Christmas blows jingle balls.

An Oklahoma Christmas

Why is the most wonderful time of year the least? As I've mentioned, the season puts me in a severely foul mood, which can only be remedied by online shopping and the promise of days off from work. It was a rather dull holiday, which is all the more depressing, since I'm obviously a heartless robot incapable of feeling any joy.

1. A few weeks ago, one of my g-pas offered me a rather new 42" TV as he and g-ma had replaced their set recently for a new HD model. Sign me up! The fam crammed our overfed asses into my mom's Matrix to ensure we had trunk (hatch) space to accomodate the TV, which we intended to pick up on our annual pilgrimage to a place that might even be worse the Worcestor, MA, Woodward, OK. Upon arrival, I was greeted by said g-pa, who led me to a closet with an old, decrepit, maybe 25" set encased in what appeared to be fake wood panelling. I accepted it graciously and tossed it in the cavernous trunk of the car. I noticed that they had clearly reallocated the TV in question to the playroom where my little cousins had set up Christmas camp. Bah.

2. Part two of the same trip, with the same g-parents (it's confusing because my parents share the same hometown, which means two birds, one stone when it comes to holidays), all hell breaks loose because of a four year old girl. The grandparents have a spacious house clearly built with the intention of holding extended family over holidays. However, there's simply not enough room for all of the family members who arrive from all over the southern US. This year, the assortment included my step grandmother's daughter, husband, and four year old daughter (oh yeah, I forgot to mention she's the step 'ma - it's been over 20 years, so sometimes I forget, but it's important). Christmas Eve, four year old girl gets a room, the parents get a room, and my uncle (not step) gets a room. Christmas day, uncle is informed that he will be sleeping on the couch because step g-ma's number one son is arriving with his wife. So, now we have four year old girl in one room, parents in one room, newly arriving couple in one room, 48 year old uncle with bad back on couch in living room. Uncle says oh hell no. They think he is kidding because what sensible adult doesn't understand that a small child needs their very own queen size bed? I mean, really. He's not. He's driven in from Houston (not a quick jaunt, you see) and decides to hightail it back to Norman for a real bed at my house. Ok. Makes sense. We're heading out (after Christmas number three at the OTHER grandparents house complete with assorted cousins, aunts and uncles), and are about 45 miles outside of Woodward, when uncle's beamer starts spewing smoke. After leaving him on the highway and a trip to the Seiling, OK gas station that is thankfully open on Christmas Day night at about 11pm, we determine that he's got a cracked radiator. Guess where he's headed. Oh snap.

3. Ex-boyfriend sightings. Boo. It's still so strange to me that a) he's never responded to what I thought was a clever b-day card that said, hey, we're over all the weird crap, let's put it behind us and laugh, and b) that someone whom I shared almost everyday with for seven years is wandering the streets of my town with no inclination at all to inquire about how I am, what I am, all that stuff. Baffling. Current boyfriend drama. NSFB. (Not safe for blogs.) We'll see!

4. Recession is the new economy. I usually rely on making bank at Christmas to get me through the winter or allow me to buy something much needed (washer and dryer!!!), but it was a super stingy Christmas this year, understandably. So, I apologize for wearing either the same smelly thing over and over again, or for showing up ridiculousy under or overdressed because I'm down to the formal or loungewear portion of the ol' wordrobe.

My life without a washer and dryer. Sad, isn't it?

5. NYE! Go fuck yourself. I give up on this. $10 says you can find me with a bottle of scotch and a self imposed SATC marathon on my shitty, not 42" TV.

6. Happy holidays. More later.

HEY EVERYBODY, COME AND SEE HOW GOOD I LOOK.

actually, just vote for me! my picture made it to the failblog vote! vote like you're voting for obama all over again. vote now!

VOTE NOW!

more fail, owned and pwned pics and videos

Ok, this really improved my mood. Thanks BWE.

