Playing By Toothpaste

There is this horrifying scene in a movie I saw once, and it scarred me. Like, forever.

It wasn't The Ring. It wasn't Dawn of the Dead. It wasn't creepy Norman Bates and his momma. It was "Playing By Heart" starring the likes of Angelina Jolie, Sean Connery, and Gillian "Scully" Anderson, among others.

First of all, the movie is b-list. It's not a straight-to-dvd movie, but it was probably close. It's not high quality, is all I'm saying. In the movie, there are all of these separate plotlines about different romances, and as the movie goes on you see how all of these characters all know each other. Sort of a "Sidewalks of New York" idea.

One of the couples is Scully and Jon Stewart. Yes, that Jon Stewart. Don't go out and rent the movie if you are a Daily Show fan (me), and have a teensy crush on Jon Stewart (me again). First of all, it's embarrassing to see the man we all know to be so smart and funny and smart and smart and funny sitting right in the middle of this dumbass movie. He's just so... better than that. You don't deserve to see him that way. And second of all, he is in The Horrifying Scene. The one that scarred me.

I don't even remember the plot line. I don't remember anything but the awful scene. He and Scully, there are in wedded bliss in their apartment. Or shacked up bliss. Something like that. And Scully is brushing her teeth. Not fake brushing her teeth, the likes of which you see in tv and movies, where there is no actual toothpaste involved and it looks all pretty. She is actually brushing her teeth. With white, frothy, saliva-activated toothpaste. And Jon, my lovely Jon, swoops in and takes her in his arms, and they kisss. Like, he just laps up the toothpaste spilling out of her mouth, and they smooch it up.

THE HORROR.

Nordic Boy and I, we have been together for a long time. And we make out quite a bit. More than is really necessary, really. But in all the times we have kissed, we don't let our toothpaste, our IN USE toothpaste, touch each other in any way. Because, gross, right? Isn't that gross?

If I am wrong about this, and you all are sharing toothpaste in this way, please do not tell me. I want to believe this is not acceptable behavior.

So this weekend, I was brushing my teeth (and no, don't worry, I am not about to tell you a story where I saw the light and actually thought it was fine to kiss this way. I wouldn't do that to you). And while I was doing so, I look to the side (where the door is open into the hallway). Nordic Boy is walking back and forth in front of the door. First, he walks by in a "Walk Like an Egyptian" sort of dance. Next, he kicks by, like he has a top hat and is marching off a vaudeville stage. Next, he does an MC Hammer scoot by. Next, he booty-bops by, swinging an invisible pretend weave, and singing "to the left, to the left," like Beyonce. And so on. Each one weirder than the last. Finally, he stays in the hallway, and just peeks his head around the corner with a weird bug-eyed, smiling Carol Channing face and sings "Jeepers, Creepers, where'd you get those eyessssss!"

To which I answered by taking my toothbrush out of my mouth, bursting into laughter, and SPRAYING HIS ENTIRE FACE WITH TOOTHPASTE.

It was brutal. I didn't mean to do it, I swear. But the more he did crazy walks past the door, the more I wanted to laugh, but the more I thought I could hold it in until I was done. Bad call. Very bad call.

Some performers get tomatoes thrown at them. But this? This is unprecedented I am sure. The toothpaste spit-take. Onto the person I love most in the world, who is just trying to cheer up my day.

So as much as "Playing By Heart" has made me think about how I would never let my used toothpaste touch anyone else, ever, I have indeed sunk that low. Not cool, LG. Not even cool.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

"Memes, Madam! I Know Not Memes!"

So, I'm sorry this whole blog thing has fallen to shite for the past coupla weeks. Let's just leave it at that, ok, and not have to have an awkward Ross-and-Rachel-I-was-on-a-break conversation about why posting more often was just not working for me and how I cannot always fulfill my blog's needs. Every day for two weeks, the blog would look at me with desire. And I was all not tonight, honey, I have a headache. And then the blog would say something like pleasebabybabyplease and I would say I don't like it when you're all clingy and then the blog would say I'm waiting for you, every day and you are letting me down, and I would say dang you, I gots to hang with my girls sometimes, and then I gave the blog an icy stare and it crossed its arms at me.

But, we are all good now, mending fences with each other, so we don't have to keep playing these mind games.

Here's a little meme action for your pleasure, which was tagged at me (tagged to me? tagged for me?) by one of you all somewhere some time ago and I am all shame-shame to admit I can't remember who it was. That's right, I am not only going to not post for two weeks, but when I do, I am going to get all memey on you. HOW LAZY CAN I GET?

I am not usually very good at memes because I start to get all ornery about how the questions are formulated and I am not so hot with succint meme-like answers because I am Lady Blabs-A-Lot, so bear with me. You didn't think that meme-answering was a thing one could suck at, did you? It is not exactly a skill-based activity, after all. However, I suck at many things that require little to no skill. Kickball, for instance. Also, eating lunch is difficult for me. And Hungry Hungry Hippos.

Anyhoo. Here we go. My attempt at memery.

1. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

Not to start off all Pollyanna, but why are we starting off with murdering someone? Is this really necessary? Chill out, dude. It's so not worth it.

2. You can flip a switch that will wipe any band or musical artist out of existence. Who will it be?

This whole meme better not be about killing people. I'm trying to play along but I really can't think of an artist I hate that much. The most I can muster up is just a mild disdain. Like...Heidi Montag. Who did attempt a recording career, yes? Or did I just dream that?

3. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

Wow, so now we're not killing people, we are just hitting them. Emily Post didn't write this meme, that's for damn sure. I haven't been able to answer these questions very well so far, but this one, I think I can do. Bill O'Reilly kind of makes me go there. The librarian does not like Papa Bear.

4. What is your favorite cheese?
Dean Martin.

5. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your immediate disposal. What kind of sandwich will you eat?

I swear I am not trying to be difficult, but the truth is I'm not a big sandwich eater. I tend to like a nice slice of avocado on a sandwich though. And spicy mustard. Is that good enough?

Jeezy Creezy, I suck at this.

6. You have the opportunity to sleep with the movie celebrity of your choice. We are talking no-strings-attached sex and it can only happen once. Who is the lucky celebrity of your choice?

Celebrities honestly don't do it for me, for the most part. Like Brad Pitt and George Clooney I find completely repulsive. A young Gregory Peck (who doesn't find Atticus Finch sexy?), maybe. So, yeah, I don't know.

7. You have the opportunity to sleep with the music celebrity of your choice, who will it be?
I'm not getting burned on that deal again. Band boys are the devil and I have a strict policy of not touching them ANY MORE.

8. Now that you've slept with two people in a row, you seem to be having an excellent day because you just came across a hundred-dollar bill on the sidewalk. What do you buy?
Yay! A question I can definitively answer! Clothes, without a doubt.

9. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?
Home to see my folks. Not glamorous, but it's true.

10. An angel appears out of heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the beverage of your choice. It is?
A beverage angel? Really? Water is my favorite beverage. Then I am partial to fresh squeezed juices. What a square.

11. Rufus appears out of nowhere with a time-traveling phone booth. You can go anywhere in the PAST. Where do you go?
Rufus? Like Chaka Khan Rufus? Or Gossip Girl Rufus? Or Wainwright, Rufus? (Yes, yes, I know it's Bill & Ted's Rufus, I just wanted to list all the Rufuses I could think of). I'd like to go and spend some time with my parents in Fiji when they were young and had just met and were rocking the hizzouse.

12. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?
No alarm clocks.

13. You have been given the opportunity to create the half-hour TV show of your own design. What is it?
I want the old variety show to come back. Like Donny and Marie, Sonny and Cher, Carol Burnett, Laugh-In, The Smothers Brothers, Ed Sullivan. God I am old.

14. What is your favorite curse word?
I love all the cusses like they are my own children.

15. One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren't really doing anything, what do you do?
Freak the fuck OUT. Obviously.

16. Your house is on fire! What do you do?
Get Nordic Boy and me out of there? Again, obviously.

17. The Angel of Death has descended upon you. Fortunately, the Angel of Death is pretty cool and in a good mood, and it offers you a half-hour to do whatever you want before you bite it. Whatcha gonna do in that half-hour?
Hold onto my honey, I'm not gonna lie. And also, ask the Angel of Death if he's related to the Beverage Angel and how the Angel duties get doled out like that.

18. You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What super-power is it?
I hate it when I accidentally eat radioactive vegetables. I always thought Magneto was really cool, but I don't really feel like I'll need to manipulate metal with my mind in my daily life. I mean, really. What am I going to do? Go to work and staple papers together with my mind? So maybe...accelerated healing would be good.

19. You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?
Some sort of dance highlight, I think.

20. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?
Yeah, I don't really want to say. Who put this depressing shit in the meme?

21. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check this out you can move anywhere. Where are you going?
I kind of love where I live now. But if I am kicked out of the US, I would go to New Zealand where lots of my family are living now.

22. This question still counts, even for those of you who are under age, if you were banned from every bar in the world except one, which one would it be?
I so could not care less.

23. Hopefully you didn't mention this in the super-powers question... If you did, then we'll just expound on that. Check it out… Suddenly, you have gained the ability to fly! Whose house are you going to fly to first, and be like "Check it out I can FLY!?"
BioGirl's. Although I have given her crazy news in the past and it has caused her to run away from me and shut herself into the bathroom for a few minutes. If I could fly, she might might never come out, so maybe not.

24. The constant absorption of magical moon beams mixed with the radioactive vegetables you consumed earlier has given you the ability to resurrect the dead famous person of your choice. So which celebrity will you bring back to life?
Mr. Rogers.

