I’m just like financial statements – I show up quarterly.

So I was leaving a comment for Hailey, and then I realized that I should probably update more often than quarterly, but seriously, it’s all been so awful and I’m tired of hearing myself talk about it. To sum up: Christmas = Xanax; I should not be allowed outside after three months of pain management for my back because I will fall down and undo all of it and it will actually hurt worse than it did four months ago; one should never trust little baby maintenance dudes about what is wrong with one’s plumbing because they will lie and then your pipe will freeze and burst and flood your apartment and part of the neighbors and the damage will be JUST ENOUGH to cover the deductible on your renter’s insurance and also they give you FIVE — no, SIX — industrial carpet fans in an 800 square foot apartment and it’s like living in a goddamn jet engine for a week. /facepalm

That about sums it up.

Seriously though. Inches of water; cat missing; clothes on the floor because I needed to do laundry and/or I’m just messy, at least 15 loads of laundry; bitchy white trash 5th apartment manager in 4 months acting like I shouldn’t be upset when my house is under three inches of water and I can’t find one of the cats. I have rarely wanted to beat anyone’s ass more than I wanted to beat hers.

Anyway. Let’s move on to Friend Makin’ Monday, shall we? Since Kenlie has been busy, it’s being taken over by Sarah. The theme this week is “Randomly Getting to Know You.”

1. Introduce yourself in under 10 words.

Cranky, Cats, Cohabiting, Chocolate, Creative, Chips, Cheese, Contradictory, Crying, Crampy.

I would have added PMS to the list, but it didn’t start with a C and the alliteration was amusing me.

2. How did you find Friend Makin Mondays?

Through Hailey, I think.

3. Have you ever met any of your blog readers?

You mean other than my friends that I made/make read it? I did meet Lando (my current live-in partner, who doesn’t ever update his blog anymore and therefore I am not linking), back in the day when we were both blogging at Diaryland. I don’t think I’ve actually met anyone else in person, but I am FB/Twitter friends with several readers, and I’ve exchanged mix CD’s with a lot of them.

4. How many states have you visited?

I think 36, if you count the airport on a layover (which is really only two states: Colorado & Utah). I say it counts, especially since the Denver airport is directly responsible for introducing me to the wonders of Crocs, which you can now pry off my cold dead feet.

You disbelieve?

Yes, those are Jack Daniels pajama pants.

Yes, those are Jack Daniels pajama pants.

5. What did you have for lunch yesterday?

Cool Ranch Doritos and Chocolate Chip Little Debbies. I’m not even kidding. See the 11th word on #1, above.

6. How many different places have you lived in?

I think…6 cities (Flint, MI; Houston, TX; Pittsburgh, PA; Norman, OK; Naperville, IL; Oklahoma City, OK), 5 states (Michigan, Texas, Pennsylvania, Oklahoma, Illinois). I’m boring.

7. What’s your favorite color?

“She feels like kicking out all the windows/and setting fire to this life/she would paint everything about her/with colors bold and bright…” ~Dave Matthews

But seriously, if I have to pick…red. Followed very closely by bright turquoise.

8. Do you have any pets?

Three cats: Miles, Zooey, and Amelia. They’re being difficult right now and all I’m getting is a curled-up ball of cat, but here are some pictures from the last few months that you probably haven’t seen unless we’re friends on Facebook:

They like to snuggle.

They like to snuggle.

She does not like to snuggle with them and she's not entirely sure about snuggling with us.

She does not like to snuggle with them and she’s not entirely sure about snuggling with us.

9. What would your ideal job be?

Powerball winner/philanthropist. Cat-hugger. Broadway star. Advice columnist. Musician. Writer.

10. Do you have any tattoos?

Not yet…but I might get one for my 40th birthday. I have a whole Pinterest board called “Midlife Crisis.”

That is all. Carry on.

Song of the Day: “Poison” – Bell Biv Devoe
Today’s Time Waster: Pudding Pop. I wish they would bring back real pudding pops.
What I’m Craving: A raise. So we can live somewhere else and I can buy a new car.


Folks Lining up Outside Just to Get Down (FMM)

Greetings and salutations. My weekend was totally uneventful. All I’ve wanted to do the last two weekends is sleep, which is sad. I’m still trying to adjust to working again, I think. I did make some cake. I also learned that saving 50 cents on bacon isn’t worth it because it burns really easily.

