Archive for December, 2011

#1- Sipping mimosas on Christmas morning in PJs. Oh, you don’t embrace this tradition? You should.

#2- Santa’s elves are shorter than Patrick and his reindeer are hairier than Gilly. Wait, what?

#3- Adding “butt” to our favorite Christmas songs. “Santa’s Butt is Coming to Town” “Rudolph the Red-Butt Reindeer”

#4- It is the ONE and ONLY day of the year we welcome and enjoy snow.

#5- The Christmas dance the Peanuts gang do in A Charlie Brown Christmas.

#6- Rankin/Bass holiday specials. Yes, even Bumbles.

#7- PRESENTS!! Giving, as well as receiving, of course!

#8- Eating gingerbread men… appendages first.

#9-  Mistletoe… hung in every room! Kiss-mastime!

#10- Be it candy or coal, Santa-stuffed stockings make great holiday weapons! (Hands off my presents!)

We hope everyone has a very Merry Christmas!


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Twas the night before Christmas, when all through our house
Not a computer was humming, not even the click of a mouse.
Our stockings were hung on the wall with some care,
In hopes that some candy would somehow appear there.

Lulu was nestled all snug in our bed,
While visions of world domination danced in her head.
And Gilly in her ‘kerchief, and I in my jays,
Had just settled our brains for the coming holidays.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I ran like The Flash,
Tore open the curtains and knocked over the trash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of Edward Cullen to the objects from below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight weary reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
He might even have been supersonic.
More rapid than a Ferrari this Santa he came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called me by name!

“Hey Patrick! Hey Gilly! Hey Lulu, you Vixen!
I’ve got a package! A present! Something you’re wishin’!
Now open the door! Answer my call!
Before I dash away! Dash away! Dash away to the mall!”

And then, in a twinkling, I heard from below
The tinkling and crashing of a glass window.
As I ran down the stairs to see what was the matter,
Through the broken window he fell in a drunken clatter.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
A filthy old fat man tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes – how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his breath smelled of sherry!
His drooling little mouth was open in an “O,”
And the beard of his chin was covered in snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his stained teeth,
And the smoke it smelled like a six-month old wreath.
He had a broad face and a big round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a tubful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a pre-diabetic old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Gave me the wiggins and a chill of pure dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And took all our stockings, what a filthy old jerk!
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
He hocked a loogie! How gross!

He dashed to his sleigh, our goodies in tow,
I tried to catch him but alas I was too slow.
But I heard him exclaim, as he fled into the night,
“Happy Christmas to me!” and vanished out of my sight.

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I don’t know how many of you came across this story on the NPR website, but I wanted to take a break from holiday musings to contemplate this magical fairy tale. For those of you who don’t click on links, warm up a mug of cocoa and I will tell you the story. (If nothing else, check out the cool pictures!)

Once upon a time, a woman was inspecting a spot on her tonsils with the aid of a pen and mirror. She accidentally swallowed the pen whole. She went straight to the doctor. In the olden days, X-rays were incapable of detecting pens in stomachs. And House wasn’t on TV, so doctors did not believe such an incredible medical phenomenon could have really occurred. The doctors stoned her called her a liar and sent her home. Twenty-five years and many magical medical breakthroughs later, a CT scan was able to prove the woman did indeed have a pen in her stomach. This proved to be no longer of interest to the woman because she was now 76 and quite frankly had gotten used to drooling black ink on her pillow every night (Artistic license). Doctors removed the pen and it was still intact, albeit corroded a bit by stomach acids, but not that much because it was made of a mystical material called “plastic” that never dies. Out of curiosity the pen was tested. It wrote, “hello.”

dramatization of real events

Wa- wa- wait a second! If I were a pen that had been floating around masticated bits of food and tons of gastric juices for 25 years I don’t think I would greet my first out-of-body experience in 25 years with a simple “hello.” If I ever get swallowed whole, here are some possible first words I’ll be sharing:

A hello with more flourish, if you will

I'm out and my ink well is a little dry, biatches

A cry for help

Let's talk movie rights

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Lulu Admiring Our Gifts?

