Archive | December, 2011

I’m now multi-lingual. When it comes to Christmas.

17 Dec

LOSER.

I’m here to tell you that any song, no matter how great, can be ruined by the “repeat” function on your iPod. So now, imagine what that function can do to a song that’s not great. In fact, imagine what it can do to the entire Glee album. THE HORROR.

[I’m embarrassed to admit that I own more than one Glee album, so I need you to be loving, kind and gentle with me during this post. No judgements, and no derisive remarks suggesting I add “Fame” to my Christmas WishList. I’m trusting you here.]

Even worse than a language I don't speak: squeaks.

Anyway. Last weekend I got in the Christmas spirit. After making some holiday-ish desserts (by which I mean a tub of frozen brandy slush), I selected “holiday” as the genre on my iPod and kicked back with a stack of cards to write. The music started great with Peanuts Christmas by Vince Guaraldi. Then it transitioned to some indie holiday tunes (This Warm December) by mixed artists, and I was still smiling.

And then… it cycled into an album titled something like “Christmas Around the World.” For some reason, these songs were 20% louder than everything else on the playlist. And in languages I couldn’t understand. And featuring slightly obnoxious guitar lines. And maracas.

The first time they came on, I scratched my head thinking, “This is awful. I can guess the words because I know the tune, but really? El Niño de Tambor? Sounds more like a tropical storm than a little drummer boy.”

Then, the second* time I heard the playlist, I thought, “Wow. This is just obnoxious. Each country should be forced to come up with their own unique melody to add lyrics to, instead of repurposing the classics in other languages.” Then I remembered “Oh Tannenbaum” and felt guilty.

Next* time around: “What IS this album? Where did it come from? How do I even own it?”

And the last* time: I was singing along. As it turns out, I can now wish you Christmas in Spanish, French, Portugese and some African language I assume is Swahili. Also, if anyone need a little niño with or without a tamborine? I can totally hook you up.

* = sequence/accuracy of events might be comprised due to brandy slush consumption.

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Who has the Christmas spirit? Hint: might not be me.

14 Dec

I will be buying you some of these. You're welcome.

I recently posted about a gift exchange that jumped the rails due to my keen observational skills. If you missed that post, I’ll summarize: I’ve repeatedly given earrings to a good friend who doesn’t have pierced ears. Blam!

Rolling into the holidays, you might think that I’m operating with a high degree of anxiety, knowing that another gift exchange is in my near future. You couldn’t be more wronger™. Nope. I’m not stressed at all. Know why?

Because instead of exchanging gifts, Betsy and I have decided to adopt a DC family in need and spend our money on them instead. Brilliant, right?!

Well, at least, I thought it was brilliant, until I received the family’s wish list. It’s a single mom with two sons. The boys have legitimate items on their wish lists. But the mom? Know what she wants? A gift card to Victoria’s Secret.

Please excuse me while I go all judgmental and decidedly un-charitable for a moment.

You. Must. Be. Shitting. Me.

Let’s rewind. You have two children that you’re struggling to support, so you think the answer is to… buy sexy lingerie and have more sex and potentially create another baby? No. Way.

I want to sit this woman down and say, “Honey. I’m a bleeding heart liberal. I am happy to be taxed if it means a better standard of living for everyone. But you? You’re going to ruin it for everyone needing assistance by asking for shit you do not need.”

“I mean, I’m happy to help give your kids a good Christmas, and I’m happy to help you pick up some essentials for your household. But Victoria’s Secret? That’s a luxury, not a necessity. If you need underwear, there are many, many other stores that sell them. For a fraction of the price. And with more fabric.”

Actually, it’s the holidays. I shouldn’t judge. This is my opportunity to be someone’s Christmas miracle. I think I’ll take that sentiment to heart, and go beyond what’s on her wishlist. In fact, I already have a perfect idea for a stocking stuffer:

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Or as I call it: Stink Eye.

12 Dec

Last Thursday I woke up to find my left eyelid swollen and crusted shut. Ah, Conjunctivitis – or, if we’re going with your less pretentious rap name – Pink Eye. Did you really need to pay me a visit? Besides, isn’t Pink Eye a disease that only five year olds get? From not washing their hands? Ew.

This is a head-scratcher, because (as I’ve previously stated) I’m somewhat OCD. And – thanks to my friends who spoil me – I have the world’s best-smelling hand soap so I probably have a tendency to over-wash my hands, if anything. And yet: my eye? It’s decidedly pink and goopy. I think the word for it is angry.

The last time this happened, multiple people posited a hypothesis as to the cause. So this time, when I made my announcement to the land of Facebook, I tried to head that theory off at the pass: “Nothing says happy holidays like Pink Eye. And no, Alan didn’t fart on my pillow.”

My sister – whom I’ve educated on a wide array of topics, including ceviche, dutch ovens, upper-deckers, kicking kangaroos and honeybadgers – not surprisingly, popped up in my chat window later the same day. “What’s that about Alan farting on your pillow???”

It took me a minute to respond, so added a few lines of: “???????????” to demonstrate her urgency.

Alicia tends to be gullible (as evidenced by our high school track coach getting her to swallow a huge multi-vitamin, then claiming it was a dog’s heartworm pill and writhing in laughter as she freaked out, trying to make herself vomit).

[I’m not actually sure if I got all those details right, but you get the idea. It’s at least 85% accurate.]

