It always amazes me that, no matter how determined I am beforehand, and no matter that I set a date for getting back on my diet, I always give up and fall completely off of the wagon that is my diet as soon as Christmas hits. 

This year is no exception.

I guess maybe I just get really really tired of writing down every piece of food that goes in my mouth, and I guess I was super diligent all the way up until Christmas Eve, which has never happened before, and I guess that taking one week off isn't going to kill me.

Urgh.

I wrote down all of my food yesterday, but I went way over, due mostly to the fact that I ate candy. A lot of candy. And it was delicious. I will write today's food down because, well, I'm freaking out a little over how much weight I could potentially gain, especially once I'm off work for the weekend and the drinking begins. 

Mmmm. Malibu and Coke...don't judge. I drink red wine, too, but there's just something magical about coconut-flavored anything mixed with my favorite of all beverages: Real Coke. None of this diet business.

Anyhoo, I suppose I will have to hit it hard once January first arrives, but I will try my best to just enjoy relaxing a bit.

I will also try my hardest not to stop at the grocery store on my way to work, just to pick up a box of chocolate-covered cherries for the road.

Those mofos are delicious, and I haven't had any yet...

I have to go in to work this morning. My husband does not. While I am glad for him, I am very very sad for me. Therefore, I am trying to be a grown-up and reminding myself that it's only for a short day.

Plus, my mother-in-law said something to me yesterday that made me feel like a turd for grumbling. And she was totally right. I said, "Well, I have to go in to work tomorrow, so I won't get to be off with my husband, having a pajama day. Oh, well." Then I laughed. Then, she said, "Oh, how lucky for you! It's such a blessing to have a job to go to." (No sarcasm...she really meant it.)

And she's totally right. I am lucky to have a job, even if it means not having extra days off at Christmas. Lots of people would love to have my job.

So I will shut up now. Hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and got some extra sleep, which is, as we all know, the best gift of all...besides this:

Yep. I got that. It's just as shiny and orange as it looks. Ah, merry Christmas to me.

I'm so excited!!!

I know, holidays and whatnot, but today is my LAST DAY OF WORK BEFORE CHRISTMAS!! OH MY GOODNESS!!!!!!!

Five days, in a row, away from the pit of despair. Whatever shall I do with myself? I think it's time for some interpretive dancing around the house in my underpants.

Or maybe I'll just bake and make jam and crochet and sew, since those are my favorites anyway....

...or maybe I'll just sleep the whole time and get up for brief periods of crappy TV watching. Hmmm...that sounds fun too....

...but at any rate, I don't have to wear pants. At all. Not if I don't want to. Plus, I don't have to sit at a computer or be nice to people who are talking to me like I'm a moron. And isn't that the best gift of all?

Oh, and congratulations on surviving the apocalypse. I'm guessing that if you're reading this, the Mayans were wrong. Or we mis-interpreted what they were saying.

At any rate, have a very Merry Christmas (I won't say Happy Chanukah, because I happen to know that happened a long time ago, and I'm not really sure when Kwanzaa is but I hope if you celebrate either of those wintery holidays that they were super fantastic for you) and a great 2013. I may or may not have anything good to say between now and then, but it's highly unlikely.

I'm on dipsoluscious vacation!

So this morning I got up and decided to step on the scale (good plan, right?), as I figured that the world may be ending and as the planet explodes (I decided that's how it's going down), I want to know how I did on that score.

Down a pound and a half from two days ago!

I was very excited and then I thought, "Wait...why?" Then I realized that I've been working so much lately that I have no time to snack. 

Seriously.

This new job that I'm doing at work has taken away all of my snacking time? That's crazy talk. In addition, I have a new tic (which I didn't realize was a tic until fifty people or so asked me if my neck was hurting and I realized I've started rubbing the back of my neck when I'm thinking...great) and my left eye won't stop twitching.

I'm trying to decide if this is, indeed, a problem, or if I should just be glad that I'm losing weight. I mean, I'm fat, right? Losing weight is good, right?

Then I realized that my weight probably would've gone down a lot more if I would've refrained from eating half a dozen cookies and the rest of the frosting in the cookie frosting tube in the cupboard last night after I got home.

Yeah.

So maybe the snacking isn't as contained as I thought...oh, well. Two more days until the real Christmas countdown begins and then I get two whole days off my diet. That's my Christmas present to myself, but I can only have it if I lose 1.6 more pounds before the 24th. Can I do it? You know that I can!

I'm totally out of frosting.

Less than a week now until Christmas, but if the world's going to end after tomorrow, I guess we won't ever get to open our presents. That will be lame. We also have so many fun activities planned and we won't get to do any of them, either. That will also be lame.

I suppose we could do some of the activities beforehand, but I'm wondering when exactly the world's checking out. Will it all happen at once, like a big old bomb just putting us all out of our misery, or will it get everyone at precisely midnight, according to their time zones?

Also, should I even bother going in to work today and tomorrow? It's cold out there, and if the world's ending anyway, I might as well spend my last two days eating as much as I want (because who cares if I gain all the weight back...when the world ends, you don't have to fit into your pants) and watching all the shows I haven't seen on Netflix.

Wait. I didn't even think about that. There's so much TV I haven't seen, and I still haven't watched The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia, and I do so want to see it.