Kenlie is back from her hiatus, so it’s time for Friend-Makin’ Monday once more. If you are not familiar with the rules, answer the questions below on your blog, and link back in Kenlie’s comments (and mine). If you are stopping by, hiya! And please leave a comment, because they make me happy. This week’s theme was “How Do You Celebrate?” and it concerned birthdays:

1. When is your birthday?

May 12.

2. Do you like to celebrate it or do you prefer to keep it quiet?

I like to celebrate, but since my birthday is always right around Mother’s Day or someone’s graduation, my festivities usually either get ganked or happen late.

3. Have you ever had a surprise party?

Sort of. See #6. It wasn’t really a full-on party, but it was unexpected and nice. Generally, though, I’m not terribly fond of surprises, especially if they involve some sort of occasion where I will be photographed.

4. What sign are you? Does it represent you well?

I’m a Taurus, and from what I’ve read – we’re into security, stability, nice stuff, and food; and we’re very stubborn and very loyal. So mostly, I’d say yes, it does. DON’T MESS WITH THE BULL BOY, YOU’LL GET THE HORNS.

5. Do you tell the truth about your age?

Yes, so far…I am 39.

6. Share your best birthday memory.

I think my 16th was probably the best – it was on a Saturday, so I couldn’t go get my actual driver’s license that day. There was a play rehearsal/set building workday all day. It was actually a lot of fun…I remember we did a lot of listening to the B-52’s “Cosmic Thing” album. Towards the end of the day, they brought me a birthday cake. I was really surprised…I didn’t think anyone remembered it was my birthday.

7. Share a few item that could be on your birthday wishlist.

My Amazon wishlist can be found here.

8. What is your favorite kind of cake?

Pioneer Woman Chocolate Sheet Cake, hands down. I also like chocolate cake with whipped cream frosting.

9. If you could be anywhere on your next birthday, where would you be?

Amsterdam. That’s probably not going to happen. But, according to my friend who is turning 50 a month before I turn 40 (ugh I hate even typing that), we ARE going to go to Mexico.

10. Do you make a wish when you blow out the candles?

I don’t remember the last time I got actual candles…but yes.

Bonus: Picture of me looking at my first birthday cakes. I’m not sure if my expression indicates “why is it taking you this long to feed me cake” or “this is inadequate.”

1st bday cakes

Song of the Day: Leonard Cohen – “Famous Blue Raincoat”
Today’s Time Waster: I have played this one for a few days…
What I’m Craving: Probably more cake, because I have problems.

Turn it up to eleven.

Being that my birthday is on or around Mother’s Day, I’m fairly used to not getting much in the way of an actual birthday celebration on my actual birthday. If it’s not Mother’s Day, it’s someone’s graduation. This year was no exception. Lando’s mom decided that she wanted to go out to dinner. I got a half-assed “happy birthday.” Oh well. It’s not like I really want to draw attention to the fact that I am perilously close to the big 4-0 (that would be next year). However, I did at least decide I would look cute.

My outfit is also my contribution to this month’s Sartorial Medley, a monthly fashion challenge hosted by Hailey of Divine Mrs. Diva and Ais of Couture for Curves. This month’s theme is “Bold Colors,” and I thought my newest acquisition from eshakti fit the bill nicely:













And this last picture, of me making jazz hands, is because Lando always asks if I’m going to “pose” when he takes an outfit picture:

MayDress2 (JazzHands)











I am in love with the retro print. I paired the dress with a necklace from a local “$1 Jewelry” store and nude sandals (these, in beige). I really, really want some green sandals to go with this, but I have not yet found the perfect pair. I found some at Target that would have worked, but they were kind of narrow and I decided that looking cute does not require epic blisters.

Despite getting my actual day ganked, I did get some fun presents. Chief among those is a Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer, in cobalt blue:


I have been baking. I have made the Pioneer Woman’s Best Chocolate Sheet Cake Ever twice, and I might make some more tomorrow. It’s perfect. Every time. The perfect amount of sweet, the perfect amount of chocolatey, the perfect cake-to-frosting ratio. I don’t use nuts in the frosting, because I don’t like them. About my only exception to the nuts rule involves white chocolate macadamia nut cookies, and maybe a sprinkle of peanuts on Pad Thai. Otherwise, nuts are just a way to ruin perfectly good cakes/cookies/pasta/bread/candy.








