Show me your 'O' Face

I just hope it doesn't look like this:

I should give these people the benefit of the doubt, because I have no idea what crazy face I would make if Oprah had just given me a new car that hadn't even been released yet so only the silhouette of which could be revealed, a scholarship, built me my own school in my African village or took me on a trip down under. My O face might look very different.

Perhaps something like this.

This is what I look like on my birthday. I imagine Oprah makes everyone feel like it's their birthday when they visit Harpo Studios. Unfortunately for me, I'll never know.

[Also, I was very generous with the picture selection of my O face. This is unfair to the people shown above and for that, I apologize. But, it is my blog. And you met Oprah. So we're even.]

The one time I did meet Oprah, was at the Academy Awards in 2004. I use the word meet loosely, as we were about 60 feet away and there was no formal introduction. Unless she has excellent hearing and heard me whisper "I love you Oprah" from the bleacher seats, which I'm sure she does and did. She was radiant. As my three friends and I ate our free bread (the only thing the fine Academy gave to us "bleacher creatures" in the 9ish hours we sat out there), I dreamt of being able to talk to her, to have a conversation with the icon herself. Ask her a question. What in the world would I ask her? Instead she went to Maria Menounos who asked her, "Who are you wearing?" What a waste of a question, Menounos. I should've slapped Maria when I saw her again in Park City this last January for Sundance and simply said, "That's for Oprah."

Okay, now I'm just dropping names.

Oprah has been on the air 93% of my life. I've never known a world where Miss Winfrey did not exist. However, Oprah and my relationship didn't really blossom until I was in college. In a world before DVR's, I wasn't able to watch Oprah on a daily basis as I was probably running around a soccer field or track through most of my middle and high school days. When I was in college, I was usually home in the afternoons to watch her show. College is probably the best age to start watching Oprah because now you've seen a little bit of what happens outside of your hometown-albeit I was in Corvallis, OR which was voted one of the most liveable towns in the nation. Although, 'The Oprah Show' did have an unfortunate connection with Corvallis when a young woman, Brooke Wilberger, was kidnapped from an apartment building and later murdered, and Oprah interviewed Wilberger's parents.

Love or hate her [there usually seems to be no middle road with O] you must give credit where it is due. This woman changed television and further than that, she changed lives. And we watched her change along with us. It's easy to invite people onto your show to engage in a staged and intimate quarrel for entertainment value, but it is quite another to take an interest in someone's life and help them improve it. Sometimes this was in the form of material items, but most often other times, it was giving them validation. Hey guess what, I care. It's something we don't say enough to the people in our own lives and it was such an apropros message she shared on her finale yesterday. People need to feel a sense of validation. That they matter.

And if nothing else, she gave us "Oprah voice." It's one of my favorite ThIIIIIIiiiinnngggs!

Note: I have come to love and often use Oprah voice on friend's birthdays, holidays, and sometimes just for kicks on their voicemails. I've tried to transfer this onto the wall's of Facebook, but it's just not the same. I think this has been Oprah's biggest impact on me. And it makes people smile, so that's enough. Thanks for helping me get a laugh out of my friends, O.

Cheers, Oprah. You done good. Now start writing your book already.

“Find your calling. It lights you up and it let’s you know you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to do and you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. You in your own way can illuminate the world.” -Oprah Winfrey 5/25/11

Run the World.

What the what is going on here?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p72UqyVPj54

These last two weeks have been harsh on the hip hop music industry. First, with the right-wing protesting Common's appearance at the White House and now a feminist youtuber angered at Beyonce singing a positive song meant to uplift the power that girl's have (see link above).

"Nineteen percent" has posted a video that attacks Beyonce's new single "Run The World (Girls)." Her main complaint is that factually speaking, women don't run the world.

I like the song. And I love Beyonce.

Music is a platform. Yes, issues can be brought to our attention through these mediums. Musicians are called artists. They create art to then be interpreted by whoever chooses to consume it. They're not called "truth-telling rappers" or "non-fiction divas." They're just rappers. And divas. You can choose to not like it. You can choose to love it. But my problem lies in this youtube video where it seems that this woman, nineteen percent, has a vendetta against Beyonce herself rather than her song. A good old fashioned case of girl-on-girl crime...brought on by, a feminist?

