Wednesday, December 17, 2008

As You Wish

BrownsFan: Please change your password.

Me: I swear it has been done.

BrownsFan: You are a person of action. Lies do not become you.

Amberance: Bossy

There is a right way and a wrong way to string lights on a Christmas tree, which is why I don't ever let anyone else touch the lights for the trees except for my father, who taught me in the first place*. So, I was very confused on Sunday when putting up the agent's tree. I had four strings of neatly wrapped lights, and one string of inexplicably tangled completely disorganized lights. "I can't figure out how this happened," I told the agent. "Why would I have done this? And with just one string of lights?"

"Maybe I was trying to help you or something," he said, "and you made me stop because you thought I was doing it wrong."

I considered this. "Maybe, but I think even then I would have taken it away from you and bossily redid it the way I wanted it in the first place."

*This came about in high school when I decided that a 10 foot tree in the family room and an 8 foot tree in the living room was not nearly enough trees, and that we clearly needed another 8 foot tree in my bedroom, to which my father responded "Do it yourself. There's no way I'm putting lights on another damn tree."

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

It's Beginning to Look A Little Like Christmas

"Amber's been decorating," the bartender told our friend the fat mexican over the phone. "It looks like the North Pole in here."

It's my mother's fault, really, that I'm like this. She loved Christmas and she loved decorating, so decorating for Christmas was a big deal at my house when I was growing up. My mother worked from home, so she would decorate in small batches during the day. When Cap and I would get home from school she would tell us how many decorations she had put up and then the two of us would tear off through the house trying to find the things that were new. We had our own assignments as well. We had a huge ceramic Christmas tree that was always on top of the tv (back when televisions were more of a piece of furniture than an appliance) that had little red lights all over it. Cap and I were responsible for sticking all the little plastic lights in and every year we fought over who would get to put the star on top. My mother also collected Santas, several of which I have inherited. She loved her Santa collection so much that they stayed out in a cabinet in the corner all year round. No lie.

At night I would sneak out of my bed and either hide in the living room staring at the tree for hours, or sit on the stairs and watch the snow fall in the little round light up winter scene in the hallway. In retrospect, it may be that Christmas seemed magical to me simply because it was filled with tiny flashing lights. and small shiny objects.

This is why the living room has so many decorations and lights that we don't even need to turn on any lamps (and the tree is not even up yet) and why I have a 4 1/2 foot stocking hanging on my bedroom door.

It's why I have a Santa hat on at work right now.

Friday, December 12, 2008

31 Days and Counting

It is one month until my birthday, the most joyous day of the year. Just ask these happy couples.

Tuesday, December 09, 2008

Breaking News!

Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich was arrested this morning on charges that he is a complete and utter douchebag. Disturbingly, this is not at all surprising. Hilariously, he was originally elected on a platform of reforming the corruptions of the previous Governor, George Ryan, who is currently serving 6 years after being convicted of being a total douchebag himself. I try very hard to keep politics out of this blog, but really this was too good to pass up. If I didn't laugh, I'd be crying.

This proves what I've been saying all along: Cabbage Patch Kids are evil.

Bedtime Stories from the Lazy and Irritated

The bartender: You're going to bed already?

Me: I'm tired. Tell me a story.

The bartender: (sigh) Once there was a crackhead.

long pause as I wait for him to continue

Me: And then what?

The bartender: He died.

Me: That is the worst bedtime story in all of history.

The bartender: Fine. Once there was a spider.

Me: Ok, ok, I take it back!