MAN!

Wow. That last post was sooo much better in my head. Sorry about that lords and ladies. I'll try better next time. F*ck me for trying to write a decent post while I'm pretty busy at work. On a totally unrelated note: Welcoming Consider the Source to my blogroll. Because, you see, he's HIlarious, and an all around good guy.

By perspective

For no reason in particular, I've had a few conversations with women I went to high school with, and still am friends with. The topic of popularity came up each time. I find it really hard to define popularity in our school, as it was a Catholic, all girls school. So, not the norm, I think. Interestingly enough, I had not one, not two, but four different thoughts on who the popular girls were. My hairdresser went so far as to point to herself and say "We were". I gave her a blank stare. "Well, we were the athletes." Um, no - athletes did not equal popular at a smallish all girls school. I had to tell her no, they weren't. Also, that no one I had talked to about it had named her group as the popular ones. There was one group that was mentioned that back in high school I might have deemed popular simply based on a few criteria - they were cool, they were beautiful, they were fashion forward, and they had the hottest boyfriend. But in hind-sight, they weren't actually popular. I think the best answer I got was the simplest. Chris looked at me, paused, and said "Well, we were. You and I." I was about to correct her, but then I paused. We then discussed that even though she was all skater girl, and I was all black converse high tops and new wave music, and we were in plays and no we didn't play sports, and yes we got into trouble - lots and lots and lots of trouble we got along with just about everyone. The one thing that made Chris' statement true is that we knew and were friends with everyone. I mean everyone. And if I didn't like someone, Chris might and vice versa. So that being said, we really did know EVERYONE in our class. And the classes above and below us. The main point is who cares? Who cares now? Does this affect any of us in any way shape or form? Does the fact that I field and deny many friend requests on teh fb on a regular basis make me any more of a person? Probably because I don't care now, and I never cared then is why I was popular. I have no idea why I even wrote about this - it was just on my mind. Sorry for the rant.

Aftermath and carnage

So I guess whatever happens at the cookie party stays at the cookie party. Wow. Those ladies can drink. And party. Here's some of the numbers of the party: About 20ish - number of ladies that attended 10 - bottles of wine consumed 1.5 - bottles of vodka consumed 14ish - beers consumed 6 - two liters of raspberry ginger ale used as mixer 22orsoish - lbs of food consumed. 21orsoish - lbs of said food that was cheese related 1millionty - dozens of cookies brought, redistributed and left with 18ish - ornaments swapped 1 - very intoxicated friend. But that's cool. We've all been there 0 - pictures taken by me. By the time I realized I could take pictures with my phone, it was too late. Nothing but carnage and aftermath 0 - male friends who showed up in drag. Maybe next year. I tried to get Shannon to sleep on my couch, but then it got all snowy and she said "no I has to go snow snow snow blah blah blah" It took me two days to clean up and recover. Good.Times.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

You get a post today because tomorrow I'm outy 5000. I'm having my kinda-annual Cookie and Ornament swap. Also known as: Let's us ladies sit around eating carbs, drinking too much, and being snarky bitches. Tomorrow, 6:30 to whenever. I love my party. Generally. This year it has outgrown my 418 square feet, and has been moved upstairs to VonSis's place. This means tonight and tomorrow I get to lug food/drinks/cookies/decorations upstairs and set up a space that isn't mine. I have at least three friends coming who have never been to my place. This means I'll have to schlep downstairs to show them my place. This means, I have two locations to clean pre and post party. VonSis upsides:

• Dishwasher
• Space. Lots and lots of space. As in: we can do drinks in this room, cookies in this room, food in this room.
• Decor. I haven't seen it yet, but I'm sure she's been decorating.
• Did I mention space? She's got lots of it.

VonSis downsides:

• I fear VonBroInLaw/Landoverlord will show up and not leave. And there's nothing I can do about it, as it's his house.
• Not very cozy. Maybe I'll just sit on different people's laps, make it cozier.
• Not my space, so I'll be a little nervous.
• Stairs.