*This is probably only funny if you had a mixed tape in high school (made by Zack Harrison of ZHMMM fame) featuring "Both Hands" by Ani DiFranco and several Indigo Girls songs, including your favorite schmaltzy piece of c called "Power of Two." Also, it's funny if you later attended an all ladies college and found yourself surrounded by "women" exactly like this, but who were totally serious.

"Leibya Spells Freedom" by Leibya Rogers - watch more funny videos

S.A.D.

I have a confession. I have serious asshole disease (SAD). I'm not sure where it all starts, maybe with holiday decorations going up at major retailers in August, or perhaps the 24 hour stream of Christmas muzak perpetrated by Magic 104.1 that started the day after T-day. Maybe it's because my blood sugar's been hijacked by 100 kinds of cookies and ribbon candies. Maybe it's because everyone I know is already done with work and I still have one more day to slog through (the least they could do is visit me, am I right? - See? Asshole!). It might be my mom (most definitely my mom - Shain reminded me of this time last year when she had called me with an emergency wrapping situation, which included schlepping across town at 10pm to buy envelopes to put gift cards in, things have not improved). It might be that my roommate finally got married, half moved out (conveniently forgot to clean his bathroom...), but took the cat. I miss having another living, breathing thing padding around the apartment when I'm all alone. Maybe it's the stinging cold that slaps you in the face then kicks you in the nuts every time you venture outside. It could be all the fucking reruns on TV. TV seasons are retarded. This isn't the southern hemisphere. Winter is when it's all cold and shit and you don't want to go outside, put some new shows on! It's possibly my static infused body. I could kill someone if I touch my fleece, hair, and the car door in the right order. It certainly doesn't help the my evening commute is in complete darkness. Sweet Jesus, I still have the Christmas cards I bought last year to send out. Maybe it's the constant flurry of irritating Facebook status messages detailing the various levels of holiday preparedness everyone feels the need to constantly report. Whatever it is makes me want to pool all my money set aside for gifts, buy an expensive bottle of scotch, order a Snuggie and hibernate till at least after New Years.



*I am currently tearing up at the last SATC epi when Big finds Carrie in the hotel in Paris, I'm not sure if this means I have emotions or am an even bigger asshole.

ZHMMM - It's the most wonderful time of the year edition.

Just a little marketing scam warning.

Yes, I perspire. It's true. Actually, I sweat. Like a lot sometimes. Even though my sweat smells like freshly baked sugar cookies, I decided to check out all of the new "clinical" deodorants out there and test drive one. "Clinical" is code for $7 deodorant. Anyway, I settled on Secret and have been applying at night, as per the instructions. While I think that the product is working as advertised, it's doing a little extra work, too, e.g. growing an overnight pit forest. Seriously, a week's worth of growth crops up overnight! My razor's been working overtime, when I remember. When I don't, sorry. The point of my story is that clearly, Secret is in bed with Gilette to mastermind this whole scheme. So, now I'm left to weigh the severity of the lesser of these two evils, smelly pits or hairy pits. Date me!

I am concerned about my brain. Deeply, deeply concerned.

My dreams have become, as of late, quite disturbing. They range from the supremely absurd to the heartbreaking, leaving me a bewildered mess when I wake up. Let's take last night:

Brain clip 1:

I'm having lunch with my exboyfriend (who has all but forgotten me, but not my friends who he seeks out on Facebook, anyway...) poolside. Next to us, Lauren Conrad and Brody Jenner are squeezed into a chaise lawn chair thingy talking and pointing at us. I'm not sure why, until I notice that the exbf is wearing a Christian Siriano designed short, puffy sleeved, fitted dark denim jacket with Carhartts. It gets fuzzy at that point, but I'm pretty sure I got up and left upon this realization.

Brain clip 2:

I'm living in Northampton and want to go to Fairway to buy groceries in NYC. I also want my favorite dumplings at the Cottage on 77th and Amsterdam. I go online to reserve a Zipcar, because now I'm suddenly in Boston, but decide to take the Fung-Wah bus to avoid driving myself in traffic. I ultimately decide that since I have a car, neither of the aforementioned would be necessary. Needless to say, I woke up very sad when I realized I'm not only more than a two to four hour drive away, but hundreds of dollars and connecting flights stand between Fairway and me.