Since I've Been Gone

Two weeks of no blogging? Are you kidding me?

Here's the excuse: much of that time, I was visiting my folks back in Michigan. As they live over the border of the Digital Divide, I usually make trips to the local library to get my blog fix while I am there, or at the very least ask a friend to blog sit for me and write up something guesty. This time, I didn't do a damn thing. I just up and left without a word, like the ungrateful heifer I am.

The heifer is back! Woot! Can I get a whut-whut??

...How about just a single whut?

Anyone out there?

***

Ah well, serves me right.

Rather than going into lots o' deets about the trip, I shall summarize it all with some lists. Because you know I love me some lists.

List of Books on My Childhood Bedroom Bookshelf
(Alternate Title: Why I Was A Teen Weirdo)
1. The Pistachio Prescription, by Paula Danziger
2. Comparative Economic Systems: Models and Cases
3. Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass
4. The Thorn Birds, by Colleen McCullough
5. Death of a Salesman, by Arthur Miller
6. Waiting for the Barbarians, by J.M. Coetzee
7. Pretty In Pink, movie novelization
8. The Cherry Orchard, by Anton Chekhov
9. Anne of Avonlea, by L.M. Montgomery
10. Jacob Have I Loved, by Katherine Paterson
11. Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte
12. Dracula, by Bram Stoker
13. Betty and Veronica Double Digest
14. The Color Purple, by Alice Walker
15. The Art of Making Dances, by Doris Humphrey
16. Maggie Adams, Dancer, by Karen Strickler Dean
17. The Great Wall of China, by Franz Kafka
18. Staying Alive movie novelization
19. One Brief Sweet Hour (a Harlequin Romance)
20. North and South, by John Jakes
22. The Second Sex, by Simone de Beauvoir
23. The Shy Ones, by Lynn Hall




Homemade things I stuffed in my gaping maw this past fortnight...(thanks, mom)

1. Cinnamon rolls
2. Blueberry muffins
3. Curried black eyed peas and potatoes
4. Fiji-style cabbage curry
5. Okra masala
6. Hummus
7. Baba ghanoush
8. Spinach pie
9. Tabbouli
10. Falafel
11. Veggie calzone
12. Dahl with dried mango strips
13. Breaded mozzarella sticks (ok this one wasn't homemade)
14. Chicago style pizza (that one either)
15. Stuffed grape leaves
16. Banana bread
17. Currant scones
18. Raspberry trifle
19. Lemon bundt cake
20. Veggie samosas
21. Baked eggplant
22. Sauteed spicy spinach
23. Rice pilaf (three varieties)
24. Avocado salad
25. Portobello mushroom sandwich
26. Sesame ginger stir fry
27. Channa masala
28. Cassava and tomato stew
29. Apple pie
30. Gallons and gallons of tea

Things Nordic Boy Fixed At My Parents' House
1. Re-tiled the floor in the laundry room and entry.
2. Replaced old parts in the furnace.
3. Replaced old parts in the de-humidifier.
4. Repaired a leaky sink.
5. Fixed a breadmaker.
6. Fixed creaks in the floor.
7. Fixed sticky windows that wouldn't open properly.

Things I Do Not Miss about My Hometown
1. The potholes. HOLY JEEZUS. I don't think I can even call them potholes. The roads where my parents live are like cement streets that have been walked on by Gojeera and Mothra. They are just big huge cracks filled in with large pieces of rubble. It is not even right.
2. The lack of basic things you would think an American town would have. Like ditches with drainage. It is really not cool, people. Shouldn't tax-paying people have yards that are not buried in muck, rather than shit that looks like this?

3. Trash. There is trash all over the place. It's sad.

So basically my message here is that if you live in a depressed town, shit just don't work. Like, infrastructure that should work, just doesn't. And it makes me kind of crazy and mad.

Things I Do Miss about My Hometown
1. The friendly people. People are so nice there, it's weird. All the warmth is like, overwhelming.
2. The pretty, flat grasslands. Makes me want to run around and fall down like Carrie Ingalls.
3. Huge, puffy white clouds in deep blue skies. We don't have those in Seattle.
4. Big factories. I know it's odd, but seeing a big smokestack makes me feel right at home.
5. My folks. Really, my parents rock, ya'll. They really, really do.

iCrochety

Oops, did I just take a week off from blogland? Why I believe I did. Lookee that.

This week Nordic Boy bullied me into getting an iPhone. Maybe bullied is the wrong word. More like nagged me into getting one. Boohoo, poor me, right? He has been at me to get one for about a year and this week I finally caved. You may be asking yourself why I need to be nagged into getting something as nice and coveted as an iPhone. And the answer to that is the fact that, contrary to what it may seem like, in my heart of hearts I am what is commonly referred to as a Cheap Bastard. Maybe it's all that free stuff in libraryland, but paying for stuff really sucks the big one in my book and given the choice I am Squeezy McTightwad. Also, I am big on cell phone etiquette (also due in large part to what I see in libraryland) and the people who can't stop looking at their effin' phones are weird, and the mesmerizing powers of iPhones just raise the phone-love exponentially, and I am scared of becoming one of those people. When I am talking to you, I will not answer my cell phone or simultaneously text someone else, unless it really truly can't wait, and then I will say "I'm sorry, excuse me" and use my phone quickly. Cuz just talking on it and texting and checking it and stroking it and loving it in front of someone that you are supposed to be interacting with in person and doing that as a matter of course is way rude. When did acting that way stop being a rude thing to do?

Ha ha, I am cracking myself up. I am so GET OFF MY LAWN YOU STINKING CELL PHONERS! I need to practice shaking my fist at people to complete the crotchety picture.

My fist that is holding my iPhone, that is. My shiny, shiny iPhone.

Another highlight of my week was going over to Hopscotch and Rambo's house to play board games. We played Catchphrase, which I had never played before, but gave me all kinds of agida because it has this beeping siren thing that beeps at you very loudly the whole time you are playing and the beeping grows faster and faster as your time runs out and I was just waiting for something to blow up because that beeping was a pre-blow-up sound if ever I heard one. Which I guess I haven't. Heard one, that is.

We also played Loaded Questions, which was very difficult. The game goes like this- one person asks a question to the others (for example "who would play you if there was a movie made about your life?") and everyone else writes their answer down, and then the question-asker has to guess whose answer was whose. This game proved rather difficult, as apparently the four of us share a brain. We kept answering questions quite similarly, or even the exact same, making it kind of pointless to try and distinguish between the answers.

Most of the time, that is. Let's recreate a round and you can try and guess who said what. Ready? Ok.

Question: If you found $50 on the street, and you had to spend it immediately, what would you buy?

Answers given by Hopscoth, Nordic Boy, and me, in RANDOM ORDER:

Clothes, clothes, and insulation.

I'll give you a moment to contemplate that before you guess.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Mom Morph

As you get older, you may start to realize that there are things about you that are starting to resemble your parents. Like, for me, my sneezes are getting more and more overpowering. This is scary to me because both of my parents have sneezes that can bring a brick house down. When my dad sneezes, people are concerned for him. He is a slightly built man, but the sound that comes out of him when he sneezes is like a lion on a megaphone. My mom's is loud too. Like, it might hurt your ears if you were standing too close. My sneeze, so far, is not in ear-drum-blowing territory yet, but each year, my honker sneezes a little bit louder, and I am not ashamed to tell you that I am terrified of becoming a combo Disney Dwarf/Spice Girl hybrid named Scary Sneezy Spice.

In related news, did I ever tell you about Nordic Boy's propensity, (well, it's seldom, but it does happen every so often) to scream bloody murder at the tv screen? Let me tell you it is HIGH-LARIOUS. My theory is that he has a very specific gene sequence in his DNA that causes him to do this. To quote Will I Am, he got it from his momma. I love Nordic Boy's mom. She is gregarious, energetic, the life of the goldarn party. She is one of these people that you don't have to say a word to the whole time you are around her, because she is so vivacious and full of life and stories and jokes that she will just entertain you like a high energy vaudeville act until the sun comes up. No lie, she is a performer at heart- give her an audience and watch her go. I love it. Still, when you meet her, and you meet Nordic Boy, it's truly hard to see where the heck he even came from because there is not a lot about them that is alike. Nordic Boy will not tap dance for you, figuratively or literally. Will not happen. He is not one to make a scene about anything, whereas his mom has a spotlight magnet hidden in her purse at all times. There are many other ways they seem quite opposite, not just temperament, and I shall spare you the list because it would take all day but you get the picture.

One thing Nordic Boy's momma does is she yells at the tv. Tv is a two-way conversation as far as she is concerned and those effers on the screen more often than not need a good talking to and she will dress it up in a curse-filled bow while she is at it. Many of her comments are of a decidedly proletarian bent, where she is speaking up for the common folk who earn a living from the sweat of their brow. It is really a sight to see.

Nordic Boy doesn't yell. Like, ever. I don't think I have ever seen him yell and I have known him for eons. It's just not in him to do so. First of all he doesn't have much of a temper to begin with, so getting him to a point where he is even mad at all takes some doing. And if it does happen, yelling just does not come into the equation.

HOWEVER.

Every once in a blue moon, when we are watching tv, I SWEAR TO YOU HIS MOM POSSESSES HIM.

Last night, we were watching some economic meltdown coverage on BBC America. Everything is perfectly silent. I am typing on my laptop, and he is sitting across the room watching the show. And out of nowhere he yells out "THESE GODDAMN PEOPLE HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK THEY ARE DOING! STUPID SHITHEADS. MAYBE IF THEIR ASSES HAD EVER WORKED AN HONEST DAY IN THEIR LIVES THEY WOULD WAKE UP! BUNCHA FUCKERS! JESUS THEY NEED TO GET THIS CRAP TOGETHER!"

