Wednesday, December 15, 2010

I have a crush on you already, 2011.

Holy Sparkly Balls, you guys, Christmas is nearly here. Are you ready? I'm not. Are you ready for me and everyone else to shut up about it and get on with some normalcy that is not "holiday season" related? Wow, too bad for you, Scrooge, I am not done talking about it and you need to go out and get drunk and find yourself some goddamn festive spirit.

Just kidding. I love you guys.

No, I'm not drunk yet. Why do you keep asking me that?

So. With the new year approaching (holla at me, 2011!) and my birthday being in January and all, this time of year is when I typically have to do "end of the year" write ups and articles about like "the best of" and "do you know what should not have happened this last year that didn't?" It's a great time for me to reflect on the year behind me and get my size 9 in gear for the next year.

What do I have to say to you, 2010?

Good riddance to bad rubbish. That's right. You buh-leeeew. Maybe you were some kind of "transition to awesome" year or like, a year to fill in some plot holes (like they do with television shows and comics and stuff) but there was honestly not a whole lot about you that I liked. You were supposed to be too legit to quit and you ended up being a small, annoying town ravaged by Suckzilla.

I mean, really, I'm glad to have survived you. You're like a boyfriend who cheats and makes snide comments about how I should lose weight and how I drink too much and don't talk about my feelings enough but when I dump you and set fire to your things and stand there reflecting, I am imbued with this feeling of relief like, "OMG I am so glad you done bit the dust, you asshat."

Basically what I'm saying is that I am stronger because of you, and do you know what that means? 2011 is going to fucking rock.

2011 will essentially be new hot guy who swoops in and kisses my cheek to say hello and laughs at my jokes and reads my writings and will surprise me with Guinness when I've been really good and will play Xbox with me and not get all bent out of shape if I just want to sit and read and don't feel like talking. Also? He will fucking know how to BBQ because that is an important man skill that I need in a man and he won't be irritated when I ask him to parallel park my car for me because I already told you I suck at that. That is what 2011 is going to be for me. The perfect guy. Whereas you, 2010, got fat and mad at me every time I wanted to watch the SyFy channel and drank all my Stella. So, you can totally go sleaze it up with 2009, who wasn't as bad as you but was kind of a whore and is pretty high-maintenance. I'm movin' forward, dollface.

Hi, 2011, you handsome thing. I baked you some cookies. <3

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Eggnog totally weirds me out.

I've had a couple random ideas about what I wanted to post since it's December and the holidays and all, but I haven't had time to sit down and write anything.

Sorry, Santa, yes, that was a lie. I have the time but I just haven't felt like any of my ideas have been good enough. Someone once told me I needed to work on my self-esteem. I've also been told that I'm a narcissistic, intellectual snob who's smart but definitely not smart enough to be an intellectual snob about it. Thanks a lot, college, that's all I was using you for anyway. The point is that maybe I need to work on my self-esteem and maybe I'm a narcissist and a snob. I just don't know how to please you people.

Anyway, I don't really have any point to this, so I'll give you a ten minute sample of things on my mind this time of year.

Me: I feel like I should decorate my office a little for Xmas but I don't want to have to take it down if they move me.

MEH: Hmm, I believe you should decorate your cup with alcoholic eggnog while all that gets sorted out.

Me: I will take the cup of alcoholic eggnog without the eggnog.

MEH: Right, whiskey it is.

Me: I feel like eggnog is what chickens would lactate if they had nipples and alcoholism. It sort of creeps me out.

MEH: Wow.

Me: Sorry. Hope I didn't just ruin the 'nog for you.

MEH: Nah, I hate eggnog. I never thought about alcoholic nipples, although now I am, and I'm revising my perfect woman.