summary

running total:
dogs in one house: 6
people sharing one bathroom: 5
ham sandwiches eaten per person: 4
bottles of wine consumed: 7
bottles of Jack Daniels consumed by mother: 3/4
minutes elapsed during fireworks display: 20
visit from local police cruiser: 1
engagement of sister: 1

After about an hour and a half bath of aromatherapy stress relief bath and body works I can now function again. The Christmas marathon is finally over. Thank you Jesus. But all in all I think this was the most successful Christmas trip in recent history. My oldest sister, usually angry and bitter, was in the most pleasant of spirits. And that was before her boyfriend proposed to her! She says that she had no idea it was going to happen then. I can't figure out how she didn't suspect anything - there were some particular moments of absurdity surrounding the "proposal arrangements." She says she just thought we had all finally lost it.

In addition to my sister in a good mood, I got some kick ass gifts, including but not limited to: a pink tweed jacket kind of like this one, a dainty little diamond drop necklace from my Dad, a North Face carrier bag, and an Olympus digital voice recorder I can use for work.

crap. work.

geez I'm tired.

Well. I smell like eucalyptus and I've got on some new pajamas from VS that are quite comfy. I think I will make some orange spice tea and curl up on the couch.

that is all. I hope everyone is recovering well.

ahh, the holidays

SEASONS GREETINGS:
I have just chopped a piece off of a 10" x 12" slab of Hershey's chocolate mysteriously left in gold wrapping paper on the table in the office kitchen. I think it, at one point, said Season's Greetings. Now it says "Sea...Gr..s" (judging from my own experience, the status of the slab, and the mangled letters - cutting the chocolate evenly is really not an option).

SOUNDS OF THE SEASON:
voice from the other side of a cubicle:
"Where the fuck is the fucking talking Barbie..."

CHRISTMAS CONFUSION:
Scattered next to the mammoth slab of chocolate are bite-sized Snickers. Upon closer examination, it is obvious that these Snickers are leftover from Easter. (purple, pink and blue wrapping). It seems as if someone is trying to pass these dated candies off as Christmas candy - but I'm on to your clever schemes whoever you are.

(I guess I should mention that I ate some anyway)

PHANTOM SANTA:
Gifts keep magically appearing on my desk. It's like the maids on a Cruise ship - you never see them come or go, but when you return your room is always clean...

OOPS:
I just found a chocolate smudge on one of my story assignments.

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS: So I'm headed to big ole Ruston on Friday where I'm sure, as always, someone will cause a scene during the pre-dinner prayer (required at my grandparents house).

Here are some helpful hints for coping with the fam:
Movie breaks are always good - finally everyone will shut up and you can quit making excuses for why you missed the last holiday. I recommend this. And a new favorite.

And, always make sure you are well stocked.

That is all - Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Holidays, etc.

request

If you are going to drive your wheelchair down the middle of a one way street at night, please get some safety lights.

I am hopeless

It can't be that hard. It can't be that hard.

This, my mantra, as I walk through Tom Thumb clutching a roll of turquoise wrapping paper, scotch tape and white ribbon.

I know the concept, the essentials, what steps are supposed to be taken. But alas, as it is with driving a stick shift, I simply cannot do it. This has plagued me my entire life. I can't wrap a gift.

Back in the day, when I made it to high school, it was time for me to go to work. For generations upon generations, every person in my family would take a job at the family department store - wrapping gifts. Not for me. Everyone thought I was just trying to get out of it. But once they saw my work... Well, let's just say I was the first family member in the history of the store (opened in 1884) that had not served in the gift wrap department.

My mother had always told me that I had a unique sense of style and that any present I wrapped was beautiful and artistic. Found out that was a lie. Thanks Mom.

So instead of following the family legacy, my first job was taking polaroid pictures of Santa and whiny kids in the Children's Shop. I can say that gift wrapping was probably less stressful. Thanks Dad. I'm pretty sure that Santa was either drunk or self-medicated.

Ever since then, if I needed something wrapped I either got someone else to do it (by the way, Amazon does a good job with wrapping gifts before they send them - just make sure you'll be able to figure out which gift is which - but that's another story altogether), or I go for the cheesy gift bag option. Many times, I am too embarrassed to ask my friends for help. And I'm lazy.

I must mention here that in the last 10 years gift bags have come a long way.

So I'd been thinking about my handicap quite a bit lately, with all the Christmas and birthday gifts piling up. I thought to myself, this is ridiculous, how could I have made it this far in life without the ability to wrap a gift? In a wave of ambition I decided then and there that I would conquer this problem once and for all. (And I had to stop at TomThumb for girl supplies anyway).

Flash forward to me on the floor of my apartment surrounded by piles and piles of torn blue paper. Somehow tape had wound itself around the handles of the scissors making them ungrippable. The white ribbon was zigzagged across the room, And I'm pretty sure there was more tape stuck to my socks than to the actual tape roll. Complete disaster.

I mean, HOW do you make the damn triangles? Or more importantly, how do you hold the triangles down while trying to tape them at the same time?

So, I got out of my comfortable pajama pants, put my jeans back on, and headed to World Market for reinforcement.

ballers

"I didn't play you Julie, I lied to you."
-Chris Daughtery, Winner Survivor Vanuatu

Mark Burnett is a genious.

I mean, can it get any better than the host skydiving AND then riding a motorcycle into the final vote count?

In other news, if you ever decide to go play basketball on Saturday afternoon at Tietze Park, beware of a couple of evil 7-year-old kids (more specifically a boy and a girl) that will take your basketball, give you wedgies, and basically kick your ass, in effect leaving you traumatized and afraid to ever go back there. ever.

That is all.

Bates House of Turkey

I think it's because my Thanksgiving Thursday consisted of chili cheese nachos and greasy bar food, but I keep thinking about this place:

Yes. I have stopped here to eat. It was on the way back to Atlanta from New Orleans. I was hung over. It was not pretty.

Narcissism, in check

So I head to the bathroom before my interview today and I'm looking in the mirror and I'm all like: damn, my hair looks good today. Then I look again and I'm like: damn, my eyemakeup looks good too. Then I turn around and I'm like: damn, when did my ass get so big?