Yeah ... We went to see the gingerbread houses at Turning Stone.

They were cool. Santa's hookers? Not so much.

It's the most wonderful time of the year...

When revenue streams are overflowing... and you're working like crazy.... but you're making your goals... so you're happy... but you also haven't slept... and office equipment woes make you want to kill yourself... as you brace for the onslaught of people who call to scream at you to take them off your mailing list....

.... and a partridge in a pear treeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

So, I know that this will either result in your mental response being:

1. "Duh, idiot."

or

2. "Who the fuck cares, idiot?"

I am going to share anyway.

Upon rewatching Twin Peaks and finally making it through the last episode, I have finally figured out that Special Agent Gordon Cole (the deaf, screaming FB I agent) is actually played by one Mr. David Lynch himself. This amuses me and I had to share my glee!

I am really into David Lynch again. I think as I get older I better understand his ideas about how really dark and disturbing things come in very lovely packages and that every idyllic place has a seedy and disgusting underbelly (You've been to Manlius, right... creepy...)

It makes me want to watch Eraserhead and Blue Velvet back to back. And then have horrible nightmares and sleep even less than I do now... ? Maybe I should rethink it.

In other news, mister_robinson ! The Chiller network is re-airing "Millenium" and you were so right about that show. Frank Black = WIN.

In other, other news, for the first time in a long time I am 100% feeling Christmas-y. I don't know what changed, but my recent string of "meh" holiday spirit has been replaced by childlike enthusiasm for all customs and rituals. I might even force Mark to attend a midnight service on Christmas Eve.

I want chocolate. Bad.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

That is all.

This bitch has obviously never had chocolate... or real Mac and Cheese... or a McDonald's Egg McMuffin when you have a hangover... but I digress.

Read all about it!

I make kick ass vegan sushi.

Spring rolls are easier than I anticipated.

I have enough wasabi powder to last until the end of time.

Mark: "Hey, Randy (my sister's husband) has wifi."

Me: "Yesssssssssssssss...."

Mark: "And people in, like, other counties don't celebrate Thanksgiving, right?"

Me: "Correct, genius."

Mark: "So I could conceivably spend the entire day trading on the foreign exchange market on Thanksgiving."

Me: "Yes. Or we could stay married."

A very young David Duchovny played a transvestite FBI agent on Twin Peaks.

LMFAO.

This show was so ahead of it's time.

So, I posted a while back about how I was old and was refusing to wear skinny jeans and ballet flats (having already lived through the 80s once, thank you very much).

I lied.

I purchased "skinny" jeans. I guess I cannot buck this trend. But I will be wearing them with knee-high, stilletto boots. I am standing my ground on ballet flats. Damnit.

I have now lost 25 pounds total since starting WW. That means 40 pounds lost since March of 2009. Which is pretty good.

I am gonna be a hot bitch by next Summer.

celticshrew 's post about Stephenie Meyer got me to thinkin' about ways that I might exploit 15 year old girls and their babysitting money.

Mythical creatures + bookish outcast (aka : "nerdy girl who is actually hot, but whatever, it's the movies") + adventure = MONEY

Here's what I gots so far:

1.  The story of a sexy, bad-boy leprechaun trying to walk the line with the help of a bookish outcast.  Sexy, bad-boy leprechaun to be played by Gerard Butler (at Kate's request).  Bookish outcast:  Megan Fox (in glasses).

2.  Sexy ancient Golem grants wishes to bookish outcast.  Uses Golem to torture mean, popular girls.  Golem played by Zac Efron.  Bookish outcast played by Rachel Bilson (in glasses).  Head mean, popular girl played by Ali Larter (because she's, like, 30 and therefore can easily play a high school girl, duh). 

3.  Sexy mermaid dude saves drowning bookish outcast.  Turns out mermaid dude is rich prince of magical mermaid land.  Hijnks ensue.  Bookish girl become mermaid queen.  Bathes in money.  Sexy mermaid dude played by Shia LaBeouf.  Drowning bookish outcast:  One of those stupid High School Musical girls.  Does it matter which one?  They all suck.

Will think of more...

3 am toothache. Pain so bad my vision tunneled and I threw up.

Spilled coffee on work pants

Flat tire.


FML

So, awesomely, we have a Johnny Marr in our database.  I'm going to assume it's not THE Johnny Marr.

Anybody up for this:

http://screamershollow.com/

?

uh... not this Friday.

Maybe next?

You're welcome.

I am not getting the flu, I am not getting the flu, I am not getting the flu...

I can get the flu at 3 p.m. on Saturday, October 24th.

Until then...

I am not getting the flu, I am not getting the flu, I am not getting the flu...

1.  I know, I know... you think I'm stupid and nuts... but I LOVE early snow!  Before I know it there will be hot cocoa and Christmas lights.  Psyched.

2.  I lived through the 80s once already.  I am all set now.  So, if it takes skinny jeans and leggings with big shirts and big clunky plastic jewelry and huge bangs to be cool now, consider me officially not cool.  Skinny jeans look good on exactly 1% of the population.  Legs too skinny?  You look like a chicken.  Thunder thighs?  Maybe tight stretch denim is not for you.   So, yeah.  Sorry, but you can't make me wear skinny jeans and ballet flats.

It's official:  I'm a soccer mom and I don't care.

3.  Give us money, y'all.

Dear Impala-driving Douche with the Wrap Around Sunglasses who almost killed me on the Thruway this morning:

Dude.  You're the only one "racing" here.  The rest of us are just trying to get to work.  Nobody wants to race you.  Nobody is impressed by your car.  Nobody is impressed by you.  Nobody gives two shits about you.  You are just another Impala-driving douchebag with a teeny, tiny wang.   

Of course your lame ass wannabe car can "beat" my Toyota Echo, genius.  You don't need to prove it.  Riding my ass (while I am hauling along at approximately 77 miles per hour, I might add) is not necessary.  Just let me pass the guy in front of me and you are free to continue on your merry way to your job selling quality, low cost beepers at a kiosk in the mall.

Also?  Newsflash:  You live in Upstate New York.  The day-glow sunglasses are fairly unnecessary.  The sun only shines here about 6 days a year.  So, really... you just look like those idiots that used to wear LA Gear sneakers around here in the 80s. 

In short, Joe Cool, you're a big fucking idiot.  Next time I will "see a deer", slam on my breaks, and then I will have a brand-new Impala, courtesy of your insurance company.

Me

PS:  Call me when that's a 1968 Impala and maybe I will be impressed.

T-1 week to the fundraiser.

Household chores abound.

Date later tonight at Barnes and Noble with The Man.

He's literate and I like Starbucks, so BN is the place to be.

Preface:  I love Barack Obama.  I love him primarily because he can speak the King's English and has never used the phrases "hidey hole" or "axis of evil."  I think he has great ideas, but needs some more time to get into a groove. 

But, um, WTF is with the Nobel Peace Prize, Barry?

When I first heard it on NPR this morning at the ass crack of dawn, I said (out loud), "UM, for what?"

Someone who commented on a friend's LJ opined that maybe it's because he's NOT George W. Bush and questioned whether this was Nobel-worthy.   I'm wondering that myself.

I'm not GWB either, so, can I have a Nobel Prize?  Cause that would be way cooler than my stupid AP awards.

So I freaked out all night and got to work at 7 because I am a freak.

Nothing opens until 9 am, so, of course, here I am at work freaking out.  Sleep deprived.

I am an idiot.