I had my Andy Rooney moment last week regarding holiday commercials and commercialism. This week I want to share some treats with you, rather than more grinchy grumblings. Since we don’t have the technology to tlog (taste blog) just yet I can’t share the  toffee and gingerbread men (courtesy of Becoming Cliche’s recipe) I’m making.

What I have for you today are a few of the PG-rated search engine terms that have led people to our blog. These are phrases or words some internet-inept people typed into Google, and after scrolling through what I imagine were 137 legitimate or helpful links, came to our blog and thought, “This is it!”

We are re-gifting these little gems to you:

beard porn: No doubt Patrick’s beard looks hot, but this is not that type of website! One does wonder what beard porn is, but like I said, this is not that type of site.

birthing in the wild: I’m taking this as a sign from the Universe that this should be my birthing plan if we conceive. Done. I’m just running straight to the woods when my water breaks.

alligator turkey: Something you don’t want to run into when birthing in the wild. Do we have to worry about alligator-turkeys? Is this a thing?

sad chimp photos: Aw, why are you looking for sad chimps?

creepy place to get married: I would like to make some suggestions: your mom’s attic, a crypt, your mom’s basement, your ex-spouse’s crypt, basement, or attic — especially if you didn’t get permission first.

chihuahua’s: Is this like Mad Libs? Am I supposed to guess what the chihuahua possesses? chihuahua’s… pink nail polish? football chew toy? prison bitch is a great dane?

duck beard: exactly!

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Gilly and I are pretty obsessed with Christmas specials right now. We’ll watch classics old (Charlie Brown, The Grinch, Rudolph – read Rambling and Rumblings examination of this classic and you’ll never watch this holiday treasure in the same way again) and new (Disney’s Prep and Landing, Kung Fu Panda Holiday Special, Holidays in Handcuffs). We love the Hollywood classics (It’s a Wonderful Life, White Christmas) and the Brit classics (Love, Actually, the Dr. Who Christmas specials).

But really, nothing fills my heart with joy as much as Elf. It’s stupid. It’s ridiculous. It’s the perfect Christmas movie.

What I appreciate most is the absolute sincerity and conviction with which Will Ferrell delivers every single one of his lines. He makes you believe that he could be a grown man-child raised by elves at the North Pole. And during this holiday season, it reminds me once again that perhaps the world would be a better place if everyone shared such wide-eyed innocence and enthusiasm.

The best way to spread Christmas cheer, is singing loud for all to hear.

This is a motto I take to heart. I’ve been singing loudly for weeks now. About everything. And now Gilly is so full of Christmas cheer she’s pooping candy canes.

“I just like to smile. Smiling’s my favorite.”

Who can hate a happy elf? Unless…

“He’s an angry elf.”

Which reminds us that we could all stand to be a little more jolly.

The Four Food groups: Candy, Candy Canes, Candy Corn, and Syrup.

Guaranteed to make you sick, but doesn’t everything seem a little better when it comes with candy?

“You sit on a throne of lies.”

Take that, crass commercialism!

“Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”

My favorite seasonal song. Wouldn’t we all feel a little bit closer to our loved ones if we sang a duet with them?

“Francisco! That’s fun to say.”

It really is. Try it. So is Gilly’s favorite phrase, “Jolly Toots.” You should try that too!

“First we’ll make snow angels for two hours, then we’ll go ice skating, then we’ll eat a whole roll of Tollhouse Cookiedough as fast as we can, and then we’ll snuggle.”

And really, doesn’t that sound like the perfect day to you?

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We all have our favorite smells and sounds of Christmas: pine and sleigh bells, gingerbread and caroling, Starbuck’s peppermint mocha and low grumbles in the post office queue, Uncle Palmer’s farts and, well, Uncle Palmer’s farts (sounds like a duck and smells like moldy mothball and rotten egg stew).