And then, back to silence.

I looked at him, my jaw on the floor. He looked at me, his face as shocked as mine. And then we almost peed ourselves laughing.

"My mom!" he gasped. "She's HERE."

It's in the DNA, people.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Valentine's Card

Happy early Valentine's Day, everyone!

I grew up being intensely cranky about Valentine's Day, but I am mellowing out about it in my old age. Plus this year it is sidled up right next to President's Day so you can get romantic about Grover Cleveland if you want to and double up on the holiday goodness and so how can I get cranky about that?

I think the most favoritest Valentine I ever received was one from my mom when I was in college. It was some big, large, glittery ridiculous Hallmark number (my mom loves buying gigantic cards from Hallmark) with hearts all over it and a sappy embossed Hallmark-written calligraphy poem inside about how perfect I am (my mom thinks I am way perfect, please don't try to argue this point with her) and written across the bottom in my mom's careful writing it says the following:

"'I DON'T KNOW WHY I LOVE YOU LIKE I DO.' I learned this from a commercial about spaghetti. I love you, my darling daughter, MOM"

I don't know if you have to know my mom to realize how friggin' awesome that is. Every time I look at that card I laugh and tear up all at the same time.

Oh, and in case that totally went over your head, there used to be a commercial- like for Ragu sauce or something. And there was this cheesy rendition of that song on it. And this is how my mom chose to express herself. You gotta love a lady like that.

I hope you have a loverly weekend, everyone, and that you have someone in your life that writes you kooky love cards like that.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Sit UBU, Sit. Good dog.

Is the title of this post too obscure of a pop culture reference? Even for me? Oh well. Just pretend that it makes sense.

My job, sometimes, is a simple barrage of questions, all the live long day. Questions from library patrons, questions from other staff people, questions from all sides. The current form of library job I have doesn't just have information-type questions, but it also has decision-making type questions. That I have to answer. All day. What should we do about this? How should we handle that? The something-or-other is on the fritz, do something! And I have to answer. Decisions, decisions. Which leads me to have conversations like this, on the phone, at the end of my day, when all my question-answering and decision-making powers have dried up.

Nordic Boy: I'm ordering a pizza. What do you want on it?
Me: ...
Nordic Boy: Hello?
Me: I'm here. Just...
Nordic Boy: They have a special on the Super Margherita pizza.
Me: ...
Nordic Boy: And I'll get a salad too, right?
Me:....
Nordic Boy: Or would you rather get the Tree Hugger pizza?
Me: uh...
Nordic Boy: Hello? Are you there?
Me: Yes...I...that sounds...um...I...
Nordic Boy: Oh, I see where you're at. Never mind. Come home. I got this.
Me: Ok...um...what?
Nordic Boy: Hang up.

With a week that ended like that, I spent my day off, Friday, in my pajamas. All day. I don't think I moved more than two or three times the whole day. I never do that, unless I am sick or something. I watched the entire season 1 of Family Ties (thanks, Netflix Instant Player), a few episodes of Kate and Allie ("just when you think...you're all by yourself...you're not"), and two depressing documentaries. What is more depressing? Heavy documentaries or the fact that I watched Season 1 of Family Ties and topped it off with Kate and Allie? I'll let you decide.

On Saturday, I worked. When I came home from work, my living room was cavernously empty, as Nordic Boy had donated away a bunch of our furniture in preparation of our new couch, which is an event that is so exciting that I can't quite talk about it right now. Then I spent the evening hanging out with BioGirl and Nordic Boy, and almost passing out with tiredness by 11pm. Woo hoo!

Sunday, I woke up early and watched another depressing documentary. This one was "Deliver Us from Evil," which made me cry my eyes out, which was unfortunate as I was having friends over for lunch and so they were met with bleary eyes and sniffles from me. "Hi friends, it's so good to see you....waaaahhhhhh! Oh don't mind me, I'm just an emotional wreck. I always get this way over bagels sandwiches and mini-doughnuts."

Sunday evening I went to bed with visions of the new couch that is to come dancing in my head. Did I mention how exciting this is? So exciting that I slept like ass. That's right. Over a couch.

Usually, Nordic Boy is a very heavy sleeper. His head hits the pillow and he is out. And when he wakes up in the morning, he is awake and fresh. Not me. It takes me a long time to fall asleep, and if I hear the slightest noise, I wake up, and when I wake up in the morning, it is like being ripped from the jaws of death.

Imagine my surprise when I woke up at 3am because Nordic Boy was getting up. He walked out into the living room for a minute, and then came back in.

Me: What are you doing?
Him: I just had to check and see if it's snowing.
Me: Is it?
Him: Yeah.
Me: How did you know that?
Him: I don't know. I guess I heard it.

HE HEARD IT? He heard it. A train can come through our room and he will not hear it, but snowfall? All of a sudden he's got bat ears.

Oh, and also? I AM GETTING A NEW COUCH ON MONDAY.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

All Shook Up

Oh hay, did I forget to tell you? There was an earthquake here in Seattle. Look at me, so west coast, forgetting to tell you about an earthquake.

Last summer I was at my parents house and there was a tornado warning in the area around their house. We had to go sit in the basement and listen to the radio and hope to heck that we wouldn't be swept away to Oz. And it was SO NORMAL to me. We did this on a regular basis when I was growing up, and hearing those tornado warning sirens, eerie and loud in the still, tornado-colored air (I swear there is a specific color of gray that befalls the surroundings when a tornado is on its way in Michigan) and the tornado smell. Didn't phase me at all, really. I mean, it's scary, but I'm used to that fear. If that makes any sense.

Since I have moved to Seattle, I have been in various earthquakes, and although I have never panicked or anything during one (I'm too lazy to panic), they have freaked my freak somewhat. Even the little ones. I was never one of those people that didn't notice an earthquake (you crazy Californians). If the ground is shaking, even in a not-violent way, you bet your sweet hiney I NOTICE.

But Friday morning? When Nordic Boy and I were being shaken awake at 5:30 in the morning? Not only were we not scared, we didn't even think it was an earthquake. Our windows were rattling in their frames, our roof was shaking. Rather than an earthquake, we jumped to our own individual conclusions reflecting our respective WORST NIGHTMARES.

Me: Oh my god. There's someone rattling our window! (ie a murderous killer who is going to break in and eat our brains after sawing us to bits with a machete).
Him: Oh my god. There's a squirrel that somehow got into my roof! (ie my well-insulated, newly built, tightly seamed roof that I love like the fruit of my loins.)

See how our fears differ? I am deathly afraid of Hannibal Lechter. Nordic Boy is deathly afraid of roof penetration.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Twitter Me Timbers

Ok Librarian Girl, snap out of it! For serious! You have got to start updating this dang blog more often! This is NOT EVEN COOL.

Oh hello. You seem to have stepped in whilst I was giving myself a good talking to. Pardonne moi.

You know what I am not understanding lately? Twitter. I mean, I have a Twitter account, and I use it sometimes, but really? As a concept, I just don't quite understand it. I looked at my Twitter account the other day, and it was crazy to see how many people are following me on Twitter. I am not saying this as a brag- ooh la la- I am so popular people are following me on Twitter! I'm sure just as many people are following you. But why? What are we doing? What is the point? I thought that it was maybe just a few of my friends that want to know that I am waiting for a table at a restaurant or that I am about to go for a walk or that I am on my way to Target. But no, it's hundreds of people! All wanting to know these types of things about each other.

So I have no wisdom to impart to this whole Twitter concept, nor do I have any real critique of it. I just want to say, a la Jerry Seinfeld: "Twitter. What! is the deal! with THAT?"

There are many lovely things going on in my life lately, which is a good thing because I am all done with watching Deadwood and I was afraid that the void would be too much for my poor heart to handle. But so far, I have been able, as the Deadwood folks have taught me, to "sally fuckin' forth," which hasn't been too hard because I have been filling my time with many other lovely things, like the giant tome that is the Kaufman biography of Doris Day (which doubles as a bicep strengthener). And going out to family Italian restaurants that have jazz bands and dance floors where frilly little girls twirl around to upright basses. And awesome friends that throw pie parties. (And seriously? A pie party? Why have I never thought of such a thing before? There should be all sorts of social activities that are built upon the premise of eating pies!) And my lovely gentleman friend with whom I reside bringing Dance Dance Revolution into my house to stay with us forever and give us even more of a reason to challenge each other to dance offs. As if we needed more of a reason. Plus Battlestar Galactica is back (the final cylon! that totally surprised me), and so is Lost, so never fear, the time that I spend sitting on my ass absorbing the light from the tv directly into my brain is being maintained.

The loss of Deadwood has not broken me. The confusion about Twitter just might.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Typing From Under a Blanket

It has been snowing a little bit in Seattleland this week. Again. I have lived in this town for over a decade and I have never, ever seen the white stuff fall like this. It's not a lot by my Midwestern standards. It doesn't usually even stick after it falls, really. In the grand scheme of things, it's nothing.

But, people, I am telling you, it has GOT TO STOP.

Not even because I am cold. I can handle being cold. Heck, I am cold when it is 50 degrees outside. The real reason it has to stop is because I fear I will never leave my house again if it doesn't. I have a serious case of the cozies. Give me cold weather, a full fridge, a warm house, and (the ultimate kiss of death) a whole set of Deadwood dvds to watch, and you may never see me again. Nordic Boy and I, we just sit at home. All the time. And we never want to leave. Ever. There were things that I could have done this weekend. Things I should have done. I had free tickets to a play at the Seattle Shakespeare Company. We ditched it. There was an awesome librarian crafty party, but did I go? Nope. And there was a pub night out on Sunday evening, but again, as Ronny, Bobby, Ricky, Mike, Johnny, and Ralph would sing, you got to count me ow-out. Instead, we got under a blanket, ate grilled cheese sandwiches, and watched the snow fall. And also, watch Al Swearingen and Calamity Jane cuss people out. I am convinced this is all I need out of life.