Not to mention the new James Bond movie that nobody would go with me to see, or the rest of the hobbit movie (the critics can kiss my bootie...that movie was awesome).

Okay, the world can't end. I haven't been entertained nearly enough. 

I'm still going to eat extra cookies, though. Just in case.

Dear Parent of the Kid that Kicked my Seat for an Hour and a Half Last Night:

I know, I know. It's Christmastime and we're all supposed to be jolly and indulgent and whatnot. However, I think you should know that your little bundle of joy is a menace to society.

I realize that there wasn't a ton of legroom going on in there, but you should also know that I am used to kids, and at no time in my life have I experienced the level of seat-back-kicking that I experienced yesterday. Seriously. I feel all bruised up and the pictures I tried to take of our friends didn't turn out because I was being constantly jolted out of my seat by your nine-year-old's surprisingly sturdy little legs.

Next time, if I want a massaging chair, I'll go sit in one at the mall.

Tell your kid and all the others of his kind that there are still people like me in the world. I refrained last night because it's Christmas and I didn't want to give the other kids nightmares, but I'm the type of lady who will turn around and ask him to knock it off. First time, just the scary voice, but if I have to turn around a second time, your kid will experience "THE FACE."

Yeah, buddy, that's all caps.

I learned the technique from my mom, who learned it from my grandma, who (I'm guessing) learned it from her mom. I never experienced that look from my Granny, but from my Grandma? Oh, yeah. You know that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where they open up the ark and that guy's face melts off?

Like this:

Yep. That's what happens when you receive "THE FACE." I'm just warning you now, so your kid can tone down his thigh exercises. If we meet up again, it may not be Christmastime and I may not be feeling so charitable. Watch out.

Hugs and Kisses,

The Lady Who Sat in Front of You at the Concert Last Night, Who Was Seriously Annoyed At About Ten Minutes in, but is Extremely Proud of Herself this Morning for Reining in the Terror

I love it when I watch a movie and think, "Why on Earth did this movie not get better reviews?" That happened this weekend with my watching of Casa de mi Padre, an all-Español movie starring Will Ferrell.

Let me say, first off, that I will watch anything with Will Ferrell in it. I pretty much think that, if I had my druthers, I would be Ron Burgundy in a second life. Also, his characters tend to be so over-the-top, while he looks like such a normal, dorky guy, and that makes him even funnier. To me. This movie isn't too different from that. Except for the Spanish part.

Anyone who's ever enjoyed a good telenovela, as I have, will enjoy the way the camera person zooms in really tightly on their faces during tense scenes. I know that some people are going to get thrown off by the subtitles, but, hey now. Reading isn't that hard. Plus, if you have a basic knowledge of Spanish, even just Spanish cuss words, that will really enhance your experience. You may also, as I did, learn some new cuss words. I always like to expand my horizons, and this movie was super educational.

It's not highbrow, by any means. There are bodily function jokes and lots of butt-grabbing, but it's all in good fun. Seriously. We're all adults. Plus, Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite is in there. There are also many shots involving plastic people. Come on, that's fun, too. The only downside to the picture is that it encouraged my husband to keep growing out his mustache. Sheesh. Yep, there are a ton of mustaches going on in Casa.

So, if you like silly movies and can read a little bit, and also enjoy movies that are filmed purposely to look like low-budget-type shows, you should give it a try. What's the worst that can happen?

Your eyeballs will not start on fire. I promise.

Tonight, my family and a friend and I are going to an event that we all look forward to so much, I can't even stand that it's already here! If you are in Northern NM, don't forget that this weekend is the New Mexico Gay Men's Chorus Christmas concert weekend. So much fun and they do great work, so GO!

It seems a shame to waste such a beautiful day on work, but I guess they'll be expecting me, so I guess today isn't a pants-free day. Unless I could pull that off at work...no? Never mind.

Anyhow, yesterday, I had a very clever person use the term "cosmetic emergency." I have heard all sorts of reasons why people need to get in, but I think this one was my favorite. In honor of that person's fantastic choice of words (really, I loved it), here is a list of tips to help a person get into his or her medical office of choice a little faster during the holiday season:

First, you want to make sure that you fake an emergency. We totally can't tell the difference, and the list of symptoms we ask you about is just a joke. So just cry and scream a lot, and we'll feel sorry for you and bump some people that truly are in pain and give you an appointment, and everything will be all fine and dandy. Until you walk in, at which point you will have a bunch of really irritated people with pointy sharp things in their hands that will be working on you. Then, you may not feel quite so smug and self-satisfied.

Secondly, and this is important, make sure to let the person you're speaking to on the phone know how little you think of him or her. Make sure to be as condescending as possible, and if all else fails, yell a little bit. That's really the best way to get the outcome you want, because the person who handles the phone calls is generally the person in charge of how much the office charges and what hours the office is open. You know, stuff like that. Front-desk people really respond well to rough treatment. Oh, and they'd never, ever let the doctors know which patients treat them like crap on the phone. Never. So just let it fly.

Finally, it's completely necessary to be inflexible with your schedule. If you're told that the doctor has one opening left THIS YEAR, make sure to ask if he or she has anything a little later in the day, or on the next business day. The person you're speaking to is probably lying and is just holding all those choice after-school and early morning time slots for her friends and family. Yeah. So make sure to only accept the day and time that fits perfectly into your schedule, because doctors really do get an extra four hours a day when they graduate from medical school, so that they can spend more time at the office. I'm surprised you didn't know that.