My knees have been getting better lately, and I'm down to seeing AwesomeKneeDoc once every three weeks now. But damn, I'm still no good at stairs.

I am going to try try I said, to take some photos of the shin-dig, as I know some of you like to say "pictures or it didn't happen".

And you'd all be invited, except that it's ladies only. And I just now realized that most of my readership is men. Huh. Who wants to wear a skirt and some lipstick and show up anyway?

Fridge Note:

No one I know completed NaPoBloMo this year. Way to go, mah individualz!! Love ya, V

I've got nothin'

I don't want to write about what I thought I wanted to write about. I wrote a whole post, and then deleted it. Then I stared at my screen for about five minutes, waiting for some inspiration. None came. I'm stumped. See what happens when it snows?!?!?!

Was that supposed to be a long weekend?

And people wonder why I am tired. Here's a recap of what should have been a restful long weekend. Thursday: Up early. Watch the parade on t.v. Turn on the wrong channel, get confused as to why this sucks. Why isn't there any singers and dancers and Broadway numbers? Oh, I'm on the wrong channel. I'm an ass. 12:30 head over to eldest step-sister. Bite tongue (repeat/repeat/repeat) tweet all of the things I cannot say out loud. Overload twitter with all of the things I cannot say out loud. Get in fight with he-thinks-his-shit-doesn't-stink elder step-bro. 4:00 head over to Chris' aka home of delightful God-child. Eat, drink, hug and kiss delightful God-child again and again and again...... Head home at 10:30. Fall asleep on couch like the old lady I'm turning into. Friday: Up at dawn (ok, 8ish). Head to dad's favorite diner to meet VonParents for breakfast. Recap of Thanksgiving, I get snarky, I get shot down. blah blah. Go to VonParents' house for some stuff. 11am: home and time to decorate. 11am - 4:30pm decorate non-stop. OhmyGod I have a lot of crap. Holy shit, I have a million ornaments. This is dumb. I can't keep doing this all by myself. Lug seven rubbermaids back down to storage. Curse them. Wish Christmas was more than a month away, because a month seems like a very short amount of time for all of this gosh darn work I had to do. 6:00 Meet John and Toni for dinner at das BrauHaus. Beer. German food. Time with two of my most favorite people ever. Awesome. 9:00. Home. Cannot move. All joints have locked up from overdoing of the manual labor all day. Fall asleep in chair, sitting up, for two hours. 11:30 Debate continuing to sleep in chair all night long, to avoid getting up. 11:35 Decide my crappy decorations might start a fire, so I might as well get up and unplug them, then I might as well go to bed. ouch. Saturday: Guitar class. Felt picked on. Not so happy this week. Pinky actually starts to bleed due to f-ing up some chord changes. Reconsider my musical calling. Recommit to musical calling. Music is pain. Run errands. Dollar store, grocery store, pharmacy, bank. Begin work on holiday cards. 9:00: OH MY GOD I CANNOT SIT IN THIS HOUSE ANYMORE NO MATTER HOW CUTE IT IS. Run out the door to meet Jessica and her bf and parents for a drink. Or three. Or four. Get home a little later than I expected. Sunday: Stroz brings breakfast. I'm pissed, as I have to put a bra on, which was not part of my plan for the day. Entertain Stroz. 11:35: Start being mean to Stroz so he'll leave. I have a plan for the day, and this is no longer part of it! 11:37 - 3:00ish: bake. bake. bake. Bake some more. Oh, and do laundry and take out trash while all this baking is going on. 3:01ish. Tell myself I'm an awesome baker. Because I am. 3:30: Out the door to Jon and Teresa's with some cookies. Hang out til half time of the Bears game. Half time (I no longer know what actual time it is): run to VonParents' with cookies. How long is halftime? This is as much time as I'm allowed to visit. She's that die-hard. 1st minute of third quarter of Bears game: Drive home. Shit, I have 1/2 of my holiday cards to write out! 9:00 cards done, yet strewn all over living room floor. Fall asleep to the news. 9:55: Damn it. I have to do that 'get into the actual bed and set the actual alarm thing' So, how well rested are you?