Let's take a closer look:

First, "Girls who run the world" is not the name of her song. If you are going to be nitpicky over "social and historical inaccuracies," I think I bear the right to be picky about you at least getting the nomenclature correct before you slaughter Beyonce.

On that note, second, Beyonce is not taking us on a historical account of the unfairness against women. Instead, this song is one of empowerment to make girls feel like they can do anything. Much like Nas in his song "I can" or Common's "It's your world" or even Michael Jackson's "We are the World." What about Cyndi Lauper's, "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun?" Is that ALL girls really want? I'd like to see the poll numbers Ms. Lauper took on this being the only priority of females.

Third, don't mock girl power in your condescending tone. This is nothing new. Not something that Sasha Fierce herself invented. And to mock the progression of women in general? Please.

Talking about female babies being killed in other country's in the same breathe as talking about Beyonce's song is ridiculous.

It's easy to say, "wow, I can't believe that there are still inequities in race and sex." Ideas don't die with people. Of course idiots still breathe among us with these ideals.

So for me, instead I look at the progression. The big picture.

Who is our Secretary of State?

Who is Forbes most influential person right now?

Who are the top selling authors this month?

And who wrote the top grossing film of this last weekend's box office?

[Clinton, not Bill.

Gaga

Sara Gruen (Fiction) & Chelsea Handler (Non-Fiction)

Kristen Wiig & Annie Mumolo]

I believe they are all in possession of a pair of ovaries.

Fourth, you claim that you are "hard pressed to find any hip hop lyrics that don't refer to women with derogatory names." Lucky for you, my music library is further established than what you might have on your list that may only consist of what iTunes suggests for you:

Try Common (yes, the same Common who Fox News wanted banned from the White House because of his controversial lyrics): "For in these cold star night's moon, you my light. If heaven had a height, you would be that tall."

Or Abstract Rude: "I've been jonesin to see my girl. It's the way that she makes me feel. Daydreaming about you all day. Thinking of being with you always."

Or Fabolous feat Neyo: "I'm a movement by myself but I'm a force when we're together. You make me better."

Fifth, trying to patronize B by calling her "Mrs. Carter" weakens your entire argument being about the song and sounds more of an attack on her. As if (a) she wouldn't have her success if she wasn't married to Jay Z and (b) perpetuating an old-fashioned feminine ideal that women aren't as powerful once they're married. If we recall, Beyonce has been a star since about the age of 17. I remember because I saw her at Z100's 'Last Chance Summer Dance' when I was in high school. She was a single lady. Jay Z liked her and put a ring on it years later.

I think your time would be better spent dissecting a song that really dehumanizes women. Like Lil Jon telling b*tches to crawl. I think this really sets us back. You know, as far as evolution goes and women not being able to even have the capability or permission to walk. For some reason, I find this to be more problematic.

Beyonce is encouraging ladies to do their piece to run their world. Also, I don't know if this hurts my case, but B didn't even write the song. Guess who did?

A man.

Thank You Notes

In the fashion of Jimmy Fallon, I have my own "Thank You Notes" to send this week:

Thank you random woman at the Winterhawks game I just met 5 minutes ago in a suite we were happening to share. I really appreciated your response to my affirmative answer regarding my single status: “Ahh…don’t you feel like you were the animal not picked for Noah’s ark? I know I did.” Hmm…I didn’t realize the consequences of being single were as serious as being left to drown in the rains of a flood. Thank you for enlightening me with this new and profound perspective. What is it you do for a living again? You squeeze the simple joy of life from one stranger at a time? Well good. It’s always great to have someone with a little perspective.

Thank you bitches in el bano on Cinco de Mayo for the terrible gossip you shared with your stall mates about some anonymous girl at the bar. It really enforced how mean girls really are. From what I gather, you were “frenemies” in high school and now she has a prestigious position with Bergdorf in NYC. Good for her. I think talking about what shoes she was wearing and the way her hair was did, is the best way to “get back at her success." Certainly not by making your own life better. You can stand on someone else’s shoulders if you’d like to feel tall. But I’d suggest buying your own ladder.

Thank you student in my class who claimed that a man named 'Baraka Osama' is the leader of the free world. I could blame spell check, but I'm not sure any word in the English language would auto-correct to 'Baraka.' But maybe my expectations are too high. It isn't that important to know who your president is, right? Just who got voted off of American Idol last night.