If my brain matter could sing, it would sound like Nina Simone.

ZHMMM 12/15/08

Blogger took down my post because it was illegal. Sorry guys. Not that anyone read it. I only posted Youtube videos or songs credited to other blogs, but I guess someone didn't like that.

Um...

is it wrong that I want this?

Preventing my demise due to icy roads aka heading to work a wee bit late.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. You think congress could've approved a TARP few dollars for some acting lessons for the blond one. Good lord. Money well spent, Bushes.



I had a dream last night that I took a train to Ireland. Weird. I'm fuzzy on the details, but later, I was back home and wanting to go to Greece, but my passport had expired. So, I got online and researched how to get an emergency passport at the closest State Department issuing authority in Houston. I actually dreamed about emailing my boss asking time off for work to go get a passport. My dreams need to get a life.

Congratulations me! You are addicted to Etsy! I see it on sites all the time, but since I owe my soul to the company store (Department of Education), I try not to look at things I can lust after that are reasonably priced and support the notion of a collection of artists hocking their handmade best. Dudes, you can skip this one, probably, but ladies, Etsy's a treasure trove of delightful trinkets.

Ok, almost time to brave the OKC's highways. Wish me luck.

Bars that suck/Bradford!/Marriage/Facebook/Smith is weird/Things to come

Bars that suck

I made a horrible mistake Friday night. First, I went to Opies. If you're a Normanite, you know the gravity of this poor decision. After narrowly escaping the lure of the mirrored dance floor, the gang headed to Seven47, a popular bar on campus corner. Actually, it's really a haven for Shain and I to drink Hendricks and tonic and confuse the waitress when we ask for cucumbers because we are pretentious pricks. Last time Shain and I were there (last week, so?) we couldn't stop commenting on the amazing number of bartenders, barbacks, and waitstaff that kept pouring out of the clown car of a bar. They were hydrating and caffeinating as if preparing for an exam or something. Now I know why. Seven was a fucking shit show Friday night. That place blows serious balls. Fucked up drunk chicks + retardedly high heels = a hot, clumsy mess. It smelled like a frat basement, piss and all. You couldn't walk without your feet sticking to the floor, if you could walk at all. Sure, they have $2 Pabst, but I drew the line when I had to wait 20 minutes in the longest bathroom line ever only to be cut off by two drunk bitches who literally pushed me. PUSHED ME. I flipped my shit in the only way I know how. I yelled something sarcastic and got the girl behind me on my side who pulled them out of the stall. I stole their TP in the meantime.

Bradford!

Yay Sam! As I awaited the announcement from ESPN, I couldn't help but notice the difference in quality in the little bios prepared for each candidate. Colt's from small town America, but with a big heart. Sam played all kinds of sports and was a cute kid. Tim performs surgical procedures on orphans in Manila. Oh, blow me. Also, Sam won, so suck it. Gators are goners.

Marriage

My roomate is getting married on Saturday. His bachelor party was Saturday night. I was told the after party would take place at our place (the only evidence that I can find that even a modicum of fun was had is a blow up doll that's currently staring at me - I'm not sure that's a good sign), so I vacated to the 'rents house for the night so they could party in peace (e.g. without me trying to drink all their shit and DJ). It was weird sleeping in my old bed. And far more comfortable. Which leads me to this landmark decision. I want to get married. Considering the recession, I'm pretty sure it's the only way I'll ever get anything I need to, you know, live life. Roommate is taking his washer and dryer to the new place on Thursday. WTF! I have to buy my own now? Is it cool to handwash everything in the kitchen sink? They're like more than $100, which is my limit for any expediture. He's also taking the coffee table. And a lot of other shit. Blast! I got rid of almost everything in a bizarre personal belongings holocaust back in the MA, so I really don't have much, nor do I need much, except, you know a bed that works and a washer and dryer. If anyone has one they're looking to sell, let me know! I'm in a funk about this. Why isn't it kosher to register when you get out of school, get a real job and realize how fucking broke you are? That's when you need shit. Not 10 years from now when I've bullied someone into a shotgun wedding.

