Visa...

Dear Visa,

Fuck you. Fuck the gigantic inflated APR you've stuck to me, despite the fact that I pay you bloodsucking bastards every month and have paid my card off twice. I am no longer a college student, haven't been for two years, so perhaps you could stop bleeding me dry like you did for those four and a half years of my undergraduate studies. I understand that you make major money off of people's inability to pay off their card every month, but EXCUSE ME, it would just be nice to see my balance go DOWN MORE for once. Happy Fucking Holidays to you. I hope Santa takes a crap down your office chimney this year.

Sincerely,
Bitter Cardholder


Ok... I'm done. Just needed to vent a little.

5 Odd Facts About Me

1. My toenails are always painted, sometimes with more than one color on each foot. But I rarely paint my fingernails.

2. I don't like any kind of salad dressing, and don't eat ketchup. I eat mustard on everything from fries to eggs.

3. I sleep under 3 heavy blankets, but leave my fan on.

4. I hate it when pieces of my hair fly all over the place, since it makes my hair look frizzy. I keep barettes with me.

5. I don't use alarm clocks. I always end up waking up before they go off because I can't stand being woken up by a loud alarm.

Look, it's me.

I discovered this yesterday-- create your own superhero.



Here's me in the morning. I wish there were other body types to choose from, but this was fun... a massive time-waster, but still fun.

"There's an ex-con in the bathroom and he won't come out."

I called my dad to let him know that I got the earphones for my brother, so he wouldn't buy them too. My stepmom picked up, and was immediately far more cheerful than she normally is on the phone. She passed the phone to dad, who says "Hey! We're having a party!" I love my dad, he doesn't drink much anymore-- but he's still not too old to party with his buddies. I told him to call me tomorrow when the Advil kicks in.

One of the last times they had a party there where they invited friends, it became a crazy story. Some co-worker of my stepmom brought an ex-con as her date. Said Con decided to get into a beer-fueled, screaming fistfight with my step-uncle about Red Sox V. Yankees. My step-uncle was pushed into a bedroom to chill out, and Con was shoved into the bathroom. My dad opened the door to tell him he had to leave, and Con flipped out and sucker punched my dad. After that he punched a hole in the bathroom door and shut himself in again. Meanwhile my younger brother is trying to help out, and my dog bit someone in the chaos. Not badly, but she was just protecting my dad. Dad calls the cops. Sheriff shows up to help out, and they explain to Con that either he leaves of his own volition, or he is forcibly removed and arrested-- he leaves. My uncle was still screaming and pissed off-- so my stepmom took him out with a karate shot to the throat, turns out she learned how to do that at work. He's no longer welcome in dad's home.

Everyone was fine, but it's such a small town that anyone with a police radio (read: 75% of the population) knew about what happened. Very funny stuff.

This time, however, I only heard the Chicken Dance playing in the background. I'm not sure if that scares me more or less than the mental image of a pair of grown adult men fighting over baseball.

Merry F'n Christmas

I did it. I started and finished my Christmas shopping in one day. I'm broke now.

I woke up at 8, and proceeded to stumble around like a caffeine-deprived zombie for 2 hours (I wake up notoriously slow,) by 10 my mom, her boyfriend and I set out for Target. Ipod-applicable earphones for my brother, stainless steel travel coffee mugs for my dad and stepmom, stocking stuffers for my mom and a bunch of little stuff.

50 bucks later...

We went to IHOP for lunch. Or as it is better known, Lewis Black's "health club."

Off to the mall. I make a first stop into the As Seen On TV store. I got a car buffer mit and turtle wax cloths for my dad's car, and 2 of those Owl reading light/magnifying cards. One for mom, one for my grandparents.

35 bucks later...

I went to the the Christmas Tree Shop. Bastion of all that is the Chaos of Christmas. They even had cops in there to regulate the masses. And there were MASSES of people. Unorganized floods of carts, baskets, aisles of assorted crap with treasures, and the elderly-- oh, and babies. Lots of babies. There I was with my unwieldy basket of odds and ends, and two giant boxes. I ended up buying amongst more little things-- a fiber-optic Christmas Village house for my Aunt, a portable back massager chair pad for my dad, a scrapbook kit for my stepmom, a stocking because I thought it was pretty and a hideous computer-printed novelty tie for my dad. Payback for all the tricks he pulled on Christmas with me.

55 bucks later...

I go to Hallmark. I buy two candle tarts. For me.

3 bucks later...

I go to Boscov's, and by a small box of Godiva for my mom, gourmet coffee and cookies, and a giant hatbox to put it in.

23 bucks later...

I go to the calendar store, and pick up a Harry Potter desk calendar and a stuffed lab puppy toy for my mom...and put it in the hatbox. Damn thing was heavy.

28 bucks later...

Back to the Christmas Tree Shop, because I had forgotten wrapping paper, tissue paper and bows.

11 bucks later...

I collapse in the car and wait for my mom to finish.

I'm broke as fuck now, and I have to pick up an application for the local gas station. I'm hoping they hire me and they I don't get mugged walking home.

Tis the Holiday Season, time to repent past financial sins and commit new ones.

Christmas and Pandas.

It's that time of year again-- where no one can escape the Claus of Christmas.

It's fun, but sometimes I have a hard time keeping track of what I think is the true meaning. I'm not religious, so I'm not celebrating Christ's birthday. I think of Christmas as a reminder that family is there and that they still love me, even though I screwed up over the year.

The gifts are reminders of love, not to prove who blew the most on some Crap-tasic present (IE-- the electric nosehair trimmers from Sears, or any kind of doll that wets itself and screams.) My parents and family give me great stuff, and I hope they like what I got them. But I'm afraid that more and more Christmas is becoming simply buckwild spending and the resultant rampant braindeath due to bills.

And speaking of braindeath, I should mention Christmas carols. Maybe I'd like them more if they weren't played on Halloween. I like the music in small doses. I sang so much of it in choir for 8 years (we sang the Halleluja Chorus for 4 years straight. I can still sing parts of it.) I like the classics, and some of the Twisted Christmas music. Some of it, the really sappy stuff...just makes me want to get into my Grinch suit, tie antlers on my dog, and steal all of Who-ville's presents...

I think of family dinners past. Like the time my brother set the table on fire, or when the turkey was dry and the steak was raw, or even when I was pubertal and angst-y over everything (that needs no explanation.) Or the family parties where they gave me books and then got mad when I preferred to read them than make small talk. What? I was 12.

My brother is talking about how he wants to get up at 4 AM to do presents. 10 years ago I would have agreed wholeheartedly, but now that I'm officially old...4 AM is when I have to get up and pee, not when I want to be coherent and on camera. It would only serve to scare future generations if my 4 AM face and hair were preserved for posterity.

But it's still fun. I remember how my dad used to trick me every year, how I made Santa sign for his cookies one year (and was foiled when I couldn't match handwriting with anyone) and how when I was way younger-- I got so excited that I puked Christmas morning. I guess I just shook myself up like a little bottle of soda and blew...all over a recliner. For some reason Mom wasn't too merry that morning.

I'm finally doing my shopping tomorrow. And for no other reason than there's always room for a cute picture, here's a baby panda. I defy anyone to not think he's cute: