"Cookie Monster on a STICK!"

As the questioning of Samuel Alito starts rolling, I'm less and less impressed with the facade he's presenting. No big surprise - we all expect these judgey-types to be slippery, especially when faced with the oversized Senator egos on the Judiciary Committee. Even those of us that aren't lawyers but read about the relevant cases know when we're hearing code. With John Roberts, you got buckets of charm thrown in the mix. With this dude, you get icy disdain. Can you imagine him as a Dad? Oy. Break curfew and you're SOOO screwed. But think of adding him to a BigDaddy triumverate with Scalia and Thomas and imagine the sort of chores they'll come up with. Hella-Oy. I fear that the most honest thing he's said thus far was yesterday during his opening statement when he bashed the debauchery he saw from some of those around him while at Princeton. Obviously, Alito wasn't a "party" sorta guy. No, this guy was the pooper to end all poopers. Now he's poised to ascend to the Big Show unless he has a sudden onset of Tourette Syndrome and gives Senator Sam Brownback a new nickname (as if he needs one). Mega-Oy-Yoy-Yoy.

Speaking of outbursts, Maya's verbal gymnastics have taken on a new characterization for me. To get the idea, think of the body waxing scene in "The 40-Year-Old Virgin" (my favorite epiteth - "Kelli Clarkson!). I'll try to get up a few audio files showcasing her range. Otherwise, she's diggin' the Mac 'n Cheese, psyched to have an ankle deep layer of new toys from the Holidaze scattered throughout the apartment, and ready to start interviewing new nanny candidates. Our past attempts have been miserable failures, but the new round looks promising. If anything especially ridiculous comes up, I'll pass it along. Hope your own screening processes yield welcomed surprises. Rock on.