Thank you 5’8” Asian girl in my ballet class who weighs 90 pounds for doing the splits while lying on your back while the rest of us participated in resistance exercises. We get it, you’re better than us and super flexible- that’s something we'll just have to deal with. Now go home and eat a burrito immediately.

Thank you Seth Meyers for revealing on this past SNL's 'Weekend Update' that you had a girlfriend. I thought you would be my animal pair that would grant me clearance onto Noah's Ark. But now, now it looks like I'll need a pair of waders like Al Roker's that he's been rocking while standing in the Mississippi flood waters to report eye witness coverage. Hey guess what Roker (and ALL other journalists)? The view is the same from dry land & we're not going to watch your channel over another just because you got in the dirty water. We know you're getting out and airlifted to your five star hotel the moment the tape cuts.

Thank you Seattle Department of Licensing for only staffing three workers when you have about 60 people waiting to be helped. I especially enjoyed sharing close quarters with the ill senior (who probably shouldn’t be driving anyway) who disregarded covering his mouth in between his frothy coughs where he would definitely hack something up, swallow it, only to begin hacking at it again. Sick. A newspaper 7 inches in front of your face, old man, does not suffice as a barrier between your germs and the rest of us. Also, thanks for brushing and flossing this morning.

Thank you Jon Stewart for being on right before my bedtime and always ending my week days in hilarity. I know you're married, but unlike Seth, you don't rub it in my face.

Thank you Olivia Grace for existing (maybe I should be thanking your parents-which is gross. That’s my brother). By just looking at a picture of your chubby little face and into those big dark eyes, I remember that it isn’t all worth getting worked up over. We shouldn’t stress about the little things. And apparently, they’re all little things.

But it does feel better to write them down and see the humor in it all.

Duck Poop

Yesterday I spent a beautiful afternoon at Alki Beach in West Seattle. I was so mesmerized by the cloudless sky and the beaming sun while walking on the shoreline staring across the Sound to downtown Seattle, that I hadn’t realized all the duck feces that littered the ground below me. I checked both my soles and seemed to be in the clear but scraped them along the curb anyway. That’s the thing about sunny days. Even when surrounded by bliss, the duck poop lurks.

Which brings me to a segment, I’d like to call, “If you don't have something supportive to say, eat your scrambled egg before it goes bad."

To all those “birthers” waving around their transparent zip loc bags holding the remains of an un-hatched chicken fetus still demanding Obama’s birth certificate, I think he’s passed your test. With the outstanding execution of those 24 extremely courageous troops under the orders of our President, the most notorious man has been brought to justice. Every single American that was alive on that fall day remembers where they were on the morning of 9-11. I'm probably one of the least violent people you'll meet, but I have to take the 'Dexter' mentality here. I'm not confident the world will change in any significant way by way of terrorists, but I do know that sometimes the world is a better place without evil. This man was evil and because of him and his buddies, we have a collective image of death forever lodged into our memories and for the unluckiest, fragmented families because he led to their end.

[I was sitting in my room getting dressed. I had late start that day so I was slowly getting ready for school when mom told me to turn on the TV. I cried. Then I went to school where I walked in a fog all day. Life is confusing at 17. Even moreso when you will now have an image of 3,000 people being mass murdered engraved in your brain. Man, the world is more confusing than if he thinks I'm cute and will ask me to prom. I still have the papers from 9/12. One image shows a man jumping to his death, head first. I think he’d be pleased with yesterday’s events and want to shake the hands of our SEAL's and our President.]

“Obama shouldn’t take credit! He didn’t start the war!” Yes, you’re absolutely right. When the war started, Obama wasn’t the President and therefore, did not start the war. Bush did. Bush did not find Osama in his tenure as President. And who could blame him-Osama was holed up in a cave somewhere, right?

Well, I don’t know where the SOB has been for the last 10 years, but yesterday he seemed to be living the life of riches on a beautiful Pakistani day. Then he stepped in some serious duck poop. Game over. [Enter “Super Mario’s Brother’s” music here for affect]

So it is 2011. We are 5 months away from hitting the decade mark of 9-11. And in that almost 10 years, those images still have the capacity to give me a physical reaction. When I’ve visited Ground Zero, once in 2006 and on September 11, 2009, it has been a debilitating experience. My heart has never been so heavy standing on the city grave of thousands of Americans. You’re angry, sad, disgusted; you’re all of it. I know it sounds cliche, but when you're standing there, it's pretty remarkable.

