March 31, 2004
"We Need a Vacation, From Our Kidlike Frustration" 1
San Francisco took me by surprise.
I don't know where to start. Or how to. Or if to. I could give you a litany of things and places and people and impressions, but that would be useless. Having taken the redeye to Dulles at 7:00 am this morning, however, I think useless is about 110% for me right about now.
Thursday I met up with the two guys who would make the trip most memorable--Jeff and Michael. Michael doesn't have a blog. This is why it was easy for Jeff and I to make fun of him all weekend...or was it the other way around.
Unfortunately, I didn't get to meet many other people (I will be back, trust). I met up with fellow Marylander Bradford on my first night in town. Given my inability to focus due to an obscene lack of sleep our meeting was more of a drive-by hello than an actual conversation.
A couple of times I also met the lovely and talented Jack. He was totally crushing on my shoes.
I also saw some sea lions. Hung with my sister and niece who happened to be in town over the weekend. Rode a bazillion forms of public transportation. Got inspired by the most unlikely discussions. Ate wonderful food. (Window) shopped in very cool stores. I guess there's too much to say.
Talking with Michael is a joy because he's extremely smart and funny...some might even say charming. Also, whereas most people rely on the traditional endstop of a period while speaking, Michael seems to default to an ellipsis. I kinda like that.... Most of all, I think it was our mutual fondness for Diet Pepsi that created a quick bond between me and Michael. That and the Sandy B. and Nicole Practical Magicesque lucky streak I had with him in winning free iTunes songs on every Diet Pepsi I drank in San Francisco until the very last one.
Saturday night in SoMa with Jeff was wonderful. The next day, I woke up and scribbled something on a scrap of paper to remind me. I won't get into what it was, but you should know that he is like that.
Jeff says I seemed "less impressed" with the city. Last night, when he and Michael took me to Twin Peaks, I took in the view. Lights, water, streets, buildings, green, blue, red, white. I matched the view with spots on the map I had been building in my head all week. I was more than impressed.
I think some places vibrate on a frequency that makes me come alive. On its best days, DC does that to me. Lately, we haven't been in synch. Maybe I was secretly on a scouting mission. Maybe the grass is always greener (and the sky more blue).
Or maybe DC just needs a good swift kick in the ass.
I wouldn't say I left my heart in San Francisco, but I think I am left with a little bit of SF in my heart. And that, after all, is a much better deal.
So long as it doesn't clog any arteries.
And So I'm Back....
I have lots of things swimming in my head. I loved San Francsico. More on that later.
What I want to know right now is exactly what will the forthcoming "Fox News Channel Store" in the Dulles Airport terminal going to sell?
March 24, 2004
Crazy, Mixed-Up Kids
When I have too much time on my hands, like now, I make mix
Here's my California mix
"A Supermarket in California" - Allen Ginsberg
Okay, so I'm a poetry geek. Who else would include Allen Ginsberg reading a poem on a mix? Sometimes, late at night, in a supermarket, I think of this poem as I myself am eyeing the grocery boys. This is pretty tame as far as his writing goes, but there's something about Ginsberg's verse that puts the "man" in manifest destiny.
"Hello San Francisco" - Buddy Guy
A very stupid person once told me that you could either like jazz or blues, but not both. I think that statement is a hangover from Cartesian dualism. Anyway, this is a great blues song. It makes me want to walk up and down hilly streets in a 4/4 rhythm, muttering retreats.
"San Francisco (Be Sure To Wear Some Flowers in Your Hair)" - Scott McKenzie
Yep, it's trite, but I can't imagine doing this mix without it. Besides, there's something to be said for the hippies before they sold out and became a burden on the rest of us. Where's my Social Security going to be, Hanoi Jane?
"California" - Rufus Wainwright
Come on. A song that references Bea Arthur and Rhoda? Not to mention those soft skin boys that can bruise you? This song could have been written just for me. I say that about a lot of Rufus Wainwright songs, though. Maybe I, too, am waiting for the gay messiah? Or maybe I am he?
"California Über Alles" - the Dead Kennedys
Who doesn't love a song where "the suede-denim secret police... come for your uncool niece?" I don't happen to have any uncool nieces, by the way, but by a stroke of luck my v.v. cool one will be in San Francisco while I am.
