade and revealed the real ping-pong skilled me!

2. I watched The Bourne Ultimatum the other night right before I went to sleep and then had the most intense dream in which I drove in reverse while holding a handgun big enough to snap my wrist. Last night I pored over Eliot Spitzer's hoochie hoopla including the girls who can charge up to $31,000 a DAY! Sadly, I did not dream about prostitution. Was my subconscious telling me that there's no way I could charge for these goodies? I guess so. It's the same brain that holds a memory of this hot guy I thought was mustering up the courage to talk to me at a bookstore but he was only standing there because my five foot nothing body was blocking the nonfiction shelf.

3. After I had read about Margaret Seltzer and her fake gang memoir, I wasn't shocked that she didn't look like she had a gangsta past (No teardrop tattoo? No Bone Thus-N-Harmony references?) but I was stunned that it was her older sister that blew the whistle. Why isn't that part of the story? I doubt I would ever tell on my siblings, unless one of them lies about how my makeup resembles Bonnie Tyler at the 1984 Grammys. In my defense, my cosmetic teachings came from my mother's copy of Color Me Beautiful, a book that fooled me into thinking that with enough blush ON MY FOREHEAD I, too, could be a winter.

KISS HIM!

KISS HIM!
Originally uploaded by kirida.

oh yes she did

Tonight Mike, Nathan and I were eating at a Mexican restaurant. It was a loud, boisterous dive filled with college students and their final exam discussions. Nathan was growing weary and had begun reacting to my requests not to run down the hallway by completely collapsing on the ground. An older woman, with poorly-streaked blonde hair, who was eating alone at a nearby table stood up and surveyed my son, grimaced at me and said, "THAT FLOOR IS VERY DIRTY!"

I was taken aback by how forcefully she declared this over the collegiate boon and the mariachi music pumping through the speakers. I said okay and shrugged and she walked off toward the bathroom. Nathan began pushing his stroller back and forth in front of our table as we gathered our things to leave. The woman marched toward me and said, "One time I was chased by a child." Then she raised her finger at me, "SO KEEP YOUR CHILD AWAY FROM ME!"

And in the movie version of this scene, this is when my THX surround sound inner-monologue would boom: OH. NO. SHE. DIDN'T.

Hot angry vengeful adrenaline flooded my veins, presenting several Choose-Your-Adventure options, like if you want to drop kick this woman, please go to page 65. And on page 65, I'd end up in jail and wouldn't be able to hear Nathan say for the first time, "Mommy, you are a magnificent feminine wonder!" So instead, I retorted a sharp, biting, "Sure! And thanks for letting know this floor's dirty! I wouldn't have known that without your help! THANKS!"

Her face tightened and she silently returned to her table, her hump back facing us.

Sure, I could have just shut up, turned the other cheek and went on with my life. But then I would have held on to that angry rush watching that woman berate me and I would have played this moment out, mostly to Mike and every number on my cell phone, replaying what she said and filling in what I should have said and should have done. I stood up for myself without using the "You better check yo' self before you wreck yo' self!" card. Because I've filled my quota for this month. I wonder if she had gone to the bathroom and peed out whatever common decency that prevents people from childing a family on their way out of a restaurant for what their child has NOT DONE.

But I have to think about her side, too. I suppose it was probably difficult for this woman to watch a frightening child flail on the ground and then veer toward her, almost touching her from ten feet away! She could have almost been poked by Stretch Armstoddler!



Have you met my son? The almost two-year-old who strikes fear into the hearts of Mexican restaurant patrons? ¡Que horrible!

And FYI: This blog is very dirty! One time, a blog chased me around so keep your blog away from me!

what's in your wallet?

This is my obnoxious and bulky behemoth wallet. I can barely schelp it around in my purse. This massive all-encompassing-of-my-personal-information trove would only fit in the pocket of a flasher's coat. Though, that might not make sense since wouldn't flashers have to pack light? You know? To facilitate the flashing?

My wallet-trunk fits everything flimsy card I've ever owned. Aside from the usual debit and credit cards, I've packed in useless items like three versions of my driver's license. It's like a before, after, and way after photo montage! There are crumpled phone numbers, five different frequent-customer restaurant cards with about ten stars left before I can have a free drink at any of them, a year-old eyeglass prescription which I really needed at the time because I couldn't see the television clearly and that's what glasses are for: TV, my college ID card (and svelte college jawline, unlike my current post-doc dog jowels), movie ticket stubs, business cards of people whom I am sure are multi-millionares now, a library card I'm afraid to use because it took me two and a half weeks to return the last book and the next time I check something out, the library computer will belt out a Color Me Badd falsetto that sings, "Girl, you are so fineeed!"

