I wish there was a little music note icon that I could use here...but since there's not (at least, not to my knowledge) please just sing the title to the tune of Monty Python's "Spam" song.
I say mention this after checking the junk mail folder of my hotmail account. While hotmail has been increasingly better about filtering trashy emails, I still see quite a few from spammers with ingenious names such as
big:di:ck and
bigger:man. Of course they are trying to sell me organ (not the musical intstrument this time, guys) enhancers...but can't they see one simple problem: I'M NOT A GUY. Therefore, their product will not help me. Not no way, not no how.
Anywho.
Tis the season and finally, since we put up some lights outdoors today, I'm beginning to feel a bit more in the seasonal spirit. Or maybe it's because we just got done watching "A Very Brady Christmas." Hokey show, but for anyone who watched the Brady Bunch growing up, you'll appreciate the familiar humor.
So the outdoor lights are up. The inside decorations are still to be, but hopefully that'll be taken care of this weekend. Then there are Xmas cookies to bake and holiday cards to fill out and of course, shopping to do. This is one thing I don't especially like taking care of this time of year. Of course it has to be done...and I do love giving gifts. I just hate shopping for them. It isn't so bad if I know exactly what I want to pick out, and can just run in the store, grab the item(s), and run right out. Problem is you can't do that now. There are so many people in ALL the stores--malls (mauls)--on the road--and everywhere else. Nothing is simple.
Kids are sitting on Santa's lap and screaming. Blends perfectly with the holiday carols blaring mercilessly through the speaker system.
Women are leading their significant others thorugh the aisles, and the men are carrying gigantic boxed items in their arms. They are too manly to pick out a shopping cart and insist on toting everything themselves. It's a good workout, they say, smiling fondly at their puny biceps. Problem is, they can't see where they're going and end up running into carefully stacked store displays as well as other people. The girlfriend, or wife, whatever the situation warrants, is so excited about grabbing another item off the shelf that's just
perfect for Uncle Jimmy that she forgets to give her man directions. Hence the subsequent crash into the Planter's holiday peanut display, and the crap all over the floor, and the bruises other shoppers wind up wearing when they step on a stray peanut and end up, #&& first, on the floor.
Malls play the same 10 holdiay tunes over and over and over. Not so bad for us mere shoppers, but for the store employees, well that's a different story. (I used to work at Famous Barr. I know.) Their eyes glaze over and they turn to the inquisitive shopper with a crazed(and frankly, quite frightening)look. They've lost their sanity and they really don't care to help you out at all. They just want you gone. They hate Christmas. And who can blame them?
Ok, so I sound like the biggest Scrooge in the world. Please note that I don't really hate Christmas. I quite like it, actually. I just fear public places this time of year. So, I think I'll stay home tonight, boil up a bit of hot chocolate, and put up the tree with my husband.
Cozy Saturday, eh?