"California Sun" - The Ramones
Some people say that all Ramones songs sound the same. I don't really care. I like almost all of them. As an added bonus, this one has a nice little surf vibe to it. When I was a kid, I used to listen to my older siblings' Jan and Dean and Beach Boys records. Just picture four-year-old me with shaggy blond hair in an OP muscle t-shirt singing "Dead Man's Curve" in a room full of high school kids and you'll pretty much understand my childhood.
"California" - The Rentals
Weezer truly embodies the adorkable qualities that I find most important for the new millennium. Besides, Glenn loves them. The Rentals are an offshoot band of Weezer, one that I almost like better than Weezer (shh, don't tell Glenn). If you're friends with P, you're friends with me.
"San Francisco Days" - Chris Isaak
I saw Chris Isaak once at Wolftrap. It was a random thing that I went to at the last minute with my buddy Paul. I think part of me rejected him for a long time as just a prettier version of Roy Orbison. Then I learned to respect what a good thing that is.
"California" - Phantom Planet
Sure I'm going to San Francisco, but who doesn't associate the whole state with The OC? Let's hear it for the wifebeater!
"Gone to California" - Pink
Oh Miss Undastood, what are we to do with you? I think Pink has an amazing voice. And I like that she doesn't try to be super slutty like Xtina, but still succeeds. Just kidding, Pink. Kisses.
"California Love" - TuPac & Dr. Dre
Dr. Dre is a brilliant producer for an ignorant homophobe (especially one who used to wear makeup and sequins in the World Class Wreckin' Cru). TuPac was amazing. Though I much prefer his work when he was alive to the bastardized 'songs' his estate is allowing to be made from voice mails he left asking for directions looped over a Rick Astley bassline. And donít forget--the video went beyond thunderdome.
"Going to California" - Led Zepplin
I guess one of the things I've noticed is that in most pop cultural references, California is not just a place--it's a destination. Everybody goes there. No one is from there. So I guess it's like DC. This is a good song, though I still can't listen to Led Zepplin without thinking of the stoners in my college fraternity. Then I just get hungry and tired. Fortunately it's a short song.
"Going Back to Cali" - LL Cool J
You have to admire his staying power in the rap game. Hearing this again, though, reminds me how much I miss scratching in rap. Sampling now is so perfect and digital. When I bought the cassette of "Walking with the Panther" at Waxie Maxie's, I believe it was because I really liked "I'm That Type of Guy" and "Big Ole Butt," but this song is the one that sticks out to me now.
"Go West" - Pet Shop Boys
I remember the video to this song most. It was all about the homoerotic communist images then. Even though this song doesn't explicitly mention San Francisco or California, there's something about it that fits with the idea of California as a destination, some utopian comrades-in-arms kind of place. It just doesn't get any gayer.
"Take California" - The Propellerheads
When no one else is home and the blinds are drawn, I put on the Propellerheads and dance in my socks on the floor.
"San Francisco" - Village People
Wait, maybe it does get gayer than the Pet Shop Boys.
"Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" - Otis Redding
If anyone ever plays the Michael Bolton version of this song in your presence, shoot him immediately.
"Left My Heart in San Francisco" - Tony Bennett
I had to include this song. Itís a classic. Besides, if I do get kidnapped by that ritually sacrificing pagan gang of hippie gay biker drag queen vegetarians that all of the literature warns me about, I just may leave my heart (or at least a ventricle or two) in San Francisco.
Ain't He Cute
Sometimes Glenn likes to rough me up when I'm hogging the computer.
p.s. I officially miss him a lot now. I'm so lame.
March 23, 2004
And From Our London Desk
I've had a wonderful chat with Glenn who is in an internet cafe in London now. He's highly recommended a store called Eatmyhandbagbitch. Actually, he's only in love with its name, but that's enough.
Also, he's spending lots of time learning about the Knights Templar and such things. This (and learning how "heretic" is originally form haereticus, Latin for 'to choose') resulted in the following statement: "Your deep distrust of the church seems very well placed. I understand now more than ever."
Just don't tell my cousin Michael, the Monsignor.
March 22, 2004
You Cold Busted
"I saw an old friend and I told her, 'You look beautiful.' " Her reply: "I'm being told I'm beautiful by the biggest liar in journalism." - Jayson Blair on returning to our alma mater according to the The Reliable Source.
I bet he made that story up.
