Umm.

I don't get it. I don't get you, Mr. Bush.

HANOI, Nov. 17 — In his first day in the capital of a country that was America’s wartime enemy during his youth, President Bush said today that the American experience in Vietnam contained lessons for the war in Iraq. Chief among them, he said, was that “we’ll succeed unless we quit.”
—"Bush Cites Lessons for Iraq in Vietnam," The New York Times, today.

Here's an idea: let's take our cues from the (other) most idiotic war we've ever fought, the one we finally, after years and years of pointless bloodshed and protest pulled out of, the one we LOST, horribly and miserably and other words that mean really really badly screwed up. I don't even have anything clever to say at this point about how much of an idiot monkeyman he is, a thickheaded brush-wackin' fuckup, all I can do is that thing where you tickle your lips and go "buh buh buh," indicating you're exasperated to the point where your mind isn't working.

Of mice and pigeons and hallway sex and me

So, I'm back. I don't want to hear your complaints because I know you don't have any. Stupid internet.

This past weekend was quite the momentous one, as three friends were in town and in charge, and we basically walked the entire island of Manhattan in a few days ("Let's be just like Sex and the City!!"). We saw everything and did as much as we could, and I was a good little tourist. Really, I hardly complained. There were only a few mishaps, which I will now enumerate.

1. While we were fighting for our lives and sidewalk space among the teeming masses in evil sick Times Square hell, I felt something fall on my head. "Who would throw something in my hair?" I said. Oh, a pigeon would. A pigeon would definitely poop on my head, just to reaffirm that I do not, in fact, belong in Times Square and will be punished accordingly for forgetting that. Luckily we had water and napkins on hand, and a hat. Sick. To the left, my head, after most of the poo was vanquished.

2. Sunday morning, my cat caught and killed a tiny mouse and was playing with it in the hallway. He was quite proud, and I almost peed my pants. I don't mind bugs, spiders, or abnormally large seagulls, but I do not like rodents. And I really don't like them dead and in my house and making a sad "I'm a dead tiny mouse" face. After panicking and backing away, I tried calling a few friends of the male persuasion to help, until I realized that I was being ridiculous and we swept it into a dustpan and I took it outside to its final resting place in the corner garbage can. I also took it outside wearing the previous night's heels, boxers, and an inappropriate T-shirt advertising porn.

3. Sunday night at 11 PM, my roommate came in and said, "There are two people having sex in our hallway." Me: "What? No, there are not." Her: "Oh yes, there are." I went to peep through the peephole, and sure enough, two people (who probably came from the club downstairs because it was not our neighbors) were banging against the wall five feet from our front door. After a sufficient amount of peeping time, I jiggled the lock on our door and they bolted. Dirty bastards.

Other than those three things and some other minor occurrences, the weekend went swimmingly and a good time was had by all. I'm guessing those people in the hallway might have had the best time though, until we busted them for dirtying our environs.