Monthly Archives: November 2007

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My most boring Christmas wish list ever

1) a composter

2) more URLs for me to dominate

3) magazine subscriptions

4) organic sheets

5) donations to charity

Retirement of “the mailbox”

I’m thinking about retiring the mailbox feature of my blog. It’s just not as compelling as I thought it would be. I haven’t gotten anything good in the mail since Katie sent me her panties, and they weren’t even used.

Hooray for houseguests!

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A ram is also a sheep.

More mailbox

What is the point of having dental insurance if it doesn’t even cover having your teeth cleaned? I showed up early for my appointment, I was perfectly friendly to the hygienist, I didn’t steal anything, I provided an insurance card, and I still got a bill in the mail for a billion dollars. I probably have the kind of medical insurance that doesn’t cover being sick either.

The kids will be home from Georgia soon! I dressed up.

I need to call Christos, Keith, Tom, Duane, Jessie, Sena, Selvi, and Santa Claus. It would be so much easier if everyone would just communicate with me through the comments section of my blog like normal people.

Thanksgiving Avenger

I should have followed the man with the dead deer in the bed of his pick-up truck on Thanksgiving morning. I should have seen what became of the body. I was behind him at the stoplight near Fashion Square Mall, but he turned right and I went straight. We were both heading toward the country. Did he shoot the deer in the city and then drive it out to Earlysville to dump it? Had he killed it in the country but then driven it around town for a few hours in order to show it off? I don’t think people should be allowed to transport deer carcasses in their cars like that, especially on holidays. ESPECIALLY near Sbarro’s, Dip-n-Dots, and Chick-Fil-A.

The family doctor came to Thanksgiving. When my grandmothers heard that he had arrived, they propped their feet up on the coffee table so he would see that they were following orders. The doctor’s four-year-old son ran onto the pool cover like it was a trampoline. At the time I was chasing him with a lacrosse ball that had been slimed by a pit bull. The boy sunk down to the water level but didn’t get wet. I held him in my arms like he was my own son who had survived. Then I quickly distracted him from the near-death experience. “My grandmother has a toilet beside her bed. Do you want to see it?” “Yes,” he said.

Percocet the cat disappeared when the Thanksgiving dogs arrived. My sister found her crouched in the upstairs heating vent. My sister shot more clay pigeons than my brother from the mountains. He bought Jager Bombs for all his city cousins but forgot to pay his bar tab.

My Georgia grandmother thought my petite Virginia cousin was a midget. “I love little people,” she said.

Did you know that Budweiser makes a beer flavored like shrimp cocktail sauce? Neither did I.

My brothers’ girlfriends from oldest to youngest: a) baked chocolate pecan pie for my mom; b) baked peanut butter cookies for my mom; c) danced with the Rockettes in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

I think I found the source of my family’s sweet tooth. My mother’s Coca-Cola consumption was not regulated when she was a child. Five bottles a day back in Georgia, then one ultimate bottle after she brushed her teeth and climbed into bed.

I think I found the source of my family’s alcohol consumption. Beer is delicious and it feels good in our bellies. Except when the beer contains clam juice. I will also leave the bourbon & beef stock drinking to Nick Murray.

Did you know that J.C. Penney’s opened at 4 a.m. on Friday? Refrigerator jelly time!

I watched a documentary today about the 1993 child murders in West Memphis, Arkansas. The documentary (Paradise Lost) moved too slowly for me (I wanted to see what happened in the end), so I paused the movie and got on the internet to read about the case. The most recent appeal on behalf of the Memphis 3 defendants was filed just last month. There have been forensic breakthroughs since 1993 that suggest one of the parents actually killed the children as opposed to the three teenagers given life sentences for the crime. After reading about this theory, I had to watch the documentary over again to see if the father looked guilty. He did! I don’t know why I have never been summoned for jury duty. Anyway this has nothing to do with Thanksgiving; it’s just a random Netflix queue decision I made months ago and forgot about.

I’ve also watched a few too many Sex & the City episodes today. What’s up with Samantha? Before today I’d never watched back to back episodes of that show and now I think I hate it. Clothes, edgy vagina jokes, clothes, gay best friends, oral sex, clothes, blah.