If you do all of these things, you should be...well...happily shopping around for a new doctor's office. That was the point, right? No? Ah, yes, I forgot. So if you want to stay where you're at and just get in, try being nice, asking what times they have, and only saying it's an emergency when it really is. That's a lot more effective and it makes for a much more pleasant feeling in your insides when you're approached by that person with that sharp, pointy object. 

Yep, another Christmas-themed blog. In honor of the fact that I only got about three hours of sleep last night, largely because one of these songs was playing itself over and over and over in my head, I'd like to share my top ten Christmas songs with the world. Or with my husband, my sister and some friends of my mom. You know, with whoever's got ten minutes and no work to do.

10. Jingle Bell Rock as sung by Wayne Newton. Is he a man? Is he K.D. Lang? I don't know, but the creepiness factor makes it ever so much more enjoyable.

9. The Little Drummer Boy as sung by Roger Whitaker. Okay, really anything sung by Roger Whitaker. I think my mom may have a crush on him, because my mind instantly reverts to being about five and listening to this a ton in our Ford station wagon and my mom being all mega-happy and whatnot.

8. Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer as sung by Burl Ives. For the same reason as the above.

7. Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer Mambo as performed by Billy May. It's amazing, and I'm pretty sure those guys were super drunk. All of the time. And that's what Christmas is all about. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E2cGIju_euU

6. It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year as sung by Andy Williams. Because I know he's wearing those sweet white polyester slacks.

5. White Christmas as sung by Bing Crosby. Come on. It's awesome.

4. Mr. Hankey, the Christmas Poo song from South Park. It's gross, offensive and rude. Just like my family.

3. Snow as sung by Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye, Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen. First of all, Vera-Ellen makes me feel so large and in charge that this song almost acts as an appetite suppressant. Almost. Secondly, if you replace the "w" in the title with a "t" and you sing the whole song like that, it's hilarious. Well, if you're perma-10 like me, it is.

2. Silver Bells as sung by Ann Murray. I think my mom must've loved her like crazy, because I remember hearing her a lot and buying my dad a soap-on-a-rope at the uptown pharmacy during a snowstorm while this song was playing. It's my Christmas-y-est memory ever.

1. Christmas in San Francisco as sung by Vic Damone. Two words:  Barbecue pork. Try it out...you'll enjoy the cheese. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vA_0cvyh3oE

In addition to these songs, I also love everything ever done by Johnny Mathis and Perry Como. If those two ever did a duet, I would probably die from the amazing.

I'm so excited for Christmas. Eeeeek!

Alrighty, it's 12-12-12. I'm sure some crazy crap is going to go down today.

Or, I'm going to use my morning off wisely and wrap some dang Christmas presents.

Either way, I am so excited for this Christmas, I can hardly contain myself. I thought I'd write you all a post about the funnest Christmas things my family does, so that you, too, can share in my family's terrific Christmastasticness.

1. We ALWAYS listen to Christmas music, starting on Thanksgiving. It's on in the background at all times. This ensures that everyone will hear his or her favorite Christmas carol, and it also ensures that we're all thinking about Christmas ALL OF THE TIME. You can't think of fun activities and hilarious stocking stuffers if you're not really concentrating on it. Also, we all have an impressive amount of Christmas carol knowledge, which is important for any well-rounded person.

2. We all make lists of what we want on amazon.com. This is important so that each person ends up with a minimum amount of crap presents. I mean, my mom will still buy us clothes that may or may not fit, and my dad will still buy somebody a plastic fake nose/mustache/pair of glasses, but those aren't really crap presents. They're family traditions. I'm referring to the kind of crap present where you buy your family member a book that that person already has, so he ends up with two of the same book and a sad, sad feeling in his heart.

3. We always make crafts. ALWAYS (I realize there are a lot of alwayses here, but that's how we roll). Crafty time is vital to our family's amazingness, and contributes to our overall sense of, well, just being way more fun than other, more normal, families. Plus, you should see how realistic bread dough hair can be.

4. We plan an activity every year. Some sort of play, picture or other funny thing we can record in some way and share with other people, so they can feel that special Christmas jealousness of how cool we are and how much fun we're having. You know you want to join in.

5. Finally, we always go drive around and look at Christmas lights (except for last year, because we were all lazy and I think we may have been drinking wine since like 3 p.m.) and get a candy cane from the Santa who hands out mini candy canes outside of his house. That guy knows what's up, and mini candy canes are delicious. Plus, they can be fashioned into a sharp and pointy weapon in case anyone tries to steal some of your summer sausage when you get back to the house to open presents on Christmas Eve (yes, we open presents on Christmas Eve, but there's a good reason for it). You have to have Swiss Colony Beef Log after looking at Christmas lights, and while opening presents. It's the law.

So, get your Christmas on. Regardless of your belief system, it's a good time to be extra nice to other people.....you know, peace and love and all of that. Yeah, I'm a hippie that way. Deal with it. Oh, and remember, I like presents a lot. Yeah, that.

Walmart is not my favorite store to go to. I'm sure lots of people feel that way, but I do have to admit that around the holidays, the super mega crazy people come out, which makes a trip to Walmart a lot more fun.