So for a minute, perusing all the images she’s Photoshopped to include crossed eyes on my Facebook Wall, I seriously considered telling her that yes, pink eye is commonly spread through flatulence trapped in bed sheets. Followed  by calling her husband to bribe him to fart on her pillow just after she closes her eyes.

But what can I say? It’s Christmas and I have the holiday spirit, so I really couldn’t lie. So I sent her this [NSFW] link (from the movie Knocked Up) and left her to draw her own conclusions:

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Psyche Test for the 21st Century: What your WishList Says About You.

11 Dec
Glenn Beck's Amazon WishList by NewCorpse.Com

It can't be all bad if even the crazies are doing it. Right?

It is a fact: every one of my single friends out there has contemplated creating a gift registry for herself (á la Carrie on Sex & The City) so that her friends (whose showers and weddings and births she’s celebrated) will have an opportunity to balance the scales and occasionally recognize her milestones with a little something she’d like.

Well, fortunately, Amazon has a plug-in for their website that allows customers to capture ANYTHING on the web and add it to their Amazon Wishlist. Clever, Amazon.

I’m a believer in the Wishlist. Mainly so I can track my impulses for months before pulling the trigger on a purchase, but also so that if someone is struggling to find me a gift, they can get a sense of what I’d truly appreciate.

Seems innocent enough to create such a list, but remember: your WishList (like pretty much everything online) is searchable. By potential employers.

Why would that matter, you ask? Well, a friend recently told me about a candidate his company was interviewing. She looked good on paper and everyone she had met with liked her. When it came to the final stage in the process, the VP of HR did a quick google search and landed on her Amazon WishList, which – we shall say – did not reinforce the image she had put out there during her interviews.

That got me to thinking… what does my WishList say about me? And would it cost me a job?

Interestingly, when I was adding items to my WishList, I wasn’t aware of any themes. Yet, in revisiting the list in its entirety, certain, um, patterns start to emerge. Like: Apparently I’m cheap. Or have a high degree of guilt associated with buying nice things. Because almost every item on my list is accompanied by a comment I wrote along the lines of, “Yes. This is expensive. But it will last forever.”

I especially like one entry for a bracelet, in which I not only point out that it’s expensive, but then also offer tips on how to find it cheaper. “Don’t pay full price! Monitor eBay. Only buy it if you can get a good deal.” I’m not even sure who I’m offering this advice to, because – to my knowledge – I don’t have any WishList followers.

Other observations? I have shampoo and lotion on my list. Is this normal? For people to include toiletries on their WishLists? Maybe I’ll go one step further and start using it to create an online grocery list each week. How fun would it be to visit someone’s WishList and see that they’d like chicken stock, a bag of carrots and detergent?

I could only handle so much self-analysis, so I decided to look for some odd items on Amazon that I could’ve included on my list but didn’t, to make myself feel better. And I learned a few things…

  • Did you know you can buy Cremation Urns (and corresponding necklaces that allow you to wear your loved one’s ashes) on Amazon? Per the reviews, they are quite a good deal. I feel sorry for the people who have had to buy so many urns they  now comparative shop for them.
  • When you search “Adult Diapers” on Amazon, the most common item in your search results is “neoprene lunch totes.” Is this some kind of well-kept senior secret? Those would-be retirees aren’t bringing their lunch to work, they’re carrying a disposable toilet with them? Smart.
  • We’ve all seen “wall art” – those images and words that people apply to their walls for a graphic effect. This by far has to be the most bizarre image I’ve seen. I think it will look fantastic right over my bed. No, seriously – in what context was this invented, and does anyone ever buy it?
  • You can buy a 12-pack of fake mustaches for under $10. I’m tempted to add them to my WishList just to leave someone scratching their head when they think they have me figured out.
  • And if you’ve never visited this product to read the customer reviews, you must. It is the best free comedy you can find on a major e-tailer. This is my best guess regarding their market segmentation for this product:

Pie Chart showing Amazon sales of infamous wolf shirt
What does YOUR WishList say about you? Other than that your middle name should be Greedy McGreederson for expecting people to give you gifts?

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Just another hot Saturday night, out on the town.

7 Dec

His & Hers: Saturday Night Fashion

Apparently, I am officially Old As Shit. I hadn’t realized this until Alan and I – desperate to watch the MSU/Wisconsin championship game this Saturday – ventured to the bar next to my condo.

Quick back-story: I don’t own a television. It’s usually not a big deal, but when there’s a live sporting event (that determines if your team will go to the Rose Bowl), the system kind of breaks down. To his credit, Alan tried to be cool about missing the game (It’s OK, I’ll watch the DVR of it when I get home in the morning), but he’d had a pretty stressful Saturday, so I thought an attempt was at least in order.

“Let’s go see if Local 16 has it on. If so, we’ll order a drink and sit at the bar to watch it.” Alan seemed enthusiastic, so we both pulled on hoodies and headed out. Mind you, only minutes before we’d been sitting around in pajamas (by which I mean men’s t-shirts and boxer shorts) watching something on Netflix, so our idea of dressing up for a Saturday night out meant adding shoes and hoodies. Klassy, with a K.

So we rolled into Local 16, and after a few minutes, we gathered that no one sitting at the bar actually cared what football game was broadcast, so we took control of the remote and changed the channel. We Are Sparta!

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