In Queso Emergency, Break Glass

The holidays are upon us, so welcome to one of the holiday editions of "Pull Up A Seat". I'm going to mix in a little Christmas in here because let's face it...there's really nothing exciting about Thanksgiving except dessert and filling dad's hand with whip cream after he's fallen into a turkey induced coma during the big game.

I don't even know what the 'big game' is. I don't follow football. If you think I know anything about football and are expecting a blog about it...you really are in the wrong place. So beat it. This is a testosterone free zone.

Sunny 99.1 has started playing Christmas music already. I tried to listen to it over the past couple of days, but it seems they are getting all the crappy music out of the way before they break into the good stuff. Go ahead, tune it in. You'll be back to 104.1 before you can say "Wassail"

Holiday time is the time for fleece pajamas and hot cocoa. I broke out my footie pajamas last night and I thought Michael was going to fall off the couch laughing at me. How many adults do you know have actual footie pajamas? I love them.

I've seen the Christmas Carol at the play house here in downtown, and I've never seen The Nutcracker. I told Michael I wanted to go this year and see it for the first time ever. He said we can't because I'm afraid of Nutcrackers. And he's right. I have a fear of Nutcrackers just like I have a fear of cabbage patch dolls. They are just creepy in a Gary Busey 'going to bite your finger off if you try to stuff a nut in my mouth' kinda way. That sounded dirty. But you feel me, so we can move on.

The holidays mean things for many people. Some people get weird and go on a bender because the family is coming into town and they try to figure out how to un-invite Uncle George because he leers at all the teenage nieces after he's had too much eggnog. I don't have an Uncle George myself, but I've heard this kind of family creepiness happens. (but it's acceptable behavior in Kentucky.) Then there's always the "brace yourself for Cousin ______ to come out of the closet at the dinner table" fear. There's one in every family. Two in mine actually.

Most families have a turkey for Thanksgiving and a ham for Christmas. Sometimes, families decide to mix things up and just have lasagna or potluck for Thanksgiving. That pisses me off. I don't like being robbed of that one day of the year to have a traditional Thanksgiving dinner so if someone tries to push a pot roast my way on Thanksgiving, they will be wearing mashed potatoes and a black eye home. Don't mess with my Thanksgiving. It's not like I can't make turkey dinner any other time during the year, but it isn't the same.

And I prefer a turkey on Christmas too, but it ends up being ham.

I hate ham. I hate pigs. They only good pig is a dead pig. Sure, Babe was cute...but he'll grow up into a mean little shit who bites you every chance he gets. That's why pigs are raised only for food. They are evil mean spirited cretins. But back to the ham thing...I'll talk about my hatred of pigs to my therapist. There's something phenomenally wrong with a huge chunk of animal meat just sitting on the table. Turkey is different, because it's the whole bird. I'm okay with that. I just hate ham.

Shopping is a sport during Christmas that could be great or horrifying depending on where you are in your life. I've discussed before about how parents get into knock down drag out fights with other parents to get that one overpriced coveted toy for their spoiled offspring for Christmas. For me, I love it. The Christmas music being piped thru the speaker system at the mall makes me want to buy more stuff. I get great ideas for people when Christmas music is being played. Being slightly drunk helps too. Ah, Mi Luna Sangria Saturdays with Rupa are the best. We shop til we're sober.

But I have a bad habit of getting gifts for people that I would like to have myself. In my strange compulsive behavior pattern, since I like it, I'll get one for myself. I call it my "One for you, One for Me" shopping strategy.

On Visa, on Mastercard, on Discover (if they take it) and AMEX.
To Arden B, and Bebe, and maybe Express.
So fly, fly my pretties, to the Galleria mall.
Dash away, dash away, dash away all.

I wear a size XS and a 7 1/2 shoe. I like shiny and sparkly things.

Workin up a Black Sweat...

I wonder what Prince looks like without his makeup and hair fixed?