So are you like me? Do you have a George Costanza wallet? Or are you one of those people who can function with a $10 bill, a driver's license and a stick of gum which would be why my mom was right about you, my internet friend. You're such a good influence!

is it summer yet?

swing swing
Originally uploaded by kirida.

Now we're sharing the same dream

I had an important meeting to attend when I realized that I had forgotten to wear deodorant. It's not that I was harboring rancid day old fish reek in the delicate corners of my skin, but I'm pretty neurotic about body odors so when I'm not emanating a cloud of cloying perfume, I worry that once people get a whiff, they'll cup their hands over their mouths the way people do right before they rolf something wicked. (That image? You can thank me later.)

And since I had no lotion or perfume at my disposal, I rifled through all the office supplies I had on my desk to MacGuyer my way into mid-afternoon freshness. I work in an open space where using all the fruity-smelling highlighters to emphasize my pits might look crazy, so I rubbed some Purell on my fingers and discreetly dabbed on my skin. Only on one pit though, just to test it out. Safety first!

Here's something about hand sanitizer: it is not deodorant! It smells like rubbing alcohol! But the good news that it gives you an instant cool breeze. Like you're on a tropical island! I'm going to sing Billy Ocean's Carribean Queen the next time I get to my desk or I'm going to laugh thinking about that and my coworker will ask me what's so funny because sometimes I do say some funny things at work that have nothing to do with body odor. (You should hear my political stand-up. It puts any pundit to shame. I'll show you William F. Buckley! What's that? He's dead? Well, I'll show you William F. Buckley...later.)

And I'm sure you're just dying to know how I rescued myself from that situation. The ladies restroom had a can of lemon-scented lysol spray and spritzed it on my shirt. It's like what they say, "When life gives you lemons, or lemon-scented aerosol."



I don't have a poignant way to end this TMI post other than to share that I saw my friend Kim and her new baby this weekend. That newborn smells so delicious, I wish my nostrils could be as big as my fists put together so I could inhale all that baby goodness.

Too Mona and Mike

Originally uploaded by kirida.

This envelope accompanied Nathan home last Friday. Inside were a few folded pieces of his artwork, pen on construction paper. Our daycare provider's daughter addressed it. I think it's sweet that she would think that Nathan's name is spelled phonetically or that he would ever dare call his parents by their first names.

4 things

Shelly of Notthedaddy tagged me for the 4 things meme which is good because that's how high I can count on my fingers. So while you're not rolling your eyes over that stupid Quarterlife show and how it's supposed to depict realistic blogging twenty-somethings (who say BLOG-LOOK AT MY BLOG-BLOG every other sentence), enjoy the following:

4 jobs I have had
1. News intern - instead of spending a second summer at Junior Statesmen of America, I worked as an intern for KMCV news, now KSPN2. I still have a few clips from that time and it's true that the camera adds ten pounds. You know what else adds ten pounds? Bacon.
2. Data farmer - I worked for a mortgage company for about two weeks. It was a work-at-home job that required farming deeds from the county website and entering in information into a database. Lamest job ever.
3. Higher ed office lackey
4. Front desk manager - This was slightly different from the office lackey because I had manager in my title. I woke up at 4:00 AM five days a week for eight months until my body gave out. I still have trouble to this day concentra

4 places I've been
1. Atlanta - After I graduated high school, I flew from Saipan to Atlanta, where I stayed with my then-boyfriend for two months before driving cross-country to Seattle. I didn't really see much of the city itself because my ex worked most of the time. Atlanta had excellent internet service though.
2. Chicago - I went here for a conference when I was in high school. It was 75 degrees out and I was freezing.
3. Portland
4. Tokyo

4 movies I've watched over and over
1. Sleepless in Seattle
2. When Harry Met Sally
3. Pulp Fiction
4. Anchorman

4 shows I watch
1. LOST
2. Most Evil - I think this show should be renamed to "More Evil Than That Last Guy" because dood, that's what I think every episode.
3. No Reservations
4. What Not to Wear

4 places I'd rather be right now
1. Saipan
2. On the stage, holding a gold medal after pwning the Dance Dance Revolution Championship
3. In studio 1A, being interviewed by Matt Lauer (not Meredith Viera, that succubus) for winning the Megamillions Lottery
4. In my living room with Mike, teaching Nathan how to open the microwave and retrieve the pizza rolls
4 favorite things to eat
1. Alfafa sprouts and mashed yeast Bacon
2. Corn soup
3. Fries
4. All the food in this photo:


4 places I've lived
1. Saipan
2. Salem, Oregon
3. Seattle
There is no number 4 for this category, unless Portland changes its name to Sortland, I'd consider moving.
4 things I look forward to this new year

1. Photographing babies and couples
2. Seeing my sister Bobbie and her family, whom I haven't seen in almost FIVE YEARS.
3. Going to Disneyland!
4. Nathan strengthening his pimp hand