Turkey+mashed potatoes+gravy+beer+a certain someone’s lactose intolerance=a long weekend of holiday farts. Good thing I love farts so much. Thank you, big city house guests, for passing your gas in my direction.

Inauguration of “the mailbox”

Because I don’t get out of the house much, the most exciting part of my afternoon is often the arrival of Scott the Handsome and Friendly Mailman with my daily supply of bills and coupons. Last week I received a mailing from Giant that I am particularly fired up about. It’s a letter from Victor Dudko, my local Giant Store Manager, in which he recognizes me as a “Top Banana.” Not only am I “one of Giant’s best customers,” I am also a “friend.” As a special thank you from Giant for being a Top Banana, I get a coupon for free truffles. Thanks Dudko!

The mailing also includes three “Top Pick” certificates that I am meant to cut out and present to grocery store associates who have made my shopping experience more enjoyable. Dudko says that he knows his employees will “appreciate [my] taking the time to acknowledge them.” If I’ve learned anything from my experiences in retail, I have learned that my local Giant cashiers and produce stockers are not going to appreciate my interrupting their work in order to hand them a picture of a smiling banana that has no monetary value. They are not in grade school collecting gold stars. Is the employee with the most bananas going to earn a free Personal Pan Pizza from Pizza Hut? Is the person with the most bananas going to be the envy of all his coworkers? Is the person with the most bananas going to have more money to buy real bananas? No. Is this all part of my rationalization for keeping the Top Pick certificates on my fridge door, reminding me of my own outstanding service? Maybe.

Holiday Party with an Emphasis on Christmas

The time has come to plan my (and that other guy’s) holiday party! I have a few preliminary ideas for entertainment:

1) Famous local musicians will lead my guests in a Christmas carol sing-a-long. I will pay them in merriment.

2) The two principals of the Charlottesville Womens’ Arm Wrestling League will give a pre-season exhibition.

3) We will paint cookies with dyed confectioner’s sugar that will not be tainted with lead.

4) Someone will dress up like Santa Claus and promise your children expensive gifts.

I need to choose a date. Saturday night the 15th of December? Thoughts?

PS The Christmas tree is dead and won’t be accepting presents this year, but I will.

This amuses me so much

And reminds me of my little sister somehow. Is that you Margaret?

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More pictures.

The Satellite Ballroom’s Robot Wares & Record Fair

I am thrilled to announce the return of the Satellite Ballroom’s most outstanding event of the year (after, of course, last week’s Slightly Stoopid show):

THE ROBOT WARES & RECORD FAIR!

For those of you with superior taste who have lived in Charlottesville for a couple years, you may remember this as THE shopping and music event of the holiday season. Last year I bought homemade manatee stationary while listening to Sarah White and drinking mimosas. Patrick Critzer sold curry, Thomas Dean sold silk-screened t-shirts, Junkyardoll sold vintage clothes, and a good time was had by all. I hope that everyone comes out to the Satellite Ballroom this year to support Charlottesville’s best vendors, craftspersons, and artists. I swear to blog that you will end up finding some kickass Christmas presents there.

The fair is on the afternoon of December 2nd. Let me know if you want to help organize or publicize the event, or if you need information on how to reserve your own table and make tons of cash money.

Dorking out

I haven’t been up to much these days. Dorking out, mostly. Staying in. Chronic fatigue syndrome. Hot chocolate. My grandmother is still ailing. She has renamed my family’s cat “Percocet.” Last night Darren and I watched the first episode of The Wire, which I couldn’t help but compare to Monk, a USA show we watched last week, also for the first time. The Wire is a “gritty” HBO drama about multi-ethnic, hard-boiled homicide and narcotics detectives in Baltimore, Maryland, where it seems that everyone either smokes crack or owns a loaded gun. The second is a cute show about a lily white obsessive compulsive detective who solves murders by being a charming idiot-savant. I want something in between these two shows. For instance, a jaded Mexican cop has to break up a heroin ring at the high rise Lifesaver Towers in Candy Land. Or a child detective who can’t stop wetting his pants has to kill a couple guys in Queens.