Friday, August 31, 2007


A few things that I am powerless against:
  • Queso and chips
  • Vinho Verde
  • Puppy bellies
  • Baby heads
  • Rufus's voice
  • Artichoke dip
  • A good neck rub
  • "Mr. Show"
  • Office supply stores
  • Autumn
  • A really good avocado
  • Garnets
  • Roy Orbison
  • Onion rings
  • Belly laughs from little kids
  • Clean sheets
  • An interesting biography or autobiography
  • Most documentaries
  • Big orange and white cats
  • The opportunity for a nap
  • "The Office"
  • Popcorn at the movies
  • "The National Enquirer"
  • Justin Timberlake
  • Fritos and bean dip
  • A nice smile
  • Celebrity gossip websites
  • Mosquito bites
  • Willie Nelson
  • La Croix sparkling water
  • The Geej
  • Goat cheese
  • Nice male forearms
  • A well made dirty vodka martini
  • R. Kelly's "Trapped in a Closet"
  • Fried catfish
  • Jon Stewart
  • Hee-Haw
  • Hounds
  • "Uncle Buck"
  • The smell of a really clean house

Thursday, August 30, 2007

A year ago today...

...I was in the hospital, beginning a journey that, quite literally, nearly sucked the life out of me. At the time, I longed for the day when I would be able to look back on it and have it seem like a distant memory, and now here I am, able to do just that.

I am still somewhat phobic of hospitals, and I have at least a couple of dreams a month in which I'm institutionalized or in some sort of hospital environment where I can't escape and nobody I love knows I'm there. At least I don't wake from those disoriented and in the midst of a full-blown panic attack anymore.

Good health is truly a gift.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

This one's for you, Mr. Wonderful.

Start Hunting For That New House

You two are ready to live together - and probably have been for a while. You're a perfect match, even if you don't agree on everything. What's important is compromise... a skill you and your guy have mastered. So head out to Bed, Bath, and Beyond. It's time for your new life together!

I'm just sayin'...

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Just a note to say...

...I'm alive, but this week is bustin' my balls.

Having to circle the wagons and deal with the fact that my small team is now down one person and we've got BIG deadlines and projects staring us in the face.

First day back to school with the Geej. She's in the "big kids class" now with one other three year old and the rest are four and five year olds. New teachers. New routines. No Daschel (he's there, and they get to see each other on the playground in the afternoon, but still). It's all a big adjustment.

The wandering Geej, who wakes me up 2 - 4 times a night for no reason whatsoever and then passionately promises me the next night when I'm putting her to bed that it won't happen again.

My hair's got 2 in. long roots.

My car's inspection sticker is about to expire AND it needs its 60k major bucks "tune up."

My neighbor to the back who shares a privacy fence with me, tore down about a 8 ft. section of it this week without even letting me know a) he was going to do it and b) when (or if) he plans on replacing it.

It's all taking its toll, people. I've got nothin' to give to you except for this:

Here he is sitting on my bathroom counter, purring his ass off and watching me get ready like he does every morning. Notice anything missing from this shot.?You know, like maybe his back feet?
Oh look, HERE they are! Hiding underneath this flap of pudge.
Notice, when I let the flap go, voila!

The feet are gone once more. Amazing.

Looks like Earl's got a serious case of "Dunlap Disease."

Saturday, August 25, 2007

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

That's the sound I've been hearing in my head since roughly yesterday afternoon. It's a headache that started slowly--like far off fireworks--and by 3:00 today, it had completely overtaken me. I had that "Mortified" audition/reading thing at 2pm (more on that later), and then it was all I could do to get home and get my ass in the bed. My room is awesome for afternoon naps--quiet, super dark, cool, ceiling fan white noise.

I passed the hell out at about 3:30 and groggily woke up at 8:15pm. The headache is still here, but it's muffled once again. I think it's stress (work), combined with exhaustion (lots of interrupted sleep this week thanks to The Geej), and the weather (hot/humid). All I know is it that it all kicked my ass. I had all these plans about how I was going to spend my free Saturday afternoon, and they were all wiped away. I guess my body and my brain really needed it.

Other news:

I found out yesterday that Mr. Wonderful scored a job interview for a big state agency doing what he wants to be doing. The interview's on the 7th, and they're flying him down here for it, then he'll stay through the weekend with me. That means I'll get to see him twice in September--the job interview weekend and the H.S. reunion weekend. I'm so happy!

