this site. You will DIE from the unbearable cuteness. (Thanks to reader Kathy for the link!)
* * *
Today’s earworm:
Remember seeking moons of birth
Rings made mirrors of the earth
The sun was just yellow energy
It is a living promise land
Even over fields of sand
City filled with burden
Cover me
From bringing back
More than a memory
(Chariot, Gavin DeGraw)
(Every time I see or think of
Gavin DeGraw‘s name, I always – for just a moment – confuse him with
Gavin DeBecker)
* * *
I was originally scheduled for a hair appointment yesterday but I wasn’t look forward to it – not because I don’t like the woman who does my hair, just because it bores the hell out of me to sit in a chair for an hour and a half having it colored and cut and blow-dried, and who the hell wants to sit in front of a mirror for all that time? Not ME. Wednesday night the phone rang, and I answered it to find the receptionist who works at the… place (I feel goofy calling it a “salon”). My Hair Chick was sick with a stomach virus and needed to reschedule for next week.
I felt like I’d been given a reprieve.
I ended up with a semi-busy day anyway, running errands to the bank, the post office, Fred’s office, and Target. It was a little more relaxed than it would have been, though, since I didn’t actually have to be anywhere at a certain time.
* * *
I even finally got around to putting up the Christmas decorations. Which consisted of a few things (I got rid of a lot of Christmas stuff when I was decluttering a few weeks ago) and the Christmas tree.
My absolute favorite ornament. I got it in Maine during the after-Christmas sales last year.
Got this one in Myrtle Beach.
I think I got this one in Maine last summer.
Also Maine last summer – I think when we were in Kittery.
I’m going to look for more Maine-themed ornaments this year
to add to the collection.
This cow cracks me up.
Surprisingly (or not), Sugarbutt was fascinated by the tree.
This would have been a good Christmas card picture if he’d been looking directly at me.
Absolutely fascinating.
(You can see more Christmas ornament closeups and pictures of the tree
here)
I’m afraid they’ll pull the tree onto the floor on top of them, and squish themselves to death. I’m not worried about them breaking ornaments – all the ornaments on the tree are unbreakable, at least I did THAT much right – but I’d hate to come downstairs to find a Sugarbutt or Thomas pancake one morning.
Maybe I can convince Fred to help me move the thing the tree is on top of, and I could put the tree on the floor. They’d probably still pull the tree over, but at least it wouldn’t fall as far and cause as much harm. The pot at the base of that tree is heavy as hell.
Ah well. We’ll see.
* * *
You know what I really fucking hate?
Well, yes, I
do hate kitty litter in the sheets, you’re right. Okay, I also hate little droplets of tea spilled on the floor and not wiped up by the guilty party, yes. And when Fred says “onesy-twoesy” or “mepergan fortis”, that does drive me awfully crazy, the first because “onesy-twoesy” is so annoying cutesy I’d slap any two year-old who said it right upside the head (as long as their fontanelle wasn’t still mushy) and the second because, well, I don’t know. It just annoys the fuck out of me. (Also I really really hate it when he takes a bite of something hot and drums his feet on the floor whilst clutching a napkin to his lips (why can’t he just spit it back out like a normal person), but he’s made an effort to stop doing that BECAUSE HE ROCKS, so it’s really not worth mentioning.)
Anyway, just shut up, ’cause you’re not going to guess.
I really fucking hate it when you make a small donation – say, $25 – to a charity, and they turn around and spend that $25 and more trying to convince you to give them more money. I REALLY FUCKING HATE THAT.
I donated $50 to North Shore Animal League two or three years ago, and they haven’t let up for one fucking second. Every week I’m getting some spam in the mail, address labels, a few weeks ago I got those gift labels you put on gifts so people know who they’re to and from. It drives me NUTS that they put so much effort into pushing me to give more money when the money they’re wasting with the flurry of paper they send me every month could surely pay for shots or food or spaying/ neutering.
I think from now on I’m only going to send anonymous donations via money order and refuse to fill out my name and address. That, or I’ll include a letter with every donation saying “If I ever get
any mail from you asking for another donation, address labels, address books, calendars, gift labels or anything of the sort, I will immediately put you on my blacklist and refuse to send you another dime as long as I live.”
* * *
Currently
reading:
S is for Silence, by Sue Grafton.
Recently finished:
Wifey, by Judy Blume. Yes, I read it when I was a kid. I saw it in the used book store and figured I should read it again. That Judy Blume, what a perv. Heh. It stands the test of time okay, I suppose, though Sandy’s a little too prone to letting life happen to her, and I found her more annoying this time around.
Citizen Girl, by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus. I kept thinking to myself “Didn’t I already read this? This seems so familiar.” But then I realized it was
Everyone Worth Knowing, by Lauren Weisberger I was thinking of. Both books are worth a read, though I wouldn’t read them within a couple of months of each other.
* * *
“Hey, Bob. BOB! Over here, dude. Whatcha got in that bag? Got a little of the ‘nip? Wanna share with your best friend? Wuh? ME, Bob.
I am your best friend, you dumbass. You what? Huh? Come on, Bob, NO ONE believes you really gave up the ‘nip, you just did that rehab ’cause Jeff VanVonderen tripped you up with that “Everyone here loves you like crazy” bullshit. I SAW the show, Bob. You were crying like a big pussy the second you walked through the door and saw your Momma and Aunt Prudence.”
“Like you could ever give up the ‘nip, Bob. Don’t make me giggle.”
“Yeah, whatever, Bob. What. Ev. Errrr. There’s nothing wrong with the occasional snort of the ‘nip, you hear me? NOTHING WRONG. Enjoying the ‘nip doesn’t make me an addict. You go admit you’re powerless over the ‘nip, but when you hit Step 9, you just add me to the list of people you need to make amends to, ’cause you’re annoying me, Bob. You’re just annoying the shit out of me. Go away. Wait ’til I tell Thomas about this, he’s going to laugh his ass off.”
“Bob’s giving up the ‘nip for good? Yeah, RIGHT. I’ll believe THAT when I see it! I give him three days, tops.”
“Wait. What if he IS serious about this? Where the hell are we going to get our stuff? Bob’s the only dealer in town! And he always had the primo stuff. No one else can give us anything even close!”
“Oh, crap.”
* * *
Previously
2004: I guess it really does pay to be in the right place at the right time, eh?
2003: No one cries alone when I’m around, I always say.
2002: Next week will be a lovely roller coaster ride of stressed-out PMS hormones gone wild.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: Have I mentioned that I sleep in the nude?]]>