I hate Christmas was wonderful beyond my dreams. Christmas Eve I stayed up until 2:00 a.m., ransacking the house in search of my secret booze stash, after knocking off the last legitmate bottle of wine. to make sure the next morning was nothing less than perfect.

Christmas morning, Cakers was up at the crack of ass dawn to open her gifts. Then, while Cakers played with her new toys, I cleaned up the wrapping paper mess and prepared a plan to get myself legally adopted by the lady down the block for mid-morning brunch with the in-laws. No sooner had I finished with all that, when College Boy came over from his father's house, to open his presents.

When my son was done opening his gifts, I was struck by a sudden sense of sadness at not having run away with that rogue band of eunoch bikini waxers, back in college. had a few more kids, with a few more different men, so the gaiety of this morning could have been extended.

After a third round of gift exchange, this time with my in-laws, punch was spiked brunch was served. After the table was cleared,we had a surpise guest: Child phenom Caker Monshaker.



My inlaws left at 2:00, which gave me just a couple of hours to hunt down my former therapist to ask him to: 1) drop the restraining order and 2) Get me a 48 hour inpatient placement, where I would be expected to do nothing but enjoy a medication-induced euphoria and whoozily receive my guilt-ridden visitors. prepare for a round of toxic relational debauchery reciprocal love and joy with my mother, siblings and nieces and nephews, at a party being held later in the evening.

That party went pretty well except for the part where my niece shot my nephew in the neck with a pellet gun and my former SWAT instructor brother had to take her down, to disarm her and then my mom cried., but the highlight of the evening was the presentation of my Tammy Faye Snuff film snowman cupcakes.

And even though most of the little snowman noses fell like panties off a Spears'ass off in transit to the party, my family members were so thrilled with these little fellas that they fought over who would get to implode theirs next in the microwave get first pick.

In fact, by then end of the night there were only two left and I found them in the back room, toasted and nestled between two graham crackers, with a chunk of a Nestle's bar.!

I spent the next day sniffing cleaning supplies and sucking the scalp of Cakers'new wig. cleaning, and the day after that I cleaned up after the cleaning up.

And today, we're at the cottage.
Halya Fucking Loo Ya.

I'm so excited to be here that I don't give a whit about the anticipated 6-10 inches of snow expected between 4 and 11 p.m. today.



Early in the snow shower, the flakes were huge and I wanted to take a picture of one. I received a photography book for Christmas, but it doesn't have anything in it about photographing snowflakes, so I winged it.



Here's to Getting Hosed on New Years
I bet you thought I forgot.
But I didn't.



I'm finished with the leg part. Next, I have to do that stuff that makes sox more than just messing around with a 7 inch tube of glorious substance.

Soxual Heeling, Baybee.

p.s. I meant to have the this post done two days ago. But hey, Shit happens. Shit Happens.

p.s. I REALLY meant to have this post done two hours ago. But hey, Blogger Happens. Blogger Happens.

p.s. I'm ree ree tired and will not be checking publication for typos, grammos or STDS.

Labels: Christmas, Cottage, I Need Therapy Thursday, Intendments, Knit In Progress, Pho-Ho', Too Tired for Pudding

It's Ear Candy Friday
Finding this C.D. for $5.99, was the only good thing that's happened to me this week. Well, besides tonight's takeout of orange chicken and sauteed green beans and rangoon. Oh, and some wine. I think. No. That was last night. The wine.


I am having quite a stretch of shit-for-jobs. And outside of a day's lull here and there, I foresee no end in sight until June 7.

Anyway.

Last night I found myself at the neighborhood pharmacy. Our neighborhood pharmacy is of the national-chain ilk, except it's small and neighborly, with dangerously crooked floors and a faint smell of musty, from roof leaks gone by. Despite the element of national-chaininess, I loves me some neighborhood pharmacy. ::I got lots of stories of old neighborhood pharmacy living, from standpoint of child customer, and later, adult employee.::

In a moment of stress-based distractibility, I took to wandering the aisles my stinky, bumpy, neighborhood pharmacy. I fondled back scrubbers, re-contemplated the meaning of Midnight Blue Mascara, re-considered starting an Easter basket collection and re-read a brochure about lady holes that smell like rotted carrot tops, such as found in the bottom of the vegetable bin. At least that's what I think it was talking about.

And when I saw this new-to-me CD on the display, I recognized it right away as the perfect little sumpin-sumpin my cheese-shredded brain was seeking.

I was not disappointed. This man's voice has always been able to move me to tears, but singing these classics, umm mmm, it's like a blankie for my soul.

You can sample the CD here. Unchained Melody is my fave right now, but there aren't any cuts I would kick out of bed for eating carrot tops.

What She Said
Yesterday Cakers asked me, in all earnestness, if we could please get Bella's Kitten Maker fixed, so she can have kittens. I don't know why, but it kind of made me want to cry. ::I know. Big deal. These days I cry at sight of dryer lint and Valerie Bertinelli.::

Work, Work, Work, Work, Work, Work, Work.
I'm taking tonight off to dance and sing and drink, a bit. But the rest of my weekend belongs to the bitch in the briefcase.

Labels: eye candy Friday, I Work Too, My Daughter Scares Me, Now You're Whining, Too Tired for Pudding

I know. It doesn't seem possible that any human could be too tired to consume a container of Jello Brand Oreo pudding. With whipped cream, no less. But I was. Last night.

Before bed, I had a hankerin' for something sweet, so I went grousing in the fridge. And way in the back there it was, the lone pudding. A sweet, squat soldier, awaiting my next command.

It's not that I was too tired to reach back for it. I was too tired to deal with the rest of the business required for consuming a container of pudding. You know, the pulling the top back on the container, the getting the spoon, the whipping out of the can of whipped cream, the removing the lid, the spraying the whipped cream, the putting the lid back on and the putting the can back into the fridge. And then I'd have to eat it.

But I didn't.
I was too tired.
Too tired for pudding.

Labels: Too Tired for Pudding