Unless I have to go to the bathroom, in which case, well, I'll just hold it, because it's like the Night of the Living Dead in there. Like that, but with a small child staring at me from under the stall next door while his mom laughs at how cute he is, and doesn't tell him to: a) get off the filthy fricking bathroom floor, and b) stop staring at the lady while she pees (true story).

It's almost worth it, though, as you get to see magnificent outfits that are sometimes even holiday-themed.

Or, you may be treated to drunken PDAs in the frozen foods aisle, which, to me, is what Christmas is all about. Love and Salisbury Steak, man. Keeping it real.

I do not, however, enjoy it if we have to walk by the toy area, which we usually do because the car stuff is always by the toys (good plan). I am a little leery of large groups of kids, and that whole scene is like daycare for people who can't do daycare. I think maybe there's an unspoken law that you can just drop your kids off there, and they can just have at it. I've seen kids sitting on the floor (again, with the kids on the floor....what's wrong with people???), playing with a toy they've removed from its box, and no parents in sight.

I actually think that might be kind of awesome for those kids. I probably would've enjoyed it, myself.

I'll try to think of that next time I'm walking past a ginormous group of kids and I have a Children of the Corn moment. I'll think, "It'll be okay. It'll be okay. It'll be okay. Just look like you don't care and don't even notice them..."

That may work. If all else fails, it's Walmart. I'll just run to the vegetable section. Nothing bad ever happens there.

So, like most decent, hard-working people, I feel like my job is sucking my soul out through my nose and then slapping me in the face with it.

Is that so wrong?

It is also encroaching on my non-work time in a way that is quite disturbing. I think maybe I need to set some boundaries regarding work contact. Here goes:

If I am not at work and I choose to vent about work with a friend or colleague, that is fine, but if I can't stop or I start crying hysterically or eating an entire box of Oreos, my husband has the responsibility to tell me I look pretty and to either buy me a new pair of shoes or to take me to the movies and get me popcorn AND candy.

Also, if anyone calls me at home about work on my day off when it isn't an emergency and it could've just waited until I was at work the next day, I have the right to tell them exactly what I think of them, with no holds barred (results on that one are going to vary greatly). I also have the right to make a fart noise into the phone and then hang up immediately before I hear what the problem is.

Because I am a musician first (and that will never change, no matter how much my day job tries to worm its way into being the highest priority in life), if anyone bothers me about work in a way that disrupts me while I'm working on a piece of music, it is my responsibility to rip them a new....

...you get the point. That's a very, very, very bad thing to do. Sometimes, I'll have been working on the same stinking two measures for an hour and have just gotten to the point where I think I've figured out what it is that's causing the problem, and I'll get a work text or call, which is never about anything that can't wait.

Think The Incredible Hulk, but with more hormonal fluctuation. Yeah, that's going to be a problem for you.

So, I think if we can all agree on these rules, I'll be good to go.

Thank you very much for your cooperation,

Love and Kisses,

Miss Merry Sunshine

Lines are a very complicated thing. I think maybe humans are the only creatures to line up, but I don't really know and I didn't take the time to look up anything about that. So let's just assume that I'm right.

Our cruise was definitely chock-full of lines. We waited in a line to get aboard, we waited in line for the elevators, we waited in line to eat, and we waited in a line to get off the ship. I think you can learn a lot about human behavior by observing the way different people act in a line-up type of situation.

Seriously.

There are the people, like me, who are so timid they may let too many people go in front of them because they are beyond terrified that they might be rude and cut in front of someone. There are the opposite type of people, who don't care and decide that wherever they happen to step into the line is the proper place, without ever bothering to look back to see if anyone was already there (you see that one a lot).

Then, there are the old guys.

They are a whole different type, because they not only tend to choose the wrong place to get into the line, they will complain about the length of the line as loudly as possible for the entire span of time that they have to wait. Now, there are other groups of people that do this, too, but they don't have nearly as much ear hair, so I'm leaving them out.

The old guys are fascinating because it's almost as though they're looking for something to complain about. They'll find it, too, because they're experts. Then they'll stand (usually right in front of me) and grumble loudly about the weather, the line, the food, the line, and the music. Oh, and then they'll mention the line again. Plus, their entire conversation is laced with mothball-scented burps from "that damn buffet food." That makes for a less-than-pleasant line experience for anyone within smelling distance.

Not that lines are that pleasant of an experience, it's just that some lines are less stinky than others.

The ear hair also has a life of its own, floating ever so carelessly in the breeze. That's dangerous, because it's easy to get mesmerized and then the old guy will mistake your stares for an invitation to converse. Yikes. You will, however, be drawn into conversation with him, because that's just part of life. Deal with it.

Humans may be the only creatures to stand in lines to wait for the buffet to open, but we are not alone in the ear hair department. 

For instance, look at this zebra's ear hair. Somebody get him a groomer, please. Geez.

Somehow, that kind of ear hair is way less gross. Oh, well. Happy Friday.

Alright, people. It's time for someone to just come out and say it: If you are or look like you are over the age of 75, it's time for you to not dance sexy in public.

Thank you.

