The Day before Christmas Eve in Natter:
kat perez - If you ever have to do random last minute shopping for kids in your family, do not, for the love of all things holy, go into Old Navy. No matter what those snarky carol singers in the commercials promise you, Old Navy does not offer an easy, breezy holiday shopping excursion. It will scar your soul.
I need a drink.
SA - You know, I do not doubt this is true. You might need a cigarette in addition to that drink.
NoiseDesign - And possibly a tetanus shot.
kat perez - I don't smoke, but I now have red wine and chocolate sitting next to my shopping trophy - a couple of strands of hair snatched from the head of a woman who tried to knock me into the middle of next week to get to a size 12 - 18 months blue and grey boy's fleece pullover while a whiny sales girl rambled on about how all striped hats were on sale for $2.99. Bitch thought she could take me out? Please.
Hah!
Also, seeing my name twice from one evening in COMM is all sorts of joyfyul.
erikaj
demonstrates the true spirit of Christmas:
I got a card from the out-laws today that said that some monks or nuns or something from Saint Mary Immaculate were praying for me, with $20 in it. I'm with Rita Mae though "Lead me not into temptation. I can find the way myself." First resolution: Get into sufficient adventures that they won't be wasting the masses.
My GOD, how did I miss that one?!? Thank you, Betsy.
Aw, shucks, I'm all flattered and shit.
Deb
laments "the hobbit movies" in
Bitches:
Man, these movies are loud. I just went into the living room in search of my spare reading glasses, and winced at the noise, and it turned out to be a tree making it. A tree.
Trees are not supposed to be loud. You know? Trees are supposed to be quiet, or soothing, or silently menacing (if you happen to suffer from genuine panic, a fear of the woods at night).
Trees, however, should not moan. Or worse, keen or lament.
Need excedrin.
KristinT:
Okay, I now have conclusive proof that Dave and I are 1) lame and 2) geeky.
So we each got each other an iPod for Christmas. I got him what I really wanted--a full-on 40GB iPod good for 10000 songs so he wouldn't never have to worry about sorting through the music he wanted to listen to, etc.
He got me an iPod mini, because he really liked how little and sleek they are, plus he already rates all of his albums song by song, loved the idea of only taking the 400-500 songs he actually listens to, and assumed I'd feel the same.
We both pretended that we really liked our own gift while greedily eyeing each other's.
Finally, I admitted, "I'd kinda like a bigger one."
"Huh," he replied. "I really wanted the mini."
We stared at each other a second. We looked again at the free inscriptions we'd both done for each other on the back of each iPod ("if music be the food of love, play on" on mine; "music in the bedroom, laughter in the hall" on his). It isn't a coincidence that Mac offers free engraving but doesn't allow returns on anything once engraved.
"Do you want to--"
"--Oh thank God, yes."
We traded.
Ah, geeks at Christmas.
Cashmere:
It's as if Steve Jobs wrote The Gift of the Magi.
In
Goodbye and Good Riddance,
because it is so, so true:
Dani:
I hope those Buffistas not interested in breeding aren't too annoyed. ;-)
connie neil:
Being a Bitch Aunt is a grand and glorious occupation. Because you can always hand the squawling, leaking, squirming, frustrated mess back to the parentals and return home to your unchewed and unpeed-on peaceful home.
Wait, I have cats. Erase the unchewed and unpeed-on, add clawmarks and accusing kitty-eyes.
Nora Deirdre:
I now own a microplane grater, for all of three days, and I have no idea how I survived without it all these years.
Jessica:
Oh, I know the feeling! Don't you just want to run around zesting everything in sight?
beth b:
my mom got a microplane. zested everything she could and them went to the neighbors looking for things to zest.
