It’s December 21 and I am DONE with Christmas shopping. Even the stocking stuffers have been purchased, y’all. Usually I am in spazzmatic shopping mode at the time because I realize I forgot something/someone important and find myself battling the crowds. But no. Apparently I am On Top of Things this year. Well, except for wrapping gifts. And I didn’t send out any cards, which is a damn shame. I had this awesome idea and it was gonna be so cool but it seems that if there were a progress report for holiday activities mine would read “CKD participates in class but does not always follow through on projects.” Whatever. I am saving the environment…or totally lost track of the time-space continuum. Tomato, tomahto.
Last night I had a very realistic dream that this evil rogue Ewok was trying to get me. It was impervious to all forms of weaponry and while it sort of broke my heart that I was doing harm to an Ewok, I didn’t really have a choice now, did I? He was clearly out to get me, and Lando Calrissian wasn’t doing a damn thing about it. I have no idea why Lando was there instead of Luke or Han, but my subconscious remains a mystery for the ages. FYI: I told my mom about this dream and she advised me to keep it to myself. But come on, Interweb. What other purpose does my life serve than to amuse and horrify you?
So, apparently the entire world is expecting me to get engaged this holiday season and while I hate to burst anyone’s bubble (unless you are an evil rogue Ewok in which case DIEDIEDIEMOTHERFUCKERDIE), that is just not happening. A relative made a comment to Ed and me to this effect and the poor boy’s head damn near blew up and we both started shrieking “NO!” over and over. But I’m pretty sure he’s hooking me up with some Sour Patch Kids in my stocking (not a euphemism) so I’m pretty stoked. Plus, this is the first Christmas in something like three or four years where I haven’t been curled up in bed with a fever or strep or something frightening which really is a gift. Eating all kinds of awesome food is pretty much the highlight of this time of year and that loses its appeal when you are barfing all the time.
The other night Ed and I watched Notorious, a biopic about Notorious B.I.G aka Biggie Smalls. It was basically a high school/early college flashback for me, as well as a reminder that we are the world’s whitest couple. We’re sitting there sipping wine as the East Coast/West Coast feud unfolds before us, which was a sad confirmation that any street cred I ever had at my hippest is a faint memory. And even then, I’m pretty sure my memory of being cool is clouded by a healthy serving of Jungle Juice (mixed in a garbage can, natch). Still, a night of baking cookies and watching Biggie’s rise to fame and tragic fall pretty much trumps all date nights.