Good thing I have to get my ass to work every day. Although that has been making me want to stay home even more, because things in Libraryland have been hella ornery lately. It's weird how these things go in waves. I can go days and days without anything too dramatic happening, and then all of a sudden, one day, it's like the entire city of Seattle has decided to collectively come to the library and freak out. Everyone lately is ANGRY. And they are especially angry at librarians, because we are being all pesky by helping them find information and doing research for them and oh, what was that other thing we do? Give them FREE STUFF. I can see why that would make someone want to go ballistic. Stupid librarians.

In other news, I think Nordic Boy is kind of rubbing off on me. Ew. Not like THAT. I mean his brain. Before a meeting yesterday, I was sitting and taking some pre-meeting notes.

Lady #1: (looking at the wall, and speaking to other people around me) What is that paneling made of? It's so interesting looking.
Lady #2: I don't know. It does look nice though.
Me: (butting in and not looking up from my notebook) It's MDF.
Dude #1: What?
Me: (still writing) MDF.
Lady #2: What is MDF?
Me: Medium Density Fiberboard.
Dude #1: What's that?
Me: (still writing) It's made from like, broken down wood fibers, and resin. They use heat and pressure to compress it together into sheets. Depending on the materials used, it can be pretty environmentally friendly. Unless they emit formaldehide from the binder, which some do, which is bad. But there are types that aren't toxic, and the materials used can be totally recycled, from like, recycled paper, or scraps from logging, or whatever. Or straw and bamboo, which are much more renewable.
(silence)
Me: (stopping writing, looking up, and seeing all three people staring at me).
(silence)
Me: I just...know that. Somehow.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

In Your Facebook

There are many, many things I love about Facebook. I love reconnecting with people that I haven't talked to in a long time. I love being able to see the photos of my friends and their families and trips and weddings and all. I love taking a moment out of my day to take a quiz on "Which Sweathog from Welcome Back Kotter Are You?" I love that I can Facebook Chat easily with my friends and relatives overseas. I love that it's easy to send my friends a quick message, or link, or photo, or video or whatever. I love that it's like having a high school/college reunion without, you know, actually having a high school/college reunion.

Those are the things I like about my Facebook experience. There are also things that confuse and perplex me. That's right, confuse AND perplex. Both. Not at all redundant, me.

The following are some of these.

The people from middle school who send you a friend request, and you accept, and then you say hi, and they NEVER MAKE A SOUND? I mean, what is that? Why are you friending me, oh silent one who I haven't seen since puberty? You have no interest in saying hello to me, or catching up, and yet here we are, Facebook friends. Goodie for us. This seems like the equivalent of asking me out on a date, and then sitting at the restaurant with me in silence the whole time. Which has actually happened to me, by the way. Except I was the one that didn't talk during the date. And that was only because I was so intimidated by the boy that I clammed up like I had too much Polident in my mouth. And I don't think that intimidation has anything to do with this behavior on Facebook. Regardless, it's weird.

The people who were assholes in high school who continue to be assholes as grownups...on Facebook. COME ON! This is your big chance to show us all that you have changed! That you grew out of it! That you have become a decent human being! There was this one guy, who lived in my neighborhood? And although he was nice to me growing up, he was pretty much a dick to anyone that he deemed not on his level. I recently saw that he had made a high schooly dickish remark on a fellow classmate's Facebook page. Really? Still? You're going to go there? Gross.

Braggy braggy on the Facebook page status updates. WHAT? WHY? "Jane is wondering what she is going wear to the Oscars." "Jack is having highballs at the London Ritz Carlton." Jane, I remember when you barfed all over the floor during dodgeball, and Jack, I pantsed you in 9th grade and saw your skidmarks, so talk to the hand, ok?

Ladies who, instead of an actual profile photo of themselves, just put a photo of their hand with a big diamond ring on it. To be fair, none of my Facebook friends have done this, but I have seen these on the "suggested friends" lists that I get.

In "real life," people are funny. And weird. And confusing. So too on Facebook, I suppose. At least now I know that I am 70% Vinnie Barbarino with 30% Freddie "Boom Boom" Washington mixed in. So thanks, Facebook, for that.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Obamarama

I hate to be a bore and talk about what everyone else is talking about in all media, everywhere. But yesterday was momentous, was it not? I mean come on. A bonafide Big Deal. And we lived it, all of us, together. That's right, people. Shia LaBeouf got his driver's license suspended, and we all had a front row seat.

Oh, and there was that other thing too. In Washington DC, I believe.

So here's what I have to say to you about this whole Obamarama we are involved in. I HAVE GOT TO STOP CRYING. It is serious waterworks around here, and I am not used to it. I am not a crier. I hardly ever boo hoo it up and yet there I was, 8am and getting all choked up. They should call the parties after the inauguration the Inaugural Bawls, because me, crying, yes, check.

Inauguration Day Recap, here we go.

First off, I got up at the crack of ass so I could drive Nordic Boy to pick up his rental car that he took to Portland for a biznazz trip. I was sad that we weren't going to be all Inaugural together, but I kept the pouting to myself. I did yawn at him quite aggressively though, so my feelings were not bottled up inside, in case you were concerned.

After driving him through the fog (oh my god Seattle, with the fogginess! It's enough to make me wear my Foghat!) and back home, BioGirl came over and proceeded to be confounded by my toaster/microwave combo appliance. We narrowly escaped a waffle incident, but it all turned out ok and we settled in to watch the festivities.

I have quite a few friends that attended the Inauguration in person. And you know what? I was convinced-- CONVINCED!-- that I was going to spot one of them in the crowd shots on CNN. I blame Alli's mom for this. Ever since I watched the 1996 Democratic Convention when I saw Mrs. Alli's Mom dancing the Macarena on the convention floor, I am sure I am going to see people I know in crowd shots on tv. Alas, it didn't happen this time. Still, friends, I was thinking of you. It looked COLD. And I didn't see where they could fit enough port-a-potties in that mix either. I am still waiting to hear from a lot of them and I fear that the communication silence is due to some horrible lack of Pee Booths incident. How that would cause someone to go missing, I haven't really thought through.

So the coverage. First of all, the entrances. It was like a debutante ball, wasn't it? All the dignitaries walking in and finding their seats, blahdiddy blah blah. I must be getting old because I kept looking at the politicians and thinking that they looked older than I remember. George Bush Sr? ANCIENT! I remember when he was kicking up his heels and puking on the Japanese prime minister. Ah, how time passes. On the other hand, Jimmy Carter looks spry. And when do you really have a chance to use the word "spry?" But that's what he looked like. He shoulda rubbed it in everyone else's face a little, is what I think. Dontcha wish your girlfriend was SPRY LIKE ME? And jeez louise could Cheney look any more sinister? It's like he practices looking sinister in the mirror. Instead of Tyra-style smiling with his eyes, he seems to drip scariness. That sounded gross. But then again, he kind of is gross. Then W comes in and is it just me or does he always look super duper confused? It's like he doesn't seem to know where he even is. And to change the subject to something more awesome, god bless Aretha Franklin and her milliner, whoever that may be. You know you were thinking that too. The Clintons looked nice. Oh, and the Obama daughters? Clearly are on a strict diet of Cute Juice, because sheesh. The cuteness kind of smacks you in the face a little. Michelle Obama also kind of knocks me out each time I look at her. Do you think she had fleece lining inside that dress? Because she didn't look cold, but she must have been right?

Then, Obama comes in. Could he have looked any more calm and collected? That dude is one cool customer. Perhaps inside his head he was all "ohmygodohmygodohmygod." Because wow. Talk about pressure.

Then Rick Warren spoke. Phooey on you-ey, Rick.

That song that Yo Yo Ma and Company played was really sad sounding. Me and BioGirl got all teary listening to it, in a sort of sad way. Did I mention that I am a big ass crybaby these days?

Then Chief Justice Roberts (who I can't help but think of as Dread Pirate Roberts), screwed up the oath. Talk about a whoopsie. Listen, it could have been worse. He could have accidentally said "fuckface" or something, which is a fear that I have. That I will accidentally say "fuckface" or the like at the wrong moment.

Then the speech was made. And I choked up again. WHAT THE FUCK.

And then the poem, and the final prayer, and putting Bush in his helicopter, and the parade, and the balls. I laughed every time Anderson Cooper said "each of the balls," I am not ashamed to admit this.

Plus, tonight I get to watch it all over again when Nordic Boy gets home from his trip, since he missed the whole dang thing because he was on the road. I'm sure I will be a crying freak the second time around too.



I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Happy Birthday Butchlaroy

Hello internets! I'm glad that you traveled through a series of tubes to come see me.

Today is a lovely day, you want to know why? It's the day that Nordic Boy was borned. Which, to me, is a highly important day, since if that hadn't happened things around here would be totally different in a not good sort of way.

What is there to say about Nordic Boy? So many things. Let's limit to 5.

1. Nordic Boy is like Mr. Ed, who only ever spoke to Wilbur. Or Snuffleupagus, back when only Big Bird could see him. When you first meet him, he is friendly, understated, introspective, kind of serious, and an intense listener. If you stay acquaintances with him, he will continue to be all of those things. But once he has truly befriended you, this whole other side opens up. He is, it turns out, the silliest mothereffer you would ever want to meet. To the outsider's eye, I am the zany one in this pair. But little do you know, people. I learn it all from him. Once he starts doing Supermodel impressions for you (BioGirl and Neighbor J, remember his Kathy Ireland?) you know you are truly in the circle.