About the reunion... Yeah... I've sort of had second thougths about the whole thing. I want to go and see everyone, but I don't want it to be a big "event," you know? For instance, unless our plans change, Mr. Wonderful and I are planning on doing the free football game and bowling stuff on the Friday night of the reunion weekend, but I don't think we'll be going to the $65/per person dressy fajita buffet/cash bar event on Saturday. I think, instead, we're going to try to hang out with Mr. Wonderful's brother and sister-in-law (something we've never gotten to do without kids around) and maybe go gambling in Shreveport or something.

The Geej starts back to school next Tuesday. Thank God. She's jonesing for it so badly. Not only is she missing her boyfriend Daschel, she's just missing school in general. She wants me to play school with her all the time, and I think she does much better with the structure that school provides rather than the sort of willy nilly schedule she's had for the past six weeks. She's moving into the primary class where she and one other little girl, Kennedy, will be the only three year olds. It's going to be a big adjustment for her, but I really feel like she's ready and will benefit from being around the older kids and modeling their behavior.

I guess the other big news I have is work-related: On Thursday, the company I work for won a major, lengthy court case that threatened to block our merger with one of our (former) competitors. This is huge, and is going to impact all of us in unforseen ways. Fiscal year 08 is going to be a very, very busy year with lots and lots of change. Speaking of change, one of my Team Members quit on Friday afternoon, effective immediately. So now, bright and early Monday morning, I have to rally my troops and talk about what's next. This is a first for me as the boss, and it sort of sucks. But I know that, in the long run, my team will be better and stronger than ever.

Finally, I have a confession to make. I'm not a big reality t.v. whore like a lot of my friends, but I have been TOTALLY sucked into "Scott Baio is 45 and Single" and "Rock of Love" on VH-1. The Scott Baio show has been unexpectedly charming and interesting. And "Rock of Love"? Who DOESN'T love a bunch of super skanky drunk stripper types in hardcore catfights over the skankiest skank in skank-town, Poison's Bret Michaels. Ugh. It's so awful, it's awesome. And god do I wish I had a dollar for every time they've either played snippets of and/or in other ways referenced Poison's power ballad, "Every Rose Has its Thorn," I'd buy a round of Sex on the Beach shots for the lot of ya!

And now, for the opposite of "blech" and for absolutely no reason other than the fact that he's yummy, here's a photo of Clive Owen.

Don't give up on me, baby....

I swear, I'm still here. It's just been a crazy week with not much sleep and drama going on at work and at home (more on both of these later). Suffice it to say, I owe ya'll a big ol' post. And it's coming. I swear. Just not right now.

Monday, August 20, 2007

Overheard at the nail salon...

There really should be a website like "Overheard in New York" that's totally devoted to the conversations in nail salons, because in my rather limited nail salon experience, I've eavesdropped on some humdingers.

Take today, for example. My daughter's poignant critique of my toes had me jonesing for a pedicure. So, I snuck off during lunch time to have my toes did. There's a very stereotypical cheapo salon near my house run by people of the Asian persuasion. I've been there a couple of times before, and remembered that although they do a pretty good job, they have a lousy magazine selection, so I took my new book on Nancy Cunard, and planned on immersing myself in it.

I got right in to a chair, and this very slight, very fem Asian guy was my pedicurist. To my left were a guy and gal who were both getting pedicures as well. They were there together, and I couldn't tell if they were friends, a couple, or what. All I know is they never shutthefuckup the whole time they were there.

Horribly cheesed out soft sounds of the 80s and 90s were loudly playing including "Endless Love," "We are The World" and some Michael Bolton and Celine Dion. It must've been some sort of CD mix (as opposed to the radio) because there were no commercials, and my pedicure dude kept singing along under his breath as if in a trance. Poor guy, you know this was probably the 3 millionth time today that he'd heard this ghastly mix. At one point, a Bee Gees song came on (surprise!), and the late 40s school-marmy looking lady to my right (who was getting a manicure) starting asking her manicurist if she'd ever heard much about the Bee Gees. The manicurist politely said no, but I'm not even sure she understood the question. At any rate, this lady starts going into this long, very detailed history of the Bee Gees...talking about how they're from Australia, and that there were four of them, and that the youngest one--Anthony--had his own career outside of the others but had died of a heart defect. I mean, she had her shit all kinds of wrong. I kept wanting to scream out: "Heart defect?! Hell no! It was that coke whore Victoria Principal that he was banging at the time. She got him hooked on coke and then he had a coke-induced heart attack! And his fucking name was NOT Anthony, it was Andy, and I LOVED HIM!!" But somehow, I controlled myself.

