Are We There Yet?
It is the eve of the new year.
THANK FOOKING GOD.
Courtesy of bat_cheva, I have been made aware of this shirt, which sums up my feelings on the past year quite nicely. Raise your hand if you're with me.
Actually, no, on second thought, how about we just assume it sucked for everyone? If it was swell for you, you can feel free to speak up while we all stare daggers at you from the doorway, where we are busily trying to kick 2007 out on its ass.
Everyone close to me has had a shitty year. And as for December . . . ugh.
Due to Life Stuff that I hadn't been much discussing, I was already feeling tired and more ho-hum than ho-ho-ho, and I had only just mustered the wherewithal to start decorating when the power went down. Our Christmas tree stood alone in the freezing cold back room for nine days with but a single ornament dangling from its naked branches. We only got it decorated the Thursday before Christmas. Thurs. Day.
On Christmas eve I sat up all night in my chair with Tazendra in my lap, just staring at the tree and the presents. It was the only time I had to really wallow in pleasant anticipation.
Needless to say, we are leaving the tree up until April if we feel so inclined.
Actually, we have two trees. The first is the really big one covered in superhero action figures, same as last year. The other we erected in our dining room and I decorated it according to the whim of my inner pimp. It is festooned with multicolored gewgaws of indescribable hideousness, a great many of them involving real peacock tailfeathers and/or glitter. The pornaments' collective tackiness achieves a kind of grandeur. It was remarkable in its gaudiness even before my sister gave me several more ornaments made of beads and rooster coverts.
I have now achieved my lifelong dream of having a tree covered in iridescent ass feathers.*
My eventual goal is to take a male fashion doll and turn into a little peacock-feathered Malik Tous. (. . . I think you probably have to be an over-educated creep to understand the deep sarcasm there.) I know they don't make many long-haired boy dolls, but if I can find one I like the look of, I can always pay someone to dress and re-hair it.
A Jack Sparrow doll would make a beautiful Peacock Lord. this doll from Tonner is absolutely gorgeous. It is, however, asspensive. It is also too tall.
It will probably be a couple of years before I can find the right thing, but that's okay. In the meantime, I can concoct something tacky as hell.
Anyway, Christmas. There was an enormous pile of gorgeous presents under the superhero tree on Christmas eve, which was comprised of roughly 80% schlock. I must have gotten Sargon a dozen terrible movies. We're talking stuff like Reptile Invasion and The Man Without a Head. I'd have bought him good movies but honestly, who sits around their house in their underwear watching quality cinema while they scratch their privates and fan at cat farts?** Nobody I would like to know. That is certain.
I am extra grateful to everyone who sent presents or cards. It was a good Christmas.
I got pictures of the decorated trees and the presents before and after they were opened, and, predictably, pictures of the cats behaving in unnaturally cute ways. I'll get them up when I have time. I'm just so. Damn. Tired. I mean, it's taken me three days to write this fucking entry, so yeah, tired.
Right now I am going to wrap up, kick the cat out of my lap, and prepare for the New Year.
Here's a toast: To the new year! May it suck less than the last, for all of us.
Celebrate, people! And come home safe.
* I have also achieved another lifelong dream: every horizontal surface in my house seems to be covered with a fine coating of glitter.
**
THANK FOOKING GOD.
Courtesy of bat_cheva, I have been made aware of this shirt, which sums up my feelings on the past year quite nicely. Raise your hand if you're with me.
Actually, no, on second thought, how about we just assume it sucked for everyone? If it was swell for you, you can feel free to speak up while we all stare daggers at you from the doorway, where we are busily trying to kick 2007 out on its ass.
Everyone close to me has had a shitty year. And as for December . . . ugh.
Due to Life Stuff that I hadn't been much discussing, I was already feeling tired and more ho-hum than ho-ho-ho, and I had only just mustered the wherewithal to start decorating when the power went down. Our Christmas tree stood alone in the freezing cold back room for nine days with but a single ornament dangling from its naked branches. We only got it decorated the Thursday before Christmas. Thurs. Day.
On Christmas eve I sat up all night in my chair with Tazendra in my lap, just staring at the tree and the presents. It was the only time I had to really wallow in pleasant anticipation.
Needless to say, we are leaving the tree up until April if we feel so inclined.
Actually, we have two trees. The first is the really big one covered in superhero action figures, same as last year. The other we erected in our dining room and I decorated it according to the whim of my inner pimp. It is festooned with multicolored gewgaws of indescribable hideousness, a great many of them involving real peacock tailfeathers and/or glitter. The pornaments' collective tackiness achieves a kind of grandeur. It was remarkable in its gaudiness even before my sister gave me several more ornaments made of beads and rooster coverts.
I have now achieved my lifelong dream of having a tree covered in iridescent ass feathers.*
My eventual goal is to take a male fashion doll and turn into a little peacock-feathered Malik Tous. (. . . I think you probably have to be an over-educated creep to understand the deep sarcasm there.) I know they don't make many long-haired boy dolls, but if I can find one I like the look of, I can always pay someone to dress and re-hair it.
A Jack Sparrow doll would make a beautiful Peacock Lord. this doll from Tonner is absolutely gorgeous. It is, however, asspensive. It is also too tall.
It will probably be a couple of years before I can find the right thing, but that's okay. In the meantime, I can concoct something tacky as hell.
Anyway, Christmas. There was an enormous pile of gorgeous presents under the superhero tree on Christmas eve, which was comprised of roughly 80% schlock. I must have gotten Sargon a dozen terrible movies. We're talking stuff like Reptile Invasion and The Man Without a Head. I'd have bought him good movies but honestly, who sits around their house in their underwear watching quality cinema while they scratch their privates and fan at cat farts?** Nobody I would like to know. That is certain.
I am extra grateful to everyone who sent presents or cards. It was a good Christmas.
I got pictures of the decorated trees and the presents before and after they were opened, and, predictably, pictures of the cats behaving in unnaturally cute ways. I'll get them up when I have time. I'm just so. Damn. Tired. I mean, it's taken me three days to write this fucking entry, so yeah, tired.
Right now I am going to wrap up, kick the cat out of my lap, and prepare for the New Year.
Here's a toast: To the new year! May it suck less than the last, for all of us.
Celebrate, people! And come home safe.
* I have also achieved another lifelong dream: every horizontal surface in my house seems to be covered with a fine coating of glitter.
**