Facebook

I know it's stupid, but I don't want any of my friends to be friends with the ex boyfriend, especially since he's yet to respond to the card that I sent on his b-day in my effort to be mature and adult and all that shit. Petty, yes. Rational, no. I would really like to not be reminded of his existence if possible. And now I am. Blech.

Smith is weird

I caught wind of Smith's reveal of the new mascot/spirit mark/I'm not really sure via Facebook. I headed over to the college website to encounter this video. I just don't get it. I don't think I'm impressed. I know that much. Also, I know that when Smith does weird shit, or drops in rankings, I want to call them and ask for my money back. I feel like* I went to a different Smith.

Watch this.

*Trademarked Smithie talk.

Things to come

My top eight songs of 2008. Excited yet? You should be.

In which frigid weather awakens a dormant sense of forlorn introspection.

I'm in my PJs, beneath the down comforter, listening to the wind press hard against the windows, thinking about all kinds of things, but mostly about how this song is really speaking to me right now.

Jamie Lidell - All I Wanna Do

Zack Harrison Memorial Music Monday: Falling prey to trends edition.

I hate myself a little bit more than usual today. Two things: 1. I bought 808s and Heartbreak, and 2. I am wearing a dress over footless legging thingies. So you understand the self loathing.


1. I have heard only good things about K-West's new album*, so when I was at Target and needed to fill the void where my soul should be, I decided to drop it in the basket. I popped it in on the way home and almost crashed a million times because I was lulled into an involuntary boring coma. WTF, dude? A drum machine and an auto-tuner does not an album make. I was obsessed all summer long with Flashing Lights, which is a pretty sweet song. Love Lockdown premiered recently, and I thought it was catchy and that I could stand more of where that came from, but I was duped into hypnotoadism. The song is the equivalent of going to the grocery store and staring at all of the different types of whole grain breads. The point of Kanye is his ability to cleverly articulate the many aspects of his life, helped by some pretty sweet beats. I understand that his life has been marred by heartbreak, but really it's no excuse to become a lazy lyricist and even lazier arranger. Whatever Kanye is, he's not a singer. I think that's the bottom line. Thumbs down.

*Ok, I kind of like Paranoid.


2. It's getting colder out. Every other day or so. Today it's going to be 60. Tomorrow 30. Ah, Oklahoma. It's tough to keep up with schizo weather and what to wear in such strange atmospheric conditions. It's tougher to keep up with what the young kids are wearing in this kind of weather when you spend weekends leafing through LL Bean catalogs, filling prescriptions and are in bed by 9.30pm. So fine, I bought a dress that I thought would make me feel young again. And fine, it might not actually be a dress. It hovers somewhere between blousy tunic and short dress. Do I wear it over pants? Skinny jeans (ha!)? Footed tights? Leggings? I DON'T KNOW AND IT STRESSES ME OUT. I went with ribbed footless tights and black flats (it's a purple dress, yes, I'm seven). I feel a fool. I hope I don't see anyone I know today.

+

(not me)

=

The H is O

Attempt at humor FAIL!

Surely, you have been all over FAIL blog, surely. It's a good time, trust me. In an effort to prevent my premature death from extreme ultimate boredom disease, I went on the hunt for a FAIL in my own flickr account, which was hard because I only have like three pictures and one of them is of a chinchilla I would name Bobby Flay. I captioned, clicked and submitted! What do we think? Not doing it for you?



I took this photo when I was subbing for an AP/remedial English class at Noble High School when I first returned to the OK. For realz.

Please, just put me out of my misery.

Somehow, and I'm not sure it's possible, my life is even more boring than this blog. I know you all no one will not believe it. The most exciting thing that has happened to me of late is that I found a $.97 loofah at Wal-Mart with a suction cup that I can adhere to my shower wall. Make it stop.