Happy New Year!

My sole resolution: To have a year that doesn’t suck.

So .. let’s go! Start being awesome, 2008!

Yeah! Woo! Yeah! YEAH!

Ahem.

Happy New Year!

Never underestimate the quality of sleep you will have on pillows covered with John Deere pillowcases.

.. that when you drop a 500GB external hard drive, it goes “PONNNNNNNNNNG-G-G-G-g-g”?

Well, it does.

And then it still works! So, hooray.

Christmas was quiet but nice, except Santa forgot to bring me a pug. Perhaps I wasn’t a good enough girl. I’ll have to try harder next year.

I did get ninjas, though.

Merry Everything, everyone! I hope your holiday of choice is truly excellent!
Hobble does not want to share his stocking, but there is enough to go around:

Crossing the Lions Gate Bridge can be a huge pain in the ass at times, but coming over the bridge to the North Shore on a sunny day with the mountains practically glowing from the dusting of snow they received the night before has got to be one of the most spectacular views in the city, if not the world.

Pretty.

Interview went well – I won’t hear yay or nay until the new year, but the job sounds perfect for me so please think “yay yay yay yay” really hard at me. I’m home now and getting ready for the mystery dinner. I’m done being modest, so off comes the decency-inducing tank top under my dress, the demure shoes, and quite possibly the underwear.  WOO!

Yesterday I bought a crock pot.

I don’t quite know what to do with it yet, but this weekend I will be attempting some sort of beef stew. The one I picked out is all fancy with an apparently elegant and functional design. Also, it came with a mini crock pot for small dippie things. I am actually rather excited to break the crock pot in, but it will have to wait – I have an interview this afternoon, and then I’m being whisked away for a SEKRET CHRISTMAS DINNAR tonight by Ed. I do not know where we’re going, only that I am not to wear jeans or a tank top. That’s 75% of my wardrobe right there, so I’m probably just going to wear my fancy interviewin’ clothes that I will conveniently already have on.

I’m a little leery of tonight’s dinner. I’m not in charge of the planning, and that makes me nervous. More importantly, the last half dozen times we’ve eaten out it’s been utterly horrible. Regardless of the price range, both the food and the service went and made us all stabby with rage. The obvious solution is for us to just stay home forever and never go out to eat, but that would mean I do nothing but cook and clean up cat puke and then there’d be a lot of dishes I’d ALSO have to do, and let’s just say the “feelin’ stabby” would be a lot closer to home. I don’t know where we’re going tonight, but I hope our train of bad luck with outside food is about to be derailed – if I’m not allowed to wear jeans, it better damn well be worth the effort of a skirt.

I am amused and horrified at how excited I am about the crock pot. I better get a lot of toys for Christmas to make up for this shockingly adult purchase I just made.

Any day in which you can successfully bring Arnold-Schwarzenegger-as-Mr.-Freeze quotes into a conversation is bound to be a good one.

The mailman brought me BRAS today!

Six of them!

For my 12 boobs!

Oh, it’ll be a festive and supportive holiday around these parts, that’s for sure!

I am, however, still reeling with disappointment that this bra was sold out in my size. :(

(my apologies; I watched Team America: World Police last week)

This year, Ed and I have to spend Christmas ALONE.

When we lived in Alberta, we spent every holiday with his parents and it was awesome. After moving to Vancouver, it was time to start some traditions of our own – we had one holiday with my parents, and the next two were spent in the delightful company of our Annual Christmas Wyatt. This year, however, is looking a little lonely.

I like having people around. To me, Christmas with just the two of us won’t be quite the same. After all, I am a hermit who never goes outside and it’s *always* just the two of us – more people means more fun, as previously demonstrated by my attempts to get people to come on along on our honeymoon (successful) and 5th anniversary (unsuccessful). Now that our Annual Christmas Wyatt is all grown up with a girlfriend who comes with a family of her own to visit, we won’t have enough people for a truly engaging game of Monopoly or 3-man Slapjack. All our close Vancouver friends are going away for the holidays, Ed’s parents can’t come out because of their dog, and my mom is being stubborn. That just leaves us, and the cats. BOO!

I’ve been trying for some time to get my mom to come out for Christmas, but she won’t bite. She came out once, two years ago, and hated our place in East Van. It’s okay – so did we – but now I really want her to come visit again and see the place in North Van and also not be all alone or stuck waiting on FROOOOOOOONK all day. She’s been sick with bronchitis, and is using that as her excuse not to come. I keep telling her all she has to do is get on the damn bus, and it will deliver her to the train station in Vancouver at which point she will be picked up and waited on hand and foot by us, but nooooo.

I don’t know why I need someone else to be around for it to be a special day; I just do. Ed thinks it’s just dandy that we’ll be all alone, but I can’t help feeling a little lonely about it and therefore pouty. It’s a good look for me, I think.

To combat the perceived loneliness I’m going to feel on Christmas day, I’ve been searching for volunteering type things to do but I can’t find any. What gives? I’ve found dozens of posts of people wanting to volunteer, but nothing saying “hey, we could use some help”. If the internet can’t help me, I’ll have to check the newspaper or something. It’s a little selfish, wanting to volunteer just so I can stop feeling sorry for myself, but I am a flawed, flawed being.

Ever have one of those days where everything smells like weed?

No? Just me, then?

Hm.

In an hour, I’ll either have lovely black hair or shocking Hulk-green hair. It is difficult to say which one I am rooting harder for.

Update: Well, my hair isn’t green – but it’s not exactly black, either. It’s got this brown-black thing going on that is a little too normal for my liking. Luckily, I only used half the jar of henna because my hair is so short. I’ll give it a couple weeks, then henna it again with the other half of the jar. In the meantime, I’m slightly mottled.