2. When he was born, his mom almost named him Butchlaroy. That is pronounced like this: Butch La Roy. But spelled all as one word. Not Leroy, mind you. Laroy. Lah. Roy. I love his mom to death but I am convinced there was some sort of crack pipe involved in this story. Because really. What the hell is that? I am convinced that had that been his name, he would have grown into a very different sort of guy. God bless whatever part of her brain decided that it was a bad idea. Am I right or am I right?

3. Nordic Boy likes to put an s on proper nouns that do not have an s on the end. Like George Michaels. Or Dukes of Hazzards.

4. Nordic Boy is an awesome dancer. He is also a dancer that only dances in front of a select few people. Again, it's very Mr. Ed. He likes to make up dances, with names to go along with them. My two favorites are called "Butt Bongos" and "The Bowling Ball." I will leave you with those names and let you conjure up your own images.

5. Nordic Boy is awesome about going with me on things. Like, if I all of a sudden bust out with "YOU ARE THE SUN! YOU ARE THE RAIN! THAT MAKES MY LIFE A FOOLISH GAME!" he will not even react in any other way other than to say "YOU NEED TO KNOW! I LOVE YOU SO! AND I'D DO IT ALL AGAIN AND AGAIN!" It doesn't matter what kind of mood he is in, or I am in, or what we are doing, or even if we are in the same room. If I initiate acting like a nutjob, he will go with it. I believe this to be a pillar of our relationship.

Happy birthday to Nordic Boy. When it comes to him, I do indeed quote Lionel Ritchie. You need to know! I love you so! And I'd do it all again and again. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Mr. Bentley was TOO on Sesame Street

I have become the once-a-week-if-I'm-lucky blog lady. Whassup with that? I'll try to get it back up to two times a week, as in the glory days of yore. All you daily bloggers out there, dang. You are wondrous to behold.

So let's see, what's going on with me. Shall I list? Let's list.

1. The crazy days of snow have abated and Seattle is back to cold, cold rain and gray skies aplenty, as Jeebus intended. That's ok though because my entire life is now revolving around watching Deadwood dvds. How come nobody told me about this show? Huh? I count on you to tell me these things. I'm not going to go so far as to recommend the show, because you know, it's not for everyone. But if you are like me and enjoy good writing with a lot of creative cussing bandied about, you should watch it. This is with the caveat that it's basically a show all about filth, so be prepared for that. Those effers are naaaaasty. And I love them.

2. Are you all going to the inauguration? I feel like the whole world is going except for me. All I hear from my Facebook friends is who is going and where are they staying and when should we all meet up and la la la. On the one hand, I tell myself that being in the middle of that many people is bound to be a clusterfuck with not enough port-a-potties. On the other hand, it would be kind of cool to be there. The fear of not enough port-a-potties is enough to keep me away though. I can be flexible in many respects, but I like to know that people around me will have access to their number one-ing and two-ing in an orderly fashion. Call me crazy.

3. Am I the only one who listens/reads economic news and laughs every time someone says the phrase "ponzi scheme?" Because the word ponzi? Come on! It's like Arthur Fonzerelli and Warren Weber had a baby together. Fonzie and Potsie hybridized. Into PONZI. Am I the only person who is thinking this? Am I?

Ok, so maybe I am.

4. This happens to me a lot, this whole no one understanding why ponzi schemes sound funny. My pop culture references never seem to go anywhere with people. You ever feel that way? Like this one time, BioGirl took me to a party when she lived in California. It was at her boss's house. Her boss was a Bonafide Big Shot. And in the middle of this party, someone made some comment about how annoying it was to make air quotes whilst talking. And I said something along the lines of "ha ha, that reminds me of that Chris Farley thing on SNL where he does air quotes so much that he starts flying away. Like his air quote fingers are wings." And the whole party stopped talking to each other to stare at me. And so I began to overexplain the Chris Farley air quotes. And maybe act it out a little. Or maybe a lot. And no one knew what the hell I was talking about. And there was lots of silence, and looking at me, and me not shutting up.

5. In fact, this same thing happened to me this weekend. People were talking about spectactular falling (the likes of which was seen on New Year's Eve) and I brought up how on old skool Sesame Street, there was that falling chef guy, who would do that thing where he stood at the top of the stairs with a pyramid of some sort of baked goods on a tray and then fall down the stairs with the whole thing. This then triggered that memory of Sesame Street when Mr. Bentley from the Jeffersons would go around painting numbers on things where he wasn't supposed to. Like, a guerrilla graffiti artist. Once again, everyone looked at me like I was wearing underwear on the outside of my pants. DOES ANYONE ELSE REMEMBER MR. BENTLEY ON SESAME STREET? ANYONE?

6. It's hard to live in my head sometimes. Also, it's hard for me to remember to keep my mouth shut when I want to talk about things like Mr. Bentley on Sesame Street.

7. This list isn't really a list any more is it? It's more like me randomly numbering my insane thoughts.

8. Sit on it, Ponzie.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Our New Year is Old

Happy New Year everyone!

I know, it's kind of late for that. But I have realized that for the past month or so, I have been late. No, not that kind of late. Not lady business late- bite your tongue. I am just about a week late with everything that is going on. I have managed to meet all deadlines pretty well, but only with an overwhelming sense of "wait, WHAT?" as I am crossing those finish lines. It all started on Thanksgiving. And I have been cruising by on a 5-7 day mental delay ever since. So to me, it seems like the new year right about now.

What did you all do on your new year's? You probably already told me, but I am about a week behind on checking in on blogland. Here's what I did. On New Year's Eve, I worked. And by that time, I had just limped to the end of a week of very snowy days. I shall not bore you with why snowy days in Seattle result in extra long work days for library folk, but suffice it to say that I had worked a week where the hours, they were looooong. I did nothing but work for a week there, and I know some people live their whole lives doing nothing but work, and have no kind of downtime or fun or seeing of loved ones whatsoever, but that just ain't me so that week was way weird. And then New Years Eve rolled around and there I was, still at work. The whole thing made me want to say GOOMBYE TWO FOUSAND EIGHT as quick as humanly possible so that I could have a fresh new year with which to remember what Nordic Boy's face looked like, I hadn't seen it in so long.

On the last eve of '08 the snow had let up which meant that I was free to leave work at a reasonable hour and not think about it for the rest of the night. YEE HAW. Nordic Boy and I met up with BioGirl and Borgsmith at the Borgsmith homestead, where we proceeded to act like big old fogies. Here's how.

First of all, Nordic Boy and I had gotten up that morning before the crack of ass and had been running non-stop until the moment we hit the deck at Borgsmith's house. That meant that we arrived tired. Like, yeah, we are ready to party, as long as the party can be in a sitting down position. Staying upright was just about the most we could do.

But you know what? We were just thinking about not staying upright. Little did we know that one in our midst was going to not just THINK IT. She was going to BE IT. See, it all started because I needed a coaster. And the ones right there on the table were already in use. So BioGirl runs upstairs to get me another coaster. And on the way back, she decided to fall down the stairs. Like, fall on her ass and slide all the way down the stairs in the loudest, scariest-sounding manner possible. CRASH BOOM CRASH OOF BANG. As the rest of us stood up in alarm and looked toward the stairwell, all we saw was the requested coaster, doing a perfect roll right toward me.

We all rushed over. BioGirl was fine. Well, she actually was hurting due to the smacking of her ass on all the stairs, but she took it like a champ.

All I did was ask for a coaster, and that girl sure busted her ass for me trying to get one.

Get it? She busted her ass, as in she tried really hard, but then she literally busted her ass. See what I did there? Ha ha! For droll acquaintance be forgot!

Anyhow. To recap. So far, the ingredients that indicate a Grandmaw Style party are:

Arriving at 7 pm already ready for bed.
Being very concerned about having a proper coaster.
Running around the house to fulfill coaster needs.
Almost breaking a hip falling down a flight of stairs.

And then, do you know what the Grandmaw Style Party Handbook says one should do once someone has almost broken their neck while coaster hunting? DO YOU?

You spend the next few hours talking about every injury and ailment you have ever had in your mothersucking life.

I'm serious. This is what we did. We talked about the time someone broke a bone as a child, and the time someone almost got run over by a car, and the time someone got stitches. How many stitches? How much blood was there? Did you almost die? Ooh, that reminds me of the time I fell out of a two story window! Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I projectile vomited across two rooms!? FOR HOURS. We didn't talk about bowel movements, but it was this close to going there.

After all the war stories were told, we attempted to play a board game. Which at that point was almost incoherent because the sleepy sauce was hitting us hard. And then at about ten minutes to midnight, we turned on the tv to watch the ball drop. Well, first we watched an incredibly awkward few moments of Ryan Seacrest welcoming us to Times Square while Taylor Swift and that Joe Jonas kid tried to stand as far away from each other as possible to as not to get break-up cooties from each other and Kellie Pickler mesmerized us with her glowing white eye shadow. Then the ball dropped.

We all sat on the couch as the seconds ticked down to midnight, our drinks in hand, ready to clink. Happy New Year! Nordic Boy and I smooched. Borgsmith and BioGirl smooched. We clinked glasses. Then I turned to stand up to give BioGirl and Borgsmith a hug each. Which they received graciously in Grandmaw fashion, by chiming in, along with Nordic Boy, in the following manner.