Ugh. I only managed to read like four pages of my book because of all of the wretched music and inane conversation. If I didn't think it would be insanely rude, I'd wear my iPod while getting a pedicure. But that would be as big of an asshole maneuver as talking on your cellphone while you're cashier is checking you out at the grocery store.

But hey, at least my toes look a helluva lot better.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

A pretty good sign that it might be time for a pedicure:

Last night, while the Geej was sitting on the potty, she looked down at my bare feet and said, "Mommy, your toes are UGLY."

Friday, August 17, 2007

Psychic iTunes, Bookstore laxatives, and other phenomena.

Is it just me, or...

Everytime you spend, say, more than 3 minutes in a bookstore or library, do you know...need to go? Because I do. Without fail. I vaguely remember Jerry Seinfeld talking about this effect in one of his long-ago stand up routines, and I felt totally liberated. I was like, "THANK you, Mr. Seinfeld!! You have now confirmed the fact that I'm not a total medical mystery unto myself." So why does this happen? My theory is that the collection of papers, inks, glues, etc. make the air within bookstores some sort of airborne, instantaneous laxative. Somebody should really do a study.

Also, it is sometimes just plain eerie how my iTunes KNOWS what music I need to hear. Take today for instance: I'm in a pissy mood. Really pissy. On top of the fact that The Geej was in a very difficult mood last night, there's some stupid shit going on at work that's taking up a lot of my time, and it's just generally unpleasant. Plus, once again, my 3rd Quarter bonus didn't appear on my paycheck. Q3 ended in early July, and I've reminded my boss about this oversight 2 times now. He pretty much told me that the "form would go to payroll" about 10 days ago and, voila, no bonus. So yeah, I'm in a foul mood. What does that mean? My iTunes wants me to rock. I threw on the headphones this morning and a random but steady stream of rock hit my ears: Sugar, Ozzy, Hole, Van Halen, Foo Fighters, old Smashing Pumpkins, Pixies, A Perfect Circle, boom, boom, boom. One right after another. Niiiiiiiiiiice. Then, after I'd worked out some of my angst and needed to focus on writing, my iTunes suddenly switched gears: Air, Sade, Roy Orbison, Luna, Emmylou Harris, Theivery Corporation, Kings of Convenience. It just KNEW!! What the fuck is Apple up to? Is it some sort of biofeedback tool that's translating my brainwaves into signals sent to the iTunes through my headphones? Yes. That's got to be what it is.

Here's another thing: Yesterday, I got 2 voicemails and an e-mail from friends alerting me to the fact that Rufus was going to be playing live on K-UT at 2pm. Thanks to my mad and very public love of Rufus, the universe decided to let me know three times over that I should tune in. And I did. And I got to hear him explain the story behind one of my favorite songs off the new album: "Going to a Town." Sigh.

Sometimes I feel like I live in the suburbs of The Twilight Zone.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Not even 50%?

Karla will be so disappointed...

You Are 48% Evil

You are evil, but you haven't yet mastered the dark side.
Fear not though - you are on your way to world domination.


Yep, it's gonna be one of those "brain dump" posts.


Try and stay with me.

First up: TITS! I had my bi-annual boob squish and chest X-ray today. Is there anything more awkward than getting a mammogram? Having some woman manhandle your boobage in between two acrylic boards only to have the girls squished six ways from Sunday is simply bizarre. I guess it's similar to the old "turn your head and cough" bit that you boys have to go through except that YOUR nuts don't get flattened and then photographed.

Anyway, my appointment actually took less time than I was expecting (when was that last time THAT happened at a medical appointment), but it still ended too late for it to make any sense for me to go back to work, so instead, I hauled ass to the movie theater and saw "Talk to Me." I've been a huge Don Cheadle fan since "Boogie Nights." His subtlety and depth is fascinating. This movie was great because of him. I'm so damn white that I'd never even HEARD of Petey Green before this movie came out, and after learning his story and the impact that he had on the African-American community, I'm pretty ashamed by that. Cheadle made you understand how this brash, in-your-face guy was also charming, compelling and attractive. All of the cast was great. And nothing really beats going and sitting in a cool movie theater on a sweltering summer afternoon after having your knockers mammographied.