It seems that once people step onto a boat, they become this different person. One who feels the need to bump and grind whenever possible. Don't do that. It's gross. I don't want to see someone who reminds me of my Grandma bumping and grinding to "Night Fever" while I'm trying to eat my lunch. Go to the nightclub if you need to do that, but don't do it in broad daylight while your grandkids are twenty feet away, swimming in the pool. We all love disco. I don't need to see your sweet booty-shaking moves.

I don't mean that you shouldn't dance. Although I don't do it myself (except on rare occasions when I'm with my sister and it's the last night of our cruise and I'm in the nightclub with three drinks or so under my belt), dancing is perfectly acceptable. I mean, you're on vacation and you should enjoy yourself, right?

Right. But please, please, please try to enjoy yourself without public crotch-thrusting. It makes me puke.

Thank you, again.

When I'm out and about, enjoying the sun and whatnot, I feel that it's my responsibility to keep all of my jiggly bits as covered up as possible, so I can avoid frightening small children and just generally making people vomit.

Apparently, most people that were on the cruise with us did not feel that way. 

Granted, I tend to go overboard, as in, I wear a big long t-shirt over my bathing suit which I will not take off unless there are absolutely no people around, and even then I have to keep checking for the approach of other people so I can put my t-shirt on if it looks like someone's coming.

However, this cruise contained a new sight for me: Really large ladies in bikinis.

Now, I am fat. I'll say it right out loud, and I don't love the fact that I'm fat, but I've been this way since I was eight, so it's really not a big surprise to me that I have extra poundage hanging off of my gut. Apparently, though, some of these women have never been informed that they are not slim.

But they're not.

Pretty much every day, when we were out walking around the deck and looking at the scenery and scoping out the back hair and the moobs (which is a whole other post, because...whoa), we would see a lady, covered in that tanning grease people use to increase their odds of getting skin cancer a tan, and only the naughty bits of her body would be covered.

How do you get that kind of comfort with yourself? I almost wish I could feel that way for a day, but really, it was kind of embarrassing. They'd be all splayed out on a deck chair (sometimes with their splendiferousness overhanging on both sides), with the magnificence of their bellies just out there for all to see. I wanted to ask them if they knew that bikinis made in a size 5X or larger (and that's being quite kind) are just for fun and not actually meant to be worn, but I thought that might be mean.

So I just thought it in my head.

I didn't even try to take pictures of it, because the images burned themselves into my brain and it became more of an issue for me to try to forget what I'd seen than something for me to put in my vacation slideshow.

Seriously.

It was pretty rough.

The worst part was that once you'd seen it, you couldn't look away. It was like those gaping belly buttons had tractor beams in them (and some of those suckers were like an inch and a half in diameter), and one's gaze was repeatedly drawn back in. This was not only rude, it was dangerous, because these ladies were also gifted with an abundant helping of sass, and were definitely the type to get pissy if they felt stared at.

I realize that I get pissy when I'm stared at; however, I would never, ever, ever, ever choose to wear a bikini in public. Or in private, for that matter. I feel like my body is circus-y enough on its own, without too much help from the clothing department.

Do these women have no friends brave enough to say, "Girl, you are totally hot, but that bikini isn't doing you any favors. Let's look for a one-piece. With a skirt. And maybe a jacket. Or maybe just cover the whole thing up with a muumuu, which is back in style now, I hear."

A real friend could pull off that statement.

Let's all make the commitment, right now, to tell our friends when they're doing something, fashion-wise, that is just offensive. No more spaghetti straps that look like they're cutting off the wearer's circulation, or jeans that are so tight they're giving the wearer muffin tops AND bottoms (cankles have to come out somewhere). It's great to be comfortable with one's body, but in the interest of the children, let's keep it PG.

Or G. Whatever.

Yes, I've been gone on vacation and now I'm back. Chock full of stories, too, but I think I'd like to start by telling you that I have come back with a corneal infection and maybe abrasion.

What the hell?

I go on one fricking trip (to the Caribbean) and I end up looking like Popeye. Great. I didn't do any high-risk activities (like snorkeling or cliff diving), and I still get an injury. Not to mention the fact that my husband's having horrible withdrawal from his seasick patch and feeling quite pukey.

So, yeah, what the hell?

It was a great trip, and we did a ton of stuff we've never done before. On our first excursion, we did a walking tour through Cozumel (because they cancelled our Mayan tour that I was so excited about I was practically peeing my pants), and we visited a lady's house and DRANK THE WATER. Well, it was homemade hibiscus tea, so we figured it had been boiled and I could only bring myself to drink like a fourth of a cup, but I still did it, with no bad aftereffects, thank goodness.

We also went to a real beach on Grand Cayman Island, which was very beautiful and while I didn't take off my t-shirt to get in the water, I did get in the water (even though I was kind of freaking out the whole time about stepping on a fish, but, oh well). That island is so stinking expensive that I can't believe anyone can afford to go on vacation there, ever. Just ever. The keychains I bought there cost more than the purse I bought in Jamaica (which makes me wonder why I didn't just wait for Jamaica to buy presents, but I thought it might be expensive too and these keychains are pretty cute).