I’ve also made bread a couple of times. The mixer came with a little instruction manual/cookbook, and my first attempt was plain white bread. Despite not knowing what the fuck the instructions considered “slightly sticky,” the bread turned out very well. Lando and I pretty much scarfed the first loaf down with butter before the oven cooled. Next, I tried rye bread, which I don’t like but he does, and I figured I would be nice. I used this recipe, and it turned out well also. (It did seem like it needed about 1/4 to 1/2 cup more all-purpose flour than the recipe stated…it was gluey rather than “slightly sticky.” Right now, these two loaves of cinnamon bread are in the oven:










One of them is perfectly shaped, and the other one is lumpy and misshapen. That’s pretty much what happened with the first batch, too. Of course, I don’t actually own a rolling pin, so I kind of had to roll it out using a cup turned on its side and a little creative hand-flattening. Maybe a rolling pin would help with a little more uniformity. So would learning to divide dough in half equally. Sigh.

Song of the Day: “I Only Want to Be With You” – Dusty Springfield
Today’s Time Waster: I got nothing today. I’ve been watching news coverage of the tornadoes that hit yesterday just south of here. Luckily, all my peeps are ok and still have houses.
What I’m Craving: More chocolate cake.

Green, Green the Musical Fruit?


April Fool. Seriously, if I won the Powerball, I wouldn’t be blogging about it, I would be shopping for a vacation home and decorating it instead of clogging up everyone’s Pinterest with pictures of shit I want to buy. So if you follow me on Pinterest, sorry, I sort of finally figured that out in the last few hours.

It’s funny how blogging and social media have evolved. When I started blogging in 2004, everyone was on things like Diaryland (which I still miss, and would still use if it didn’t cost so much money for shit you get on other platforms for free) or LiveJournal or Xanga, MySpace was still sort of relevant, no one really used Facebook, and Twitter, Tumblr, and Pinterest were not even around. To me, the advent of the new is sort of double-edged. There are a lot of bloggers that I still keep up with from back in the day, but a lot of them don’t really blog anymore…they Tweet, and Pin, and Tumble occasionally, but it’s not the same get-to-know-you that it used to be. I mean, I am not the best about keeping up with the blogging, so I totally get it. But still, when I go look for stuff to read on the internet, it’s sad that there isn’t the same level of personal story that there used to be. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve “met” some awesome new people too, but it’s just…different.

Yesterday was Easter, and we spent it with Lando’s sister, brother-in-law, dad, stepmother, and uncle, along with our totally cuteface little niece. I was hoping for some Facebook pics I could gank, but none yet. However, she’s seriously the cutest baby ever. I feel about kids the way I do about dogs…they’re adorable, and I like to play with them, but I don’t want to own one. Lando & I have no desire to reproduce. So we have decided that it’s perfectly ok to spoil the niece rotten. She’s about 6 months old now, but I can’t wait till she’s a little older. While she was playing, she demonstrated a love for things where you could push buttons and make music play. Therefore, I think she needs one of these. I’ll probably buy her one for her birthday.

A picture of her being suspicious of the Easter Bunny, which I think is totally justified:












Anyway. On to the actual purpose of this entry, which is a belated contribution to “Sartorial Medley,” the monthly fashion challenge hosted by Hailey and Ais. This month’s theme was “green,” which, as a ginger, I can totally get behind.

This weekend, I actually had occasion to leave the house to go somewhere besides Wal-Mart, so I broke out a dress from eShakti. (They don’t have this particular style at the moment.) My experiences with them have been somewhat mixed. For the most part, positive, but their customer service was REALLY slow to address a problem (namely, that one dress I ordered from them got lost in transit). However, they did finally issue a refund, so I decided to take a chance and order from them again. Honestly, no one else does what they do….they offer sizes from 0 to 36, and they also offer custom sizing (which isn’t foolproof); they have retro styles and offer a lot of natural fabrics; and they offer the option to “tweak” clothes to suit you. For example, the dress I’m wearing below originally came with cap sleeves and was supposed to be longer. I went for short sleeves and a knee-length hem. Not all styles can be customized, but a lot of them can.

This batch (I also ordered a top), I decided to go with off-the-rack rather than custom sizing, and based on my measurements, I ordered a 30. (I’m generally a 26/28 at places like LB or Old Navy). I had ordered another dress in this size in the past, and it fit well, so I thought I’d be good to go. The fit isn’t BAD, but it feels like the stuff I ordered is a little on the short side. Also, I think if I ordered something that didn’t have stretch, I’d probably size up. This dress is a knit, so it has a little give. My order this time shipped and arrived super fast, so that was a plus.

