Joy to the World and Boob reads a book

I drank a bottle of wine waiting for Rico to get through the iron clad fists of the US/Canadian Border Patrol on the eve before the eve of Baby Jesus day. Thus began my holiday festivities, which only got more merry and more exciting as the bottle dried and was tossed in the recycling with care as thoughts of DADT, Frida Kahlo and how I could put the Chris back in Christmas danced in my head.

Really though, I had some wine, drank some beer, Rico arrived (that order may or may not be accurate, I was a goner by 8), I gave him a labatt (cerveza) and other festive holiday appropriate fare, like eggplant, garlic, and pita, (comida)  and we watched a movie. The movie wasn't great.  But I do want to say this...the most impressive part of the film was not Rosario Dawson and Rico so quickly squealed with delight...it was the fact that Will Smith's character committed suicide using the most non traditional method I have ever heard of....Jelly Fish. A singular jelly fish....his pet jelly fish. I totally give that a well deserved golf clap. A for effort in thinking of the most bizarre way to kill off a beloved and conflicted protagonist.

After driving west for a bit from Buffalo to New Jersey, one of the less intuitive moments of my life, we finally got on the right road, going in the right direction and by way of Georgia, made it to New Jersey in time to say good night to my father and make some weird comment to my father about Activia and constipation.  Rico headed to NYC to challenges I cannot possibly relate to (you go boy) and I to my parents home in Smoosh town, USA (please use this moment to google "South Park" and "Jersey Shore" if you are confused) to inevitably fight with my mother, ignore my father, and hopefully get into a fist fight with my younger brother.

In this household, thanks to my leadership, no holiday is sacred or safe from family battles. I think this occurs in other households. I imagine if I were to look at other blogs or flip on the tv, Everybody Loves Raymond or some other self indulgent ego maniac would express similar musings. It's nice to know I'm not alone.  Nonetheless, this family is a nest and source of much of my happiness and much of my pain and I respect both most of the time. 

Boo advised that I blog about my hope that "my little brother remain flacid for eternity" or "that I smother him in cow dung," but it's incredibly challenging to write funny things about family sometimes, particularly when you're in the thick of it. I'm sure soldiers come back allll the time from Iraq and laugh and laugh and laugh at stories of being in the trenches and the other pleasantries of combat. So, maybe when I'm out of the trenches....

The spoils of the battle are pretty fucking good though. I scored a coffee mug, soap in the shape of a crab, soap made out of seaweed, coffee, a book, chocolate, a nuts and oats bar my father bought at Marshall's, some more soap, and a glass paper weight....with a transparent corgie in the middle of it. There's a story to that....My mother, a 60 something year old art teacher, mumbled something about how they just sort of turned up, a lot of them, as my sister also received one with a Golden Retriever in it. Sounds a lot like the all the stuff that "falls off the truck" just in time for a sale in a truck at Main and Utica at 11pm. I love that store.

I am reading a book and its been awhile. I've barely moved off the couch save coopting my sister's computer to write this gem of a yawner.

It's about Katrina and the War on Terror.  JOY TO THE WORLD

Boo is currently in 'Zona, so let's all wish her a Feliz Navidad and Felizy Felizy Neuvo Anos. Or something.

Dear Boo...thought you'd never ask!!

The onset of winter in Buffalo ushers in wonders such as shinny hockey, Tim Hortons Christmas cups, the requisite office holiday festivus, Santa…and a deep, brooding depression which I will lament and wail about til mid summer. You’re welcome.

So I began to write a me-tox plan. But alas, I am me…therego/I go ergo self-imposed timeouts are the extent of the rehab. So I have chosen to be proactive...I did not intend this to be an advice column but alas here goes everything I wish I had known or realize now. Do as I say, not as I do.

Boo’s List of Everything a lass in her mid-twenties should know, understand and practice

# 1            How to change a tire, how to change your hair color without going to a salon, and how to change a man. (Regarding the dude: Tell him what you want him to do, reward him when he does it, and ignore him when he doesn’t do it.)

#2             Go play with your dog. Your dog is the one creature on earth you can make insanely happy by playing “hide the cookie” in the living room. If you have neither cat nor dog (nor bird, nor fish), it’s not essential, but if you want to lead a more enjoyable life…why not?

#3             Don’t read blogs written by unhappy, spiteful people. Bad blogs will mangle your mood. Instead, spend an hour a day with your Precious Moments notebook, connecting deeply with your own spiteful thoughts. At least they’ll be original. And P.S.: Anyone can make history. Only great women can blog it…not necessarily frequently J

#4            When addressing a man’s penis, if you want it to get huge, tell it it’s huge.

#5              When you’re in college, don’t worry too much about grades. Other than getting into a decent grad school and associating with the cream of your generation, getting straight A’s means diddly-squat in the real world, where it’s all about hustle, determination, focus, dressing right, sucking up, and who you know. Also if you did not go to the actual school, but its sister school or some degenerate cousin of the school…do not say you went to the school. Desperation never wears well.

#6             Bad grammar never wears well…nor does butchering any language with abbreviations…neva eva

#7             Women say they want a “nice guy,” but show them an asshole who treats them like dirt and they’ll trample over their own therapists to get to him.

#8             If you suffer the heinous habit of constantly saying “I’m sorry” (a real career killer, right up there with downing a flask of vodka before important meetings), take your pathetic “I’m sorry” and start adding three words: “I’m sorry…I’m so brilliant.” “I’m sorry…I’m so stunning.” “I’m sorry…I’m so miraculous.”

#9             Nobody would have sex if they thought about it for five seconds. It costs too much money – i.e. children, mortgage, therapy – makes you stupid and ties you down. Sex makes you crazy and causes nothing but pain, but that moment of pleasure is worth it all. Sometimes we can’t help ourselves.

#10             The three tragedies of life: (A) not getting what you want, (B) getting it, (C) seeing your best friend getting it. Don’t you know we were born to feel competitive with our friends? Jealousy is a little whip given to us by the queen bitch Mother Nature to push us to excel above our own expectations—to be better than our selves. Via nip, tuck, bedazzled nails, conquests, whatever! Rivalry brings glory to the human race. This is just an excuse for my self-indulgence in judging and narcissism but at least I'm honest! Some times...and I am getting better at that!

Ta da.

It’ a start…but I never said I was committed.

I must confess I had one about family, and the old idea of the one we’re born into versus the one we select, but I’m waffling so it’s best not to make too many inane pompous statements in one blog.

I also had one about panache…and then fear and arrogance…but those were the battle cries of my now registered sex offender high school English teacher so that might need some rethinking…

Prince Charming ain’t showing up on his white horse in the near future.

This was cathartic and now I’m depressed again.

“Boo’s Incomplete List”

Wait for the remix.

Xoxo,

Boo