After coming home from my day at Alki, I was reading & growing frustrated of the book because there’s way too many characters and it’s getting to be a bit much, but I must finish it. It’s the third book and I am 300 pages away from Lisbeth Salander freedom. So in my dedication to the book, I put it down and turned on the TV to channel surf instead. I landed on CNN and was just getting up to put in a movie. And there was the scroll of Breaking News.

“Obama will be making a serious announcement about our National Security.”

My first thought was that we were under attack again and quickly scanned the internet. Then John King came on and said, “Osama Bin Laden is dead. The US has his body.” John King, great delivery by the way. You could definitely feel the weight that this moment both brought and lifted. I also snickered at the thought of the very serious Republican-to-be candidate Donald Trump, grabbing a pre-made “Trump ‘12” sticker off his gold plated desk and crumpling it up. Then telling himself, “I did good. I did a really good job trying, I am proud of myself.” Then being equally sad when he later saw the ratings of ‘The Celebrity Apprentice’ for that night. Apparently his viewers were tuned into Fox News where the headline read “Usama Bin Laden dead.”

In my naivete, I was pretty certain people would be proud that we'd brought this mo-fo down. I also thought that credit would be given to our troops and oh right, our President. Boy was I wrong. Yes, the President does not operate within a vacuum alone; he is surrounded by aids and advisors for which we should be lucky that he doesn’t make decisions alone and has full control (see photo below). Well, maybe we would prefer this...seeing the current obsession with Monarchies and the Fairytale land of where real life Dukes & Dutchesses actually roam city streets outside of the pages of a classic novel (that I'm sure no American is reading unless it's a round flat disc that reads 'Disney').

I digress.

He is our COMMANDER IN CHIEF, which means we follow his orders. He is not simply a seat warmer to the desk chair in the Oval Office which people have also degenerated the highest office to the land to be which is disgusting.

[Secretary of State Clinton's face says everything you can't hear in this photo]

The conclusion I have drawn is that no matter what he achieves, even if it is something a Republican claims to have wanted, if Obama gets us there, there will be no satisfaction or credit. There will always be the person who has just quenched their thirst with haterade to say, “but he didn’t do this” or “well, he doesn’t deserve the credit. So-and-So did it.” I think it’s pretty ridiculous but usually it is the unsung heroes who do wondrous things and we recognize that somewhere in a dusty history book years later.

We all need to come off the high seat of either the back of the elephant or donkey we sit upon, and give credit where it is due. Stop acting with the maturity of second grade children on opposing ball teams. "No I grabbed it first! Nah-uh..Sssshe touched it last!" Just stop. Let me make you some eggs.

And if you can't, I know this beautiful park in Alki beach we should go for a walk in...

"Shoes? Nah... you should definitely go barefoot."

Reading is Sexy

Caution: After reading this blog, you may question your friendship with me. That is if we have one.

I'm a nerd. So there, it's out there.

Recently, I've been in the throws of Stieg Larsson's "Millenium series" or better known to others as "The girl...(1)With the Dragon Tattoo, (2) Who Played with Fire, and (3) Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest."

About 20 minutes ago, I finished book 2 and unlike book 1, it ended on a major cliffhanger. I have little patience or room for uncertainty in my life and whenever it can be found, I'm on it.

I put my request for the third book into the library a couple days ago. For those novices or virgins of the library, you can go online and hold books at your local library with your card number (yes, you must have a card first). When they're ready, they email you, you go in to pick it and bam. All for free. Life is just that simple sometimes.

Being that I hadn't received an email from the library, I looked up the prices at B&N, since it is conveniently located about 2.5 blocks from me. If it was in paperback, I'd consider purchasing it however, I hate the idea of not owning an entire series and just having the third book. It's a part of set and I had borrowed the other two from the library. I was two steps from walking down to B&N when I decided to look at my library account.

I signed on and clicked on the check status of requested materials tab. And there were the most perfect words: Available for pick-up ::Cue in the angelic voices:: Then I saw that the library closes at 6pm on Fridays. What? Does nobody study in the library on Fridays anymore?

[I actually don't think through all of my years of schooling that I ever did homework on Fridays. Seriously, ever. It just didn't seem right and felt like I should be having fun. You don't see Rebecca Black singing about "we..we...we...gonna study." No, it's "we..we...we...gonna party."]

