gnaw off your own arm
or
go to your old high school’s choir alumni concert where you will have to hug people you didn’t even like in high school, be forced to sing with the kids, and bring all your friends and family to watch the side show?
Oh…I wish it was only a game...or that I actually had a choice. But it is not and I do not.
Tonight I WILL attend my alumni concert. My parents are forcing me.
“How can your parents force you to do anything? You are 26 for goodness sake,” you might say. And I would sheepishly “Bah” at you.
I don’t know how they have done it. But that have managed to get myself and at least eight other people to come to this humiliation extravaganza.
Don’t get me wrong. I was a total choir nerd in high school. I fully support the program by continuing to design their holiday CD every year, but I would rather not relive my glory years like the star high school quarterback who now pumps my gas and lives in his mom’s basement.
You see…in high school…I was kinda a “big deal.” And I would rather not live the legend…I’d rather just be me and look forward instead of look backward.
Well…I guess I got my wish…I am looking forward…to tonight…with dread.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
That Is Ms. Slacker To You
So I FULLY intended to keep up my nablopomo momentum and continue blogging at that ridiculous pace…but then I took a nap for the month of December.
I did start a post approximately eight days ago with the title, “On the Twelfth Day of Christmas.” But that post never came to fruition as I suffered a massive panic attack while writing about my anxiety over having nothing for any of the good little boys and girls on my list. So after I popped my eyeballs back in my head, I decided that instead of blogging about the ominous approach of Christ’s birthday, I would actually be proactive and buy some freaking presents.
We are now…what?…four days out?...and I have completed the majority of my shopping without ever setting foot in a mall. That is pretty damn good for a pathological procrastinator like myself.
I did start a post approximately eight days ago with the title, “On the Twelfth Day of Christmas.” But that post never came to fruition as I suffered a massive panic attack while writing about my anxiety over having nothing for any of the good little boys and girls on my list. So after I popped my eyeballs back in my head, I decided that instead of blogging about the ominous approach of Christ’s birthday, I would actually be proactive and buy some freaking presents.
We are now…what?…four days out?...and I have completed the majority of my shopping without ever setting foot in a mall. That is pretty damn good for a pathological procrastinator like myself.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
My Arms Might Fall Off
No…its not the leprosy. I went snowboarding last weekend.
There finally was enough snow…just as I was beginning to panic that my season pass was going to be utilized by going to the resort and building mudmen.
The slopes were in pretty good shape for the first big weekend, but my physical condition…that is another story.
I learned to snowboard last season…not well…but well enough to not fall down every five feet. So apparently snowboarding is not like riding a bicycle.
You might wonder how a person’s arms would hurt from snowboarding. “Don’t you use your legs?” you might ask. “Well, yes you do,” I would respond. “But when you fall down you have to lift your fat ass off the snow…over…over…and over...your arms begin to tire.”
So yeah…I have also disproved that rule about only hurting for a couple of days after using new muscles, because it is Wednesday and my arms still feel like death.
But I have a pretty new snowboard and I just bought this hat which fills me with much joy and anticipation for its arrival.
There finally was enough snow…just as I was beginning to panic that my season pass was going to be utilized by going to the resort and building mudmen.
The slopes were in pretty good shape for the first big weekend, but my physical condition…that is another story.
I learned to snowboard last season…not well…but well enough to not fall down every five feet. So apparently snowboarding is not like riding a bicycle.
You might wonder how a person’s arms would hurt from snowboarding. “Don’t you use your legs?” you might ask. “Well, yes you do,” I would respond. “But when you fall down you have to lift your fat ass off the snow…over…over…and over...your arms begin to tire.”
So yeah…I have also disproved that rule about only hurting for a couple of days after using new muscles, because it is Wednesday and my arms still feel like death.
But I have a pretty new snowboard and I just bought this hat which fills me with much joy and anticipation for its arrival.
Monday, December 10, 2007
The Company Holiday Party
Up until this year I have avoided the company holiday party. I have done the little intimate celebratory lunches with my coworkers, but the big shindig with semi-formal attire…not so much. It isn’t that I am a grinch…we just all know how I feel about these events.
This year…I had no good excuse to get out of it and I somehow got talked into attending. Boyfriend and I got dressed up in our finest finest and I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t that bad…we even got a fun little prom picture to prove it. The food rocked my world and I could just talk to Boyfriend and stuff my face when there was nobody to talk to.
There were a few awkward half hugs and long pauses…but all in all…not too bad. And once I was adequately liquored up, I knew it would be even better. So I quickly bee-lined to the open bar and ordered my gin gimlet.
