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12.01.2002 - 5:43 p.m.


I'm ashamed to say that I have fully double clicked into DORK HOLIDAY MODE. I should probably keep it a secret from you that I played a CD called "Christmas Cocktails Volume 1" and boogied all over the house while cleaning. I should probably omit the fact that I employed a weird bee-dance type maneuver during the insanely catchy "Christmas Trumpets" song mostly involving bending over and wiggling my butt around wildly. I should definitely not tell you that JB joined in, which made such a lovely picture of grace and rhythm I guarantee if you happened to peek into our living room earlier today you would have been so totally impressed it's likely you would have ruptured your spleen and possibly several other internal organs laughing.

What can I say, I love the holidays.

So I discovered something about myself this past week during our Thanksgiving vacation. I found a tiny star-shaped birthmark on the sole of my right foot, thereby distinguishing me as the rightful descendant of Lothar, King of the Hill People! No. What I *actually* realized is that I am a creature comforts SNOB. A critical, bitchy snob who finds fault in my host's home during the holidays.

I would never bash my in-laws here because they really are nice and, well, JB reads this. Let me just mildly, gently point out some very minor flaws in their household.

Flaw the First:
Cheap 1 ply toilet paper. People, this IS the tool of the devil. Sure, you might think a pointy pitchfork jammed up your ass would be bad, but in reality 1 ply toilet paper is much, much worse. I have a chronically snortley nose and can I just tell you that blowing your shnozz into 1 ply is one of life's more difficult and unpleasant experiences. And let's not even mention the actual main use of toilet paper and how 1 ply is frankly simply not fit for the job. I mean, just think how OFTEN you require a close encounter with a wad of TP for crying out loud - why torture yourself? I'm all for frugality but I have my fucking limits.

Flaw the Second:
Crap-ass bedding. Ok. The concept of "thread count" has only somewhat recently gained meaning to me. More threads equal more softer, duh huh, duh huh. I'm not saying I need to rest my delicate petal soft skin on 650-count Egyptian cotton, although that would be nice indeed. I'm simply mentioning that a bedding made from a weird, nasty synthetic blend is ICKY ICKY ICKY. A comforter that feels as though it's full of asbestos is ICKY.

Flaw the Third:
Weak flushing action. Yes, we're back to the endlessly fascinating yet tasteful topic of toilets. If there's one thing I really can't stand, it's a low-volume flusher. You know what I mean. The sort of cantankerous toilet that you must observe after, er, a deposit to see if the said deposit is accepted or refused. If refused, you must heave a giant sigh and wait impatiently for the toilet to glurgle through its routine before you can try, try again. The sort of toilet where you toss in a crumpled wad of crappy 1-ply toilet paper at the last second in the feeble hopes that everything will fucking go down already. And all the while, you've got an inceasing panic that the entire family is sitting around wondering what in god's name you're DOING in there for so long.

Anyway, despite the above complaints, we had a nice time. The weather was unreal - a balmy 70+ degrees, and not a cloud in the sky. On the southern Oregon coast! In November!


Dog + Frisbee + beach = L.O.V.E.

I don't know why I'm ducking my head like that. Maybe a seagull just buzzed me.

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I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004

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