Retail Therapy

Well, Northwest Airlines lost our luggage, and all of our Christmas presents, and judging by the efforts of the rinky dink airport, we won’t be seeing it for quite some time. And the Thomas Pink shirt I was hoping for never materialized under the tree. I got to hear all about one of Erik’s relatives pagan religions, and let me just say that it’s not her freakish religious ideas that made me hate her, it was her making fun of one of the sacred two hours of television history, known as the Dawson’s/Felicity 2 hours of wonderfullness that is remembered in our house as a special time the likes of which has never been seen again.

I am attempting to make myself feel better by ordering shoes and Banana Republic shirts online. So far it’s working! Yeah!

In other news, I started adding up what the airlines would have to reimburse me, if they never find my luggage, and in makeup alone they would owe me $375 dollars. Jesus, that is terrible. Time to do some more shopping.

Merry Christmas to all.


Time until work ends for the year, YEAH!: 30 minutes

Days until Christmas bullshit is over for another 9 months: 2

Hours until Northwest Airlines forces me to self medicate with a steady supply of Vodka: 5

Hours until Mr. E’s mom asks when we’re having a baby: 7

Days until I am sitting on the beach pretending I live in California and will never have to leave: 6

I’ve got my eyes on the prize. It’s so close!

God’s got a sick sense of humor

I once had a roommate in college who was so obsessed with Depeche Mode that she stole Dave Gahan’s mail. And she went back home to LA every time he had to go to court for shit, like getting caught doing speed balls in the bathroom of the Viper Room or whatever else cliched rocker shit he did.

This was the same roommate that said “I wear black on the outside when I feel black on the inside” and when the episode of Party of Five came on where they gave Bailey an intervention for being a boozehound, she went and sat outside in the dark listening to Depeche Mode for like, five hours. Her ex boyfriend had some issues, apparently. We all laughed at her, because we were bitches.

Sister, Sisters

Last night Mr. E finally got home from his epic trip to San Francisco. It was nice to have him back. We were sitting around doing nothing, as we are wont to do, when he divulged the shocking fact that he had never seen White Christmas before. How he has lived all these years without seeing THE BEST CHRISTMAS MOVIE EVER I am not sure, but I rectified that fact last night. Damn, I love that movie. When Bing Crosby and his partner who’s name I can’t remember do the Sisters dance with the blue feathered fans and the little sparkly stars on their forehead I started grinning maniacally and I felt happier than I have in months. I think I love that movie only slightly less than my mom does (who got her netflix copy on the SAME DAY I got mine) and my sister, who used to reenact the sisters dance with me. It made me miss them, in a sad but good way. I also love that it takes place in Vermont, at least in theory, because it reminds me of my grandmother, the number one Vermont lover of all time. Seriously, she once brought a Vermont puzzle to Christmas at our house. Shots out to Andrew for helping her put it together! It’s cool how watching one movie can make me think of three generations of women in my family, all at the same time.

In other news, I am almost done with my Christmas shopping, which has stretched on beyond the bounds of all reasonableness, considering I got started in October! Whew! Here’s my Christmas list, which I am posting here to reassure myself that I did indeed get enough presents for everyone, and that I need to quit FREAKING out about it. God.

Mom – penguin whisk broom for her whisk broom collection, I can’t believe I even just typed that, socks from Mr. E (annual Xmas tradition), orange pashmina finally arrived today from Hong Kong and nessitated much too much post office line waiting to retrieve, star candlesticks (annual traditional holiday gift #2), excellent book I have been telling her about, she has been asking me about, and then forgetting about until she asks me about it again, about living in Nebraska, called The Quality of Life Report. I hope it makes her realize how much it sucks here so she can shut up about how I should shut up about living in Nebraska. And a dirty apron from Italy, which is a total regift.

Peter – metroplane graters, which are so awesome anyone would love them, a matching dirty apron, and a book about baseball.

Whitney – ungrateful non present giving shit, is getting William Shatner’s new CD, and the DVD of “spock’s brain” . He was getting vintage cuff links until he pissed me off, and anyway they haven’t come yet, so even if I wanted to give them to him I couldn’t.

My cousin Jessica – secret present as she may be reading this.

I got Mr. E’s sister in the name drawing this year – she’s getting a Coach mini skinny, color black, which I think would be very useful for the many many bars she goes to, as she just turned 21, and she’s also getting a purse I made her, very nice I must say, and a framed pic that I am giving all the girls and Mr. E’s mom, of the four of us ladies.

Mr E.’s sister in law is the other person we got in the name thing, and even though Mr. E got her name, he didn’t do anything to help acquire this gift. I’m just saying. Anyway, she’s getting a purse I made, which I am nervous about as I am not sure I get her taste, but I thought it was cute and the colors all matched, and an Ann Taylor leather jewelry box, and the picture, framed. I am bitter about her because there was an awesome cashmere wrap on sale at Ann Taylor in HER color, on sale for CHEAP, did I mention it was on sale? I was eyeing it as perfect for her, but didn’t buy it in case we didn’t draw her name, and of course it sold out the day before we drew her name. next time I will insist on buying such items, and then I will not draw the persons name, and i will have a nice cashmere wrap for myself.

