Though It's A Season Of Giving

It's wise to remember that not all things should be given.

Submitted by longtime Blahg booster Omer, I give you some home spun craftiness:

Source: http://kneelift.tumblr.com/image/105913546582

It's The Most Magical Time Of The Year

I'm thousands of miles from my family. My roomies have headed out for the holiday. It could be a sad story.

But . . . 

My leetle seester sent gifts that arrived back in early Dec.

Both my brothers sent me cards. One put in a ridiculous cash gift. 

I got home and my roomies had left a pile of brightly wrapped gifts on my bed: all in Crazy Christmas Red.

Two care packages arrived from my Moo. So now I'm listening to my very own Christmas CD while I assemble my new Charlie Brown Christmas Tree--my little brother's idea.

My room is wrecked because I had to make room for unpacking and putting out the presents. That's a pretty good problem to have.

I don't give a shit about presents. But this year I have been reminded of the awesome power of physical tokens of remembrance. I've also been reminded of the importance of human connection.

And that's how you end up feeling loved from across a continent. I've got music, I've got decorating duties, and I've got the knowledge that people out there have been thinking about me.

Gotta go, Johnny Mathis is singing.

A Rare Moment

Today started early and got interesting just before lunch, when the following exchange took place:

N: What are you up to?

H: Not much.

N: Let's get weird.

H: I'm already there. Let's do this thing!

What followed was a lovely trip along scenic beachfront down to the ridiculously priced but astoundingly lovely beach village. Wondering through overpriced shops, eating just enough overpriced food, and enjoying the lovely, cool weather.

It was easy and fun. Driving back to town, I turned on the radio to catch some bad local stations and I felt something I haven't felt in a long time.

I felt content.

I wanted for nothing. I cared not what lay ahead. I rued not what lay behind. No headache, not too tired, not too nervous. Like the third bowl of porridge, I was just right.

An unfettered Hawk is a happy Hawk. Nice change of pace.

But Daddy Long Legs I Feel That I'm Finally Growing Weary

Of waiting to be consumed by you.

Had an absolutely lovely lunch with an old friend yesterday. Then a lovely evening with my lil sis and friends.

Majorly chilling with my three furry boyfriends right now. Got a lot to do, but trying to keep it mellow and give the bare minimum of fucks.

And this is just amazing. I guess that this is snooker, and that snooker rules are something like 9 Ball. What I know is that snooker pockets are hella narrow--it takes some real finesse to sink those balls. Imagine basketball hoops without the backboard.

This is beautiful. Impressive. And nary a "bad miss" to be seen.

My Deficiencies Are Many, My Advantages Few

For fuck's sake. I can't keep up with anything, and I'm on fucking vacation. Here's some stuff that happened, may my idiocy serve as a lesson learned for the rest of whoever.

• Hitting black ice at 70-80mph is a surprisingly exanimate experience. 
• 36 hours is way too long to be driving. Really. And probably most people shouldn't take more than one 5 hour energy drink per 12 hours. And it still won't stop your eyes from rolling back in your head. Coast to coast driving: just say no.
• I haven't gotten any speeding tickets while intentionally exceeding the limit. I did get one today on an infamous local road, not even trying to speed, with my mind on the best place to stop for soda on the way to work.
• Yeah, work. Who goes on vacation and gets a job? Se moi. No one in SoCal will look at me cross eyed. Within three days of arriving Eastland, two job offers. 
• In terms of family, I've an embarassment of riches. I often feel obligated to share my family with others, who have less/different/uncomfortable. Not because I want to, but because I feel that it's selfish to keep such things to myself.
• A 3 year got to first base with me. Even the children know I'm an easy mark.
• Two adorable little boys sat on either knee to listen to a story. I felt a great deal of love and comfort in that moment. It's nice not always having to play the heavy.
• I'm still unsure if it's healthy acceptance or dysfunctional apathy. 
• Some people get hurt beyond anyone's ability to comfort. Nowadays I try to talk less, shut up a lot more, and hope that does something.
• It's never safe to relax.
• The effort to prevent my medically induced Hulk-Outs may be turning me into a Vulcan. But without the math skills.
• How can you have a set of Bible trivia questions and not ask about the apocalypse? C'mon man. . . cut a brother some slack.
• On that note, next week has an American Serial Killers round. Failure to perform in this area ends in seppuku. (hah, totally spelled that right on the first try)
• Small towns are small towns. You know everybody, even if you think you don't.
• I categorically reject this head cold. 
• Due to a woeful lack of evidence, I increasingly suspect that justice is an entirely human construct and it is only our perceptions that lend any flavor of karmic balance to life.
• I terrified someone the other day. I wasn't doing anything I considered dangerous--I specifically would not have engaged in the action if I perceived danger. But I know too well the nail biting angst of watching someone endanger themselves. Upon realizing the situation, I stopped immediately. This story involves a pit bull.
• I like doggies and kitties.
• I like other people's children.
• I am so fucking tired. So very, very tired. I don't know how to fix it. I don't know what to do. I will just keep moving and hope inspiration strikes.
• Much to my surprise, we seem to be extending the No Fucks Given tour into the holiday season. This will either be glorious or disastrous. So until further advised, No Kosher Fucks Merrily Given is in effect.
• How do you get a nun pregnant?
• Dress her up as a choir boy.
• My backlog of bad movies to watch is getting alarming. Also, even my beloved Sam Waterston couldn't save Capricorn One. I'm probably going to hell for the O.J. jokes I made while watching it. But it evens out because it was so bad it killed off some of my precious few remaining brain cells.
• GODFUCKINGDAMNIT. This is a vexing development.
•  It's indescribably lovely to have people genuinely excited and pleased to see you.
• I loves my Bef. And Mini-Bef. And Dirty Bertie Jr and Sr.
• Dear Windows: PLEASE STOP "HELPING" AND "IMPROVING" YOUR O/S. BECAUSE IT ACTUALLY DOESN'T HELP. IRONIC, ISN'T IT? SO EFF WINDOWS 8.SHITE. REALLY. YOU EVEN FUCKED UP CONTROL PANEL? FUCKING WINDOWS DESIGN TEAM: HOW DOES THEY WORK?
• That Ancient Aliens shit hurts me in my logic. I'm all like:

Here's to keeping up the streak!

Goodnight all you beautiful creatures.

New Year's Confessions

I hate New Year's Eve and Day. They are my second least favorite celebrations. The occasion affects my Humours most severely, and I find I'm often struck by terrible Melancholy.

Tonight wasn't so bad. But as I often am, I was lost in the morass of my own thoughts. Tied up in dread of future tasks.

And yet.

Family came out to dinner and some to the party afterwards. My friends continue to be amazing hosts. I finally got relief from some persistent pain. I'm relatively sane and perfectly sober at this ungodly time of night.

I don't really know what to say. I've quite run out of words these days. Or the belief that anyone wants to listen. Or whatever.

Here's some other stuff that happened.

What Really Happened To Your Christmas Present

Dear Mom,

Your craft-challenged child decided to learn to knit and make glorious gifts for everyone for Christmas. Fast forward 4 weeks and we have two projects in motion, somewhere around the 8th iteration of each. Little progress had been made, but there were great hopes for the downtime during this trip.

Others, however, had different plans.

Crime Scene Photo: Exhibit 1

Crime Scene Photo: Exhibit 2

But who could be so nefarious?

Main Suspect

The suspect was found with bits of bamboo on his muzzle. These pieces closely match the fragments shown in Exhibit 2. Investigators believe the suspect blitz attacked the developing scarf, catching it completely off guard. The knitting was dragged from the coffee table and deposited on the ground. It is believed that the suspect was really after the bamboo needles, as the majority of slobber and tooth damage were found on those remnants.

Those close to the knitting, which was a casualty of the attack, have reportedly said, "Oh well, it was crap stitching anyways." There are reports of laughter upon finding the crime scene.

And that's how I spent my Christmas vacation.

Anything Good In Me Comes From My Parents

Out running errands with my Moo and this happened:

She left one building to walk to her bank, thinking I still had to conclude some business. Turns out I didn't, so I followed soon after, perhaps twenty yards behind.

At the bank door was an older black gentleman. I mention his ethnicity because we are in The South and it retains a certain flavor (bitter) in these matters.

This gentleman was on one of those medical scooters, which wouldn't fit through the door. He was having a terrible time of trying to stand up, brace his fumbling legs, open the door and walk.

I heard my Moo's voice like a crisp bell across the parking lot, "I can help you."

Then she maneuvered the gentleman up. He could barely hold steady, much less take a step. She drew her arm around his waist and he mimicked the action. And so they walked through the bank doors and all the way to the teller, arm in arm like small children at play.

She never saw me. I elected to stay outside. Somebody had to guard his scooter. And something seemed to have gotten in my eye.

That's why my Moo is besta, ya?

And that's how I spent my Christmas vacation.

She Who Breaks The Day

You ever have one of those friends whose constitution is wholly indecent in its ability to sustain? One of those friends who eats McRibs and is slender, can drink a pint of rum and be sober(ish), stay up all night, and get up and repeat the process?

I know a few of these unholy people. Let me introduce you JoT, the Dawnbreaker.

Beware! the bumptious Dawnbreaker
Who parties from dusk till day
With merriment and mischief aplenty
To steal your sleep away!