On to the outfit (sorry I’m all squinty, it was bright outside). Dress from eShakti; necklace from LB; tights from Catherine’s; shoes are LifeStride. I wanted to wear this with sandals, but it was a little chilly this morning and well, I didn’t shave my legs or paint my toes.












Hope everyone had a happy Easter and/or is looking forward to hitting up the 75% off Peeps this week (*raises hand*).

Song of the Day: Tommy Tutone – “867-5309/Jenny” (Sorry. But the 80’s music channel is on, and it got stuck in my head.)
Today’s Time Waster: All Easter Bunnies are creepy as shit.
What I’m Craving: MARSHMALLOW PEEPS BUNNIES. The yellow ones. Yes, they do too taste different.

Celebrate VD!

It’s still a silly holiday.  Unfortunately, I made the mistake of going shopping last Friday, and finding a few things that I thought someone might like. (A sweater. And some pajama pants, because, despite his insistence to the contrary, he didn’t have any. Sweatpants, yes. Pajama pants, no. There is a difference.)

I was serious when I said that (a) the presents were just because, and not for Valentine’s day and (b) that reciprocation was not required. However, when he went to go fetch breakfast Saturday morning (which was really nice in and of itself), he was gone a little longer than the usual donut-and-sausage-roll-fetching trip.

He came back with a little bag, which he tried to pretend wasn’t there. (“What? The bags had donuts in them!”) I pointed out that I didn’t think donuts came in gift bags. He finally caved and gave me one of these:


Yes, a pink one.  But I like it anyway.

And some games, too…although I believe Final Fantasy XII was really for him… (“Take the game with you! You should play it! But don’t save over my game, ok?”)

But the Nintendo wasn’t for Valentine’s day, either. Hehe.

I shall close with the traditional Valentine’s fun, which involves making a list of the first 10 songs that pop up on your MP3 player/computer with “love” in the title. Note: I am at work, and the selection is far more limited than the computer at home.

Beck – “Think I’m in Love”
Maroon 5 – “This Love”
Pixies – “La La Love You”
Sarah McLachlan – “I Love You”
Elton John – “Funeral for a Friend (Love Lies Bleeding)”
OMD – “So in Love”
kd lang – “Love is Like a Cigarette”
KT Tunstall – “Stopping the Love”
Morrissey – “Trouble Loves Me”
Elton John – “All the Young Girls Love Alice”

“…where my lovelight’s waiting silently for me.”

This postcard was sent to PostSecret, and I guess it really struck a chord with me. 




I have lived on my own, away from my family, since I was 18.   I have a life:  friends, pets, car, apartment, job.  “Home” is where I get up in the morning, return at the end of the day, where I wallow in misery when I’m sick, where my pets live and my car is parked.  


Since I went to college, my parents have not exactly been parked in the same house in which I grew up.  They divorced when I was in 8 th grade.  During the time I was in high school, my dad had two addresses and my mom had three.  After I moved out, my mom and stepfather moved to Chicago, then back to Houston (to a completely different house) and have since downsized and moved again; my dad was transferred to the Seattle area.  The point is, neither of their houses could be called “home.”   I don’t really have any memories associated with those houses…sure, some furniture and pictures and ugly-ass dishes have survived the moves, but the rooms themselves are devoid of any associations for me.  


So when people ask me if I’m going “home” for Christmas, I know what they mean…and I sometimes answer yes without thinking…but it’s really not “home” I’m visiting.   What, does being single and childless = parents’ house is still officially your home?  The place you live, where you spend your time…that’s just a temporary address?


I’m going to have to agree with the writer of this postcard and call bullshit on that.


When I was a kid (I think it was the summer I was 11, when I spent one of the best months of my life at my gramma’s house without my parents or brother), I went with my gramma to a family reunion.   This was not a usual occurrence.  We lived in Texas, and my extended family (both sides) mostly lived in Michigan.   We sometimes went there for the holidays or in the summer, but it wasn’t every year, and when we did go, we only saw the “immediate” extended family:  grandparents, aunts, uncles, first cousins.   So being at a gathering with a zillion people I didn’t know but was somehow related to was a bit of a shock.  What I remember most about it, though, was how they all identified me as my mom’s daughter:   “[Name]’s girl.”  It totally pissed me off.  I remember talking to my mom and grandma about it, and telling them that I was a SEPARATE PERSON WITH A NAME and wasn’t just someone’s kid. 