March 21, 2004
The District Sleeps Alone Tonight
On Friday I had one of those stupid work events that takes four months of planning and ten hours of my day and leaves me wondering why I do what I do when sometimes I think that no one I work with gets it. Such is the life of a public relations person in academe.
As I made sure the signs were correct and the banners were hung and the attendees were happy (or at least not vocally upset) and as I smiled my fakest of smiles and had my fifth Diet Pepsi since I woke at 5:00 AM, as all of this happened, the love of my life was waking slowly and prepping for his flight across the Atlantic.
If I love you, I will tear up just a bit when I get a text message that reads "on plane now love you christopher" (even if I'm also thinking that I need to teach you how to punctuate text messages).
So last night, I came home to an empty condo. I don't think I was prepared. Just me. Glenn somewhere between here and London. And I missed our cat. I'm glad that he's not suffering, but I just wanted something soft and warm to be happy to see me. It's selfish, I know. It's human too.
If I love you, I will make Pillow You to sleep in our bed when you are away (although Pillow Glenn doesn't seem to get my jokes the way the real one does).
Glenn and I are taking separate vacations this year. It happened sort of by accident. Like an O. Henry story. Because of obligations and timetables and airfare deals and assorted miscommunications, we're off by a week: I leave for San Francisco the day before he returns from London. But I'm very happy. I will love my trip. I need a change of scenery. I'm looking forward to meeting new and old friends. And I will love my return and once again seeing that smile that makes everything just a little easier.
I think I need to go fluff my pillow boyfriend now.
March 18, 2004
From the Desk of Harvey J. Whippersnapper
Sometimes it's fun to talk like my grandfather used to. Wow, Marty, those are some sharp slacks you're wearing there.
Go ahead. Try it.
March 17, 2004
The Devil is in the Details
I haven't had a black sheep of the day in a while. Some may think I'm being lazy. Honestly I was just extending my celebration of no name-calling week, bitches.
Today's object of shunning is Details magazine.
Forget that America's next Sonny Bono, Nick Lachey is the April issue's cover boy. (You know he's going to run for political office once his sitcom flops--how long can one make a career out of rolling his eyes? Just remember to be careful when you're skiing, Nick.)
When I flip to page 52, I come across the following:
"GAY OR ASIAN?
One cruises for chicken; the other takes it General Tso-style. Whether you're into shrimp balls or shaved balls, entering the dragon requires imperial tastes. So choke up on your chopsticks, and make sure your labels showing. Study hard, Grasshopper: A sharp eye will always take home the plumpest eel."
Wow, I didn't know it was an either/or thing. I'll be sure to tell my gay and Asian friends to get off the damn fence and pick a side already. They're almost as bad as those greedy bisexuals.
I think this also proves that most western people's contact with "Asian culture" can fit on a take-out menu. Oh, and watching the white man on Kung-Fu.
Could someone please explain the big deal about Kerry's comments concerning foreign leaders who would rather work with him than Bushie?
And the Bush campaign really doesn't have much room to speak about naming foreign leaders, does it?
March 16, 2004
You're pointing at him. You're saying, "Hey, you ... I know you. I know you."
How well do you know me? by way of him and him and her and legions of others.
I Am Icarus
That sound you just heard was my bookshelf crashing under the weight of the world.
Ever wish a week could start over?
Here's a fun game. The first geek who can identify the book in the center of the top shelf by its neon orange cover wins a mix cd from me.
March 15, 2004
This Weekend's Sights and Sounds
On Sunday, I watched him march in this. I thought the "Erin Go Braless" buttons were the tackiest St. Patrick's Day tchotchke I'd seen. Then I saw the "I'm Irish and I'm Stoned" ones (complete with shamrock on one side and pot leaf on the other). As proud as I am of my roots, I think I was pretty spot on when previously describing my feelings about this holiday.
Because I had a lot of other stuff going on this weekend, I was only able to catch one basketball game on Friday. This means I missed two stunning victories from my Terps, but thanks to the exceptional Kia, I was able to share in the joy of beating our arch-rivals with this photo:
I know. It's mean. It's wrong. But I can't stop laughing.
Oh, and Glenn clued me into Franz Ferdinand this weekend. Check them out.
