Saturday, December 26, 2009


I have never really been a fan of Christmas. I know that is sad. I know it is. Especially when you are a child, it is a season you are supposed to love. I was always so tired. It took so much energy. And there were times that I simply spent my time watching and wondering when it would be over.
There are a couple Christmas memories I have that I would share but they would probably make you sad, they are my earliest memories.
We always did everything right. We put the cookies out, we hung our stockings, we wrapped the presents, we had the turkey dinner. But everything just always turned out wrong.
My parents tried but with six kids things just didn't work out. There was fighting, crying and foot stomping. I honestly think my parents had too many children and that was the cause for a lot of the strife.
As I grow older I come to terms with the fact that Christmas can be whatever I want it to be. There doesn't have to be fighting, though usually there is some sort of bickering.
My family is different from Jay's. He loves Christmas. He is family orientated. He loves the hustle and bustles of the malls, I think to the point where he even likes the line ups. He loves the food. He loves the chaotic feelings. The rushing about.
I do not.
I want to curl up in a blanket with a book and just sleep and read.
Unfortunately, I have to participate. It is a duty of being his wife. I mean he cuts me some breaks. I know he would understand if his childhood was like mine, but it wasn't.
We are really different. I am introverted and he is extremely extroverted (though he denies this, which I find funny.)
One thing I do love love love about Christmas is giving. I do love to give gifts. I love spending money, and getting useless crap for people. I like telling people what they mean to me.
So in the spirit of Christmas, I put my game face on and I play. I think one day Jay will know that I try, even though he doesn't think I do.
This got heavy. So I will tell you this Christmas story.

When I was about ten my mother bought me a new Christmas dress. I wanted to impress everyone and show everyone how lovely I was. When in reality I was awkward and weird. So there I was with my purple floral patterned dress, smiling (without teeth because my teeth smile is hideous) and looking looking for compliments. I remember my brother Michael told me I looked pretty. This made me delighted. Then I got a mad stomachache and felt like crapping myself. Then I spent an hour in the bathroom. Stripping my clothes off and then wrapping a towel around myself. I am not too sure why but when I had a stomachache I felt better naked. Then when I was done I put on my fancy Christmas outfit, then went to bed. Without Christmas dinner.
That was the last time I dressed up for Christmas. I learned my lesson.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

So This Is Christmas

Today I exchanged gifts with Leppy.

I have no words to describe the card, but it made me laugh so hard I cried.

I would explain it for you, but I would do it no justice. So instead...I will post it here for your enjoyment.

Monday, December 21, 2009

The Truth

I hate the way tear (crying) and tear (rip apart) are spelled the same.

Leppy just ranted in my cubicle.
I love it when that happens.
Breaks up my day.

And I love rants.

Except about stupid stuff, like football and male pattern baldness. I mean really? Who cares? Certainly not I.

There is one of the guys that we hang out with who is clinging to his hair like it is a life preserver and he is on the titanic. Let it go Jack, Rose would be proud.

The other day whilst wrapping gifts Etnie sat in some plum sauce and decided to do a obstacle course through the house. Now everything is sticky. He is such an asshole.

Life is weird.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

New Rant

Do you ever just want people to shut up?
The other day I was over hearing a story and I wanted to yell, "SHUT UP!" at the girl speaking.
No one cares about how much she eats, or what she eats, or how long she works out at the gym so that she can eat whatever she wants. The health mongers are the worst people to listen to talk. The calorie counters are right up there as well.
At my place of employment people love to talk about food and exercise.
You know what I like to do with food? Not talk about it, eat it.
And you know what I love to do with exercise?
Do it and not talk about it.
I hate, hate, hate it when someone tells me how many calories my food has, or how long it would take on an exercise bike to work it off. Go Away! I do not care.
Next time I over hear this twitty witch talking about what she is eating, or what she wants to eat, or what she may be eating in the future I am going to throw a rotten tomato at her head.
I will find one, and I will pitch it at her head.
A promise.