They just laughed and said that because there were so many relatives (white trash is very good at breeding), they just did it to keep everyone straight.   My mom laughed because she remembered thinking the same thing when she was at reunions as a child and everyone identified her as my grandma’s kid. 


Seems like in my family, until you reproduce….you will still be identified as a part of something else rather than as your own person.   And maybe that’s ok, in a way…family reunions are about reconnecting, after all, knowing that you’re not entirely alone in the world…but somehow, to me, being identified as someone’s offspring and not being recognized for who I am, feels kind of lonely…like they’re saying “until you have a husband and kids, none of the life you’ve made for yourself matters.”  


Having a husband and/or kids does not automatically make you a grown-up…in fact, one cousin with kids spent an inordinate amount of time living in my grandma’s basement.   But I don’t think he gets asked if he’s going “home” for Christmas. 


What’s almost worse, though, is my parents’ expectation that I will be traveling to their residences on Christmas and/or Thanksgiving.  Last year, I finally put my foot down with my dad, and told him that I was tired of spending the fucking holidays in a fucking airport, and if he wanted to see me, he knew where I lived and had far more money and vacation time than I did.   I went there last Thanksgiving, but not this year.  My mom basically knows how I feel about the holiday shuffle, but she still has enough guilt-trip power that I go there.   Plus, since my brother’s in the area too, he’s usually there. 


All this talk of home and family reminds me of a conversation I had a long time ago with BFRB2.   She was married at the time (no kids) and I asked if she considered her husband to be her “family.”   That may sound like a weird question, but when you are at the point in your life where you’re still caught between kid and adult, feeling like everything is temporary, watching your friends get married but feeling weird about it, like they’re just pretending and we’re all really still 10, it’s good to hear how people already more established feel about it.   (I’m sure BFRB2 will laugh at that.  She and her husband, while older than I was, had actually both gone back to school and were just as nomadic and unsettled as any of my other friends.   But she was the first person that really showed me what it meant to be a grown-up without having all the parental expectations pinned on the definition.)    


Most of the time, when I go to my mom’s for Christmas, it’s good…despite the occasional annoyance or drama, there are enough moments (like my brother and my grandma and I all trying to make each other laugh during the blessing before dinner) to make me glad I went.   This year was pretty good, although I did miss Lando….I knew I would miss him, because I’m used to spending weekends with him and we only got a little time together before I left…but it sucked just the same.  


Strangely, even though the stepfamily/parents in two different states thing has always been a little weird, or awkward (the parents got remarried my senior year in high school and freshman year in college, and some of the step-siblings were long gone from the house, so it’s not like we know all of them very well), there was none of this “you’re not my real family so I’m not gonna try” thing.  My mom spent an inordinate amount of time this year stressing about who was coming to dinner what day because of all of our stupid picky food things…mine, my brother’s, my stepsister’s, and her live-in’s.   My stepmother, while she has issues, included us in her family gatherings over holidays.  (They make weird food.   Have I written about this before?  The first few times we had holidays with her, which was really not many before she married my dad, because they dated off and on for four years and broke up every year right after Thanksgiving and got back together before Valentine’s day, her family did not make any mashed potatoes.   Dude.  Those are a staple.  EVERYONE has mashed potatoes.  WTF?)   So it was weird for me hearing Lando’s tale of drama regarding his stepmother.(I guess she tries to just feed his dad’s relatives snacky food, and makes her own blood relatives actual meals.)Whatever annoyances I have with the multiple relative gift-buying pretending-to-be-nice horseshit, there’s never been a question of “yours” or “mine.” Part of that is my mom.  She went out of her way to ask everyone what they liked, buy all the weird hippie food that my stepsiblings seem to eat, buy the strange shit that my stepfather likes (herring. VOMIT-O-RAMA.), and cater to various picky eating tendencies of myself and my brother.  (Me=no pink food.  Him=ketchup on everything; no potatoes unless they are French fries.)  When I’m at my dad’s, I think my stepmother is so grateful to have a buffer that she’ll cook any fucking thing any of us want. 

How the hell did I get off on this food topic?  Guess my Pop Tarts weren’t filling enough this morning.   I was talking about how when you’re single, no one seems to acknowledge that the place you live by yourself is “home.” 