Which brings me to Jamaica. We didn't do an excursion, because we thought we'd just walk around the island. Little did we know that when you leave the little pier area, the people become twice as aggressive, which is saying something, because even in the pier area, they were pretty pushy. Upon leaving, we found out that they will actually put hands on you, while trying to sell you weed (seriously...I knew it was Bob Marley land, but everyone and her dog offered to "hook [me] up, sexy lady"). Yeah. We lasted about fifteen minutes and then high-tailed it back to the pier area. We did, however, haggle a little bit, which was fun and I got a really awesome Christmas present for someone. Not saying who, but it's the coolest present I've ever bought. So, anyway, Jamaica would've been a good place to get a tour bus and/or guide, especially since we're a little squeamish about the touching thing and when people refer to me as "sexy lady," it makes me giggle uncontrollably and then they think I'm crazy.

So, great trip. I went to two art auctions for the free champagne and ended up drinking 6 glasses at each auction, so that was pretty darn enjoyable, and then we went to a welcome-back thing for past cruisers where I got 5 free rum punches (these events were on three separate days...I didn't just walk around tanked the whole time), so that was pretty sweet.

Glad to be home, though, and I know you're all glad to read my inane typing again. Tomorrow I will start with the stories, and hopefully by then I will have two eyes, because typing with just one kind of sucks. A lot.

In honor of the upcoming festivities and such, I don't have to go into work for a few days, so I am going to wear my unicorn t-shirt all day today to celebrate. I am also going to be super traditional this year and follow all of my "time off work" traditions, and I figured I might as well share them, because some of them are downright amazing. Well, really, all of them are. Here goes!

First, I am going to eat cookies for breakfast whenever possible, in order to keep my energy up. Cookies are the perfect blend of carbohydrates, fats and chocolate chips, so I should be all set, nutritionally speaking.

Second, it is important to wear pajama pants as much as possible. If you have to go somewhere, you can even keep them on and just put a jacket over your t-shirt, because the people at the drive-through aren't going to judge and I don't think they really see that much of your pants, anyway.

Third, always make sure you set aside at least five hours each day to watch deliciously crappy TV. If you have Netflix, now's the time to watch Troll 2 (hint, hint).

Fourth, if your hair will go into a mohawk, you should probably do that, so you can attempt to look as awesome as I do.

Fifth, make sure you remember all of the funny stories about junk that happened at work, so you can compete with all of the others at Thanksgiving dinner and win the "I work in the awfullest office" prize. I may win this year, but we'll have to wait and see.

Finally, and most importantly of all, remember that wine is made from grapes and is therefore a fruit. Even though you've covered the cookie food group, you need at least five servings of fruit a day, so get on that.

That is all. Enjoy your holiday and (hopefully) your time away from your office, and don't drive drunk or I'll hunt you down and force you to watch every single episode of Family Guy ever made with me, and I'll say all of the lines with the characters and annoy the heck out of you. That's a promise.

As a special sort of celebration, because of some new work commitments for both of us, and the fact that we've both survived the last week (which has been no small feat, mind you), my husband brought home Chinese food and I baked a mini pecan pie since I was already baking a big one to take to Thanksgiving (that and 4 batches of buttermilk rolls...I am not making rolls again for a long time).

We don't get Chinese food very often, so it was kind of a big deal. I asked for my favorite, broccoli with beef, and le husband got what he wanted. When he got home (20 minutes away from the Chinese place), we took the cartons out, all excited like, and lo and behold, my broccoli beef looked suspiciously like lemon chicken.

Now, I enjoy lemon chicken as much as the next girl, but it looks nothing like broccoli beef. Granted, they had lined broccoli up along the sides so that was kind of like broccoli beef, but that meat was most definitely chicken. Fried chicken, which I avoid like the plague since I'm trying to be really good to save room for Thursday.

My husband is not one to stand by and just let things like that be. He decided to call and let them know, just in case someone else ended up with our broccoli beef. He calls, and the lady says, "No. That's what our beef looks like." He says, "It's white and it's been deep fried." It also looked exactly like the meat in his sweet and sour chicken, which I would hope was chicken and not beef. Anyhow, the lady on the phone insisted that it was, indeed, chicken, and then she did the rudest thing I can think of. She laughed at my husband.

Uh oh.

Yeah, you probably should avoid doing that. It's not a good idea. He hung up the phone and was annoyed the whole rest of the night, and I now I have to go kick some little old lady's behind.

Not really, but a whole Kung-Fu movie just played itself in my head, only it had me and the lady at the Chinese restaurant instead of David Carradine and whoever else was in the real movies.

It made it very hard to enjoy our dinner, as we felt mocked. The lemon chicken was pretty stinking delicious, though. Which is good, because I will be eating it for dinner tonight, since they give out a truckload. I was just sad that the lady felt like she had to mock my husband for his suspected inability to recognize chicken/beef, when this WAS chicken. It was totally chicken. In a lemony sauce, which is nothing like broccoli beef sauce. Turds. How can you question our ability, as people of girth, to differentiate between meats? We've got that down. It's the vegetable area where things get a little hazy.

Regardless, we then proceeded to eat the finest pecan pie the world has ever known. So that was good.

But still. Urgh.

On a recent trip through Target, I realized that sometimes I get really excited about things and I lose all ability to keep my voice down, causing me to say stuff really loudly that may or may not be appropriate.

I was Christmas tree shopping with my sister and dad, and we were walking up the aisles, just kind of looking at stuff and being our usual hilarious selves.