"Oh my god, she's standing up for hugs. So, we're all getting up? Ok, we're all getting up. Oh my god I'm so tired. What the hell, Librarian Girl? Who asked you to get up?"

Happy New Year, everyone.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Another One Bites the Dust

The year is almost up, and that means that once again, it is time! Time for Re-cap Mania! Everyone will be recapping! From Keith Olbermann to Joel McHale to Barbara Walters to Hulk Hogan!

Here is my recapathon, as I did last year, stolen from my pal Librarisaurus Rex. As usual, I am encouraging you to steal it, make it your own, and then let me know so I can come peep your'n.

1. What did you do in 2008 that you'd never done before?

As you know, I think that the true stuff of life is made from the small stuff, so let me start this one by saying this. I had the most spectacular, funkariffic slam dunk fall, while rollerskating. I have had many a spectacular fall in my day, but oddly enough, never when rollerskating. I made up for that lack like crazy this year, all with one fall. Oh how I wish I had footage to share with you. It was like a Nascar crash, except without a car. I think there may have been flames and everything. I also spent an inordinate amount of time on Facebook. And I now have a friend who has pulled a plane around, and really, how many people can say that?

2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
Well since I didn't make any I technically didn't fail at my new year's resolutions. I kept all zero of them. Also, I am resolving to not make any again this year. See how I set myself up to succeed?

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Um, I don't think so. I'm feeling all kinds of anxiety about saying that. If you gave birth this year, and I am forgetting it right now, I am so sorry. This is just the sort of faux pas that would be typical for me. You had a baby? Oops! I hadn't noticed! Pass the Ginkgo!

4. Did anyone close to you die?
Yes, a dear friend of mine. It's weird to talk about it on a blog, so that's all I'm going to say about that.

5. What countries did you visit?
You know this question always chaps my ass a little every year. I stayed in America, ok? My meager travel funds are allocated for me to go visit my parents as much as I possibly can. LAY OFF.

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
Oh, I don't know. What did I lack in 2008? I can't think of anything significant. A dishwasher would be nice. Oh, I know. A winning lottery ticket. Sign me up for one of those.

7. What dates from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory?
Many fine things happened in twos this year. Two fine couples and friends of mine got all hitched up had dang fine hootenannies to celebrate. I went to two especially nice birthday parties for my wee friends who turned one year old each. My two relatives from New Zealand came to visit me, which was tres exciting. It was the year of number 2. Wait, that doesn't sound right.

Oh, and November 4 was kind of big. You know, if you're into that sort of thing.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Staving off loneliness via my cocoon of friends and family that love me.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Failing is all about goal-setting, and goal-setting is not my strong suit. I failed to post 30 times in November for NaBloPoMo. Good enough answer? I also entered into a coat-buying contest with BioGirl and my other friend Borgsmith, which I failed miserably because I didn't even complete the contest. But really, who enters into a contest about buying a coat with their friends? I deserve to fail, just for doing that.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
No, I made it through unharmed for another year, despite rollerskating crashes.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Supplies for a brand new roof. I keep telling you that a brand new roof is more exciting than it sounds. Perhaps some day you'll believe me.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
My friends Neighbor H and Lil' R had all sorts of firsts this year. They are walking around on their own, and communicating with words and charades, and eating more and more grown up foods. These two are little one-year-olds, by the way. In case you were confused.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Two words. Prop 8.

14. Where did most of your money go?
To this question I offer you another question. What year will it be when the answer to this annual question is NOT "mortgage?"

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
So, I don't know if you heard, but I have this friend named BioGirl. I'm sure I must have mentioned her at some point, but in case you missed it, we are two peas in a pod. And for the past five years she up and left me to go get her a fair piece of book learning. This year was the year she finished all that education nonsense and moved back home where she belongs. The excitement on this was OFF THE CHAIN, yo.

16. What song will always remind you of 2008?
You Are Free, by Mates of State. I think I listened to that song all year non-stop. Also, Don't Stop Til You Get Enough by Michael Jackson. I went to a lot of parties with dancing this year, and that song was always on the playlist.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? Happier.
b) thinner or fatter? About the same, I guess. I don't know.
c) richer or poorer? A tad better off than last year. Baby steps, you know.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Seeing my moms and pops.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Lying awake at night.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
I spent it with a whole lot of Nordic Boy, a whole lot of relaxation, a whole lot of snow, and it was a whole lot of awesome.

21 is missing. Time to take a breather...

22. Did you fall in love in 2008?
Yep, over and over and over again, all with the same dude, which is rather lucky when you think about it.

23. How many one-night stands?
None, but I did have a 365-night stand. Oh baby.

24. What was your favorite TV program?
Usually I get my news from newspapers and the interwebs and NPR, but this year I watched a ton of news on tv. BBC news and CNN news, mostly. I wouldn't call that my "favorite" though, but it was oft-watched tv. My favorite program, if I am going to be dead honest with you, was So You Think You Can Dance. Don't you judge me.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Hatred levels constant, sir.

26. What was the best book you read?
This question was so not written for a librarian. But, if pressed, I will list the following...Last Night at the Lobster, The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, Pete and Pickles, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Blackstock's Collections: The Drawings of an Artistic Savant, Out of Place...ok, stopping the list now.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
I got into Helio Sequence more this year. I am behind the times, I know this.

28. What did you want and get?
Unconditional love.

29. What did you want and not get?
Even more time with the peeps.

30. What was your favorite film of this year?
I re-watched a bunch of William Holden movies, and they were delicious.

31. What did you do on your birthday?
BioGirl and Nordic Boy threw me a birthday party! There were cupcakes, and billiards, and dressed up fancy guests and EVERYTHING. It was a grand affair.

32.What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
I wished that I could have seen my friends Alli and Map this year. Our annual trip didn't happen and I missed them like crazy.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?
To quote Blair Waldorf of Gossip Girl: "tights are not pants!"

34. What kept you sane?
A hearty diet of laughing, silly dances, and talking nonsense.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
I have had an ongoing girl crush on Kate Winslet since Heavenly Creatures in the early 90s, and she was everywhere this year, yes? Hi Kate! Call me!

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
Did you hear about a little vote we had here? For President? No? I'm not surprised, it wasn't covered much in the media.

37. Who did you miss?
A lot of people. Too many. I hate this question.

38. Who was the best new person you met?
I re-met a lot of very cool people this year (thanks, Facebook!). "Reunited and it's understood! Reunited and it feels so good!" ...Sorry, just felt the need to sing a little Peaches and Herb there. Also! My friend Borgsmith (even though he challenges me to coat buying contests that I can't win).

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008:
Keep looking for a stylist until you find The One.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
I'm a living sunset
Lightning in my bones
Push me to the edge
But my will is stone

Fools will be fools
And wise will be wise
But I will look this world
Straight in the eyes -Ben Harper

Final Thoughts:
I feel like I have to say something profound. That's kind of a lot of pressure. Listen, let's just say that 2008 was a year full of things I'd never thought I would see, both good and bad, and things that I know to be true holding fast. I thank my lucky charms (purple horseshoes and all) for what I've cobbled together. 2009 is on deck! Let's knock it out of the park.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

He's Sporty Spice, I'm Sitty Spice

Ok, ok FINE, I shall give you a break from my award-winning film shorts. Once again, I fear that my blog is entertaining no one so much as myself. I watched that Scarface one multiple times, and it still makes me bust a nut laughing.

So last week was a doozy. We had days and days of snow. It felt like it would never end. It was gales of fun. The local newscasters' eyeballs almost popped right out of their heads with the dramatic reporting that they did. It was all BLIZZARD BLITZ and SNOWY SMACKDOWN and BEWARE THE BLACK ICE until you just wanted to knock someone out. I don't watch the local tv news much, but I am going to go out on a limb and say that they don't seem to be in the business of lessening panic.

As much as the snow was a hindrance to getting around the city, all in all it didn't affect us as much as some, which was nice. When we couldn't drive, we could still walk to the grocery store each day, and restaurants and stores and all like that. It was cool to be out in our neighborhood, walking around, with no car traffic to be found. There were parents and kids using the hilly streets as sledding runs from morning until after 10pm, and everyone seemed to be outside, just enjoying themselves. I had almost forgotten what it was like to shovel snow off a sidewalk. I also realized that since I moved to Seattle, I don't really have snow-appropriate shoes any more, which kind of appalled the Midwestern girl in me.

Nordic Boy had a bunch of days off from work, but I only had two, and we had the best time just relaxing. And by relaxing, I mean we had the best time spazzing the fuck out playing with our new Wii games. There were wipeouts. There were challenges made and challenges accepted. There were talents uncovered.

For instance, my mild-mannered Nordic Boy is a MANIAC on the boxing game. We weren't boxing each other, because, I don't know, that just feels weird to go all aggro like that against one's beloved. So he was boxing the Wii opponents. And dudes, he was beating the serious shit out of each and every one of them. Within seconds, Mike Tyson style, they were each knocked out. Who knew that Nordic Boy had fake boxing skills?

I admit that in every game, Nordic Boy gets a higher score than I do. There are some where we are almost even, with him beating me by a little, and there are some where he beats me by a lot. But he pretty much always beats me. Aside from the sporty stuff, we have the Wii fit, which has things like skiing, and balance games, and yoga. Again, he's better than me at all of them.

Except!

There's this game- I can't remember if it's on the Yoga part of the Wii or the Balance part. Here's how the game goes. There is a candle on the screen. You sit down on the Wii board, and the board senses your movements. If you move, the candle flickers. If you breath unevenly, the candle flickers. The object is to keep the candle still for as long as you can by remaining perfectly still. It provides distractions in the form of various sounds and background surprises that will break your concentration.