A few days after I got back from Houston, BFRB2 called to catch up on the holidays.  Apparently, hers were mostly good, but she said that by about the 4th day, she wanted to be at HOME.  Her house.  Her pet.  Her peace and quiet. 

Amen, sister. 


Let’s All Pretend We’re Normal.

Despite some silliness with the airport security people and their idiot rules about toiletries and lighters, the holidays with the fam were not so bad. I ate entirely too much and slept entirely too little, but overall, I’d have to mark this Christmas in the “non-suck” column.

(The airlines will now let you bring liquids, but only in 3-ounce containers. And only if they are in a Ziploc baggie. Well, I PUT my stuff in a fucking baggie. Mr. Security Moron informs me that (a) the baggie is not regulation size and (b) ONLY the liquids need to be in it, and things like eye drops and zit cream don’t count, because they are “medications.” He then proceeds to separate all of my toiletries into individual piles and re-Ziplocs the appropriate items. I then dump all the shit back in my bag. Also, I apparently left a lighter in my jeans pocket in my suitcase. Whoops. I volunteered to fish it out, since I knew what pocket and where the jeans were in my suitcase, but I was not allowed to TOUCH my suitcase until Mr. S.M. rooted through the whole thing and messed it all up in an effort to ensure that I didn’t set the plane on fire. He then, with a STRAIGHT FACE, informed me that I was free to keep the lighter, but that I would have to take it to my car. I told him to keep the 50 cent lighter which was almost empty anyway. Then, they have to send the bag back through the x-ray. WTF? They saw ONE LIGHTER and then DUG THROUGH THE WHOLE FUCKING THING. What did they expect to find? Seriously.)

My stepfather was actually being pleasant. I’m not sure if it’s because my mom threatened him with death, or what, but he silenced his Inner Asshat for a few days.

And my mom, my brother, and I spent some time looking through a bunch of old photos and laughing at each other’s bad hair and fashion choices. For your amusement, here are a few choice ones of me. Unfortunately, the pic of my brother sporting a mullet and really ugly glasses was a little blurry for scanning fun.

(Click on the thumbnail for full-size image.)

Me, age 5, riding my first bike. It was yellow and white and had a banana seat with these pink and purple flowers.


Me, age about 7, looking like I’m plotting the destruction of the world.


Me, age 8, at Disney World. Note the pigtails with those horrible little ball ponytail holders that usually popped me in the head at least twice before the pigtails were fully formed. I think they quit making those stupid things for a while, but like Strawberry Shortcake, the Transformers, and gaucho pants, they are now being manufactured again so that my generation can torment their own offspring.

kellymomdisney.JPGMe, age 10, after I won the school spelling bee. Shut your pie-hole. Also a lovely example of why I should never layer my hair or have bangs, ever.


Me, age 12-ish, before I learned that blue eyeshadow and sweater vests were bad.


Me, age 14-ish. God, that perm was horrible. As was that icky-ass sweater.


Me, sometime shortly post-college. Overalls. How cute.


And one of my parents in the 70’s…I love this. I love everything about it, from their outfits to the afro behind them.


That’s all the photo album you guys get for today.  I have to actually work, and shit…it’s time for “Fun with PowerPoint!”, “How the Fuck Did You Graduate from Law School When You Cannot Construct a Simple Declarative Sentence?” and “Moving Paper from One Pile to Another in an Attempt to Look Busy.”

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas….Dammit.

In a departure from previous years around this time, I’m going to try not to bitch about Christmas.

HAHAHA. I crack myself UP, I tell you.

I am, however, going to try to bitch about NEW things about Christmas, instead of the same old “I hate airports, I hate my annoying stepfather, I hate buying presents for people at work that I don’t give a shit about” rant.

First, let’s discuss Christmas music. It’s ok. Once in a while. Maybe while you’re decorating the tree and drinking lots of (heavy on the Jack Daniels) eggnog (which, despite someone’s assertion, is NOT made from elf cum). Or when you’re opening presents. Or some such nonsense. But not everywhere you go, for fuck’s sake. And especially not at work.