Did I say "sweltering"? Yes, I did. After all of that rain that we were all bitching about, the summer has arrived with a vengeance. This week we had our first "ozone action" days, and I had to water my flower beds and yard for the first time. It is August after all, so I guess we shouldn't complain. I will say, however, that I wouldn't mind a bit more of that rain right about now.

Wait. I just realized that I totally forgot to tell you guys about the Rufus Wainwright show last Saturday.



Well, I went to the show with two friends from work and their other friend. We met even more friends there, and ran into more and more folks we knew throughout the night. Stubb's was sold out, and it's basically an outdoor pit, so with the teeming humanity and the lack of breeze and the fact that it's August in Austin, it was HOT. As fuck. But Neko Case put on a great--if waaaaaaaaay too short--set, and Rufus...well, Rufus was flawless.

His band was tight; his voice was perfect; and his banter was witty. Any guy who can pull off a striped "short set" with a huge cowboy hat, brooches, and a low slung belt and still look strangely sexy while singing his ass off is a-okay in my book.
And when he came back from the encore, he was sporting custom made lieder-hosen (I know I'm misspelling that. If you're German, please forgive.) Awesome.

Sunday was spent recuperating and blowing my Weight Watchers "Flex Points" with bloody Marys and Tex-Mex at Sazon. But fuck it: how often do I get to party with my friends while seeing Rufus? Never, that's how often.

For some reason, The Geej decided to board the "wake mommy up" train every night this week. Sunday night: 4 times. Monday night: 3 times (the last time was at 4:10 am, and I never got back to sleep until about 20 minutes before my alarm went off). So last night she went to stay with Dah, and man, was I ever looking forward to an uninterrupted night's sleep. But no: Earl had to do his thing: At about 3am, he crawled up on the pillow next to me and started making biscuits while purring so loudly that I'm pretty sure the neighbors' houses were shaking. Once he'd made his nest, he plopped his Rubenesque ass down and fell asleep. Then started snoring. When I shook him and told him to "shuthefuckup," he got up and started making biscuits and purring an inch away from my ear again. So, I kicked his ass out and shut the door. Then he started clawing under the door and crying. Fucking mama's boy. Talk about having to sleep in the bed you've made...


What else...let's see...

Oh! I went to BookPeople today and dropped serious cash on some books that I'm pretty sure I'm never going to have the time to read. I even splurged on two hard covers! What the Hell was I thinking?!

Finally, I'll leave you with one other funny Earl thing (sorry Badger). I wrote recently about how I got my autoharp back in shape. Well, I've really been practicing and picking out songs and working on my playing. The Geej loves it. She's always asking me to play my "music thing" during dinner, and since it takes her about 6 hours longer to eat than it take me, I gladly oblige to pass the time. Well, during one recent dinnertime serenade, I looked in my bedroom to find this in my autoharp case.

I love how he's maximizing his use of the space: head spilling over one end, tail over the other. Reminds me of that show on HGTV called "Small Space: Big Style."

Y'all, the boy has issues.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Overhang III: The Embiggening

[Say in that movie trailer guy's voice.]

In a world, where chubbiness is a virtue, and kibble is always within reach, there exists: The Overhang.

You lived through its horror the first time around.

You thought it wouldn't come back, and then it did.

And now, the relentless blubber is back in the most terrifying tale yet:

Overhang III: The Embiggening

A little girl's chair simply couldn't contain all of his love...or all of his wrath.

(This is the actual overhang itself, taken from underneath the chair. Good God.)

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Oh, and another thing.


I forgot to tell you my (potentially) most exciting news from this week.

Well, first you need some back story.

Some months ago, the always-wise Malcontent loaned me this book, Mortified. She knew I'd love it because it's basically these people publishing their most embarrassing, hilarious, painful diary entries/passed notes/poetry etc*. along with a bit of background info to set the scene and always a photo of the dork. She was right: I giggled my way through it quickly while, all the time, thinking, "I've got shit that's as good--or better--than this."