People, I ROCK THIS GAME.

Skiing, golf, tennis? Eff that. If you want someone to COMPETETIVELY SIT DOWN, you need to get me.

In other news, I may be on the verge of selling the couch I own and buying a new one. This quest for a new couch has been long and arduous, and if the one I have my eye on right now doesn't work out, my heart shall breaketh into teeny tiny pieces. I need the perfect couch to practice all the Olympic sitting that I do, you see.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Not So Silent Night, or Even Morning

I wanted to take a nice, idyllic video of the rare sight of snow in Seattle on a peaceful day in the neighborhood. Problem was, Nordic Boy was watching Scarface.

Results?



I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Happy Holla-days

Happy holidays from me and my spooky snow banshee.

I have never seen this much snow in Seattle.



For real. Seriously.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Let it Snow...

Do you guys remember that awful rapper named "Snow?" Who sang that ridiculous "licky boom boom down" song? That song is SO NOT RIGHT. Even worse is that it is a beautiful winter wonderland outside right now and my first thought when I look at it is that effin' song. Yick.

So for those of you that bore the brunt of my caterwauling about the cold weather in Seattle the other day, sorry about that. I had my moment there, and then I commenced with the Shutting Up The Complainy Weather Talk. I mean, really. Boo hoo, my life is so hard, I have to deal with snow. Yeesh. What an ignoramus I can be.

But yes, there is snow here. For Seattle, it's actually quite a bit of snow, and the fact that it's been the second big snow within a week (with another big one coming this weekend) has been all the talk around here. I have taken some walks around my neighborhood and around my workplace this week in the snow, and it feels very normal and nostalgic for me. I wouldn't go so far as to say I MISS the midwest snowfall, but it does hearken me back to my own days of yore.

Some random thoughts about snow...

When I was a kid, I had to walk around my block in order to catch the bus to get to school. Words cannot express how deeply and how accutely felt was the hatred in my heart, trudging through the drifts each day. I was not a huge fan of school to begin with, and so it was an extra insult to me that I had to put in that much effort just to get there. Fuckin' bus stop. It kind of plucks my last nerve just thinking about it now.

At school, there was always a STRICT NO TOLERANCE POLICY about throwing snowballs on school grounds. I mean, it was big, hairy trouble if you even THOUGHT about making a snow ball, let alone throw it at someone. This was probably a very good policy, as snowballs often hurt like hell. Chances are there's going to be some really hard snow in there, or even ice. Accidentally (or on purpose?) get a rock or two in there and it ain't no joke. The bad part of this policy was that as soon as you crossed the boundary from "on school grounds" to "off school grounds"? It was Snow Ball Armageddon. It was like all the pent up no-snowball energy was released right outside of school and so as soon as you stepped foot out there each afternoon you had better say your prayers because you were for serious about to get creamed.

And speaking of getting obliterated? I had two older brothers. And when we would play out in the snow, they and their friends would throw a lot of snowballs. And they would often want to have a sort of target practice. So they would tell me to go stand in front of our closed garage door so that they would have a nice target to aim at. AND I WOULD DO IT. Listen, I never said I was the brightest bulb in the socket.

Although there was a strict no tolerance policy against snowballs in my school, there was no rule against grabbing a handful of snow and shoving it down a classmate's shirt, or if you were extra talented, down a classmate's pants. We were very classy children where I grew up.

As a teenager, sometimes my friends and I would go to a local empty parking lot in the car and do doughnuts on the ice in our cars. We got pretty damn good at it. Don't tell my parents about that one, ok?

We would sled down hills using the tops of garbage cans. This seems very antiquated and Oscar-the-Grouch-ish to me now. Sometimes, if the streets in my neighborhood were icy enough, we would just sled down on our butts without a sled of any kind. That seems very tough and badass, don't it?

Lots of kids would wear snow suits. In Michigan they were not called snow suits. They were called "snowmobile suits." They looked especially sassy with a nice pair of moon boots.

In gym class in middle school, we took a whole unit on snowmobile safety and certification. I think my mom still has my certification card somewhere. I have never in my life actually been on a snowmobile, but goldangit I am certified.

Even in the dead of winter, we always still had recess outside at school. I remember huddling with my friends and the recess ladies near the doorway, all bundled up. Good times.

I never ate snow. I thought it was gross. I also never got my tongue caught on a frozen metal surface, but I know kids who did. They were always teased to high heaven.

We never, and I mean NEVER, had a snow day. I don't care if there was 6 feet of snow on the ground, you were going to school. It sucked.

These are my snow-related thoughts for today, people. Hope you have learned a little something, even if it's only that when your brothers ask you to go stand in front of a wall of some kind while they make up a pile of snowballs, DON'T DO IT.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Silent Appreciation

Sometimes, at work, we do these appeciation activities, which sound excruciating when described, but I actually don't mind so much. I am not a trust falls type of person but the stuff we do at work doesn't bother me. One that often gets done is a variation of something like this: slips of paper get handed out. On each slip of paper, you write something nice about a co-worker. You put their name on it, but not yours, and then they all get collected, and then you get all the slips of paper back with your name on it, and you have a nice pile of complimentary appreciations about you to take home and put under your pillow, or sew together into a quilt, or shred up and sprinkle onto your ice cream sunday. Or something.

I think the idea behind this activity is nice. Ok, yes, it is cheesy and contrived, and maybe this doesn't work so well in a situation where you hate your co-workers and the nicest thing you can think to write on a slip of paper about them is "I love the way you leave the office every night because that's when I know I won't have to see your STINKIN' PUSS until the next morning which makes me cry with happiness instead of the constant stream of sobs I utter when I can smell your curdled soul in the cubicle next to me." But in my case, I like my co-workers, so it's not like that.

One thing that is funny to me about this activity, though, is that it really highlights to me that my "work persona" is very low key. People at work don't know me for my propensity to fall down, or my ability to quote screwball comedies of the 40s, or my love of all the cusses, or my very silly sense of humor and tendency to giggle 90% of the time. Because at work, I am...well, WORKING. I'm concentrating on my one-million-item-long task list and running around getting information out to The People like the godless commie librarian that I am. I don't have a lot of time for acting the fool when I am at work, at least not overtly. I save all that shit up and cut loose, footloose, at home and with my friends. At work I am kind of a librarian machine. A smiley one, but still.

So when we do these activities, I get little slips of paper that say things such as...

I appreciate how you deal with everything so calmly.
You always make me feel much more tranquil about everything.
Thanks for keeping the workplace around you so serene.
Your quiet leadership is much appreciated.

Calm. Tranquil. Serene. Quiet. I'm not kidding. I have a whole pile of little slips of paper and they all say very nice things, and I am not complaining, but THEY ALL SAY THE SAME STUFFS.

I showed BioGirl this pile of compliments the other night.

Her: Wow. From now on I am writing shit like this in your birthday cards and such.
Me: I know, right? "You are like a vast desert..."
Her: "You are soundless, like Bambi in the thicket..."
Me: "I love that you are like a wordless poem..."
Her: "Your muffled spirit is so inspiring..."
Me: "I barely see you, and yet you are there..."
Her: "You are like snow falling on a winter's eve..."
Me: "You're like the wind...through my tree..."
Her: Wait. Are you quoting Patrick Swayze?
Me: Shhhh. I'm being tranquil.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

My thermometer says 18 degrees

Ok, Seattle, you listen to me.

When I decided to cross this great country of ours and leave everyone and everything I knew and loved behind so that I could come and be with you? It was based on the premise that Seattle has mild weather. MILD. Like, grey and misty and 50 degrees in the dead of winter. And yet, what is happening this week? Snow. And ice. And winds that smack you in the face and give you a busted lip like a big abusive mothersucker. And from what I hear, we are going to be having this for a while, not just a flukey one day span. This afternoon temperatures are supposed to be in the TEENS.

WE HAD A DEAL, SEATTLE. And you are cutting out of the deal that we made. I left my home! My family! My friends! I knew no one, but I knew I could count on the fact that I would never have to feel so cold that my bones would want to snap ever again. You were supposed to keep me warm, Seattle. Or at least soggy and lukewarm. And I was willing to live with that because I grew up freezing my holy ballsacks off for 6 months out of my year my whole entire life which is bad enough as it is, but when your family is from a tropical paradise and you are genetically predisposed to sunny sandy beaches and feel all sorts of physiological confusion that your parents left all of that behind to birth you right into the Frigidaire state of Michigan, it is extra double super imperative that I turn to you to warm the cockles of my ass. You promised me! If I moved out here, you would take care of my temperate desires. No more long undies! No more scraping windshields in the morning! No more breathing in and feeling your boogies freeze in your nose!

YOU FRIGGIN LIAR.

Psh.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Crappy Christmas, quite literally

You know what? I'm not a first impression person. Heck, I am not even a second impression person. It takes a long time for people to warm up to me. I don't know why that is. BioGirl thinks that it starts with the fact that my "resting face" is very serious looking. You know, when you aren't talking or interacting with anyone, but just walking down the street or whatever? The look on your face when you're doing that is your resting face. Your neutral face. And mine, apparently, is way serious. I concede that. It's true. But really, who has a resting face that's smiley? Wouldn't that be freaky, in a scary clown sort of way?

Resting face or not, it still is true that people don't take to me right away. I don't know why. I guess I should ask them, once we've gotten over all that. All of my friends? Are friends that simmered a good long time before busting out into full-on friendship. Like, months. Sometimes years. Not because of me. I usually invite people to things, or open up conversations with people, and they usually respond politely. But on-the-spot friendship? Where people just click? That doesn't happen to me. Sometimes I feel like I totally click with people, but then I see that they are just not feeling the love back. Until later. I will win you over eventually, home slice. It's only a matter of time. You will love me. Oh yes, that's right. It's a threat. Out of all my close friends, I can only think of one in my life that has ever clicked right from the beginning, and it was Nordic Boy so that doesn't seem to even count.