But perhaps my leetle seester summed it up best in Epic Text Of The Weekend:

Those who laugh know nothing of the Dawnbreaker. Just yesterday, I know a man who broke dawn with JoT, offering supplications of Jack Daniels and beer, but no mercy was shown him the next day. His mouth was become dry, and his head and back were racked with pains. He spent the day burning incense and abasing himself before all the gods, but he knew dawn had broken upon his head, smiting him as if with a club, and the gods do not hear the cries of the fools such as he! Be warned and laugh no more, for the rays of sun signal your doom.

And that's how I spent my Christmas vacation.

Things To Look Forward To

I know it ended on a preposition, but really: Things To Which To Look Forward? No.

Certain environs hold certain pleasures. To wit: 

• Waffle House!
• Required visits to N-Squaw. Home of the three drink maximum. One martini, Two martini, Three martini, Floor.
• The reunion at the Group W bench. 
• Carraba's with my Forever Carraba's date: Jo.
• Reunion of the Three Musketeers of Debauchery: D'runktagnan, Potsmoke, and ScaruhMiss. We sometimes combine into Form of Assthos. Those are less than noble nights. (The names are interchangable, btw). Yes, The Musketeers are a fearsome bunch. When last in town they drank a waitress under the table. Accidentally. Fear them.
• Going to romp n stomp some fewls on a trivia night.
• Seeing the fam. Though I doubt we will match the awesomeness of the Critmus Sing A Wrong of last year.
• Critmus Tree!
• Critmus Cookies!
• Hanging out with Hotsauce and HRad in their new palatial estate. Fending off the amorous advances of their pack of slightly wild dogs.
• Marco's Pizza.
• Trying to figure out which of the Brothers A people I can hornswoggle convince to throw a party.
• Rolling. But not on the shabbos.
• DEEP HURTING via some truly wretched movie viewing.
• Calming up with Svletlana, Hahhhnk the KGB Pooch, and Prince Will of Choco Coco Land.
• Seriously hoping to get see my peeps from my  former place of employ. This can be hard to coordinate, but I want it so bad.
• The bittersweetness of the Dojo peeps. *sigh*
• Rickle Pickle and D2. Would love a proper visit.
• Schooner's for the requisite Bushwacker and to get the free cup to add to my glassware collection.

Any thoughts from others on this subject?

2011 Christmakwanzaakah Wrap Up

Firstly, let us give thanks for Richard Dawkins and the elegant definition of the unit of cultural exchange known as the meme. I wonder what validated scientifical type connections have been made between memes and the theory of human trance states--that is, the cyclical thought patterns we organize and run in our heads non stop, from reading to driving to. . . whatever.

I bring up the meme, as it seems my life is most easily demarcated by whatever meme is floating about in my head, song is stuck in my head, and piece of fiction I'm filtering through my head at that particular time. Trips seem most susceptible to this sort of categorization, perhaps by their very encapsulated nature.

Courtesy of my cousin Stu, here's the meme that wouldn't die during my two week stay with friends and family. It's not outrageously funny, and yet it creeps into your mind and speech and can't be got out for all the world.

Yeah. I can't really explain it, either. But I love seahorses. I love them.

It was by far one of the best holiday seasons I've had in some time. I got to spend time with friends and family, avoided most major disasters, and managed to relax a bit (probably in no small part due to recent upsurge in meds--my doctors feel I need some extra strength nerve pills, hurney.)

During a family event my little bro brought up the Mike Tyson Zoloft song, a surprising hit with him that I had referenced earlier that year here in BB. Well, we played it for the family and by the time my uncle came back in from the woodshed he got treated to an a capella  spontaneous rendition of the chorus by all the kids. He was suitably impressed. I'm telling ya, it's one damn catchy song.

There were no gift exchanges this year, but I really liked how it all went down. We decorated cookies, had crackers, ate way too much food, and everybody kinda did their own thing without it being the end of the world. Or at least, I wasn't trying to organize everything, so if it was the end of the world, I was at least blissfully unaware of it.

Christmas Crackers. The only kinda Cracker ass Cracker I'll tolerate.

At the tender age of 45, Uncle Tim gets to decorate cookies for the first time.

Some other family member's talents lie in other cookie directions.

The real meaning of holiday joy.

In what is rapidly becoming an almost glamourously complex bi-coastal relationships, I got to visit with Tink and Pandaman at their new abode. Silliness occurred, but at a lower rate than usual. I think everybody was feeling the holiday wear and tear. However, we definitely employed Tink's craft corner. And ice cubes. And liquor.

Remember kids: Don't drink and craft. 

Gee, too bad there weren't enough beverages to spread between the three of us.

