Merry Happy!

I am currently handing you a "Get out of blog free" card... My suggestion is that you take it and hasten your small reader self to the end of this entry where a jolly game awaits you. It is the most addictive thing I've found this month (other than heroin.) If you stay and continue to read I promise to only dampen your festive spirit. Someone had to do it. Now I bid you to continue on- think of it like a choose your own ending novel!


Okay, I admit I have strayed from the blog a bit... but not far. I find that I have fallen into an entire tub of holiday goop. I almost much completely managed to avoid Christmas until my brother showed up glowing with festive cheer much like a young Chris Kringle. I am not a Grinch, nor do I say "Bah Humbug" I just found myself completely unaware of this holiday season until it snuck up on me in the dark of Christmas Eve and broke my neck... in a Solid Snake manner (infinite ammo headband included.)

To be completely honest the word "Holiday" itself does prompt me to cringe and make a less than attractive yuck face. I can't quite say what it is... but if I were to throw a dart at a dartboard filled with possible answers I have faith that said dart may land in the green shaded area labeled "Gifts."



Still following me? Then let's commence.



I love nothing more than buying gifts for my friends. I have taken to calling my dearest friend, Caitlin, "Baby Jesus" and especially at this time of year because I just want to buy her everything. So, I find that it's not so much the buying of gifts that pulls the joy of this season right out from under me like a tablecloth on a fully set table- but more the receiving of gifts. I checked around with some friends and they confirmed my own feelings.

And seriously? What the heck is that all about?

I will tell you- and here it is, straight from me to you, I find that it is quite exhausting to act as if each and every gift I get rocks my tiny world. I love my friends and family and would gladly accept any gift they handed to me... socks, a baseball bat to fight off zombies, a VHS tape, a pair of 3D glasses, a box of crushed eggshells- any of those things. But I feel the need to express undying gratitude for every wrapped box that falls into my possession.

And it's well, illogical.

In a few weeks when Caitlin finally arrives and my friends all come together to celebrate our own late Christmas I'm going to promote the idea that we all put our best Spock faces on and accept what we're given with monotone cheer and celebrate the company over the gifts.

Maybe? Probably not. Writing that only makes me feel like Scrooge. And writing that only makes me seem insecure. Oh Holiday season, where would we be without you?

If you tucked away your "Get out of blog free" card for later then I salute you. If not... then you can always pretend. I'll never know the difference! In either case this small game is one that I find completely addicting and well worth four hours of play! GO FOR IT.

Today I am starting a blog...

Because this post marks the start of a new adventure I understand that I should ease my way into this blog by saying nice unobtrusive things to avoid startling any would-be readers away. However Comfort Eagle by Cake just made an appearance on my shuffle and it's enticing me to just jump right in. Just... jump right on in... not even looking... so here I go.

Today I am really thinking hard on Star Trek.

Along with Star Trek I am thinking about how 2009 bathed in the blood of celebrities to keep it's skin nice and supple. The thing that is linking these two unrelated topics is dearest Leonard Nimoy.

About a week ago I played a game with some friends called "Well, Britney Murphy is gone... who's next?" The game was fun-thanks for asking- and we decided after some serious thinking that we would sacrifice Lindsey Lohan and one of the Olsen twins to the "Rule of three." We killed off Mary-Kate in hopes that Ashley will get her shit together and become a nice member of society. You know she is the better twin.

Anyways... Back to the main point. I was watching Star Trek TOS last night and noticing that while I enjoy me some Zachary Quinto Spock nothing quite compares to Leonard Nimoy Spock. I know that trekkers of old are literally slapping my wrists for even having written that... because well, it's a no brainer.

SO, the point of this entire post is that if the Rule of Three ever even thinks about taking Nimoy the best part of me will die. That's all. And it's only taken me 275 words to get that message across... See, we are going to have fun.

Apart from that Sweet Surrender by Sarah McLachlan just came on my shuffle (we don't judge here) and I feel sort of bad about just jumping right on in on this blog... It's sure not Comfort Eagle...

There are no do-overs in blogging. That is all.