Have Yourself a Manic Little Christmas

Between work (argh), Christmas shopping (online), passing off my rugby obligations to other suckers teammates, working out and everything else that wants a little bit of my time for the next couple of weeks, expect my blogging to be light.

Anyway, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all of you.

!@#$%$#@!

I just had my evaluation at work.

I wasn't fired.

That was the only good thing about it.

I am so fucked.

Have Yourself a Creepy Little Christmas

Okay, this may have finally put me in the holiday spirit.

Other Than That Mrs. Lincoln . . .

For those of you who know what was planned for this weekend, it went okay. It was one of the worst things I've ever had to do, I used up all of my Valium, and I think I worked off a little of my time in Purgatory.

Other than that, the weekend was fine.

And that is the last I will mention on the subject.

My birthday was delightful, except that I had to work. Whenever possible, I avoid going to work on the big day. Mostly, because I don't want people to make a fuss. Also, there is a little of that 'one year older and I've done nothing with my life' funk.

I was taken out to lunch by some friends from work. One of them told the waiter that it was my birthday, so I got a very operatic version of the birthday song (it was an Italian restaurant). Not as horribly humiliating as I would have thought.

Dinner was great! I did my traditional steak dinner at Steak Frites. The group was a little smaller than intended, but not by much. The guys from Out of Bounds were there (my fellow board members) and some of the bloggers (Frank, Wayne and MzOuiser). It was a very good mix of people. Good food, good wine, good conversation, good friends. Who could ask for a better birthday?

Though, if any of the people who couldn't make it to the dinner want to take me out for drinks this weekend, I won't protest.

Gah!

Only a couple more weeks before I can put this year behind me.

Feliz Cumpleanos

Most of you are already in the know, but for those of you who aren't, today is Famous Author Rob Byrnes' birthday.

Now, no one is really sure how old FARB is. Some people claim that he is a young-looking 56 years old. Others claim that he's an old-looking 36. Perhaps the truth lies somewhere in between. Personally, I'm pretty sure I saw him in one of Matthew Brady's photographs, handing a martini to Abe Lincoln.

Regardless, as long as he can feast on the blood of the young and innocent to keep decrepitude at bay, Famous Author Rob Byrnes will be around for many more years.

Of course, living in New York, finding youth and innocence might be kind of hard. Better buy him a drink while you can.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Byrnes.

It's also Brock Simpson's 36th birthday. I'm pretty sure Rob used to babysit for him.

Old Movies

Tonight I watched Willie Wonka which is still amazing after thirty some years. Then I watched You Can't Take It With You and Destry Rides Again (which was pretty much the basis for a lot of Mel Brooks' Blazing Saddles).

Great stuff.

Where You At?

Assuming that I can marshall the visiting blogger boys, we will be meeting tonight at Marie's Crisis on Grove St. about 6-ish.

This weekend has been a lot of fun. But I'm tired.

I'm Going to be a Star

I received the following announcement in an e-mail this afternoon. Since I don't fit the description of the character, but the e-mail was sent to me, I can only assume that the casting director was unable to find the right actor for the role and is offering it to me. I'm very flattered and really glad I've ridden a horse before.

WE ARE CURRENTLY CONDUCTING A SEARCH FOR A VERY SPECIAL 14-16 YEAR OLD GIRL FOR THE FEATURE FILM 'MY FRIEND FLICKA' A 20TH CENTURY FOX FILM, BASED THE ORIGINAL NOVEL BY MARY O'HARA. WE ARE LOOKING FOR THE FOLLOWING:

KATY MCLAUGHLIN - AN ATHLETIC 14-16 YEAR OLD GIRL, A DREAMER, WHO SHOWS SIGNS OF THE GREAT BEAUTY SHE WILL ONE DAY BECOME. LIKE HER FATHER, SHE IS STUBBORN TO A FAULT. THE ONE LOVE IN HER LIFE IS HORSES, AND ALL SHE LONGS FOR IS TO HAVE A COLT OF HER OWN. IT IS HER DRIVING PASSION TO ACHIEVE THIS GOAL THAT CAUSES HER TO COMPLETELY NEGLECT HER SCHOOLWORK AND THE DAILY CHORES OF RUNNING A RANCH.

EXPERIENCED HORSEBACK RIDERS ENCOURAGED.

I hope they don't think I'm shaving my beard for this.

Dracula is Coming to Town

David just posted his take on a famous Christmas tune. I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon myself. But I have bad depth perception, missed the bandwagon entirely and ended up skinning my knee. So I decided to just write some lyrics.

Ahem . . . Mi mi mi mi mi . . . .

You better watch out
You're going to die
And lose all your blood
I'm telling you why
Dracula is coming to town

He's got pointy teeth
He sharpened them twice
And since he's undead
His skin is like ice
Dracula is coming to town

He'll get you while you're sleeping
Or while you're wide awake
So keep that crucifix at hand
Don't forget your wooden stake

Oh, you better watch out
You're going to die
And lose all your blood
I'm telling you why
Dracula is coming to town

Here, gentle reader, is a question. Why is it that so many scary creatures seem to have trisyllabic names? Lucifer, Dracula, Frankenstein, Santa Claus, Ann Coulter, Madonna, Zell Miller . . . see what I mean?

Can you think of any others?

Crash Wrangling

Some notes to those of you stupid horny drunk desperate lonely blind psychotic discerning enough to try to hit on me at a social event:

1) Don't assume that I will understand that "Could you grab a drink for me" means anything other than you are thirsty and I'm already in line. I'm not very good with subtext. If you think I am datable/fuckable/too drunk to put up much of a fight, then just say so. But understand that if you say so, my instinct is to flee.

2) Strangers who smile and act friendly confuse me and make me nervous. My instinct is to flee.

3) I have some . . . um, self-esteem issues. Don't call me cute, hot, sexy or anything like that. When I look in a mirror, all I see is Jabba the Hutt's ugly older brother. Do I really look like that? No. But that's what body dysmorphia is all about. This is also the reason I hate looking in mirrors and being photographed. If you say I'm cute or whatever, my instinct is to flee.

So what have we learned?

Crash is kinda fucked up and he spends a lot of time fleeing.

The reason I bring this up is that someone hit on me last night at Blades Against AIDS. Of course, I didn't really grok* that he was doing this until half an hour later when he was leaving and asked for my phone number. Then I got all freaked out.

This is why I don't have a boyfriend.



*Actually, the fact that I use the word "grok" and expect people to catch the reference is why I don't have a boyfriend. Maybe I should go to more Sci-Fi conventions.

I'm Back

I'm back from my Thanksgiving vacation. All in all a nice time, but I wish I hadn't eaten so damn much.

I arrived at my apartment to discover a few birthday presents waiting for me. Very cool. I wish that happened every time I came back from a trip.

Not too much planned for this week, thank goodness. Tonight I'm going to Blades Against AIDS, a charity event that is part of World AIDS Day. While I probably won't actually strap on a pair of ice skates, I will avail myself of the open bar.

Open bar . . . mmmmmm.

Anyway, it should be a good time. The hockey boys are always fun to hang with.

This weekend is the invasion of the non-NYC bloggers. Hot Toddy, the Executive, the Traveling Spotlight, Tuna Girl . . . maybe others. Damn, I wish I had a better memory. Anyway, lots of fun to be had.