08 December 2006

Yes, the Holidays Are Upon Us Once Again

OK. Now that Violet's all better, we can go back to concentrating on ME. I mean, really, that's why we're all here, isn't it? So, in order to appease my many fans, I shall succumb to popular demand and give you what you want: brilliant blogging. Prepare yourself to be amazed. You may want to arrange to take the rest of the day off, or at least gather a supply of tissues, for you are about to read an awesome feat of ingenuity. You have been warned.

With but 11 short days to go before my last final gives me a farewell kick in the ass, I take this time to reflect on what this time of year really means to me. December heralds the return of the Christmas season. Yes, it is that time of year when children make those god-awful paper chains that you dismantle link by link until you hate Santa Claus. The time of year when you actually wish for snow, not even considering for a moment that it will only eventually turn into a mud/dogshit mixture that makes you thankful, not for Christmas miracles, but for the "nightmarish sea of beige" (thanks to Matthew) that is your bi-level's flooring. The time of year when you wonder why you choose to live in a winter horrorland instead of a sunny utopia.

So, to celebrate--no, that is too strong a word--to acknowledge this phase in the cycle of pain, I plan to turn my back on studying and socializing for the moment and instead open a bottle of wine, clean my house in preparation for the mudfest to come, and subsequently watch that perennial favorite, the 1964 classic, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. It is, perhaps, my one source of joy until Spring brings back air that doesn't hurt to breathe (consider: either the air is painfully cold, irritatingly dry, or disgustingly filled with smoke and/or smog), and plants that are green because they are growing, not because they are luring you with false promises of life, only to poke the shit out of your hand or poison you as a final blow before you throw yourself from your bi-level, realizing too late that from the upper half of your bi-level, you are not actually high enough to do any lasting harm to anything except your ego.

So, my overly-frosted-and-decorated-with-little-silver-balls-that-taste-like-sweet-dirt-and-probably-give-you-cancer cupcakes, happy holidays.


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