I don't know where I am going with this. I just think it's weird. It's like people are scared of me at first or leery of me. Or something. I don't get it. Do I seem scary to you?

Don't answer that.

So since I have been a Very Bad Blogger lately, I have missed telling you all sorts of kooky things. Here are some.

1. A few weeks ago, I went to see "Quantum of Solace." I found it delightful. Adding to the delightfulness that is Daniel Craig beating the shit out of people in a stylistic manner, there was this lady sitting behind me in the theater who was almost more entertaining than the movie. Every time someone would get hit, or fall down, or crash their car, or do anything that involved getting hurt, this lady would go "Ooof!" or "Ow!" or "gasp!" or "oh!" or "yah!" She was feeling each impact, viscerally. And there are a lot of moments like this in that movie. In fact, that's pretty much all there is in the movie. She oofed and ouched herself every two seconds. It made me giggle throughout.

2. Thanksgiving was also nice. Good eats, good friends, good times.

3. My mom and dad always give Nordic Boy and me a little cashola for the holidays. Rather than buy us something that we don't want, need, and will most likely give away (you know how I am about accumulating stuff), they figure that we can just buy ourselves something. Plus, it gets them off the hook for having to shop and send something. Nice, right? My parents are very unconditional givers- they really just want us to get something we want or need. Still, there are things that they, especially my mom, would be more happy giving us than other things. Like, if I were to tell her that I was going to just put the money towards groceries, or the mortgage or something, that would be ok, but not exciting. Not giftie enough, you know? Last year, we got ourselves a fancy Kitchenaide mixer. She was so stoked for us that it made the gifting that much more fun. She felt like she bought us something that we maybe wouldn't have bought for ourselves, a real treat of a gift. So this year, we are trying to come up with something that is likewise exciting. In November, I would put out feelers when I talked to my mom.

Me: I was thinking about using that money to buy ourselves that new bathroom window we need to get.
Her: Ok, sweetie. That sounds fine.

Not too excited about THAT idea. On to the next...

Me: Or, I don't know. We have always had our hearts set on one of those robot vacuum cleaners. That would be pretty cool.
Her: Sure. Don't you already have a vacuum cleaner?
Me: Yeah, we do. It's just the robot part that seems cool.
Her: Ok, sweetie. That sounds fine too.

Not excited, once again. Back to the drawing board. What to buy, what to buy? It's got to be something holiday-ish. Something sparkly. Something cute and expressive of parental love.

The other day, Nordic Boy and I were at Ecohaus, a sort of environmental home store. We turn a corner, when Nordic Boy says...

Him: I know! I have the perfect idea for what we can spend our holiday money from your parents on!
Me: Really? What?
Him: (pointing) THAT.
(pause)
Me: Dude, you are NOT pointing at a toilet right now.
Him: Not just a toilet! A dual-flush, environmentally friendly toilet! It's on our list of things we need for the house eventually. But if we go in for half, and your mom goes in for half, we can do it now!
Me: A toilet? You want me to call up my sweet little mom, and announce to her that we have spent her holiday money on a TOILET?
Him: What? It's awesome!
Me: (walking away, giving him the hand)
Him: What?

So far, the toilet has been our best option to date. What do you think? Shall I tell my mom that she will be helping us purchase a Christmas Crapper?

I don't know. I just don't think I can do it.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

How the Girl from Full House Stole Christmas

Perhaps you are thinking, where the fuck have you been, Librarian Slacker?

I know, right?

I don't know where I have been, other than to say I have been OUT OF IT. I am all doughnut-like, in a glaze. An amazing glaze. Amazing glaze, how sweet the sound. It's been one of those times where I don't seem to have time for anything other than getting under a blankie and watching Hallmark Original Movies.

That's right, I said blankie. This is where I am at, psychologically, these days.

So, as you might recall, I am Christmas/winter holidays-challenged. I am not anti-Christmas or anti-winter holidays. This is not something I take a stand about. I am not a warrior in what Papa Bear (that's Bill O'Reilly for you non-Colbert-Report-watchers) likes to call the War on Christmas. It's just not something that I, on a very basic level, GET. And yes, I feel guilty about this. And lonely. I feel the holiday pressure and I feel bad that I remain so unmoved. I am like the Marlin Perkins of Christmas. An interested observer. I like the holidays, but I could take them or leave them, honestly. I'm glad they are here but I wouldn't miss them if they were gone. I am a benevolent bystander of the holidays.

At least that's what I thought until this weekend, when I was schooled by a Hallmark Original Movie. That I was watching from my Amazing Glaze. Under a blankie.

One of the things I tend to do around the holidays is try to plug into them via pop culture. Because, you know me, that's how I roll. If there is a collective American unconscious you better believe it is wrapped up in visions of Scooby Doo and Harry Potter and John Wayne dancing in all of our heads. To that end, I watch Christmas movies. Far and away the only Christmas pop culture piece that has ever really gotten way down deep into my heart and mind is the Charlie Brown Christmas Special. Maybe it's because I watched it every year since before I can remember. More likely it's because I identify with Charlie Brown in a way that is almost spiritual. Among other parts of his character that I can identify with, his quest for understanding Christmas was deep to me as a kid. It pretty much still is. I'm serious. Watch that special, people. Not for Pollyanna Linus or tripped out Snoopy. But for the existential questioning of Charlie Brown. I'm not kidding. That shit is deep.

Anyway, back to this weekend. In my Charlie Brown like quest to find out the meaning of Christmas, I watch holiday movies. And this weekend, I watched the esteemed "Moonlight and Mistletoe" which was made for tv starring the incomparably-waxed-eyebrowed Candace Cameron Bure (of Full House fame) as Holly and the jolly-with-a-slur Tom Arnold as her father. This movie made me start to freak out a little. It had Christmas shorthand, and the Christmas shorthand was pointing its Scrooge-detection device RIGHT. AT. ME.

Let me list.
1. Candace is a woman who has moved to the the big city, abandoning a hometown where there are not a lot of opportunities. She has now made something of herself in the big city. To use Palin-esque language, she left the Real America (which is Christmas-y) and moved to the Fake America.
Me. That's me, people.

2. In one of the first scenes, Candace enters her office to find her receptionist has covered her entire desk with cotton balls to represent a snow scene. Like, it looked like she had hot-glued the thing from edge to edge with crazy fluffy-ness. And then added figurines, and ornaments, and lights, and trees to the scene. There was no place for her to actually do any work on the desk. Candace tells the receptionist that she needs to tone it down. This is Christmas shorthand for Candace being an Evil Scrooge Beyotch.
But see, I thought Candace kind of had a point. You know? So far I am kind of Candace-like, which started to disturb me. It's like watching 101 Dalmations and thinking to yourself "dang, I wish I had a puppy coat!" You're not supposed to identify with the Christmas Beyotch. But I was.

3. Candace's dad calls and tries to guilt her into coming home for Christmas. It is clear that she doesn't want to. And that her dad is kind of a dick. Not a royal dick, but just kind of a dick. He tells her that Christmas is for family, like that makes up for the dickishness.
Guess what my feelings were on this one? I am a big fan of doing what you want in your heart, and not feeling bad about it, and also not being around dickish people even if they are related to you and especially if they are Tom Arnold. Stay in Fake America, Christmas Beyotch, just say no!

4. When Candace goes home, she runs into a friend from high school. The friend tells her that she is married, with two kids. She asks Candace if she is married or dating anyone or has kids or whatever. Candace replies that she doesn't because she is too busy working. The friend looks at her like she is clearly a broken person with no hope. Because if you are single and without children, let alone single and without children ON CHRISTMAS, clearly we need to hold a telethon for you.
What does that have to do with Christmas, people? It's like they just throw that shit in to make you want to cut someone.

5. Candace meets a cute man. He, we later find out, is evil and greedy. You know what the foreshadowing of the evilness is? Some dialogue that goes something like this. I am paraphrasing, but not by much.
Cute Evil Guy: I love to open presents Christmas Eve.
Candace: Christmas Eve? You don't open presents on Christmas Eve. You open them Christmas morning. So that Santa can come the night before.
Cute Evil Guy: Oh yeah, of course.
This is where your suspicions of this guy are supposed to start. Because he doesn't know when to open his goddamn Christmas presents. Alert the authorities.

6. Tom Arnold runs a business called "Santaville" which from what I could see, was a place where he dressed up like Santa every day, gave sleigh rides, and sold gaudy Christmas tchotchkes. Santaville is barren these days. Dad cannot pay his mortgage and he is 50,000 bucks in debt. Candace tells him he needs to find a way to pay his bills or else he needs to sell Santaville. His response? To wait for a CHRISTMAS MIRACLE.
Do you think the Federal Reserve folks know about this economic plan?

Candace is skeptical of her dad's optimism. Which also is shorthand for Christmas-Challenged. Again, I am agreeing with Candace here. I do not pay my beels with Christmas miracles. Good thing too, as it's apparent I do not have the Christmas balls to back it up.

There was more, but I think I have made my point. Rather than making me more in the Christmas spirit, this thing made me feel like I am the antagonist in a bad Hallmark movie, without the change of heart at the very end.

What is it going to take people? Am I going to be a Grinch forever? Is my heart two sizes too small? And are the two Christmas pop culture characters that I identify with the most Charlie Brown and CANDACE CAMERON BURE?

Now I see why Christmas depresses so many people.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl