Inner Monologue of Bandit the Panda

Bandit, the rascally baby panda born to Mei Xiang and Tian Tian at the National Zoo in Washington, DC, gives interested readers the inside track on his world.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

My Dad and Me

Dad knows I exist. This is huge. This is, like, staggering.

I left all these notes for him all along this trash can lid and made sure it was casually near enough to Dad's pen for him to notice it. He's a smart dude (I have to have gotten these brains from SOMEWHERE) and he found it and made enough of a ruckus that the servants finally gave in and gave it to him. Does anyone else have to put up with poor help like we do? Is it just me?

I'm not going to say what I wrote, 'cause it's kinda embarrassing, but the important thing is Dad got my notes! Hobbitbuddy suggested I run up and introduced myself, but it would be so lame if I ran all the way over there and he ignored me. But now that he got my notes, and seemed kinda enthusiastic, maybe he won't mind meeting his son.

Who wouldn't love to have an awesome son like me?



Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Referenced in Wikipedia...

Oh funny. I'm in Wikipedia. And there are people who still care about the Butterstick vs. Bandit name debate.

Don't get me wrong. People calling me "Butterstick" still annoys me, I just have bigger and better things on my mind now. Like, how am I going to bypass the rule that states a president must be at least 30 years old to take office? Even in panda years, I'll never make it in time. I won't even be, like, 25 in human years until I'm 8 years old.

So I might have to get Pandaholic to lean on Congress a bit to pass an amendment to the Constitution.

But that's something to worry about later, for now I'm riding high on the mad support my fans gave me when I announced my bid for the presidency last week. I also told Mom that if i'm going to run for president she needs to clean up her act. She actually seemed pleased at the idea. Who knew?

On the other hand, I'm wondering if I'm becoming too straightlaced and upstanding. That is a question for the ages:

Can anyone be badass and President of the United States at the same time?

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Vote Bandit

Yesterday was pretty sweet. Thank you for the Happy Birthday well-wishing, Larissa, and Hobbitbuddy, the 3 layer carrot cake was delish. The carrot part was a nice twist--in spite of what Dad may think, bamboo can get old. Occasionally. Not very often.

At six months, I'm still the cutest, baddest panda around. I'm badder than most of the other animals at the zoo. Shooo...I'm so bad, they had to get more tubs to keep me distracted from taking over the WORLD!

My vision knows no bounds. And you're right, Pandaholic, I need to keep my eyes on the prize, and not indulge in any more late night Johnny Walker with Paolo & Co.

I think we can all say that the world would be a better place if this picture became a reality. I need to start practicing campaign speeches if I'm going to be ready for 2008.

Vote Bandit. I care about your problems. I'll listen. And then I'll go out and kick the ass of whoever is giving you those problems. And if there are no asses to be kicked, I'll take a nap until there's some more asskicking needed.

I should perhaps note that the asskicking is sometimes a metaphor, rather than straight up violence. For instance, if I say I'll kick social security's ass, that means I'll fix it. If I say I'm going to kick the ass of our stagnating education system, then that means I'll fix it. That clear enough?

And if a certain fennec fox thinks he can get away with hacking into my blog, there will be some asskicking before the election. This afternoon, actually.

Vote Bandit
Better asskicking, for a better tomorrow.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Revenge of da Paolo

Ha-ha. It iz time for da Paolo's revenge!

He iz such a lighta-weight. My friend Antonio took diz picture. He had tree sips. Mebbe four. Ha-ha. I love de Bandit like he iz my broder, but I gotta pull hiz chain.

Dat editor, she has a ting for me, so I get her to post my picture. But Bandit iz right. She iz clownmunch, and currently getting her kicks out of spelling my speech phonetically.

I will not rain on his pretty blog no more, but he musta know--if you mess with Paolo, he messes back!


Wednesday, January 04, 2006

"Irascible" and Bandit's New Year's Eve

Well, I'll be hit with a leaf eater biscuit. It does say "irascible."

Thisisjro has some sharp eyes. I actually never looked at the subtitle on my blog, but if either of these definitions are right, that's so not me. I'm going to make my editor change it to "rascally."

Still, just because she has a naughty habit of using words she thinks she knows the meaning for, and then doesn't bother to look them up, is no reason to get in a tiff. She's a clownmunch. You knew that. I've known that pretty much ever since I hired her. It's just something you deal with when you hire people covered by the Panda Employee Union.

You know what I saw this morning? Two geckos fighting over who got to stick a homing device in Mom's ear. Now, THAT's something to get my hackles up.

Not like she goes anywhere, although come to think of it, she did disappear a few nights ago and came back smelling like she'd emptied the entire contents of her liquor cabinet into my washtub and wallowed in it for a few hours.

'Course, it couldn't be the ENTIRE cabinet, because Paolo helped me swipe a bottle of Johnny Walker--he and I planned to take turns on it all night long.

I said "planned." That stuff is NASTY. EW. I spewed it all over Paolo the first sip I took. Like, I'm badass and all, but sometimes a guy's gotta draw the line on what he does to keep up appearances. I gave it a second chance but the next time was even nastier than the first, so I told Paolo he could have it. He practically howled in delight and gave me a slobbery kiss before scurrying off somewhere. It was gross (the kiss) but he was funny and when he came back, he brought three friends: Marcel, Antonio, and this chick fox, Chiquita.

Chiquita got a kick out of hugging me and trying to make her arms disappear in my fur, and Marcel kept asking if he could meet my mom (no), if I'd ever seen my Dad (yes, thanks to Wingy and the pictures she sent me!), and if he could sit on my head (no).

So I watched them get blitzed on my mom's Johnny Walker, and maybe I had a few more sips, but not much. Like I said. NAAAASTY!