Hot Cranky People

I don’t even remember how I found it, but for the last few weeks I have been glued to the San Diego Zoo’s Panda Cam. They have a tiny baby giant panda. And her giant panda mom. Snuggling. Sleeping. Eating. Rolling around. Oh my god. The cuteness. It hurts. I’m doubled over from the cute.

Somehow seeing this tiny bear has triggered some insane panda obsession over which I have no control.

I scour the web for panda photos.

I read every article I can find about the 16 baby pandas at the Wolong Giant Panda Research Center in China. 16 baby pandas. It’s just too much. The cuteness. Are they trying to kill me? 16. Baby pandas. SIXTEEN BABY PANDAS.

And then I hit the panda motherlode: pandafix.

Holy crap. The cuteness knows no bounds. It haunts me. I want that baby panda. I want to squeeze it. I want to put it on my head. Baby panda on my head!

I think I need help.

And yes, it has taken every ounce of remaining anti-cute in my soul to not name this entry “Panda-monium”.

I present to you…

The Cavalcade of Bad Nativities.

One of my favorites:

Marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers. Nothing says Christmas like a batch of Jesus S’Mores.

Check out the rest. It’s good stuff.

Animal Crossing is the game that convinced me to purchase my GameCube a couple of years ago, and the release this week of the sequel, Animal Crossing - Wild World has convinced me to purchase a Nintendo DS just to play this game.

It’s too hard to describe the game accurately to anyone who hasn’t played, but those who have understand it’s irresistable charms, I’m sure.

Right now my character is wearing a “post-op patch” over one eye, and a giant afro.

There’s a lunar lander in my house.

And I bought insurance from an otter this morning.

What’s not to love?

Any friends out there who are playing and want to visit my town, shoot me an email with your code and player/town info. I’ve got pears, and in a day or so I should have blooming trees with all the other fruits. Except coconuts. I could use a coconut. Hook me up.

About a month ago, I started battling an irrational craving for buffalo wings. The last time I ate a buffalo wing was around 2002, but some friends mentioned them and suddenly it sounded like the BEST FOOD EVER. I resisted, however.

Just before Thanksgiving I saw the new Harry Potter movie in a theater that smelled like buffalo wings. For almost 3 hours. I even leaned over to my mother a few minutes in and asked, “Do you smell buffalo wings? WHERE IS IT COMING FROM?”

We left the theater and there, across the parking lot, was a gleaming beacon of hope. A giant sign for a place called…wait for it… The Buffalo Cafe.

“WHAT IS THAT PLACE? LET’S GO THERE.”, I commanded.

So I had wings. And man they were good. I assumed that this would get it out of my system, but the plan backfired and ever since then it’s all I want to eat.

I’ve had them twice more since then.

I’m like a shark who has had a taste of blood.

Spicy, tabasco blood, with a side of blue cheese.