It was 5:44pm.

I literally switched sweats for jeans, grabbed my keys, left my phone, and ran to my car. I parked in a "loading only" zone and jogged into the library to the hold shelf. And there was my book. Just waiting to tell me the rest of the story.

Needless to say, I got back home at 5:59pm.

Boom.

Thoughts on Vinyl.

As much as I would describe myself as a pretty modern girl, I have my traditional side. I like to read books that have actual pages to turn (Kindle=Fail), I like a boy who opens doors, and I have a slight obsession of listening to music on a record player. I may still own an iPod and I can't say that on occasion I can't be found snuggling up with my iPad in bed listening to iTunes. Spoken like a true single girl of the 21st century.

[Yes, that is 'Master's of The Universe.' My namesake comes from that cartoon, so no making fun.]

While my collection is quite modest (I'm working on it), these are artists and songs that I truly love. BEATLES. Billy. ELTON. Simon & Garfunkel. MICHAEL. Temptations. WHITNEY. Listening to them with the imperfections of the needle meeting the spinning record makes me feel like I'm living in an entirely differently world. And my thoughts spin right around with it to that other place. But even though I may wander, I'm here. In it.

I learned this phrase in one of my favorite movies, "Garden State," which coincidentally features one of my favorite artists found in the picture above (guesses on which one?). Sam, Natalie Portman's character, makes the following statement to Zach Braff's character, Andrew, when she sees him trying to work through something internally:

"You're in it right now, aren't you?"

I feel that I am constantly "in it." This is probably abnormal and not a common experience of the greater humanity, but I've come to terms with my eccentricities. Seldom is it that I let any moment fleet without some recognition for its presence. I contemplate it, I read it, I write it, and stew in it. This is both a blessing and a curse. Never will anything be taken for granted, I live by the seat of my pants and I try to find reasons of why to do something rather than why not to do it.

-Go to Greece to Study Abroad for a term? Sure. Thanks Kristen, Megan, Sarah, & Jenna

-Stand in a freezing crowd for Obama's HistoricalInauguration? Wouldn't miss it for the world. Thanks Carey, Ashley & Ryan

-Spend Thanksgiving with the most famous ginormous balloons in all of the land for the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade? I can't think of anything better. Thanks Carey, Hether, & Steph.

-Go watch some films at the Sundance Film Festival? Sounds fun. Thanks Sarah, Hether & Kristin.

-Go Ziplining in the WINTER through Whistler? I guess I'll put my fear of heights aside. Thanks Derrick and Jamie.

-Road trips to Crater Lake, Palm Springs/Disneyland, Canada, San Fran? Who's car are we taking? Thanks Marci, Kris, Sarah, Nicole, Chris, Lisa, Keegan, Mandiy, Renee, Cimone

Sidenote: Being "in it" is made easier when you have fantastic family & friends along for the journey

We arrange things in our schedule to make it fit in. We talk about it. We plan for it. We save money for it. Then for one reason or another, it won't happen and we'll find ourselves looking at just one more thing we didn't do because of whatever other bothersome task was on our desk/inbox/mailbox/doorstep. Then the fatal classic line is uttered: "Well, maybe some other time."

[and the record spins....]

I despise this way of living. Wait, that's not strong enough. I hate this way of living. And I hardly use the word "hate", unless I am talking about the mushy nastiness and bitterness that is inside the firm and misleading fruit(?) of the tomato. I understand that planning must take place for certain tasks and adventures, but it's the lack of follow through that I see way too often that makes me shudder. What are we waiting for? You could wake up dead tomorrow.

I guess I learned this way of thinking from my wonderful mother who lives in it. She left for Barbados today. To live. All because of the timing of putting her job application into a pool on a random weekday back in November, not thinking much of it besides, "well that might be interesting and fun." And here she is today, as my fingers type these letters, in an aircraft, soaring over the Caribbean, with what I hope are highly caffeinated pilots working with even more caffeinated air traffic controllers. I wouldn't have done HALF of those previously mentioned items had it not been for you telling me to go and do it. You really have no idea the space your presence takes in my heart. I couldn't of dreamt of a better life.

And so I challenge you friends, stop participating in America's favorite past-time of procrastination. And be in it for the moment, and do it. Because mom says it's okay.