March 12, 2004
Airport Fun with '90s Music Nostalgia
At Lunch, Glenn and I had to go to the airport to exchange some vouchers on Air Canada so he can go on a little vacation to London.
I also caught myself singing a rather unfortunately titled song that I found on an old CD I was listening to earlier today. Good thing I sing under my breath.
March 11, 2004
The Focus on the American Family Research Association of Concerned "Women"
Ahh, the joys of unscientific online polls. Radosh points you to the direction of the American Family Association's new poll on who you support for president. I'm surprised at how many American Families aren't supporting our President. Those demon liberals must be playing tricks on the American Family.
I went to the AFA's web site. Oh lordy, it's HATErrific!
Notice the logo in the upper left? That traditional Christian fish symbol intertwined with the letters AFA. Because apparently Jewish or Muslim families aren't really American. And don't even mention the Hindus or Buddhists or (Hera forbid!) Wiccans.
Also, I like how they use quote marks to question the legitimacy of things. As in this lovely sentence: 'Chapter two of the Massachusetts legislature's battle over legalizing same-sex "marriage" begins today (Thursday) at 2:00 Eastern time.'
I like this strategy and will be sure to use it. Thanks, "American" Family Association!
I'd also like to thanks their sista organization, the
The FRC also has this wonderful argument. 'The fundamental "right to marry" is a right that rests with individuals, not with couples.' This is a fancy way of saying gay boys can marry women--something Hollywood has shown us for years.
Wow, I think the FRC's Riyadh chapter web site had a similar comment. My Arabic's a little rusty, but I think is said something along the lines of "it's okay to chooseto be Christian (so long as you're discreet about it), but if you want to worship you really need to go to a mosque. Or be stoned. And not in the good, fun way that you were at the Grateful Dead show back in college, but the rocks and blood kind of way."
Oh, and will someone tell these "Concerned" "Women" for "America" to quit nagging Barney Frank on CNN and go make their husbands some goddamn dinner?
Reason No. 3,231.54 to Love Glenn
At the Columbia Heights Metro this morning, our hero sits on a bench waiting for a train. On either side of him is a young woman and a middle-aged man, both reading books. Enter our antagonist, also a middle-aged man. Glenn has already sized him up as someone with a bit of a superiority complex (years of living with me have made him an expert in deducing these things). He sits near the other middle-aged man and strikes up a conversation full of bravado, machismo, and other Italian words for assholish behavior. At one point, he looks at the other man's book... "That book's written by a woman, eh?"
Puzzled, the man next to Glenn says, "Huh? Oh, well yes. Yes, I suppose it is."
In those loud tones usually employed by the self-important, our antagonist bellows, "I've never been able to get books written by women."
The woman on the other side of Glenn looks up from her book. Glenn can see the anger swelling in her face. He turns to her and says, "Wow, I hear you guys can read now too."
Disarmed, she lets her anger fade to a smile. "Yes, we were just recently allowed to. It's been wonderful for us."
March 10, 2004
Feeling Like a Lily
I shrieked like a little girl last night while watching that stupid recap episode of America's Next Top Model. When a certain performer showed up at the girls' house to teach them how to walk (and some of them so needed it), I paused the TiVo and called Glenn into the room. He looked at the screen and said, "Is that....?"
Glenn and I shared a moment of nostalgia for the night he and I saw Kevin Aviance perform at Arizona, one of our long-gone DC haunts. Oh my, there was Tracks, Badlands, The Frat House, Diversité, Ozone, Cobalt before the fire. This used to be my playground.
But back to more important things like television... here's my prediction for next week's episode. The previews would lead you to believe that Shandi is going to sleep with one of those Italian men. I think she just hooks up with one, but doesn't go all the way. If you note she's crying and confessing on the phone with her boyfriend and you hear him scream "You slept with him?" and then you hear Shandi offer "I'm sorry!" through her tears. As someone who's watched entirely too many previews that don't deliver, I smell tricky editors making d-r-a-m-a. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Of course, I could be wrong and Shandi could have gone to the Trishelle Canatella School for Reality Stars and Wayward Girls.
I could so teach a class or two there.
March 09, 2004
Today during lunch I took Jimbo to pick up his car from the place where they make it look shiny and new like a Madonna lyric. On the way, we passed through the town where I grew up. It's changed a lot over the last 30 years, in good and bad ways. Indulge me as I take a brief walk down memory lane and share some unique things about my hometown:
There are turkeys named after it.
