The Best Christmas Ever

There was a time, long ago, before I was the happy married person I am now, where I dated a few losers. This one particular loser and I were in the throes of a terrible relationship, fraught with peril and ridiculousness. Despite this, we were at the mall one day, and he decided he wanted to buy me a ring. No, not that kind of ring. A crappy, department store ring. So, we went and he picked this garnet ring with a gold band for me. I wore it for a while, but soon the relationship was crashing down, and it was time to bail out.

Like any smart woman, with a crazy man she wants to get rid of, I broke up with him over the phone (on Thanksgiving). After the break, I returned to college, and went to his apartment, to retrieve the few things I had left there. He ran home to his mommy, with the cat he bought me. I was getting my things, when I noticed a yellow piece of paper on his entertainment center, next to where I put my keys. It was the receipt for the ring. I stood there for a moment, and then I took it and put it in my pocket. As I left that apartment for the last time, I knew what I had to do.

The next day, I went to the department store, and returned that ring. He had paid cash, you see. And, despite the sales lady's reluctance, I got a cash refund, not store credit. After that, I went and bought my family Christmas presents with the money, and even picked up something for myself. I returned to campus, and couldn't wait to tell everyone about it.

Through the years, I have told this story many times, to many people. And, though I have had more spectacular Christmas moments since then, it still remains the BEST Christmas ever.

I Can Stop Any Time I Want To

I must admit, that I am somewhat addicted to my iPod. I often look at people strangely when they are talking about new songs on the radio. The only radio I am exposed to is the horrible crap I am forced to listen to at work. Soft rock and the like. When I am in my car, or working out, or on my computer, it is all iPod, all the time.

But, I find myself wanting more. Apparently, I am not alone. The new sleek and small iPods, make my 4th generation 40 gig iPod feel like a dinosaur. When I listen to it while I walk, I feel like everyone else has on a Walkman, and I am carrying the boom box on my shoulder. I must admit, that little Shuffle, or even a Nano would be much less cumbersome for working out and the like. Plus, they come in fun colors, and the Shuffle just clips to you, like a pen. Then, I could get a new, bigger memory iPod for home listening, and use Otis (the O.G. iPod) for the car. That would be perfect.

But, it does feel somewhat wasteful. To want another iPod. But, is it really? Isn't just like having more than one radio, or television at this point? For some reason, having so many iPods seems different. But, for someone like me, with so much music, breaking it into different sets would be great. Ah, to be independently wealthy, and be able to have as many as I wanted.

Or, if Santa needs any last minute ideas, the Shuffle would be great. Thanks.

You REALLY Shouldn't Have

It's that time of year again. The time of giving, sharing, joy and candy. And, for many of us, it's is the unlucky time of the Secret Santa. You know, draw a name out of a hat, and buy them some crappy present for under $15 dollars. Most of us have done this at some point in our lives, and I don't know about you, but I always get the shaft. I remember once in elementary school, we did Secret Santa. I bought my person a hardcover book, and I got . . wait for it . . a tiny plastic horse. I didn't even like horses!! Clearly, this person spent all of $1.50 on me, and I spent at least $10 on them.

Fast forward many years later, and here I am again. The receiver of the worst Secret Santa gift, yet again. I watched everyone open their good gifts, that actually required some thought. For my trouble this year, I got two small stuffed dogs. I KNOW!! What is that about, you ask? No idea. So, I am here to help all of you suffering this year, with instructions on how to fake the right reaction to your horrible gift.

The first thing is to react quickly. Don't think about how shitty the gift is, and say something like "Oh, wow. Thank you so much. I love it." Try and avoid eye contact as much as possible. Look at the gift, and seem to study it, as if you're trying to examine all the greatness. Smile big, and maybe even (at least in my case) hug it close to you. That is all you need to make most people believe you are not super pissed about it. Some will not be fooled, but as long as the giver (if you can call them that) doesn't suspect, you're home free.

I call on all people to think when giving these gifts. I know it's a drag, but there is someone counting on you, and you don't want to let them down. And if all else fails, how about a GOD DAMNED GIFT CARD?!! How hard is that?

You Better Watch Out

Merry Christmas from The Onion.

You'll never see Santa the same after reading that.

Naturally

As I have always suspected, while blondes may "have more fun", it's the redheads who are better in bed. All I have to say is, Naturally. According to recent studies, redheads rule between the sheets, more than their brunette and blonde sisters. Of course, I am not surprised by this, as I am a redhead.

Now, before my readership can protest, I am not a natural redhead. But, I have been red, in one form or another, since high school (and that was eons ago). And, despite a brief, and ill-advised foray into blonde world, I returned to my roots (god, this post is rife with puns) and was red once again. I have often said that if God had been thinking ahead, he could have saved me a lot of money by making me the redhead I am so clearly meant to be at birth. But, between me and my stylist, we right the cosmic wrong every 5 to 6 weeks.

So, thanks to those saucy Germans, now everyone knows what my man already knows. Naturally.

But, How? I mean, in what way?

So, I've been doing this blog for a while now, and I really think it's fun. But, I have to admit, there is a part of me that was secretly hoping that some one would happen upon this blog, find it most fascinating, and just have to hire me to blog for their newspaper/magazine/other blog. So far, however, that has not happened. As a matter of fact, I'd like to give a shout out to my (approximate) readership of 5.

So, if anyone does happen upon this blog, and even if you don't think it's that great (I assure you I can do better) and knows how to get one of those gigs, let me know. Lord knows, the job I have now isn't breaking my bank. So, even if it's a crappy paying job, I would take it.

Take it from me, NO ONE knows more useless stuff than I, and no one has more copious and vocal opinions. Thank you for your time.

*Am I the only one who thinks it odd, that the blogger.com spell check does not recognize the word blog?

Shut the F*^k Up!!

Okay, I'm not some overly-patriotic-flag-waving-Dixie-Chicks-hating-Toby-Keith wannabe, but I have had enough of celebrities and their bullshit. If it's not telling us all to vote, or give money for this or that, it is them telling us, more often than not, that we suck.

From Johnny Depp to Madonna to Gwyneth Paltrow, they all can't wait to tell us how stupid, boorish, illiterate, fat and starved for culture we are. Then, they want us all to rush out, buy their crappy records, watch their movies and televised concert appearances. They want us to be shocked by their "edgy" mock crucifixion, they want us to be impressed by their fake European accents. They, in short, want us to give them money. Well, I'm not buying it.

Gwyneth Paltrow is a piece of shit actress, and her and her whingey husband needs to (how shall I put this in terms they will understand) sod off!! God, they are so right, the British are so charming!! I love how Johnny Depp can forget all about 21 Jump Street and Madonna disowns Desperately Seeking Susan, and little Gwynee. I'm sure her shilling for Estee Lauder has nothing to do with the capitalist goal of making money.

But, there is an easy solution. Just don't look. Stop buying their crap. Eventually, maybe they will go to England and stay there. Stay in the cultural haven that brought the world Victoria Beckham and Benny Hill. When will we butt-scratching, beer-swilling Americans learn to appreciate the fine example set by British soccer hooligans and the Gallagher brothers?

That England, class all the way!!