Looking out my window, I see my neighbor is putting up Christmas lights. Key-rist.
Of course, another neighbor has had his up since the day after Halloween.
The “no Christmas before Thanksgiving” rule is dead.
I was wearing my undies, but forgot to pack my clean ones for the next few days. They’re still sitting on the end of the bed where I put them. You know, so I wouldn’t forget them.
Luckily, I found a cab driver who knew where the closest Target is and am now thoroughly pantsed with 45 minutes to go before showtime. And yeah, it is kind of hilarious. I texted my husband and he called me. All I could hear was laughter.
I thought this too when I first read it 
Then realized she probably forgot to pack it for a trip.
I’ve read about visualizing your audience naked to help with stage fright before a speech, but I think that’s taking it a bit far…
I’m actually okay with putting up the lights - it’s frigging cold and snowing out now, and I wish I’d gotten mine up a little while ago. It’s TURNING THEM ON that’s the problem. Mine don’t go on until December at the very earliest.
Not at my house. I won’t even buy a peppermint stick until after Thanksgiving.
Does this mean that the “War on Christmas” has begun? 
I tell my husband that’s one of the many advantages of marrying someone Jewish. No climbing on the roof for him each year. All he has to do is fetch the menorah from the top shelf and we’re good to go.
Well crap. I JUST found out that my fave celeb chef was in town signing his new cookbook (well, he’s still in town, as per his twitter feed he was at a local brewery not long ago and is somewhere else now) but unless I can hunt up a signed copy I’m SOL. I completely missed his tweet about it, because I was at work.
It would have been awesome to meet him, and get a signed copy of his cookbook for Mom (she loves him too, and I was thinking of getting it for her for Christmas… Still am of course but it would be better if it were personalized y’know?)
Dammit.
Note to self: when dropping off the dry cleaning, do not park in the spot next to to the drive through lane. Especially if you’re driving husband’s enormous truck with the toolbox and dog kennel on the back. Because that parking space is on just enough of a rise that the boxes in the truck bed will completely obscure your view of the little red truck that pulled into the lane to pick up her dry cleaning, and you will spend half an hour waiting for the nice officer to bring a couple of forms to fill out for our insurance agents. (Fortunately, no one hurt, and very modest damage, but oy!)
Note to self, part deux: use the dry cleaner’s location next to the grocery store. The one with the proper drive-through window lane and spacious parking lot. Not the downtown location with the parking shoehorned into much too small a space.
And just FYI: when you text a cop with “Honey, where’s the insurance card in your truck?” He gets worried in a big hurry!
Barbara Loe Fisher is a menace to society. I sometimes wish she’d get a vaccine preventable disease but I don’t think even that would shut her up.
The holidays have become truly bleak and depressing for me, since last year when I told my aunt that her old perv husband hit on me while she was out of town. The only thing that telling her accomplished is that now I’m out in the cold on family holidays. I’m the one punished even though I did nothing wrong except have boobs and a vagina that an old man wanted to touch. Thanksgiving used to be my favorite holiday and now I dread it and I well up in tears just thinking about it. One day I may get over it but I haven’t yet.
I’m very happy that you didn’t hear me when I first read about your problem. 
More laughter ensues.
Thinks that would be typical for any man, but a cop is going to be sure there are lots of flashing lights around. Hurray for being sure that you will be the center of attention when all you want to do is do the paperwork and slink away.
My doctor is a meany. He says he’s happy with the xrays and that everything is looking good. Can I walk yet? NO! Can I at least have some crutches? NO! He wants me on my butt with my leg propped up and he doesn’t trust me with crutches. He seems to think that I’d overdue it or something. Can I drive yet? NO! When can I go back to work? We aren’t even going to talk about it for another 2 weeks. Butbutbut!!! Consider yourself lucky that I haven’t put a walking cast on your leg, Flattlined. Now go home and keep off your foot.
There were more mean things said, but at least I can fly now…as long as its business class or better. While wearing my oh so fashionable black nylon with velcro straps boot.
I got dumped.
That sucks. I don’t do hugs much, but here’s a <pat, pat>. I hope you’re not feeling very bad, and/or that you feel better soon.
That bites. Offers you some carrots and a good brushing. Thinks a Zebra might be able to kick the heck out of idiots car at least. Strong Zebra teeth could probably take a big bite out of someone who deserves it. Not that I’m advocating violence or anything. Maybe just let the air out of the tires?
So my deadbeat brother, who has fucked up everything in his life, also managed to fuck up his attempt to kill himself by drinking.
He’s in the ICU with no liver function, bleeding in his brain and a prognosis of ‘not good.’ I drove up five hours to be with my folks and haven’t seen him yet. I’ll find out in the morning how bad ‘not good’ really is.
In the meantime, we find out that a month or so ago he went to the VA hospital because he was spitting up blood. The doc told him then that if he kept drinking it would kill him.
We have a family member who works for the VA medical system. She has offered, several times, to pull every string she could find to get him a bed in a treatment facility. He refused multiple times.
He preferred to lie on my parents couch, steal from them and drink himself to death. Tonight I held my Dad while he sobbed, saying “This hurts so bad.” I mourned the loss of my brother a long time ago. Now I’m just mad at him for hurting my parents.
I just want this over so they can move on.
Oh, Alice, I’m so sorry. I’d make all sorts of suggestions about friends or church or whatever, but I’m sure you’ve considered them.
Maybe you could hire a hitman or something. Of course, then, you’d have to decide whether to take out the aunt or the uncle. Oh, who knows, maybe assassins have holiday sales.
Thanks, lady. I feel like I’m being a big baby when other people have really serious and life-threatening problems, but I can’t help it. I’m trying to get more involved in the community and I’m going to start working on Obama’s campaign, so I hope to meet a lot of new people and form a new family of sorts.
Very sorry to hear this.
Ultimately, people make their own choices, and you cannot control them and you can’t allow yourself to be injured or controlled by them. You have to let go of control of the situation, and let go of being controlled by it.
Your brother is going to die of this.
If not now, then sometime not too far off. Grieve his loss now, even if he doesn’t die this time, because his death by his own hand is a certainty. Once you have mourned him, once you have accepted the grieving, it will be less painful in the long run as you will already be mentally and emotionally prepared, and his actual death will be nothing more than a final release of the tension. A little bird, a moment of transition that happens and then is released to fly away.