NYE

Man, remember when New Year's Eve was a Really Big Deal that involved lots of planning and dressing up and drinking a lot and generally being a maniac?

Who knows, maybe for some of you it still does!

Personally I'm looking forward to staying in with DH and the crazy ladies and going to bed @ 12:01 am.

That's not to say that there isn't still the possibility of dancing and carousing and ridiculous behaviour...it will just be a much different -- and less illegal -- kind.

Happy new year, you People Who Also Have No Idea What You're Doing (and those who just Enjoy My Feeble Attempts To Survive The Day Humiliation-Free)!

We make a good club, don't you think?

Thanks for reading, and here's to more insanity in 2012.

Confessions of a terrible housekeeper

When you come over to my house, you will see several laundry baskets in the family room, and I'll say, "Please excuse the mess, I was just folding some laundry."

But those baskets have actually been there for...probably two months now.

The girls actually just get dressed out them in the mornings, and they keep getting refilled with more folded laundry that just never quite manages to get carried upstairs to their bedroom.

The worst part is that this is way more convenient than sending the girls back upstairs in the morning to get dressed, so there is absolutely NO impetus for me to actually put the clothes away.

So I'm hoping the shame of outing myself like this will inspire me to do it.

But I doubt it.

Regularly scheduled programming

After a few lovely days of padding around the house in my Aretha Franklin slippers, I am now forced to put on some pants and go to work.

The brutal part, of course, is that no one else in my house has to get up or do anything productive today.

Although this also means that I won't have to break up any arguments over DSIs, Barbies, or Lego.

In fact, DH just sicced (sp?) them on me now: "Why don't you guys go bug mum, she's going to be leaving for work soon!"

I think that's my cue to leave.

It's a clinkerrrrrrrr!

FINALLY got to watch A Christmas Story last night. I don't think it would officially be Christmas if I didn't get to see that one.

When Randy was refusing to eat his meatloaf, smeatloaf, double beatloaf, and the mother said, "Randy, there are starving people in China!" K scoffed:

"There aren't starving people in China! Hasn't she ever heard of Chinese food?"

Well that'll teach me

In an effort to save money, save gas, and save my sanity by not going to the mall, I did some of my Christmas shopping on-line this year.

Let us all join hands now and say a little prayer to the Canada Post gods, because neither of DH's presents has arrived yet, and opening an 'IOU' on Christmas morning isn't quite going to have the wow factor that I was hoping for...

I'm still laughing

Once again, depending on the kindness of strange friends (so much better than strangers) when the girls have stopped saying hilarious things:

My dear friend A slaved away on dinner.  Well, the slow cooker did the slaving, but she lovingly placed everything in there and turned it on, so that still counts. With visions of a hot dinner that night, plus bountiful leftovers for some dinners that week, she was feeling on top of her game.

She triumphantly placed the dinner in front of her daughter, S.

S took one bite and said:

"Hmmm ... the taste of this reminds me of something I had that made me want to throw up."

Ah, there's that Christmas spirit

Took the day off yesterday to finish Christmas shopping with DH. (He's actually off all of this week. He made us all bacon and eggs for breakfast today, and we're currently enjoying the Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack. Very difficult to drag myself out of here to go to work today.)

When we were lined up at Costco, the person in front of us got into a heated discussion with the cashier about wishing people Merry Christmas.

"I heard that at Best Buy if you wish someone a Merry Christmas, you'll get fired."

"Everyone is so worried about offending someone..." BLAH BLAH BLAH

And so continued the conversation that we've all heard a million times.

But my favourite was the customer's parting thought:

"Well, I'm going to say Merry Christmas, and if someone doesn't like it, they can plug their ears!"

Yep, that's the spirit of the season all right.

However, I will try to put that particularly unpleasant woman out of my mind and focus on the positive.

I will instead choose to embrace my friend D's daughter's summary of Christmas:

"It's a time to be free and take off your pants!"

In case you ever wondered

I decided to actually blow dry my hair and make an effort with my appearance today, instead of writing a blog entry. (So this is a quick one...)

As I was doing so, I was looking in the mirror thinking that the people I see every day will benefit from this decision, but what about the poor...dozens...who rely on my blog to cheer them up? How selfish of me.

Then I thought "This is a real Sophie's Choice!"

Then I thought about how horrifying that choice must've been, and what a depressing movie that must've been, and how I really should watch it sometime, but it's hard to get excited about sitting down to watch a movie like that, when you know you're going to be devastated at the end, like Schindler's List or....Steel Magnolias...

So then I kept pondering that awful choice for a moment, and then for some reason the musical phrase "I believe the children are our future" popped into my head...

So now I'm starting the day with The Greatest Love Of All stuck in my head.

This has been a glimpse of how my brain works. I hope you enjoyed it.

Well, that didn't work

Have you ever, in the words of Elaine Benes, marched in?

I've done it twice.

First time, I marched in to TD Canada Trust, ready to play hard ball when negotiating a new mortgage.

I immediataly learned that the mortgage had actually expired at the beginning of the month, not the end, and therefore not only did I not have any hand (in the words of George Costanza), but the mortgage payments were two weeks in arrears.

Yesterday, I marched in to my financial planner's office, ready to say 'let's pay off the mortgage!'