(An aside in re: the trip to Starbucks. I think that Lando is just jealous, because the geeky little Starbucks dude gave some props to the ride (although it’s creepy as shit that they have a camera on their drive thru order screen) and then gave me a larger Eggnog Latte than I ordered. I ordered the eggnog because I’m not sure how I feel about minty coffee, though Lando did let me have a sip after I thoroughly wiped my mouth and it was not horrible…and because I already had a gingerbread one. I will have to say that the eggnog one kinda tasted like the gingerbread one….perhaps a little richer and creamier, but still with a major hint of nutmeg. Look, Starbucks employees. That doesn’t get you high unless you ingest a LOT, and even then, it induces puking, or so my entire high school debate team said. /end aside.)

The paralegal next door to me has been on a Christmas kick for the last three weeks. The office building has hired minstrels of some sort every fucking day at lunch. (One of them was practically acoustic-guitar jamming on “Silent Night”, which is all kinds of wrong anyway.) The stores pipe that shit right down your throat, and it’s usually some muzak-y Mannheim Steamroller horseshit that’s a perfect complement to the throngs of screaming parents and children.

The real problem with Christmas music is that it gets stuck in my head worse than that stupid-ass Backstreet Boys song (“I want it thaaaaaat way”). I’ve been humming “What Child is This” all fucking week. Maybe I should make up some new Grinch-like words:

What mall is this
I’m shopping at
Filled with annoying assholes?
Where Yuppies breed
And come to feed
And make fun of my fat rolls?

This, this, is really hell
Filled with lights that are blinking
Help, help, I hate this hole
I’d rather be out drinking.

So buy your presents
Really fast
Then dash to find some cover
From shopping mobs
Who have no jobs
But have a nice, rich lover.

This, this is hell on earth
With tinsel and piped carols
Stop, stop the insanity
Or I’ll plug you full of airholes.

I so have a future in lyric writing.

As Lando did point out in his blog, we did go Christmas shopping, and it did take us forever to buy each other gifts. Lando ended up with 4 of the remastered Cure CD’s with B-side extras (which have been on his Amazon Wish List forever), and I ended up with this little trinket:

The Trinkie

I’m not usually much of one for jewelry, but I’d been feeling the need for some girly sparkles lately. I never put up a Christmas tree (why bother, as I’m not ever home on Christmas, and my cats would just destroy it anyway, and while I’m all for entertaining the little heathens, Christmas shit is way too expensive to be cat toys), so maybe I’m trying to be my own Christmas tree?

I usually like presents to be a surprise…I’m generally pretty good at picking things out, I think, and the best part is getting someone something that they really like but weren’t expecting and getting to see the happy face, but this year, I was too poor to shop before I got my bonus check. (Actually, that’s every year. Who the fuck am I kidding? Most of my “surprise” shopping ends up for birthdays.) The bonus check arrived Friday, and Friday night was “fun with laundry”, so Saturday shopping it was.

I suppose I could have saved us both the stress and just said “fuck Christmas,” but I have it in my twisted little skull that a present is a way to show someone that they mean a lot to you…as long as it’s something that they really want and wouldn’t do for themselves.

I’m treading perilously close to The Sappy Land, where one might get stuck, so let’s move on to some random funny stories:

My other new office neighbor is Mr. Meeting. Mr. Meeting is, in Seinfeld-speak, a “loud talker.” Mr. Meeting has lately been talking loudly about everything. Including his prostate. But the funniest thing is that, every single evening, right around 5:30, he calls his house and asks what the “situation” there is. From what I can’t help but hear, it usually means “do I need to stop and get food on the way home?”

The other day, I went to lunch with CB, and we saw some most disturbing shit at a local florist. There was a little fake dead-looking bird in an ugly brass pot, and a ginormous pile of floppy, limp teddy bears in all different colors…and it was just laying on the floor in the display window. CB attempted to document this on her cell phone, but the pictures wouldn’t e-mail, so alas, you get none.

My dad is so clueless sometimes. He usually sends e-mail from work, but has a personal account for whatever reason…and he sent me an e-Card. First, his message on said e-Card was a little “WTF? Have you been on the same planet as I have for the last 15 years?” (He suggested church. And I think he was serious.) But that only amplifies the irony of how (unintentionally) obscene his e-mail address is.



I’m sure he thinks it’s something about fishing or hunting. I wonder if any of his friends will tell him that it has other meanings. It’s not like my dad is ignorant of porn…my brother used to find it in his closet.

P.S. I have (obviously) changed blog servers, for now, because I’ve decided I’m not paying Diaryland any more money. I know that you just changed over to this one…and it looks like you copied your archives….was there a speedy shortcut for that, or just hours of tedious bullshit that we all know I’m not patient enough to do?