With an eponymous breed of poultry, it may sound like it's in the sticks to you, but it's not rural--at least not now. The turkeys were bred at a large government research facility there. One where, as suburban legend has it, a horrible accident occurred in the '40s.
True PG County kids know the deal. Straight boys used to scare their dates with this story. If their dates were stupid, that is.
As we drove up Route One, I pointed the Costco out to Jimbo. It used to be a drive-in movie theater. And sometime in the late 70s, it became a very special drive-in. It only showed adult films. A porn drive-in. Jealous yet?
Despite what many of my non-local friends think, it was not named after the beltway.
Unlike nearby Bowie, which can claim both JC Chasez of NSync and Kathie Lee Epstein Johnson Gifford, my hometown doesn't really have any celebrity sons or daughters. I think we can point to an Elvis impersonator who was "very big in New York City" and a girl whose breasts are shown in Porky's II: The Next Day.
It's a bizarre place, but it's home. When my freshman year college roommate found out where I grew up, he said, "That town's full of pretentious rednecks." Now, I won't deny my redneck past, but in defense of my hood, he came to this conclusion based on the fact that he worked there for a summer. As a telemarketer. Selling people meat. Over the phone. People who buy meat over the phone are very scary. People who sell meat over the phone are psychotic.
He beat off to porn magazines with old women in bondage, so I don't know that he was a good judge of anyone's character. Would you trust the opinion of someone who read a magazine proudly proclaiming it contained "Gagged Grannies" on its cover? Aside from Roger Ebert, I mean.
Besides he was from Calvert County which is truly redneck. Anyone who can conjugate irregular verbs would seem pretentious to him.
March 08, 2004
L-O-V-E Love, It's Coming Back, It's Coming Back
I love biking down the hill. I love the noise of the gears. I love being caught by a friend who says, "McCarthy, you look like a little kid on your bike in your sweatshirt. Is that a neighborhoodie?" And I love that it's not.
I love iTunes. I love Diet Pepsi. I love the knowing look the boy in line at the sandwich cart in my building's lobby gave me as I held the bottle up and at an angle to make sure I had a winner.
I love that it's a little chilly because it will make me love it even more when it finally once and for all gets nice again.
I love that Fischerspooner's "The 15th" makes me feel nostalgic. I love that I'm not exactly sure what for.
I love the way Interweb people take things seriously and then don't and then do again. I love that hypocrisy and irony are only different by a few degrees. I love that we are all in this together.
I love that the woman at the furniture store said this to me and Glenn about a couch we were looking at, "I just bought my first piece of big girl furniture for me and my girlfriend's place. It's a really cool feeling." I love this couch that we'll probably end up buying, even though it doesn't have arms and I thought I wouldn't love that, but I do.
I love it when people make me smile just by being them.
Sure He's Hot, But I Prefer Ecto-Mesomorphs
Thursday night, on his recommendation, I took the Match.com Physical Attraction Test. This weekend, I made all my friends take it. Thankfully Gurl has a computer lab in his house, so people could take the test on desktops, laptops, PDAs, cell phones, and wireless abacuses.
My results weren't too big of a shock. I'm most attracted to men:
--between 25 and 45
--who are "Ecto-Mesomorphs," with narrow chins and nicely angular faces
--with dark brown hair (sorry, Glenn)
--with either straight or wavy hair, but usually kept short
--with hairy chests
--who are "The Boy Next Door" or "Pretty Boy" types
According to the test this is what I think's hot
and what's not
Also, I prefer blue eyes; big, happy smiles; average noses; clean shaven faces; and men with a good head of hair.
Unlike all of my friends, I wasn't labeled as "picky." Rather, my results said I have a balanced approach to men and "recognize the difference between 'eye candy'... and more approachable cute guys." I'd say that's pretty true.
Fortunately for me, Glenn likes "button noses." I guess that means rhinoplasty isn't in my future (unlike some people).
March 05, 2004
Nature is a language. Can't you read?
Yesterday at lunch with Jimbo and Corey, I mentioned that I was a little nervous about something I was doing that evening. A blogger was in town for work, and I was going to meet him for dinner. Jimbo didn't understand why I was at all anxious.
