Loose Ends

Still no Christmas post inspiration. I'll keep working at it.

You there! Yeah, you know who you are, the people that I read daily who haven't posted anything more than a sentence or two for the last four to six days...fucking post something already! The suspense is killing me! Plus, if I didn't hover over my computer waiting and wondering what is on your feeble little minds I'd have to actually deal with my own life. Don't you dare force me to be functional! 'Tis the season for diversion! I don't care what kind of drivel you post, just post it so I can stop driving by your little cyber houses pretending I was in the neighborhood anyway and thought I'd pop in. I saw your light was on... in your bedroom... and that you were watching the first season of Twin Peaks and I thought to myself "Hey, you haven't watched Twin Peaks in forever, maybe you should knock?" and so here I am.

In just a few short hours I will be officially 31 years old. It's a completely lame age. I mean, when you hear that Stone Phillips Dateline voice over it's always "24 year old entrepeneur, Gene Messerschmidt..." or "32 year old cellist, Diane Walton..." or "75 year old tightrope walker, Gloria Wanker..." never "31 year old mother of one...". That's just not sexed up enough. Well, maybe this could still be my year, anyway.

Oh, so a few days ago something popped into my mind that I haven't thought about in millions and millions of years. A stupid and highly sexed little game we used to play in high school called "Honey I love you would you please, please smile." The game is innocent enough, where one person tries to make another person smile. It goes something like this, I would pick a purposely dour looking male friend and I would drape myself over him and say "Honey, I love you, would you please, please smile?". Then this friend would have to say "I love you honey, but I just can't smile" three times over without smiling. This is done in the presence of as many people as is possible to fit in your basement or rec room. You can play this game in front of your parents. You can be naughty but the parents can still pretend that you didn't know exactly what you were up to because everyone's clothes are still on. Of course, it can get as risque as you want if the parents are gone, I suppose, but I hung out with some really sweet and respectful fellas that never pressed the issue too much (now that I think about it). I really, really loved those guys. Poor fellas, having to put up with this little tease. If I remember correctly (and I frequently do NOT remember correctly) the first time I played this game was at a cast party in the presence of some parents and a teacher. What kind of sick, sadistic mind allows revved up adolescents to play such a game? I suppose they were expecting us to be goofy and act like monkeys or some such nonsense? Delusional. Come to think of it, I was damn lucky that I hung out with such decent human beings because I could have gotten myself into some seriously ugly situations. I owe each and every one of them a Christmas card...

Sullivan and I made a gingerbread house this afternoon. He named it "Housey" and cried when I told him that he could NOT bring the gingerbread house into bed with him. He eventually accepted his fate, set it on the table by his bed, kissed it and gave it a gentle hug before he had an intense game of Syndrome and the Omnidroid kicking the shit out of Mr. Incredible. Yup, my kid rocks.

Send me good Birthday love for tomorrow.