Now I understand that the youth of our world can only make mojitos and margaritas…but a gin gimlet is not so hard…two ingredients…you don’t have to go to bartender school to figure that one out. Anyway…so, after ordering, I watched as the kid (I swear he was like 15) searched frantically for something. He asked his fellow bartender and they both looked puzzled. Finally, he came back to me and said, “we don’t have any onions.” “That is fine,” I said…since there should be no onion anywhere close to my gin gimlet.
He filled a tall glass with ice and poured the gin in…so far so good…that is the biggest gin gimlet I have ever seen…but I’m not complaining. He then picked up the vermouth and poured a few drops into my drink. Ummm…I have never seen a gimlet made with vermouth…but maybe that was his special recipe…I am open to new things. The he grabbed the gin again and filled the rest of the glass with gin. He shook it up and grabbed a martini glass. “Can I have it on the rocks,” I said as he looked at me like I just killed his puppy.
He poured it in a shorter glass and handed it to me. Ummm…thanks…for my glass of gin.
Later on…he saw me and ran over. “I found the onions,” he said. I just swayed a little and hiccuped at him…since I had just finished my second glass of gin.
For all you aspiring bartenders out there…here is a PROPER recipe for a gin gimlet:
This year…I had no good excuse to get out of it and I somehow got talked into attending. Boyfriend and I got dressed up in our finest finest and I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t that bad…we even got a fun little prom picture to prove it. The food rocked my world and I could just talk to Boyfriend and stuff my face when there was nobody to talk to.
There were a few awkward half hugs and long pauses…but all in all…not too bad. And once I was adequately liquored up, I knew it would be even better. So I quickly bee-lined to the open bar and ordered my gin gimlet.
Now I understand that the youth of our world can only make mojitos and margaritas…but a gin gimlet is not so hard…two ingredients…you don’t have to go to bartender school to figure that one out. Anyway…so, after ordering, I watched as the kid (I swear he was like 15) searched frantically for something. He asked his fellow bartender and they both looked puzzled. Finally, he came back to me and said, “we don’t have any onions.” “That is fine,” I said…since there should be no onion anywhere close to my gin gimlet.
He filled a tall glass with ice and poured the gin in…so far so good…that is the biggest gin gimlet I have ever seen…but I’m not complaining. He then picked up the vermouth and poured a few drops into my drink. Ummm…I have never seen a gimlet made with vermouth…but maybe that was his special recipe…I am open to new things. The he grabbed the gin again and filled the rest of the glass with gin. He shook it up and grabbed a martini glass. “Can I have it on the rocks,” I said as he looked at me like I just killed his puppy.
He poured it in a shorter glass and handed it to me. Ummm…thanks…for my glass of gin.
Later on…he saw me and ran over. “I found the onions,” he said. I just swayed a little and hiccuped at him…since I had just finished my second glass of gin.
For all you aspiring bartenders out there…here is a PROPER recipe for a gin gimlet:
- Fill glass with ice
- Add 1.5 ounces of gin
- Add .5 ounces of Rose’s lime juice
- Garnish with a slice of lime
Monday, December 3, 2007
C IS FOR COOKIE!
COOKIE MONSTER HAPPY!
Every year Sister and I make Christmas cookies. An obscene number of Christmas cookies. We roll it, pat it, and mark it with a B and put it in the oven for Sister and me…or something like that. This year we scaled back…instead of ten batches (yielding 50 cookies each) we went with six this year.
My house has been transformed into the magical world of Cookieland. Green and blue, red and yellow…sparkles and sprinkles….doesn’t matter cause it tastes like yumminess. I don’t know why we even bother decorating them for Christmas…they are always gone before the actual day. I think one time when I like seven, we had one cookie left for the fat man on Christmas Eve. I didn’t get any extra presents from that shit and so that was the end of that nonsense.
So first day…I ate like 30 cookies…and it started to make me a little sick (understandably). But I rallied and consumed another 30 or so today. Way to pack ‘em on heifer.
NOM NOM NOM!
COOKIE MONSTER PUKEY!
Every year Sister and I make Christmas cookies. An obscene number of Christmas cookies. We roll it, pat it, and mark it with a B and put it in the oven for Sister and me…or something like that. This year we scaled back…instead of ten batches (yielding 50 cookies each) we went with six this year.
My house has been transformed into the magical world of Cookieland. Green and blue, red and yellow…sparkles and sprinkles….doesn’t matter cause it tastes like yumminess. I don’t know why we even bother decorating them for Christmas…they are always gone before the actual day. I think one time when I like seven, we had one cookie left for the fat man on Christmas Eve. I didn’t get any extra presents from that shit and so that was the end of that nonsense.
So first day…I ate like 30 cookies…and it started to make me a little sick (understandably). But I rallied and consumed another 30 or so today. Way to pack ‘em on heifer.
NOM NOM NOM!
COOKIE MONSTER PUKEY!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