Humbug Alert!! Jolly toots aside, I want to rant about the smells and sounds of commercials during Christmas.

Every kiss begins with Kay.” Oh really? It is spelled kayiss? Maybe that is what one would call this lip lock disaster:

Luckily my husband knows what follows a gift of a diamond tennis bracelet, three-stone ring, or journey necklace, and it ain’t a kayiss. It is a punch in the face. What is worse than generic diamonds on Christmas?

White Diamonds hair (more than 20 years ago)

I know what could be worse! Smelling like perfumes from old commercial reels. (They don’t have commercial reels anymore do they?) What is it about Christmas that warrants the return of old Britney Spears’ Fantasy perfume commercials? And don’t even get me started on Elizabeth Taylor ‘s White Diamonds commercial. I remember watching that  20 years ago thinking, “Her hair looks like mine!” Christmas is beginning to smell like a puffy afro a la Blanche Devereaux.

What really toots my horn is this commercial:

Granted I already own my dream car (it is a station wagon), so this particular flavor of joy doesn’t appeal to me. But who are these jerk-faces who recognize the Lexus Christmas commercial music from a music box? I imagine the whole family hums the Lexus tune together around a roaring fire (heated with Louis Vuitton logs) every Thursday night starting at Thanksgiving. Man, they are pretentious jerk-faces!

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Christmas is a time for lessons. The Gift of the Magi is a tale that taught me a few things: (1) This is not a tale for kids. It is depressing. (2) Couples should plan for big purchases and not wait until the last minute. Because here’s what: You sold your prized possession because you didn’t plan ahead for the cost of Christmas and now you are broke and stuck with a useless gift. That sucks for you because now you have a really expensive hair comb and no hair to comb it with and it sucks for me because I had to read about it.

Now, as an adult, I try to stay away from somber Christmas tales by watching Christmas movies instead! Here are some lessons I have learned thus far that I would like to share with you:


Nutcracker (produced by Maurice Sendak): Girls, your creepy old uncle will punish your unreturned affections and understandable fear of him with a “beautiful nightmare.” Umm… Neither the dance of the sugar plum fairies nor the haunting strut of your gorgeous peacock-mom can make me forget how creepy Uncle Drosselmeyer is! Merry Christmas!


Nativity!: Poor, underappreciated students will pull off a Nativity musical with the help of a ton of high-production costumes and spontaneously-acquired musical talent. Plus, singing kids are *guaranteed* to reignite an old flame on Christmas and help any teacher forget that the girl he is kissing ran away from his Christmas proposal 5 years ago, breaking his heart and turning him into a shell of a man. Amnesia, overnight talent (musical steroids?), and probably stolen costumes and set-drops — bonafide Christmas Miracle!

It's A Wonderful Life

It’s A Wonderful Life: Oh, I remember why I don’t watch this movie! It starts with attempted suicide. WHAT THE JIMINY CHRISTMAS? Don’t jump off that bridge! The world’s most annoying ghost will hang out with you instead and probably save Christmas. Seriously, I’m not watching this. Merry Christmas!

Holiday in Handcuffs

Holiday in Handcuffs: It is totally OK to kidnap a man at gunpoint and force him to accompany you to your parents’ cabin in the woods to pose as your boyfriend. It is Chrsitmas and these things happen! We all get a little stressed, don’t we? He will fall in love with your whacky-adorable-kidnappy personality, ignore that you are clearly a nutbag with awful problem-solving skills, and fall in love with you as your stunt double wows him with her figure skating ability! It is a Christmas Miracle! Who am I kidding, I love this story! It is eerily similar to the way I met Patrick.

Single ladies, a Christmas tip from me: Always carry handcuffs in your bag! Kidnapping = True love. Ho! ho! ho!

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