Happy New Year!!!

Mood: Tired, really, really tired (turns out that it takes a couple of days for my thirty something year old hiney to recover from the New Year's Eve festivities)

What I'm Watching: Celebrity Ghost Stories (It's midnight, what else would I be watching?)

The hubs and I rang in the New Year by partying with a bunch of rowdy strangers at a hotel. The downside? The hubs and I are not actually social people so being forced to sit at a table with strangers? Not our thing. And drunken, rowdy strangers acting stupid because they're too drunk to realize how stupid they're acting? Totally annoying...especially when they're armed with those obnoxious noisemakers and insist on blowing them in my ear every.ten.seconds! I had to be physically prevented from relocating those noisemakers to someplace where noisemakers aren't normally intended to go.

And don't get me started on the people that brought their children to this party. Yep. Open bar, drunken morons and loud music...I'm not a parent and even I know this isn't exactly the proper environment for your 7 year old. What the heck? Were there no crack dealers you could leave them with?

Also? I've learned that there are some things that you just can't unsee no matter how much you drink or how hard you try. On New Year's Eve, these sights included the following:

* A rather large woman wearing a black bra under a sheer white shirt. Honey. No.

* A woman who wore a completely sequined mini dress that barely contained the minimum amount of skin. After a few drinks? She apparently forgot she was wearing a "barely there" dress and proceeded to sit with her legs spread as though she was half expecting her ob-gyn to come by and give her a pap smear.

*A man who, from the waist up, looked quite dashing in a tuxedo jacket complete with vest and tie. I thought, "wow, it's nice to see a man who dresses up like that for New Year's Eve". Then he walked by me. You guys? He was wearing shorts. What the hell?!?

*A woman who had back hair. Honest to goodness, full on furry back hair. The back of her shirt dipped a little too low and her tufts of hair were peeking out from under the shirt. I feel confident in saying that this was not a man in drag, this was definitely a woman. With copious amounts of back fur. I got independent confirmation from the hubs (who is now completely traumatized). I also got his assurance that should I ever sprout back hair he will shave and/or ensure that it is properly and promptly removed.

*There was a large group of friends sitting at the table next to us. At some point a man from that table was standing in between his wife and her friend. He had an arm around each of them. No big deal. Until his hand slipped down to squeeze his wife's friend's butt (which was probably all of a foot from my face). Okay, so he's a bit drunk and being a bit of an ass. It happens. I tried to ignore it. Then? His hand slipped up under the friend's mini-dress and it stayed under there like it was stuck in some sort of gravitational pull. *shudder* DUDE! You're in public and and right next to your wife!!! Just because she's at an angle where she can't see where your hand is and what it's doing doesn't make it cool. ACK!!! My eyes!!!!

But, lest you think it was all bad, it wasn't. Things that almost made the trauma worth it:

* We got upgraded to the Presidential suite. I'm talking about a hotel room that is bigger than our current apartment complete with a fireplace, a hot tub and a kitchen with a dishwasher. Seriously. What a great way to ring in the new year!

* They made an error on our reservations and we were totally compensated w/ an open bar pass, free breakfast and a reduction in room rate. Sweeeettt!!!

*I got to spend my Borders and B&N gift cards. Hours of shopping surrounded by the smell of brand new books. Sigh. I managed to stretch my dollars too and ended up with something like 13 new books!!!!

*Santa hubs got me a late gift of a Livescribe pen to help with my writing efforts. I tend to brainstorm/plot old school with pen and paper. Unfortunately that means that I have to shuffle through hundreds of notebook pages looking for necessary information. The Livescribe pen will allow me to upload the pages I've written and it makes them searchable so I can easily find the information I need in my notes by searching a keyword or two. Squeeeee!!! So far I'm loving it.

Hope 2010 is treating everyone well so far and that no one was forced to witness the sorts of mind damaging, therapy inducing things that I was on New Year's Eve!!

Here We Come A Caroling....

Mood: Monday Morning (it's not a mood, but it damn well should be!)

What I'm Listening to: Fireflies by Owl City (see, I don't always watch tv)

Current Word Count: 9,615 (I know, the same as last time...busy weekend Christmas decorating w/ the hubs = no writing time!)

Over the weekend, the hubs and I were decorating our humble abode in preparation for the festivities of the Chrsitmas season. As we decked the halls, strung the lights and just generally made an absolute mess of our apartment, we were enjoying the sounds of streaming Christmas music over the internet. I was happily singing along about Chestnuts Roasting and Sleigh Rides and even Grandma being run over by a reindeer when, as surely as death and taxes, the station played that most heinous of all popular Christmas songs...The Christmas Shoes! What.The.Hell?!?

Typically, I avoid this song like the plague for several reasons:

First, Christmas songs are supposed to be about joy and hope and presents and candy...not about some little boy's mom dying! Sure, nothing says "Merry Christmas" like "hey kid, sorry but your mom? Well, maybe you shouldn't be adding her to the Christmas dinner head count."

Second, it just doesn't make any sense. Hey, I like shoes as much as the next girl but I've made it very clear to my step-daughter that should I ever be in the position of dying on Christmas Eve the doctor I want her to call is NOT Dr. Scholl. I want her to take me to the emergency room, call 911 or take some other, equally appropriate medical measures...none of which, I assure you, involves new shoes.

Finally, where is this kid's father? I get that mom's dying and dad is probably busy out buying her some new perfume or something but really? You're going to let your kid wander around unattended (and filthy to boot) on Christmas Eve while his mom's dying? You couldn't even put him in some clean clothes and wash his face first? Why not just put him in a box on the corner with a tag that says "free to good home"? Sheesh!

Since I opt out of listening to this song (makes me reach for the radio tuner faster than Rush Limbaugh talking about sex), the hubs was probably one of the last people on earth to hear it. As my hand reached out to the radio with  lightening fast ninja reflexes that I didn't know I possessed, he stopped me and asked why I never wanted to listen to that song. I told him it just wasn't a good Christmas song...that it was too depressing.

He said he wanted to hear it. Moron. I warned him again but he insisted. Did I mention he's not particularly bright when he's being stubborn?

As the final notes of the song played, I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He was crying. Not just a tear or two but red eyed, silent sobs.

"You're crying" I said (trying not to laugh, because, really? I did warn him)

"What am I? Made out of stone!?!" He yelled "What the hell is wrong with those people!?! What the hell kind of Christmas song is that!?!"

*Sigh* Finally. Some validation. Now we both reach for the radio dial with our mad ninja skills because we'd rather listen to Weird Al singing about Santa beheading Rudolph than the Christmas Shoes one more time!

_______________________________________________

Also? My mother tells me that there was actually a tidy bowl man commercial when I was little. I had no idea. So, in the interest of further public humiliation, here's a youtube video of the Ty-D-Bol man. Truly terrifying!

Didn't We Cover This in Kindergarten?

Mood: Saddened (Just heard that Patrick Swayze has passed away. I had so hoped he'd be one of the rare few who would beat pancreatic cancer. He fought the good fight, may he rest in peace.)

What I'm Watching: Gabriel Iglesias: Hot and Fluffy (This dude is so freaking funny: "Why do you drink diet soda? So I can eat regular cake!"....gotta love that!)

Current Word Count: 8,475 (absolutely shameful!)

First it was Representative Joe Wilson shouting "You Lie!" as President Obama was addressing Congress, then it was Kanye West jumping up and taking the mic from Taylor Swift at the VMA's. Seriously? Are there people that just missed elementary school entirely? Who doesn't remember their teachers standing at the front of the class with that annoyed I wish I could beat every single one of you little heathens look on his/her face saying "No one speaks while I'm speaking!"?

And assuming you missed the many "listen while others are speaking" lectures during your tenure at various educational institutions, certainly your parental units would have mentioned that it was impolite to interrupt while others were speaking or, at the very least, slapped you upside the head and told you to 'shut the hell up!'.

However, since it's obvious that some people fell through the cracks, here it is: You don't have to like what's being said. You don't have to agree with what's being said. Hell, you don't even have to listen to what's being said but if you are at an event and you are not the one up front with a microphone then keep your ass in your seat and a piece of duct tape over your mouth or I'll send my mother over to slap the stupid out of you!

Bad Boys, Bad Boys, What You Gonna Do?

Mood: Frustrated (Writing is not as easy as it should be when your fictional characters refuse to cooperate with you).

What I'm watching: The Police Women of Broward County (Really? Someone should tell the blonde one that the only time that she should be wearing her hair that way is when she's working under cover as a cheap hooker).

I've long since accepted that living in an apartment and sharing thin walls means that I will know far more about my neighbors than I ever cared to know. I know when they're fighting, when they're *ahem* not fighting, what they're having for dinner and that the guy next door should probably see a doctor about his frequent bathroom issues.

So, when the neighbors across the hall started having one of their epic arguments the other night, I didn't think too much of it. When the police showed up it started getting slightly more interesting. Seems that the wife wanted to use the computer and the husband didn't want to let her so he tried to grab the power cord and then attempted to run her over with his rascal scooter. Yep, that's right, our disabled neighbor tried to run over his slightly less disabled wife with his scooter and the police were called to referee the computer argument.

Seriously? They should have just called my mother who would have taken the computer cord, slapped them both and sent them to bed without dinner. But, since they called the police, the officers who responded did their best to diffuse the situation and told them to give one another some space for the rest of the evening. The officer's parting words "Don't start in again the minute we leave." Of course they promised that they wouldn't.

Right. Uh-huh. Like that worked. See, my mother never would have fallen for that and before the officers had even pulled away from the curb, the argument was one once again. Within 10 minutes, the wife was in the hall on the phone with the police again. By this time I was starting to think that I should be standing outside in my bare feet with a baby on my hip while Scott stands next to me wearing a wife beater and drinking a beer. Fortunately, we have far more class so we watched the drama unfolding through the peephole in our front door.

This time the police asked the wife to leave for a while to give the situation a chance to cool. This was probably a wise decision, especially since the husband announced that he'd run out of prozac and so is now unmedicated. By the next morning the wife had returned and the fight was on once again and continued off and on over the next day or so, but, as Scott pointed out this morning, things have been eerily quiet over there for the past 24 hours or so.

Hopefully they've managed to patch things up and work out a sharing schedule for the computer but if a funny smell starts eminating from their apartment over the next week or so I'm not going to be a bit surprised.

And This May Be Why I No Longer Work Retail...

Mood: Lazy (It's been a busy, busy day and now I'm just plain old lazy)

What I'm watching: Women's Nationals Gymnastics (apparently watching the cheerleading thing last night didn't properly quash my self esteem so I'm going back for more).

Scott and I had to brave Wal-Mart today since we needed Wal-Mart type stuff (body wash, toilet paper, etc.) and we also needed a good price on a new tire for Scott's car.

Normally a trip to Wal-Mart isn't a huge deal but today, well, it was it's own little slice of hell on earth. Why? Three little words. Back.To.School. The aisles were crowded with stressed and weary adults dragging around their cranky and overstimulated offspring. There was yelling and screaming (from the adults) and whining and tantrum throwing (from the children) and snide, irritated comments (from people like me).

Also? We saw a woman have a monumental melt down. She was in the front of the store, screaming at the Wal-Mart greeter that she'd lost her father. Now, we're talking about a woman who was at least 40 years old (with bad make-up making her look an incarnation of Bette Davis ala Whatever Happened to Baby Jane) and she's screaming like a banshee because she's lost her father.

After listening to her yelling at the poor Wal-Mart greeter for about five minutes (and honestly, what power does the Wal-Mart greeter really have?) I was finally able to riddle out what was going on (FYI? Screaming? So not helpful in establishing meaningful communication). Seems her father is something like 95 years old and not in good health. He was riding one of those Wal-Mart carts and had, apparently, gotten himself lost. And, it seems that this woman believed that this was somehow the problem of those who were working at Wal-Mart. She kept screaming that it was important, that they needed to do something that it was a VERY SERIOUS ISSUE.

As I was listening to her rant I began to wonder about a couple of things. First, just what did she expect the people at Wal-Mart to do? Did she expect a super secret Wal-Mart swat team to storm the store and find her father for her? Did she think they'd issue a code Adam for a 95 year old man riding a motorized cart? And, really? If her father's condition was that delicate and he was that unstable then why the heck didn't she stay with him in the first place? I mean, we're not talking about a three year old toddler who can take off like a shot the minute you turn your back. We're talking about a 95 year old man in bad health riding on a motorized cart that goes all of two miles per hour. How the heck does he get away from you in the first place??

I have to say that I stood in silent awe as I watched the employees listen to the screaming without resorting to physical violence. I was impressed as they paged the 95 year old man without ever once pointing out to the hysterically crazy woman that, really, she should have been taking better care of her father and that it wasn't their fault that he'd gotten lost. Personally? I think I would have flicked her in the head and told her that her father had probably run away to get a break from her insane self.

And this may be why I'm no longer employed in the retail sector.

Just When You Thought It was Safe...

Mood: Satisfied? (Even though the day was wicked hot so we were stuck inside with the air conditioning, I managed to get quite a bit done on my writing so I'm calling it a win!)

What I'm Watching: Will You Kill For Me? An Account of the Manson Murders (Seriously, how screwed up is this guy and the people who followed him?)

This weekend has been a bit of a bust. The weather has been so hot and humid that we were pretty much housebound the whole weekend. Blah. We had been hoping to go camping but camping in a tent when the heat index tops out at 105° isn't our idea of a good time. So, we've been riding the sofa, watching tv and spending way too much time on the internet.

What I've discovered is that there is a great deal of 'true crime' tv on during the weekend, especially on Sunday. Seriously? Do they think people want to come home from church and watch 6 hours of television dedicated to the dissecting the most heinous crimes to ever be committed? Good. Because I'd hate to think I'm the only one so completely and utterly fascinated by the workings of the human psyche, particularly the criminal mind.

So, since it was 40 years ago this weekend that The Manson Family went on a bloody murderous rampage that left 7 people dead, a lot of the true crime programming has focused on the infamous Manson Family. After watching so many interviews, listening to the witnesses and the family members themselves, I'm still left wondering just what it is that makes someone get to the point where they say "you want me to go into that house and stab everyone? Okay, that sounds like a good idea?" Because personally? I'd like to think I'd say (in my best Gary Coleman imitation) "What the hell you talking about Charlie?!?"

Oh, and FYI? They're letting family member and one of Charles Manson's most ardent supporters, Squeaky Fromme, out on parole this week. I'm not sure all the crazy has been purged from this one so I think I'll be sleeping with one eye open for a while just in case...