Do you ladies notice that if we go into a bathroom stall and find an unflushed toilet, we just yell “EW” and go to another stall? As if that toilet is contaminated…

I planted some bird seed. A bird came up. Now I don't know what to feed it.

I had amnesia once -- or twice

Protons have mass? I didn't even know they were Catholic.

All I ask is a chance to prove that money can't make me happy.

What is a "free" gift? Aren't all gifts free?

Teach a child to be polite and courteous in the home and, when he grows up, he'll never be able to edge his car onto a freeway.

Two can live as cheaply as one, for half as long.

What if there were no hypothetical questions?

One nice thing about egotists: They don't talk about other people.

A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something.

Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.

Why do you put two cents in when its only a penny for your thoughts? Someone’s making a profit.

Why do sleeping pills have warning labels that state :'Caution: May Cause Drowsiness?'

Do the actors on Unsolved Mysteries ever get arrested because they look just like the criminal they are playing?

If in doubt, mumble.

Madness takes its toll. Please deposit exact change.

Money DOES talk -- it says goodbye.

Support your local medical examiner: die strangely!

Guns don’t kill people. People do. But I think the gun helps, you know?

If you're choking in a restaurant you can just say the magic words, "Heimlich maneuver," and all will be well. Trouble is, it's difficult to say "Heimlich maneuver" when you're choking to death.

Hinky Dinky Do.

I am in the category labeled "DINKY" (Dual Income No Kids Yet)...okay, maybe I'm just a DINK. I'm 29 years old...and I have no interest in kids.

What prompted this blog was that I saw a friend in the tunnel as I was heading to the Chase Tower for my morning Starbucks run. I have known her for about 8 years. I asked how she was and she said 'pregnant'...thank goodness, because she was wearing a jogging hoodie and I didn't want to offend her if she was just getting heavy.

I feigned a delighted reaction and said "Congratulations! You look great!" And as I walked away, I realized I didn't hug her or touch her belly or anything that most people do when they find out about a pregnancy. I thought it was contagious and I subconsiously did not want to take that chance. I couldn't help but think "I'm glad it's not me", but she was probably thinking in her mind "I feel so bad for her that she doesn't have this joy".

For one, some people have NO business being pregnant. I am one of those people. I can't see myself voluntarily putting my body through something like that. Your belly swells up to the size of a watermelon and if you are lucky, your boobs get huge. I'm not so concerned with that part. I'm guaranteed a C-cup before and after. Thanks Dr. P!

Another issue is stretch marks. PULEEZE! I hear about some women who boast they have no stretch marks. Well good for you but I'd be the one with a relief map on my tummy. Lastly, at the end of nine months or so, you have endure the torture of giving birth to push out this wriggling alien. I imagine it is like shoving a wet St Bernard through the cat door. It's not for me.

I'll wait for the Matrix style of procreation when I can grow my baby in a jar like a sea monkey.

Another thing is that I'm really selfish. I admit it. I love my two seater convertible. I love my morning Starbucks and my evening glass of wine. I love sleeping in and having sex anytime, anywhere and not worry about locking doors or making sure the kids are occupied. I like like the fact that I can jump up at a moment's notice and go to a restaurant. With a kid you have to haul all this stuff to the car just to go to the corner store. I'd forget the kid. There would be a stuffed animal in the car seat...and I'd probably never notice.

I have no patience. I get pissed off at the cats for walking in my way; what chance does a toddler have? Plus, after the trick or treating event on Tuesday, kids just aren't good to have conversations with. I'd lean down and say "Hi, you're a cute penguin/ghost/dog. What's your name?" the kid grunts, points in my house and says "cat". Good job. I can't really get into it. I don't relate. I don't see the interest in having a child around.

A coworker said that it's amazing to watch his children experience new things and that he sometimes just looks at them and is in awe of the fact that he created them and they are a part of him. I create a lot of things...like dinner and a fantastic origami swan from tin foil, but I guess the pride and awe is different.

I think my biological clock is broken.