on fat fingers, a phat niece and phony flatulence

A couple of the fingers on my left hand had an unfortunate run-in with a car door this weekend. Fortunately, nothing is sprained but my middle and index fingers aren't quite as bendy as they could be. In other words, Part 13 will be coming along as soon as my crippled fingers can type it up. Thanks for your patience.

In brighter news, I taught The Adorable Five-Year-Old Niece the art of the breakdance-off... using an American Girl doll.

See, we took my mother out for a birthday lunch yesterday. To keep the niece entertained in the car on the way there, I sang an a capella "Din Daa Daa" while making her doll do The Worm, The Running Man and several dope back and head spins. I then pointed the doll's hand in the direction of the niece and said, "Now you!"

The niece didn't miss a beat. She sang the song, caught the vibe, thrashed around a bit and then challenged my younger sister by stylishly -- and fiercely -- pointing at her. Wee girlfriend put Ozone and Turbo to shame. It was all really quite fabulous and made me just a bit verklempt.

Oh and she also recently learned how to do armpit farts. I swear I had NOTHING to do with it. No seriously, I can't even make that noise myself so there's no way I could teach her. When I try to do it, the only thing you hear is flapping and slapping. Therefore, I am not responsible for the armpit farts. Palm of the hand farts, on the other hand...