Topic the First: You guys are awesome. Seriously, I have the most supportive, the most sympathetic, the most wonderful readers in All The Land. If I could afford the airfare, I’d throw a monster party at my house (cheese puffs and hot tubbin’, y’all!) and fly all your butts to Arizona. Where we’d stay up all night and watch Animal House followed by Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and we’d play Truth or Dare and Spin the Bottle and figure out who was the closest degree of separation from Kevin Bacon and there would be door prizes that would consist of a bunch of those eeny-weeny bitty bottles of likker and people would meet and fall in love and drive to Vegas (baby!) and get married.
Topic the Second: I always say I’m not going to play the Christmas Card Politics game, and every year I end up sending out an assload. This year there are 40 on the list, which is manageable, I suppose – I mean, there are some nutty people that I know that send out HUNDREDS, EVERY SINGLE YEAR. So. Even in my Grinchy Grinchy three-sizes-too-small heart, as little as I want to celebrate anything December-oriented, I still feel the need to send out the cards. Well, hell, come to that, if someone would just give me a thousand bucks I’d decorate the house, too. Because it’s not so much that I don’t WANT to decorate the house, as much as it is that I don’t want to do it any other way than the Rockwellian perfection I have in my mind. Which I can’t accomplish with the stuff mashed in Amanda’s storage unit (I pitched a hissy and gave her all the Christmas decorations when she moved out last year).
Topic the Third: Do you want to read something really REALLY fucking funny? Miss Doxie’s latest post, which is really long but totally worth every word. She’s sort of back. Kind of. In that she had a post in October and a post in November and now the crickets are cheeping. But. Yes. Latest post? A GEM. Here’s an excerpt, which had me cackling in my cubicle:
And so it was, for the first day or two of Kitteh’s life here. I made appointments for her shots and tests and spaying and all that business, and I refilled her food and changed her litter (EW) and went in and visited her every little while. And, she responded by hissing at me while standing amid her hundreds of dollars worth of newly-purchased cat supplies, all of which she HATED, she HATED THEM, and she hated my bourgeois bullshit attitude that assumed she’d be happier in suburbia as opposed to a dumpster. So, for the most part, it was kind of like being the parent of a teenager.
But, you know. Kitteh actually started to come around pretty quickly. After a few days, she started meandering up to me when I came in the room. She’d jump on my lap when I sat down. And suddenly, our dialogue went from “AHH FOOD HERE IS YOUR FOOD AHH PLEASE DON’T GET POINTY” to, “Oh, you’re…hi… WHOA, YES, HELLO, THAT IS MY LEG. Am I supposed…you want lap? Wait, what? Rub you now? NOW? NO NOT THAT WAY, RUB YOU THIS WAY? Okay, I…oh, bye.” And then she’d wander off again, and instead of parenting a teenager, it was more like dating an asshole.
Topic the Fourth: I talked to my sister for about an hour today. She’s enduring the Massive! Winter! Storm! that’s smacking the east coast right now (also, shout out to fellow-storm-sufferer, Sherry!). She went out and stocked up on beer and smokes (boggle, cuz I didn’t know she smoked) and munchies yesterday before it started coming down, the kids are home from school, the pipes are frozen, and she sent her husband out into the blizzard to do something about that while she stayed curled up on the couch under the blankets. AND she’s got a batch of baked beans going. That last part is enough to make me willing to suffer that first part, truthfully. I’ve always loved me a good snow storm.