Other cousin – banana republic purse

Other cousin who no one could figure out what to get – my idiot brother ordered her a remote controlled blimp. I had nothing to do with it. Note that it was $70 dollars and I didn’t even care because it meant I would not have to go out and figure out what to buy her. It was also pretty awesome when I got an email from her mom asking if I knew anything about a remote controlled flying balloon her daughter had gotten in the mail.

My lovely sistah – Romance perfume (romance as a vague idea of all that is beauteous and wonderful in the world is one of her her all time favorite concepts. She once described her favorite car “a red toyota pickup” as “vewy womantic”. And the first three books in the Unfortunate Events series. As it is just now a movie, she will almost certainly read the books.

Friends S & M – white fiesta ware pitcher which S has wanted for a long time as it reminds her of my mom, whom she regards as the ultimate authority in almost everything, apparently, including white pitchers, and a little self esteem kit I made for S, including some compliment stones, the idea of which I ripped off from the Red Envelope catalog and which I have not made yet, a tampon case, for discreetly taking tampons from ones purse into the office bathroom, and which is boy knowing what you are doing proof, according to mr e, and a string bikini top, as her list of “101 in 1001” includes lying on the beach in a string bikini. All in little bags or cases made by me, I should get some pics.

Mr. E’s parents – we all chipped in to get his dad netflix for a year and to get his mom the Tiffany’s eternal circle that all the girls have.

Mr. E – this was difficult. Because we have no money and because we were going to get mini IPOD’s for each other, so I hadn’t done any work on his presents, and because his bday is four days later so I have to get him bday AND xmas presents. Remind me NOT to have my own kids be born in the last two weeks of December! Then we decided that we could not afford to shell out $500 for mini IPOD’s, and I also heard that the free IPOD thing, while a pain in the ass for which you need to know five people, is supposedly not a scam, so I might try to do that later this year. Anyway, the point is that now I am stressed out about his gifts, and think that this might not be enough stuff, but as I feel that way about everyone, I am sure to be found running around buying shitloads of crap no one wants at the mall every night this week. Regardless, Mr. E is getting the Nirvana box set, some random CD I found that I think he’ll like, a black leather kenneth cole messenger bag so he doesn’t have to bring his scrappy nylon one from the GAP to any interviews, and a stainless steel fossil watch which I love as I find them HOT on guys but which he may very well hate, and a navy blue wool sweater from J Crew, although now that i think about it I have never gotten any kind of confirmation from them and i don’t recall being charged for it, so I’m not so sure about that one.

I also plan to engineer a necklace, a scarf, and some undies being purchased for me tonight at the mall, so I thought it was only fair to include those on the list of presents.


Yes, I am Pheobe Cates in this scenario.

Every year we try to get together, somewhere on the globe, with all of our old friends for New Year’s. As awesome as it is to see everyone, nothing is more of a pain in the ass than trying to get a shitload of people to agree on doing one thing, even for just one night. This year it seems like more than ever everyone has their own agenda. We’re meeting up in San Francisco, and people want to go to Alcatraz and Muir Woods and crappy ass Sausalito. To which I say “meeehhhh, not so much, thank you.” It’s just like in that movie “Shag”. One girl wants to marry a rich senator, and one girl wants to win the Shag contest, and one girl will do anything in her power to get away from home and make it in Hollywood. Then there’s the girl who just wants to stay home, and hang out with her friends, and make out with a cute boy on someone else’s yacht. That’s me, this New Year’s. My whole agenda can be summed up in these final words I leave you, from, of course, “Shag the Movie”:

“This was our last weekend together, and we didn’t feel like going to Fort Sumter and touring goddamn colonial homes! We wanted to go to the beach! And meet boys! And go to wild parties! And dance!”

There’s something so satisfying about any quote that ends in “And dance!” I hope that if I gaze misty eyed over my right shoulder and dramatically utter “And Dance!” enough times, we will indeed end up dancing on New Year’s, instead of sitting around the Playstation swilling Alize.

Got the stupid Christmas cards out, so now it’s time to stress about my New Year’s Outfit!

I am so specific when it comes to clothes, I always have these preconceived notions in my head of what to wear, and I can never find anything that matches my vision. Until a year later, when it’s all over the place. I should totally be a fashion designer.

Anyway, I either want to wear some winter white tuxedo pants, like these:

with a gold sequined spaghetti strap tank, which used to be on the J Crew website but has apparently sold out even though it was $200 dollars for a tank top for christ’s sake,

with some gold shoes? Maybe? Or maybe boots. I have throw the boots in there, because I need an excuse to go shopping for some new boots.

Or I want to wear a sassy spaghetti strap flowy dress, like this…

but not black, pink, and red dotted please.

Where will I find these imaginary clothes? On sale to fit my imaginary budget? In San Francisco, hopefully, as the backup options I will be packing with me just in case are looking bleak.

All I know is that I don’t want to spend this New Year’s looking NICE, in a safe little black strapless something or other from Bland Taylor. This year I want to look HOT.

And in its assembled state…I am a bit concerned I look freakishly like Laci Peterson. It’s kind of weirding me out.  Posted by Hello