We had been talking earlier about the guy who recognized Jimbo from his blog when we were at the HRC rally the night before. I mentioned that one day in Pentagon City I saw one half of the Beaverhausens but didn't want to go up and introduce myself. Jimbo was confused about that as well. Why would anyone be shy about that?
Of course, a large part of that is the difference between someone raised on the east coast and someone raised in the midwest. Unlike Jimbo and his viking ilk, I just don't talk to strangers. And when I do, I'm usually very cautious.
Sometimes I feel like there is an editor living in my head. Feet flat on the floor with perfect posture behind a large oak desk, he reviews each word before I say it. His red sharpie's prone to excise, elide, and erase my words before I have a chance to say them. Why do I give him such power? Maybe it's the stacks of examples in his files of when something slipped through the cracks. A montage of faux pas he replays to illustrate what not to do.
I think it's time I had a little one-on-one with Mr. Editor. He needs to grow more comfortable using my favorite proofreader's mark: stet. Let it stand. This is, after all, how we'd like it. Conversation should be easy, not calculated. It should flow and ebb and fill you with ideas and smiles and sympathy.
Fortunately for me, Michael of Chaos Factor was a complete joy to meet. He and I have some interesting things in common, and some interesting things that make us unique. We had a lovely conversation over dinner at Thaiphoon and enjoyed a nice walk around the neighborhood. DC is coming back to life, thawing out from a long winter. Hearing more about his life with his partner and sharing more about mine with Glenn, I felt completely comfortable. I'd say that's a sign of someone who I'm awfully lucky to get to know better. Hopefully, we'll be able to meet again some time soon.
I often have too much potential and need to get kinetic.
Why we haven't had a housewarming. But that floor looks nice, don't it?
I am so sorry we did this, A. A. Milne. It seemed funny at the time.
(You should see what I didn't post.)
If you donated money to HRC, this is your building.
I listen attentively. Sometimes.
March 03, 2004
I'll Take Blonde 80s Prime-Time Soap Stars for $400, Alex
Page Six today links this string of beauties to John Kerry: "Catherine Oxenberg, an actress and member of the Yugoslav Royal Family; 'Falcon Crest' actress turned Old Navy pitchwoman Morgan Fairchild; Ronald Reagan's daughter Patti Davis; and Michelle Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas. "
I'm sensing a pattern here. Morgan Fairchild was on "Falcon Crest" as well as the short-lived "Flamingo Road." Catherine Oxenberg was, of course, Amanda Bedford Carrington on "Dynasty." Michelle Phillips' turn as Anne Winston Matheson Sumner brought some blonde fire back to the cul-de-sac on "Knot's Landing" once America grew tired of Joan van Ark and Donna Mills.
Maybe I should contact my close personal friend Nicolette for more dirt on our future president.
March 02, 2004
A Question for the Fashionistas
When will Burberry come out with the Septimus Warren Smith parachute pants?
Blaming the Bushie
This morning, Glenn told me what the US Dollar is worth right now around the world, and I just got pissed at Bush all over again and blurted out, "It's bad enough we have to be treated as second-class citizens in our own goddamn country, the least the little fucker could do is let us have a good economy so we can escape for a few weeks."
March 01, 2004
The Best of All Possible Words
I'm a big fan of neologisms. In fact, I think I'm going to start a new section on the sidebar to the right listing my current favorites. Really, no one but me laughs at the shirtless straw poll anyway. It's ovah. Wes Clark is uber daddy hot to most people. Case closed.
So, I was toying with the idea of capturing some of my favorite words and phrases. Like project heat or accidental date.
One that I've recently come across is bleg (v. - to use one's blog to beg for assistance)
So, here's a bleg for you: does anyone, say someone who knows a lot about house music from the mid-nineties, know what song has lyrics that go something like "you lowdown, no-good-for-nothing, you took too much" and "hit the door, hit-hit-hit the door, get out." I've been thinking about that song lately and have no idea who did it or where I could find it.
There's part of me that thinks it also has lyrics like "she looks like she stepped out of Good Housekeeping on a bad day," but that could be another song I'm confusing it with. I was on lots of drugs at the time. (Just kidding... I was only on one.)
Look Ma, It's Me, Next to the Ad for NakedSword!
Thanks to the good folks at Cybersocket for including me in their rundown of gay bloggers. Now I have something to put on the refrigerator next to Glenn's report card.