Well, Mortified the book has grown in to (or out of) Mortified--The event. And guess who has an "audition" for the live event? That's right: your very own Pine Curtain Refugee.

I'm such a pack rat/dorkaholic that I'm sure to get cast. I'll keep you posted...

*See kids? This was before "MySpace" and "Facebook" and Twitter and all that stupid ephemeral shit you use now to "relate" to one another. Taking out a piece of notebook paper and writing down your deepest, darkest thoughts--in PEN no less--gave them a depth and legitimacy you'll never know. And then there was the folding...the elaborate folding. Sigh...


It's Thursday? Holy buttplugs, Batman! Where has the time gone?

I've been immersed in budget season at work. Spreadsheets and projection and careful planning all to be knocked in half by the Powers That Be. As long-time readers may know, I LOVE math, so budget time is my most fav-o-rite time of the year. I feel like skipping about and sweetly singing to the gentle forest creatures. And then disemboweling those forest creatures with a rusty butter knife and smearing myself in their blood and wearing their pelts as a hat. Or something along those lines.

In other words, me no likee budget season.

In happier news, I sent a check for $10.95 to Uncle Milton, Inc. this week for the ants and ant food that will make the Geej's ant farm I got her for her birthday come to life. File that under one thing I never thought I'd do: send off for mail-order ants.

I also got my autoharp back from the Autoharp Wizard of Austin earlier this week. Bless its's been sitting in storage for, well, years. And it was so dusty and waaaaay out of tune, I really wasn't sure that there was hope for it. But then this amazing old dude named Walter at Musical Exchage on North Loop took it into his loving arms--for three weeks--and tuned, re-tuned, re-tuned, and re-tuned it again until it was perfect. When I went to pick it up, he strummed it lovingly saying, "It sounds like a choir of angels." God bless you, Walter. All of this love and attention set me back $34. That's all it costs for a craftsman in the ATX--yet another reason I love living here. I got home, took her out, and played her during dinner while The Geej feasted on PB&J. It's nice to have her back.

Another thing I did this week? HAPPY HOUR! With actual grown ups. At the San Jose! As we sat in the courtyard drinking wine, eating good cheese, and listening to the DJ, we were all amazed by the fact that, here it was, August, and we weren't even breaking a sweat. Yes, it was warm, but it wasn't hot. There was a breeze. It was pretty amazing, considering our longitude and latitude. After happy hour, I swung by Jaye's to watch her AMAZING new dog Patsty eat "Frosty Paws." Good times, people.

To say I'm in lurve with this dawg is the understatement of the month. She is long, low, mellow, loving, and fucking CYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT! I feel like Holly Hunter in that scene in "Raising Arizona" where she's looking at Nathan Jr. for the first time and she just loses it, going, "I just love him SO MUCH!" That's me around Patsy. She's the bizzzzzomb.

Know what else happened this week? I lost SIX pounds!! Whoot! After bitching about it for way too long, I finally decided to take charge of my fat ass and join Weight Watchers online. At my first weigh in, I nearly cried when I saw that I'd dropped six pounds. I reweighed myself 3 times just to be sure. I did Weight Watchers online back in 2002 and lost 41 lbs. I'm bound and determined to lose at least that much again this time. And, you know, KEEP THAT SHIT OFF. Ugh. So I'm not going to bore you to death with it, but I'll periodically give you updates and shit.

Let's see...what else? Oh yeah! Car trouble! C' know you love it...

I left work today to discover--HOORAY--my battery was dead!! And since I was the last person on my team to leave (fucking slackers) and Jimmy was already gone, I was sort of screwed. I finally found a kind person who'd parked nearby who helped me out and gave my battery a jump. I guess it makes sense: my car's about to turn 60k, and since I bought it used, I have no idea if the battery has ever been changed, and I'm thinking it probably hasn't. I'm sure the recent hot weather hasn't helped any. Well, I'm getting it taken care of tomorrow morning, so that'll help me sleep better at night.

Today I wore my new "Eat Like You Give A Damn" shirt to work, and boy was it a hit. Thanks to my good buddy Michelle (pictured wearing the shirt here) and her and her wonderful husband Josh's company Herbivore, there is cool shit out there in abundance. I can't wait to wear my "All My Heroes Have FBI Files" shirt I ordered from them.