In a wonderful, surprising, and awesome turn of events, all my siblings, my uncle, and my cousin showed up to a party my friends were throwing. You coulda knocked me over with a feather. It wasn't even my party, but I felt like the princess of the ball. I also made cheeseballs. And got to see the lovely HRad and Hotsauce, who overcame a day of considerable medical obstacles to have that soiree.

I pre-debauched for New Years (oy vey) and got to spend a mellow, fun, silly evening with friends at a pretty, pretty dress up party. Two siblings showed up, a dear old friend, a long lost high school bud, and some folks I wouldn't have otherwise gotten to see. Amazing!

In between some other things happened:

• Terrorized brother with endless viewings of Robin Hood BBC on Netflix streaming. I'm sure he wishes I hadn't come home that night and helped him figure out how to set it up. Heh. Heh. Hehhhhhh.
• Hung out with mah moo, but not enough. :/
• Gave my dad a harrison ford makeover hairdo. There are not polite words in the English language to describe his reaction.
• Had an amazing afternoon with Champagne Bubbles, Beck, Hennessy, and Leetle Seester. It was positively decadent, on a Fitzgerald Gatsbyian level. So much fun.
• Fell asleep twice on couches and was put to bed like a small child.
• Went on incredibly beautiful bike ride with Mistah Shik!
• Finally told Tonis (Dean of the College of Rock n Roll Knowledge) that he posseses that rare male trait of beauty: really good legs. There may have been some rum involved in this discussion.
• PEE ESS, when Mike Rotch offers you Kraken rum, dive for the nearest exit.
• Watched an awesome movie from the old Kung Fu Theatre days, The Five Deadly Venoms. Was surprised how much of it I remembered. Though I certainly didn't recall one of the deadly fighting styles being The Toad.
• MST3K. Revisiting Space Mutiny. Oh, so awful. And then one called...oh fuck. I don't even know. Something about Killer Spiders from Outerspace. They land in Wisconsin, and honestly, they could only  have done good by wiping out the truly grotesque white trash billies living there. Gag.
• Got to see more of Bijoux in a strange way, as we were sort of room mates for this period. I would go upstairs and harass her in the mornings before I took off. 

And though many may never read this, I must most humbly extend my heartfelt thanks to the people who helped make this trip possible, from donating for the plane ticket to giving my sorry ass a place to sleep to picking up the check at the restaurants. I'm sure there's more. Oh wait, here it. When you loan me your room, I will use my MacGuyver like skills to help with accomodations. Including missing pillowcases. Cuz I'm crafty. I'm just my style.

No, those aren't my boxer shorts. But they looked like they were in the mostly clean pile.

Good News and Stuff

I have forgotten to record a piece of awesome news what has happened upon me.

(sometimes i have what alcoholics refer to a 'moment of clarity' and realize that people who visit this blog might think english is not my first language)

Anyhoodle, my super righteous leetle seester and some yet-to-be-revealed friends got together and bought me a plane ticket back East for the holidays.....how freaking cool is that??!!!!

I almost cried when she told me. It's an amazing gift. I am humbled.

Guess what I did this weekend? CRITMUS CARDZ!!!!!

Dat's allota dimp!

By my count I've done up about 56 cards so far. It doesn't sound like much, but it takes forever. Next year I'm buying labels and printing out my return address. I also think it's a bad sign when the stamp cost supersedes the card cost.

My friends Omey Pie and his loverly Mrs. are sending me some headgear, so I can Skypes with Bef. For those of you who don't know Bef, or maybe haven't seen her in a while, let me give you a refresher:

Ahhh...that's always a good one.

It's nice to be remembered. Omey is great about letting you know when you're on his mind. To wit (and soooooo NSFW):

And in the continuing awesome adventures of George, this little gem by way of my friend Bijoux:

This man is a national treasure. For reals.

p.s. hee...drunk!bef. . .

Your Real Holiday Present

First of all, for anybody who doesn't know, I am fully aware of the Incredible Smoothness and Magical Rainbow Effervescence that is the Power of Kenny Loggins:

Now, in a wonderful bit of universal kismet, two of my favorite things have been combined.

If you have never read the blog Hyperbole and a Half, you are seriously undermining your quality of life.

I happened across this little gem today. Allie is one of those storytellers who makes me laugh out loud, often to the point of tearing up. Among the little gifts in this story are

The wise men, who were heavily intoxicated at that point in the evening, decided to dress themselves like gypsies.
******
The wise men were in the kitchen making more cocktails while Jesus was being "born" and they missed their cue. My mom ran into the kitchen and yelled "Jesus is here!" to which the wise men responded "Oh! Right! Shit. Hang in there, Jesus! We're coming!!" 


And there are pictures!!


So check out the quick, illustrated tale. I can't recommend the blog highly enough. You can thank me later.

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/12/year-kenny-loggins-ruined-christmas.html

And remember kids: