Before you know it, you're the crazy cat lady in the scary house

It's The 22nd ... I Have Nothing Done

December 22, 2003 ... 3:09 p.m.

[watching The Christmas Shoes]

*tv character to son*: “Every time your heart beats...”
Bootsie: “...I’ll remember yours didn’t.”

Oh, that Bootsie ... such a sentimental fool.

I’m still alive. Suppose I should update.

I don’t really have an excuse for not writing. I’ve just been so tired and it is that time of year and all. Been wrapping presents like an elf on crack. And they look like they were wrapped by a crack-addled elf, too.

Since I have no job or life or kids or prospects or, really, any reason to get out of bed at all, I volunteered to wrap gifts for anyone to busy to do it themselves.

And okay? Kiddie gifts? With all the sticky out wheels and noisemakers and stuff? You suck and I hate you all.

It is the 22nd and we have just put lights on our tree. No decorations yet. Just lights. Singing, blinking lights. And, since it is game night, I don’t expect to have a decorated tree anytime soon. Maybe by this time next year, there will be some tinsel strewn about. But I wouldn’t count on it.

Speaking of game night ... ESPN. 8pm CST. UIowa vs. Texas Tech. Bobby Lite vs. Bobby Knight. Captain Gel vs. Captain Hell. In Texas.

Check out Brunner--he is so Oscar. It’s like they’re twins, except Brunner is shorter. And younger.

We won’t win. Captain Gel has never beaten Bobby Knight and he never will. We should kill them--we have so much talent and experience. We should mop the floor with them, but we will lose. Probably by around 10-ish points, because it’ll need to appear that Captain Gel is trying to win. Even if it’s a close game towards the end, Captain Gel will do something--call a timeout, design a play, substitute a player--that is so inexplicably stupid that we will lose.

Ah, Captain Gel, how I despise you. But ‘tis the season, so good tidings and whatnot.

Made some cookies today. I couldn’t find the sugar cookie recipe that I like and the one I used was for crispy cookies. I didn’t care for them, so I’ll give them to the cousins. Because I don’t care for most of them. See? Win--win.

And I made pot roast yesterday for dinner. Cripes, I’m a good cook. No, really. I am. The roast was melt-in-your-mouth perfect. I should’ve added more carrots and a few more potatoes. But, oh well. Lesson learned.

Did you know I actually asked for a waffle iron and crockpot for Christmas? I am a dork. But, as I glance in the direction of our pitiful tree (which is, like, 4 feet behind me and to the right), I don’t see a package big enough to be either of those. I think I’ve gotten 5 dvds and maybe a shirt. I don’t know. I don’t much care, either. I mean, I care ... it doesn’t bother me. As long as I get books, I’m happy. I LOVE to read, I am a voracious reader and I want--nay, I NEED new material. Yes, I will spend unseemly amounts of money on gifts for those I love just to make them happy and a book will make me squeal with delight. Any kind of book Any topic.

Except I’m not overly fond of Elvis books. You’d think I would be fond of something that contains two of my favorite things--Elvis and reading. But you’d be wrong. Oh, I’ll be joyful over an Elvis book. It’s just ... I usually already have a copy. I have 6--SIX--copies of Elvis & Me (4 paperback, 2 hardcover). And I always feel as though I shouldn’t be reading them anyway, because I like to keep my Elvis items in as flawless condition as I can and actually reading them musses the pages. Woe! Woe, I say!

Well, I’m a wee bit tired so I’m going to try to take a nap. I guess this liver thing poops me out and so does the damn Prednisone. It also gives me a little ADD thing going on and, I swear, I’ve gained like 30 lbs. in a month. My face is totally round and my nose is all red. I look like an alcoholic beachball. Or Ted Kennedy. Yes. I look like a rich, womanizing, 71-year-old, Irish-Roman Catholic, date-killing, male government official. Good senator, bad date.

I’m putting this up before my nap so, if I seemingly pull a Marilyn ... you know what really happened.

*Wink*

To my 3.2 loyal readers: avenge my death!

Or, you know, just make up some stuff and post it to various usenet groups. Whatever.

Currently Reading: The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

Listening To: oldies station
...and please, say to me you’ll let me hold your hand...

Have a happy day!

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