Monday, December 24, 2007

I'm writing this from a sleigh.

Hey. Merry Christmas. I'll bet that right now you're all gathered around your fireplaces, maybe drinking cocoa or warm eggnog with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. Maybe you're in your aunt's bathroom (and you can hear the murmur of the rest of your family all laughing (maybe playing Pictionary!) and dancing and eating and gesturing right outside the door) filling your pockets with the mini soaps and Hershey's kisses and things that she puts out for guests. I do that when I go to family parties. I take things. Why not? I take candies. Once, I took a vacuum. Whatever. No one notices. You wanna know what I'm doing right now? Well, I'm in a sleigh. A magic sleigh with Internet access. Imagine! Santa's here. But he's preoccupied as you can imagine. Santa called my mobile earlier and asked if I could help with some last minute tasks. He says that usually he'll only accept help from elves, but that since I'm as ugly as an elf he thought it'd be alright. It's freezing in this sleigh. And Santa acted like he didn't know what I was talking about when I asked him for some Turkish Delight. What's going on here? Santa just told me that my "duty" for tonight is to take him back to his cabin at the north pole and rub salve all over him because "dry skin is a bitch."

Friday, December 21, 2007

I've got a one way ticket to Christmasbreak Town (which is the county seat of Fantasmoville)

I'm leaving tomorrow at 5 a.m. I'll be headed for my homeland, a modest town in lower eastern Michigan called Lapeer. Lapeer is a nice place to live, especially when your parents own a soda shoppe, which mine do. I can get all the free ice cream cones and diet soda that I want. I can also get free sandwiches. Yum, sandwiches. Right now I am sitting in my room, perusing the Celebrity Playlists section of iTunes. I'm pretty happy because it turns out that Michael C. Hall (a.k.a. Dexter) and I would be fast friends in real life. He likes Lucinda Williams and Bob Dylan, just like me! And Neil Young. What? We're BFFs. Also, I would totally get along with the cast of How I Met Your Mother. That makes sense since that show is one of my obsessions. I've decided that I would have sex with Michael Cera, just based on his iTunes playlist.

So anyway, I'm sitting in my room. My TV is on. I don't even know what channel. I just like a little light background noise. Last night my cable box broke for the second time in two weeks. I don't think God wants me to watch Project Runway. That's pretty much the conclusion I've come to. I guess NBC is bringing back American Gladiators...FINALLY. What the hell took you so long, NBC? I started off every Saturday morning as a kid with a healthy dose of muscle mania. Um.........no. Well, I actually did used to watch American Gladiators. But, I don't think it's really Primetime TV material. But what the hey, ya know? I'm all for really muscly guys wearing tank tops that barely fit. Well, actually no, I'm not all for that. But I love blond permed mullets. Well, actually no, I don't. So OK, back to what I was talking about: God doesn't want me to have cable. I have never smote God in my entire life, so I don't know where He gets off depriving me of the one thing that gives me joy. But the good news is: God hasn't messed with my Internet connection lately. That's why I carry around those Rosary beads.

For dinner tonight I had Chinese food. I asked the waitress if I could substitute fried rice for my steamed rice (Os!) and she seemed really put-out about that. She was all, "No, no, absolutely not. Not even if you owned this place and were the head chef could you do that." I said, "Really? I can't substitute, even for a price?" She implied that the price of substituting fried rice for steamed was much more than I would be willing to pay. The look she gave me said this: Sure, you can substitute fried rice for steamed. Um, just give me a pint of blood. I'm really good at reading people.

Later tonight, after seeing a chiller at the local Cineplex, I walked my friend Josh back to his apartment. Then as we were standing around in his kitchen talking, I got the oddest feeling that he was hiding a human head in his freezer. I lunged for the freezer door, but he blocked me. Then I gave him a look that said: you and I both know you've got a human head in there. And he gave me a look back that said: you're not ready to see what I've got in there...unless you want me to dismember you. I left after that because, you know what? It's almost Christmas. I don't want to ruin Christmas for my family by getting dismembered.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

I'm a nerd for reality TV.