This weekend? Rufus Wainwright and Neko Case at Stubb's. I may piddle myself with excitement!

More soon, lovebugs!

Friday, August 03, 2007

Hi all. This has been a very busy week (in case you couldn't tell from the short entries laden with photos).

First off, Mr. Wonderful--who I will henceforth refer to as "BCH" (his initials)--and the Elder Son arrived last Thursday morning. The weekend was great, despite the intermittent rain and omnipresent humidity--things neither of them experience much in northeastern Colorado. We ate Mexican food, twice. Grilled out on the deck. Shot hoops in the driveway. Hosted a b-day party for The Geej. And generally did a lot of hanging out.

The Geej fell totally in love with Elder Son. Bless his nearly-13-yr.-old heart for putting up with her following him around and demanding his attention like a puppy dog.
As mentioned, the weekend culminated with a birthday party on Sunday for the Geej who I cannot believe is fucking 3 years old. Oh my GOD!! She is so not a baby anymore, y'all!
In a million ways, that's a total relief. But then I think: That's it. My only baby I'll ever have is no longer a baby.
It makes my insides ache.
Okay, enough about me...on to the fiesta!

We (meaning me, the Geej, BCH, Eldest Son, and Dah) descended upon the nearby Red Robin restaurant where we were soon joined by a bunch of her 2 - 4 yr. old friends and their TOTALLY awesome parents. There were balloons and the embarrassing waitstaff-singing-to-you moments, but overall it was great. In fact, no one from our table had a meltdown...not even the parents.

After lunch, everyone was nice enough to strap the kids back in the car seats and make the 3/4 mi. trek to Chez Geej where there were (as she requested) pink flowers, boons (balloons), cake and cookies. We chowed down and had a nice time. It was greased a bit by the mimosas and beer, but really, the kids all acted great and played well together (which helped).

Even though I didn't want to open presents until everyone had left, it was like trying to stop a tornado--that shit was just going to happen, no matter what I wanted. So Geej (and a couple of VERY enthusiastic older assistants) opened all of the presents--including the ones that the party guests had brought (even though I asked you freaks not to bring anything...I'm looking at YOU Millard)!!

A fishing pole!!

It was a lot of fun for all of us who were hosting. I'm hoping all the guests felt the same way.

Monday was The Geej's actual birthday, and that was the day of (cue "holy shit, something big's about to happen" music) The Great Dah-dah Give Away, 2007.

That's right: On her birthday, The Geej went cold turkey on her pacifiers (aka "dah-dahs").

We'd been talking about it for weeks:

"When you turn three, you're going to be a big girl, and we're going to give your dah-dahs to the babies at your old school."

But even with all the effort, she was all Nancy Spungen about it...junkying out on me...pulling each one out of the give-away sack for one...last blissful...suck.
So when the time came, one of sweet teachers (and occasional babysitter) Trina, from her old school where they actually had babies in attendance, came over and took the dah-dahs from Geej so that she could "give them to the babies."
There have been a couple of whiny moments, but for the most part, Geej has handled her withdrawal quite well.

There's much more, and I wish I could keep writing, but I'm too damn tired.

More tomorrow. I swear.

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Just so you know...

...if any of my friends have babies in the future, you'll be receiving one (or more) of the offerings from this site as gifts. I learned about Rockabye Baby in today's issue of The Chronicle, and immediately got online and started listening to samples. Brilliant. I will never listen to Tool's "Opiate" quite the same way again...

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Freaking me out.

Last night I sent a "The Geej is 3" e-mail to 3 families who I met during the adoption process. One family from North Carolina adopted 2 boys from Vladivostok, one family from Houston had their Vladivostok adoption fall through then adopted domestically (and are about to adopt a daughter from China), and one family (also from Houston) had adopted their daughter Kyra from the same orphanage that The Geej came from about 6 months ahead of us.

I attached a couple of recent photos of The Geej (including the one below) to my e-mail, and asked for an update from these families, and (hopefully) some photos.
I gasped when I opened up this photo of Kyra (remember: same orphanage as The Geej).
Holy CRAP, people. Can you believe the similarities?! No, they're not sisters (they're too close in age for that to be possible), but something's telling me they've GOT to be related somehow. It's just too strange that they look that much alike...right down to the incredible eyes.