Due to stoopid math (my arch-nemesis), that's not going to happen after all.

Clearly, mortgages and I do not mix.

Nothing like bursting into tears in front of your money dude to make you feel like a real grown-up, though.

Worst Christmas song?

On the way to work this morning, I was forced to ponder whether or not Last Christmas by Wham/George Michael (yeah, that's right, I'm too lazy to Google it) is the worst Christmas song ever. That awful '80's synth/drum sound?  Ugh.

And then on the way home from work, I was dismayed to hear that someone has COVERED Last Christmas, and she LEFT THE CHEESY '80'S DRUM SOUND IN IT.

At this point I gave up my last hope for mankind.

OK Christmas, just back off, willya?

What is up with Christmas this year? Why can't it still be a month away?

I am totally unprepared.

Haven't baked anything. Not even the pre-made Pillsbury gingerbread that's been in the freezer for a couple of weeks. And as I typed that, I realized that it was probably not supposed to go in the freezer.  So there's that.

Christmas shopping has been haphazard at best. Grabbing random things here and there. I have visions of people opening their presents that morning and wondering why I gave them anti-perspirant, a jar of Nutella and some hair elastics.

And worst of all, I haven't sent out Christmas cards. Would consider saying 'nuts to this' but they are photo cards, so I can't very well send out this year's picture next year, because then everyone will think the girls are missing a vital growth hormone.

Clearly, the only solution is to....I don't know. Celebrate it on January 25th instead? Become one of those crazed shoppers who goes to Wal-Mart at 2 am? Hire someone to write my Christmas cards for me?

Oh, that's not a bad idea actually!

So, loved ones, if you receive a card that says 'Wishing you and your [family] [pets] a joyous [Christmas][Hanukkah][Solstice][Kwanzaa].' Please know that the sentiment was purchased and contracted out with love.

You've got to have friends....

...for days like this when you've got nothing to write about on your blog.

This comes courtesy of my friend L, who also supplied the tidbit about awesome boots that still allow you to wear orthotics.  And yes, I do think she should write her own blog. And yes, if I were making any money on this blog, I would totally cut her in on the profits.

But anyway...

My friend L started working in a new office 3 weeks ago.

'Tis the season, so she was joining in the office tradition of decorating her cubicle.

L's new boss: Hey, L, did you get any decorations for your desk?

L: Oh yes, I grabbed the blue balls.

<awkward silence>

Round of applause please, for my friend L!

Try asking just like that

At school they are giving away Kindness Angels to kids who do something nice. If a teacher sees a kid voluntarily doing something kind, he or she will give the kid an angel, and it goes on this big Christmas tree.

S has two, K and E have none.

E: It's weird, because Mrs. G always tells me how nice I am and how great I am and how kind I am.

All: Yes, E you're very nice and kind.

E: Then why doesn't she just give me a stinkin' Kindness Angel already?

As role models go, she's actually not bad

I was wearing one of those floating long cardigan things yesterday, and as I was filling the dishwasher the cardigan kept getting in the way. The floaty ends of the drapey parts kept dragging along the dishes, and it was getting on my nerves.

Suddenly, I thought, "I wonder how Dorothy managed?"

That's right, folks. I'm at a point in my life where I'm asking myself what Dorothy Zbornak, in all her shoulder-padded, flowing '80's pantsuited glory, would do in a situation like this.

At any rate, I'm sure it would involve a pointed silence and slow burn stare at the dishwasher. Or my cardigan. Whichever was being ridiculous.

So inappropriate. But we still laughed.

The girls are learning French at school.

Somebody mentioned that something was cold, so we all said 'froid' and then discussed how weird the spelling is.

Me: It sounds like it should be spelled FWA, right?  But it's f-r-o-i-d.

All: That's weird!

E: Yeah, that's like the number ten! You say it like "DEES" but the way it's spelled, it's like you should be saying "DICKS! D-i-x. DICKS! It's so weird! It has an X on the end, so it should be DICKS!"

She was so proud of this revelation, we didn't have the heart to shut 'er down. But after she said DICKS! for the 6th or 7th time, we had to change the subject.

Wow, that's some self-image you've got there

I was reading a script this evening.

The character I would like to play is described at one point as "looking good."

I immediately thought, "Oh man, I'd better start working out."

WTH, inner monologue? I need to kick it into high gear if I'm going to be able to pull off 'looking good'?!?

It's not like I was going to show up in the running shoes and uniboob look.

Oh fer cryin' out loud

It's been snowing for, what, ten minutes? And I already got the first soaker of the year.

Also, my calves look like two giant sausages in my new boots. They're like Spanx for my legs.

Never mind, just wake me up in April.

Harrumph.

Still a bit grumpy because a wanker stole my wallet that I left behind at Subway. Consequently, I have nothing of hilarity to offer today.

Instead, please enjoy this clip from The IT Crowd, a British sitcom starring the cute police officer from Bridesmaids.

All you need to know is that through a hilarious set of misunderstandings, everyone thinks that the woman going for a joy ride on the mail cart is dead. The gentleman in the lunchroom went on a disastrous date with her the night before, and has decided to take this opportunity to tell everyone he was the last person she slept with. (They didn't.)