Last night I was watching the Survivor finale. I was watching it a day late, I know. I'm still a big fan of that show, despite declining ratings. But maybe the ratings aren't declining as much as I thought they were. According to Jeff Probst, Survivor: China was CBS' most watched Thursday night show. More viewers than CSI? I find that hard to believe. But it's nice to know people are still watching. I know a lot of people hate reality shows because they "aren't real." And to that I say: They're not supposed to be real. Survivor is an elaborate game show (as are most other reality shows). The reality part comes in when you see how real people react to an extreme emotional and physical situation. The people are real. The show is entertainment. You don't see people getting all offended by Wheel of Fortune, do you? Anyway, I am super excited because during the finale of Survivor, CBS aired promos for the first ever WINTER EDITION of Big Brother! You just made my winter, CBS. I love Big Brother. Talk about the ultimate social experiment. Sure, it's not as classy as Survivor or Amazing Race, but it is juicy and nasty and hilarious and jaw-dropping and amazingly fun to watch. And, it airs three times a week! So set your DVRs, 'cause Christmas came early, folks.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

If it bleeds, it leads.

Hi everyone. That is, all none of you who read this. OK, I know you read it Kate. Thanks for reading my blog. You are my best friend. I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. I guess I haven't written because I don't care. Just kidding! I've just been busy. The holiday season is upon us and I've been doing a lot of Christmas shopping. When I say Christmas shopping, I really mean poking around on my computer, clicking around on Amazon, making lists of things to buy people, and not doing much buying at all. You know Christmas shopping is supposed to be fun, but it seems like nowadays everyone has their lists of "approved" gifts. I gave my family a list, just in case they had no idea what to get me, but I wouldn't mind it if I didn't get anything off my list. Surprises are more fun anyway. Whenever someone gives me their Christmas list I feel like I have to run out and find everything on it. And that stresses me out. I know it's my own fault and not the list-giver's. I'm a freak. I'm obsessive. I can't buy just one gift for someone and call it a day. I'll buy them five big gifts and three mini gifts. Sorry, this is a really boring blog. You don't care about me and my Christmas shopping and lists and surprises and this junk. You've got your own Christmas celebration to worry about. My poor mom. Christmas is always a super stressful time of year for her. It's the busy season at Blondie's. So I try not to talk to her until Christmas Eve if I can help it. I guess I get my obsessiveness from her, because she goes nutzo at Christmas. It drives me crazy. I called her last night to order a basket for someone and she cut me off mid-sentence, like she couldn't stand to wait for me to even finish my sentence, that's how over talking to me she was. I said, "So I walked outside and--" And then she cut in with, "(frustrated sigh) I gotta go, Liz." Apparently I'm a ridiculous waste of time. Christmas: more hassle than it's worth.

Friday, December 7, 2007

In Sicily, women are more dangerous than shotguns.

I feel sick to my stomach. I just learned about this sicko kid who walked into a Von Maur department store in Omaha, Nebraska on Wednesday and killed 8 people and himself. What the fuck is wrong with people? Why do things like this keep happening? Apparently the kid (19 year old Robert Hawkins) had been dumped by his girlfriend and fired from his job at McDonald's. I just hate what's happening to the world. I wonder, Robert Hawkins, what is it about shopping at Von Maur (or working there) that makes someone a piece of shit? Why are schools and shopping malls scary places now? Why do I look over my shoulder at Walmart and wonder if the angry guy in line is going to shoot me? There is something terribly, terribly wrong with the world today. People complain that even in the information age, the age of interconnectivity, of cell phones and text messaging and IM-ing and email and navigation systems and DVRs and YouTube and Blogs and every other goddamn thing, we're all growing so much more lonely, so much more solitary. We sit at the computer or in front of the TV and we forget to go out and make friends, face to face. We forget to be kind to strangers. But how is any of that going to change when people are afraid to leave their houses? I mean, one of the first things I thought when I read about the Von Maur shooting was, well that's why I do most of my shopping online. But that's not really a solution, is it? I don't know what the solution is. All I can do is hope that there is one.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Remember the squirrels I saved as a kid? First I knocked them out of their nest with a rock, then I saved them.

Sorry I haven't written in a while. I guess my plan for being a better person isn't going so well. It snowed a lot last night and now I'm worried that when the snow melts it will turn out that I actually parked my car in the middle of the street. Maybe the reason that I haven't written in a while is that I haven't had anything to say. It's been snowy and rainy and icy, so I've been living peacefully in my hole, finally watching the 6th Season (part 2) of Sopranos and falling even deeper in love with cheddar cheese Snyder of Hanover pretzels. But I wanted you to know that I'm thinking of you.