An Open Letter to New Year’s Day

I get squirelly when I’m bored… as I wait for our New Year’s party to begin (or at least until I’m asked to start vacuuming), I thought up this little activity: write a letter to New Year’s Day. Here’s mine (and yes, it’s fictional!!!!!). Anyone else game?

AN OPEN LETTER TO NEW YEAR’S DAY

First of all, let me apologize for my behavior last night. I know that blaming the tequila is the easy way out, and you deserve better. Because Dr. Phil has taught me to live by design as opposed to living reactively, I want to take a moment to thank you for all that you’ve done for me. As you know, this time of year really takes its toll. No sooner am I done polishing off the last of the turkey salad and apologizing for the striptease with Aunt Flora’s girdle (I know that blaming Jack Daniels is the easy way out) than Christmas rears its ugly head (Christmas, or Challeleawah, or Kwanzai, or whatever those people call it that don’t believe in God but still like the egg nog and presents).

December is a month crammed with agonizing questions: which presents should I re-gift and for whom; when’s the last day I can order something from Amazon and still have it by Christmas Day; how can I outdo the Stemperelli’s and their stupid manger scene/Christmas light extravaganza? Who cares if I can’t technically “afford” the electric bill from all my inflatable Santas that light up my front lawn in Wal-Mart glory? The Stemperelli’s don’t have a Santa, not even one of those small ones they could put next to the crib. I know that blaming the bathtub gin isn’t enough to explain why I supposedly set fire to Joseph and one of the donkeys last year, but I maintain it was an accident in light of the fact that I can’t remember it. (Get it? The pun? Who says bathtub gin rots your brain?)

Your arrival is truly a blessing to us all, and not just because it marks the day the Stemperelli’s pack up their manger scene, allowing me to unplug Santa’s soul-crushing electric bill. No, you afford us the opportunity to take the rest of the week off to watch some football, bring the empties out to the curb, and hide the matches. You give us time for the montages of the famous people who died the previous year, and the hope that Dick Clark will one day be among them. Most importantly, you give us the one night where everyone else has to apologize for their actions after a long, debaucherous night of drinking.

And I don’t let them take the easy way out.

God bless you, New Year’s Day!

P.S. If you happen to know what I did with my pants last night, would you be a dove and let me know?

My Sense of Humor Defined!

I found this test on lindsey_leavitt’s blog and thought that I’d give it a whirl..

the Cutting Edge
(57% dark, 50% spontaneous, 36% vulgar)
your humor style:
CLEAN | SPONTANEOUS | DARK 

Your humor’s mostly innocent and off-the-cuff, but somehow there’s something slightly menacing about you. Part of your humor is making people a little uncomfortable, even if the things you say aren’t themselves confrontational. You probably have a very dry delivery, or are seriously over-the-top.

Your type is the most likely to appreciate a good insult and/or broken bone and/or very very fat person dancing.

PEOPLE LIKE YOU: David Letterman – John Belushi

 

The 3-Variable Funny Test!
– it rules –

If you’re interested, try my latest: The Terrorism Test

 

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender

free online dating free online dating
You scored higher than 66% on darkness
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You scored higher than 61% on spontaneity
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You scored higher than 48% on vulgarity

 

 

 

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

Time to Work on Your Bio, Marianne!

Marianne Faithfull was born on this day in 1946. I saw it on CNN, and I knew the name but not what she was famous for. Rather than correct the student papers in front of me, I went online and checked out born-today.com. Here is the text of her entry:

“Maybe the most that you can expect from a relationship that goes bad is to come out of it with a few good songs.
Marianne Faithfull
(12/29/1946 – )
English singer (had relationships with Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, and Brian Jones)”

Her biography is defined by her boyfriends, which seemed to consist of… The Rolling Stones. Even the dead one. Where has Charlie Watts been?

A Million Little Shekels for Oprah

I feel as if someone just carved me hollow and let the wind whistle around a bit… James Frey’s A Million Little Pieces is a haunting read! Each turn of the page is like picking shards of broken glass out of the carpet: dangerous but oddly satisfying in the end. Once I got past the lack of punctuation and dialogue attribution, the book captivated me; I dropped everything these last few days just to find out what happened to the poor guy. Now I have to fight my wife for the sequel that she just got last night.

NOTE: One place I COULDN’T go to find out additional information on Frey was Oprah’s book club page, where I’ll have to sign up for her main members section before I even try to sign up for the book club “exclusive video.” No wonder this is one of the richest women in history: she’s constantly having her target demographic fill out forms detailing their personal preferences! Smart cookie…

Losing Friends

It’s happened again: I’m back down to one friend.

Every time Dad moved I’d be back to square one, trying desperately to fit in and make a few friends before the next birthday party invites went out. Now I’m the new kid in this online community, and something called “lj_maintenance” is my only friend. I don’t think LJ wanted to be friends with me, either. Its mom probably made LJ come up and play with me the way my mom always made me play with the new kids in the neighborhood.

“Go over there and introduce yourself,” she’d say, shuffling me out the door.

“But I don’t wanna,” I’d reply.

“You get over there right now mister or I’ll GIVE you something you don’t want to do!”

Am I now the weird new kid, the one that picks his nose and saves it on the side of his shoe? The one with the bad breath and the pink football helmet? Is LJ secretly dreading the fact that it has to list me as a friend?

I see the way LJ looks at me, smug and superior and full of disdain. I don’t need your pity, lj_maintenance, I don’t need your charity.

Still, if you have a birthday party coming up, know that I tend to give fantastic presents. Really. I’d be an asset.