STFU, parent's neighbors!
The neighbors are lighting off many illegal fireworks outside of our house in the area that is right next to where I plan to sleep tonight, so rest will not be possible for quite some time, so I thought it might be good to blog so that I keep my hands busy and do not go out to beat their drunk asses to a pulp. Indeed, Hulk does like a good smash, but Hulk also does not trust the bargaining powers of Lane County's court appointed public defense attorneys and fears jail time.
That's right, this NYE was a very simple one, at my parent's home spent watching Adult Swim while finishing rugs until 11:58 PM where I turned the channel to New Year's Rockin' Eve where I could not decide which was sadder- the fact that Dick Clark speaks like Marlee Matlin after his stroke, or the fact that Ke$ha shared her New Year with Ryan Seacrest and reunited boy bands NKOTB and the Backstreet Boys. Strike that- that last one is just funny. And I do feel sad for Dick Clark.
Please understand: This is not a "Wo is me, I have no life!" moment. I had several options for tonight, it's just that none of them were capable of activating the give a damn switch in the human Death Star I have become this last month. If it doesn't have anything to do with work, weaving while watching one of the shows I love, or reading awesome and/or embarrassingly popular literature, I want nothing to do with it. I have been channeling my inner hermit crab and enjoying the cricket chirp solitude that accompanies it. My new year's resolutions . . . well, actually, I am fine with me the way I am right now, I just plan on working out more so that my ass looks like it did at the beginning of September.
Highlight of my New Year's Eve: After 365 days without drinking a single soda, I got the chance to crack into my very first Pepsi of 2011. This may also be my last Pepsi of 2011. Apparently a year's worth of carbonated abstinence equates to my taste buds calling that naked emperor out on his penchant for the obscent and announcing loud and clear: "THIS IS NOT TO BE CONSUMED BY YOU!!! IT TASTES LIKE SOAP!!!!" Approximately four ounces in and I want to flush it all down the poo hole. (That's right, poo hole. I will leave you to comtemplate why I did not use any of the myriad of euphemisms available to me and instead went with "poo hole".)
I am hopeful about 2011. 2010 was more good than bad, and to badly paraphrase a movie I never saw, I was much muchier in 2010 than I was in 2009, so good for me. I joke to hide my true feelings a lot of the time, and one of the big ones is that at my very core, I am an optimist and believe that each year is going to be better than the last because even when all seems to be going the way of the handbasket, it brings you that much closer to truly knowing the extent of who you truly are.
The neighbors have quieted down, which is good because if I heard any more Skynyrd, I do not know that I could have been held accountable for my actions or the associated blackouts, the end result of which would be me waking up to a dislocated shoulder and the smell of hillbilly and woodchip smoothie floating on freezing North Dakota wind.
So off to sleep I go. Tomorrow's activities will alternate between finishing art projects, finishing "The Imperfectionists", playing Bananagrams with children I love, watching an Oscar fare movie (either "The Black Swan" or "The Fighter"), hitting up the greatest comic store in Eugene, and hoping that great days like this continue all year. Lather, rinse, repeat.
That's right, this NYE was a very simple one, at my parent's home spent watching Adult Swim while finishing rugs until 11:58 PM where I turned the channel to New Year's Rockin' Eve where I could not decide which was sadder- the fact that Dick Clark speaks like Marlee Matlin after his stroke, or the fact that Ke$ha shared her New Year with Ryan Seacrest and reunited boy bands NKOTB and the Backstreet Boys. Strike that- that last one is just funny. And I do feel sad for Dick Clark.
Please understand: This is not a "Wo is me, I have no life!" moment. I had several options for tonight, it's just that none of them were capable of activating the give a damn switch in the human Death Star I have become this last month. If it doesn't have anything to do with work, weaving while watching one of the shows I love, or reading awesome and/or embarrassingly popular literature, I want nothing to do with it. I have been channeling my inner hermit crab and enjoying the cricket chirp solitude that accompanies it. My new year's resolutions . . . well, actually, I am fine with me the way I am right now, I just plan on working out more so that my ass looks like it did at the beginning of September.
Highlight of my New Year's Eve: After 365 days without drinking a single soda, I got the chance to crack into my very first Pepsi of 2011. This may also be my last Pepsi of 2011. Apparently a year's worth of carbonated abstinence equates to my taste buds calling that naked emperor out on his penchant for the obscent and announcing loud and clear: "THIS IS NOT TO BE CONSUMED BY YOU!!! IT TASTES LIKE SOAP!!!!" Approximately four ounces in and I want to flush it all down the poo hole. (That's right, poo hole. I will leave you to comtemplate why I did not use any of the myriad of euphemisms available to me and instead went with "poo hole".)
I am hopeful about 2011. 2010 was more good than bad, and to badly paraphrase a movie I never saw, I was much muchier in 2010 than I was in 2009, so good for me. I joke to hide my true feelings a lot of the time, and one of the big ones is that at my very core, I am an optimist and believe that each year is going to be better than the last because even when all seems to be going the way of the handbasket, it brings you that much closer to truly knowing the extent of who you truly are.
The neighbors have quieted down, which is good because if I heard any more Skynyrd, I do not know that I could have been held accountable for my actions or the associated blackouts, the end result of which would be me waking up to a dislocated shoulder and the smell of hillbilly and woodchip smoothie floating on freezing North Dakota wind.
So off to sleep I go. Tomorrow's activities will alternate between finishing art projects, finishing "The Imperfectionists", playing Bananagrams with children I love, watching an Oscar fare movie (either "The Black Swan" or "The Fighter"), hitting up the greatest comic store in Eugene, and hoping that great days like this continue all year. Lather, rinse, repeat.