Because we are the funniest group you'll ever encounter. Or, at least, we think so.

Anyhow, I came upon a display of things specifically packaged as gifts, and one of them was a phone receiver handle that you can hook up to your cell phone and it's like talking on a real phone handset. Like this:

The ones in Target were neon colors, too, which is also distracting to someone like myself. I became a wee bit excited and said, "These are supposed to be gifts, but I really want one for myself!" (or something along those lines) and, apparently, I was kind of loud, because this woman down the aisle from us started laughing at me.

I think she may have been laughing with me, because I did start laughing a few seconds later.

She may also have been a hobo. I suspect that she was.

At any rate, I guess I was being loud, but it's hard to contain one's excitement when one is confronted with big plastic phone handsets, immediately after looking at Christmas decorations and the like. I guess I am loud a lot, though.

Or maybe it's just that people listen extra hard to what we're saying because we're the kind of people that look as though we're having so much fun that everyone else wants to hang out with us.

Yep, that's it.

Today is one of my favorite people in the whole wide world's birthdays. He is fun and talented and one of the few people on the planet in front of whom I can let my hair down and relax.

Well, relax as much as is humanly possible for me.

Anyhow, in honor of the Flash's birthday, I would like to list all of the best things to do on one's birthday, so that he won't even have to think about what to do (except that he's an adult and it's a weekday, so I'm guessing some of these things will be impossible).

1.  Sleep in as late as you want. Personally, I stayed in bed until the late, late hour of 7:30 a.m. last year, so you know what kind of a party animal you're dealing with here.

2.  Eat whatever you want for breakfast. WHATEVER. If that means having a G & T with your cornflakes, rock on.

3.  Drink wine all morning while watching cartoons. Wine makes Scooby-Doo even more profound and insightful. Seriously.

4.  Drink lots of water after all of that wine, because if you don't, you'll have a headache. Again, seriously.

5.  Go out to lunch with all of your friends (except the ones who live nine billion miles away, in which case you should probably move home). They have to pay for you, because of the whole birthday thing.

6.  Order dessert after launch. Don't skip this one, it's miraculous. We should always have dessert, after each meal. Totally the best part, there.

7.  Here's a conundrum:  Nap or Go Shopping? This one really depends on how much wine you drank during the cartoons. Go with your gut. Or you can take a short nap, and then go shopping. Make sure to wear a party hat or something so everyone in every store knows it's your birthday. That way, they may give you a discount.

8.  Go to the movies. Some theaters offer free shows on your birthday, so take advantage of that. The only thing that's more fun than a movie is a free movie. Plus, there's a new James Bond one out right now, and he's pretty awesome. Rawr.

9.  Make your friends take you out to dinner. Preferably at Benihana or some other place where you can all sit at a big table and get a show and drink a festive birthday drink out of a glass that's shaped like Buddha. Do it. It's insanely good.

10.  At this point, your friends should be surprising you with a limo-driven trip to a club or concert or some other such fun place that all the kids are going to. If you're old, like me, this is the point where it's getting to be like 8 p.m., and I have to get home to take my medicine. But you kids go out and have fun, now, and be safe.

So I guess the whole point of this is, have a super fantastic day, be safe, and I miss your face, Flash.

For everyone else, if you follow the steps above, you can turn any day into a birthday. I might try it sometime, but I think I could possibly break a hip by the time I get to step 10, so I'll have to pick and choose. 

Happy Friday!

Some mornings, I'm pretty sure that my coffee maker takes longer because it's trying to spite me. This is definitely one of those days.

I'm sure some of you will say, "Hey. Come on. I's a coffee maker. Machines aren't capable of plotting to ruin your Thursday."

We've all seen movies. You know I'm right.

How am I supposed to write a decent piece of crap for you all to enjoy if I haven't been properly caffeinated? Come to think of it, how am I supposed to do anything if I'm not properly caffeinated?

Yep, it's a conspiracy. I'd bet that the toaster oven is in on it, as well. I've seen the way it looks at me, all hateful and whatnot. And they both know how much I need that hot cup of caffeine to give me the oomph I need to actually wear pants to work.

Tick tock, Mr. Coffee. If you want to bring it, I can. I haven't had any coffee yet and I'm feeling kind of feisty.

Okay. The coffee's finished, so I guess I have to let my coffee maker live to pursue its dreams or whatever it is that coffee makers do when not making hot coffeeish deliciousness. 

At least, until tomorrow, when I will complain about the same thing.

Last night, I decided that I was going to move the "fat" indicator up a ways in my brain. Now, fat doesn't start until 350 pounds, and chubby starts at 300, so I'm on the skinny end of the scale. Yes, I am authorized to do that, but if I told you how that happened, I'd have to kill you.

This accomplishes three things: First, I can finish that bottle of wine with my dinner tonight and not feel like that's going to tip the scales for me, even though with the amount I've had to drink in the past three days, I've probably consumed more calories in liquid form than in food form.

Second, it'll lessen the guilt when I emotionally eat. Because that is just going to happen. I'm trying very hard not to, but I seem to have been stricken with some form of perma-PMS over the last two days and all I want to do is read a book in my pajamas and eat cookies while crying and listening to Christmas music (I know it's not even Thanksgiving yet...Johnny Mathis is my hero). Oh, and more red wine. Red wine is now my favorite.