Whatever your "it" is.

"The only limits are in our minds."

-Colum McCann "Let the Great World Spin." -Not read on an eBook :)

HappyThankYouMorePlease

I moved to Seattle just a few short weeks ago, but today Portland required my attendance.

My one and only big brother turned 30. My family wasn't expecting me as I excused my presence with the obligation of my first day of work the next day. Everyone understood, of course. But for me, work doesn't come first. My family does. And if that means driving 350 miles in a day, I'm at the wheel. Especially when I have my good friend to accompany me one way of the trip.

Let's take a look at this weekend.

It started off with an AM phone chat with my mom over coffee about her upcoming move to Barbados. I wanted to solidify my visit before her departure. So my ticket to visit her for TWO WHOLE WEEKS has been booked for June. I could not be more excited.

After the chat and a run, I headed to the train station to pick up one of my oldest (in tenure, not in age) girlfriends who had hopped on the Amtrak on Saturday morning for a 24 hour trip to come see my new home and give me some decorating tips. She has outstanding taste and happens to make her living off her talents and interests as an interior designer. We didn't get much done on that front, but we did manage to watch about 1.5 of our favorite movies. Except she didn't make it through the first one:

"I didn't even see Pippi make it to land."

[One of my favorite quotes of the weekend]

Her, my other oldest friend that lives up here, and I, have more laughs in a 2 hour span than the funny bone ever intended or thought the body could allow.

Sunday was my brother's 30th birthday. His lovely wife had planned a little surprise family get-together for that evening. I threw both my mom and dad off course on Sunday morning phone calls that consisted of a faux plan of the day that included spring cleaning and prepping for my first day of classes tomorrow at my new job. In reality, I was headed to "Tubs," my brother's very favorite sammy place that happens to now be down the street from me and then hitting I-5 South to make it in time for birthday festivities.

When I pulled up to my brother's, I was giddy just as the sight of seeing the cars of my family members. I'm a sucker for family get-togethers and really love having us all in the same space, even if just for a little while. My brother was oh-so surprised for his Tub's sandwich... and to see his little sister of course. I was equally excited to see my 30 year old brother and the face of my very favorite person in the world that belongs to a certain 5-month old.

Simply can't get ENOUGH of my niece. I marvel at her every action. She grabs. She drools. She talks (in her very own language). She fixates. She smiles. She cries. This last part has been dubbed "pulling a Teela" as I apparently did this a lot as a child when my mom was out of my peripheral.

She is incredible and makes my heart fill with an uncontrollable amount of love.

As we continually make this vertical climb on the age ladder (the next rung seemingly quicker than the previous years), if we're lucky, we come to take nothing for granted. Not the five-minute phone call to say hello, not the thought of knowing you have a handful of spectacular people in your world that would literally drop anything they were doing for you. Like buying a last minute $50 train ticket to see your friend for 24 hours.

I've realized that I have people in my life that it excites me to be in the company of and am indebted to be apart of their story. People that you want to take little pieces of and place them in your heart for safekeeping. Their wonder is awe-inspiring and you wish that you could elongate these moments and move horizontally instead. One of these people is my big bro. He's my one and only sibling, the one who completely understands my history as he lived by my side underneath our blanket forts we systematically constructed over the Nintendo/Sega and created the silly games that only children can imagine up. Like slithering across the living room floor in a given path while trying to elude ones self from the alarm system. Alarm censor light blinks=You're not winning. Or agreeing to help me make Kool Aid without the supervision of the parents on Sunday mornings and not ratting me out when more of it ends up on the floor giving it a nice sticky pink glow, rather than the destination of the pitcher.

We've celebrated many birthdays together and today his daughter got to help him blow out his birthday candles. Drooling, blowing air, they both extinguish flames and our signature birthday cake from Helen Bernhard's is just as sweet if not sweeter.

Driving back to Seattle at day's end with the joy of the last couple hours I got to spend with my family was evident. It wasn't until I noticed my face getting sore that I realized I had been smiling for the past hour.

Oh, and now I have this to play with.

[iPad!]

I guess in the true nature of a younger child, I get presents on my brother's birthday too.

[Blog Title Credit: Josh Radnor, star of CBS' "How I Met Your Mother" & writer/director of "HappyThankYouMorePlease." Premiered at Sundance 2010, hopefully coming to DVD/BluRay soon.]