Finally, if I'm not fat, then I don't have to obsess about how fat I'm going to look in the pictures we'll take while on our vacation, which I'm also feeling guilty about because we leave on the day scheduled for my Grandpa's memorial service.

Yeah, feeling guilty about that, too, but we've saved up for this for two years and it's all prepaid and we'll lose all of our money if we don't go. I'm pretty sure my Grandpa would reach down from the sky and smack me upside the head if, after spending that much money, I didn't take the trip.

So I'm going, but I feel crappy about it.

Ugh.

Therefore, I have shifted the fat scale up. Feel free to join me if you, too, need a little extra room.

Apparently, not everyone had the day off yesterday, but I did, so no blog post.

It seems like it's been about fifty years since the last time I was sitting at a computer, doing anything, but I guess it's really only been a few days.

A few crap days.

Yesterday morning, my Grandpa died. As weird as it may seem, yes, people my age do sometimes still have grandparents. And this guy was a doozy (in the best possible way).

There's a lot to say about him, but I think we all know what we're going to miss the most about him, and I think it'll be different things for each of us. My husband and I talked about it a lot yesterday, since this was the last Grandpa for either one of us, and my husband's been part of my family for so long that he got to know and love my Grandpa too. It's pretty sad to say good-bye.

I take that back. It's very sad. I know that I only saw him a couple of times a year, but it was comforting to get those Christmas letters and to always remember their wedding anniversary, since it falls on my birthday.

Ugh. Depressing.

I suppose I will get better at this whole "losing people I love" thing as I get older, but so far, it just pretty much sucks. I do not recommend it. I haven't decided yet how I'm going to stop this from ever happening again, but I'll let you know when I figure something out.

I'm pretty sure the answer is contained somewhere within a Scooby-Doo episode.

Alright, it's time for me to be jolly. Not quite the "ho ho ho" kind, but still, better attitude.

I do not really hate everyone and everything, I'm just having trouble getting a particular piece of music to work, and I really want it to, and I don't think I can. Which makes me slightly irritable, in the way that Michael Jackson was in the "Bad" video, all street-fighting and whatnot.

So, I'm being a jerk. And I apologize, and I will be nicer and kinder from here on out. I swear.

Unless you piss me off.

At least it's Friday and I have a longer weekend to look forward to. And some of this, right here, which I think could make me a better person all on its own:

Yep, I'm making some fancy French toast for breakfast tomorrow. I'm already getting worked up over it, because, well, I'm fat and I like food. Especially sweets for breakfast. Plus, this has eggs in it, so it's pretty much nutritious. This will definitely make me friendlier.

Maybe.

Ugh. Happy weekend.

The key to getting along well with others is realizing that you're not always the smartest person in the room, or the most capable person in the room, or the most worthwhile person in the room, regardless of your job title.

That's it. There's no maybe this time. Treat other people as if they were worth just as much as you, or maybe even a little bit more, and they'll be much more likely to want to cooperate with you instead of wanting to stab you in the forehead with a ballpoint pen the next time you start up with one of your long and boring stories about all of the wonderful and amazing things you've done.

Maybe they've done some wonderful and amazing things, too.

Also, maybe they have a working b.s. meter and know quite well that you're full of it.

Either way, my system is much more effective than one where you just continually crap all over others with your smarmy condescension. That doesn't tend to work too well with anyone.

I'm really not hostile. Really. I just think we should all be nice and respectful. To illustrate, here is a puppy:

Does this puppy look happy? No. He looks ashamed because someone has taken away his dignity. 

Yep. That's how people feel when you act like that. So stop it.

There's an issue that's on everyone's mind this morning, so I'm just going to go ahead and discuss it: Cereal.

As you may or may not know, I loves me a nice bowl of cereal in the morning, so why in the world did I go to the store yesterday to pick up a few things that we "needed" and not get some cereal?

I am now completely out, not counting my husband's box of cereal, which is off-limits and not really my favorite anyway, and the container of oatmeal, which is fine but not the same as a lovely bowl of frosted whatever or some crunchy cinnamon goodness.

Sigh. It's going to be a long week if I don't find a way to get my husband to stop off at the store on his way home and buy me a box of Cheerios or something. For reals.

I don't think my brain will function without cereal.

For that matter, I don't think it functions too well even with cereal, so that's not a very good argument. Oh, well. I guess we will all survive this, the harshest of situations.

Especially if there's a big box full of cookies in the freezer.

Please go out and vote today. Lots of people in lots of countries would give anything to be able to have a say in how things are run, and are unable to do so. We automatically get the privilege when we turn 18, but so many people skip out on elections because it's a pain in the butt.

It's really not that much of a pain in the butt.

Oh, and keep voting. Vote in the little elections, too. They're much more important to your daily life. I don't care who you vote for. I have already accepted the fact that my candidate probably won't win, and I'm okay with that. If more people get out there and state a preference, we'll have people in office that truly reflect what the majority wants.

Oh, and afterwards, we all get to not hear all of this crap for a little while. That part of it is like Christmas. So just go vote and get the sticker and be proud of yourself. You just took five minutes out of your day to be an upright citizen. Woohoo! Yay for America! Go us! (That's about all the perky I can manage, thank you very much.)