baby it's cold outside

HOOOOOOOLY CRAP! 9 is a bit "chilly". seriously folks.

But why is it that all winter, my fellow Oregonians complain about the rain, and the dreary, and the cold, and the fog and the gray? Then suddenly, its 20 degrees (or tonight's low of 9) but SUNNY, BRIGHT FUCKING SUNNY and everyone complains?

My facebook today had 8 status updates regarding complaints about the weather. Now don't get me wrong. Its FUCKING COLD. However, once you get past oh say, 20 degrees it all feels the same. -5, 0, 10, 15... (back me up Christie? its what -8 in Fairbanks?) Yesterday I went to the woods to get a tree and in town it was 28, and up in the mountains it was 18. It felt the same, if not warmer in the woods. So my point is, cold is cold. But once it gets to be what I deem as OH SHIT ITS FUCKING COLD out, any colder is just over kill. (Take THAT mother nature, in yo face!)

Anyway, I like the sunshine. Keep the cold a'comin. Me Likey!

o tannenbaum

Sometimes I'm just lazy. L.A.Z.Y. This usually involves showertime. I'm honestly not a huge sweater (no, I don't mean the wool kind). And sometimes I just don't feel like taking a shower.

The main reason I don't want to take a shower, is because it takes "too long" in my weird opinion. I feel its just easier to get dressed, run a brush through my hair and then be on with my day. What's really funny is that I only take about 15 minutes from shower to finished. What's even funnier is, I honestly think I take LONGER to get ready when I don't shower.

Extra/fresh deoderant. Change all my clothes down to my scibbies. Brush my hair. Attempt to fix my hair from the attrocities that my sleep patterns have inflicted upon it. Lotion. Reapply makeup. I've never actually timed myself, but I just realised today I think it takes me longer. Ohhhhhhh me.

I hope you enjoyed Tuesday's Randomness.

Now onto activities!!

Today I finally decided to try to pry myself out of this anti-holiday funk I've been in. Thanksgiving is officially over, the pumpkins are starting to rot. The civil war has passed as well, which I think was a big hold-up for my Christmas Cheer delay. So today mom and I went to get our Christmas Tree.

Mom and I bundled up, since its been a balmy 25 for the last week, and for december in oregon that's FRIGGIN FREEZIN. "We were kicking off our fun old fashion family Christmas by heading out into the country in the old front-wheel drive sleigh to embrace the frosty majesty of the winter landscape and select that most important of Christmas symbols." No, not one of the stupid ties with the santa clauses on it either. A Tree.

My friend had just gone up the previous weekend and told us about a great spot off Moose Creek Drive, off logging road 720 (shout out to my Cascadia peops). Well after 2 hours of driving, we decided that one of the two hundred "cute little guys" that we had driven by would do the job just nicely, we turned around.

Mom's had some troubles with her knee lately, so I treked off up the path with my saw in hand and walked about 19 feet and cut down the first tree I saw. (patience was wearing a wee bit thin at this point). I nominated this one to be my brother's and hiked up another 10 feet and whacked down the next one. And by "whacked" I mean I sawed on that bastard for nearly twenty minutes. Once complete we strapped those bad boys on board and headed home.

And of course, the genius that I am, I was sure that the tree we picked out would be perfect. It looked like the perfect size in the woods. Next to all the other 15 foot trees. HAHAAA! So after I did a measuirng of our mere 9 ft ceilings I practiced my lumberjacking skills once again to perform major truck reduction surgery. Another 20 minutes of sawing, steadying, adjusting, tree falling, readjusting, trimming branches, readjusting, and voilà! She was ready!!

The funniest part of all, was after the tree was ready and watered and lights strung, I noticed she started leaning. A little more. A little more. And a little more. Ever so subtle. Cheeky monkey.

So to fix this problem without starting entirely over, we affixed some fishing line from the tree to the buffet. How ingenious of me!

I'm like maguyver!

at least YOU got gas!

today's blog is a tossup between an ridiculously funny story, and my 2009 Christmas Letter.
Votes?
No? Why so quiet?
Okay, survey says, we'll go with the funny story.

So yesterday I go to get some gas. Pull up to the Chevron station, park, roll down the window. The guy comes up, looks a little scruffy, has some weird red stuff on his lip but I don't think much of it. I hand him my credit card, tell him to fill it. He does his thing, and hands me back my card. Its freeeeezing outside so I roll my window back up and wait. After about a minute I notice that there's no hose in my car. I'm just sitting there. I turn the key to engage the engine and my gas gauge stays at a quarter of a tank, where I was when I first rolled in.

Now I'm pretty hung over and thinking, "okaaay, no gas. weird. what's going on? where is the guy? was I declined? what's happening?"

I roll my window down and continue to look around, bewildered. Then the guy comes back and asks "What can I do for you?"

WHAAAAAAT?!??

Me: I just gave you my card, you took it, and gave it back. But you didn't put any gas in.
Him: If I took your card, I know I gave it back.
Me: No, no, no that's not it. I have my card here (holding it in my hand). You just didn't put any gas in. I just need gas.
Him: Oh well I didn't take your card if you didn't get any gas
Me: **AM I FUCKING CRAZY?!? IS THIS HAPPENING?!? WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!?**
I just need you to fill it with regular (handing card over again)
Him: Okay, no problem. (comes back gives me my card, walks off)

Okay, at this point I'm totally confused, replaying the conversation in my head over and over. Then I look back to my tank, and THERE'S STILL NO FUCKING HOSE IN MY CAR.

Now I'm really starting to lose my shit. No hose. Looking for the guy. No hose. Looking for the guy. What the fu-- What is ha-- Am I insane? What-- I-- No hose-- Credit card-- No gas-- Crazy -- I-- Wha--

THENNNN he comes back! "How can I help you?"

Now I am blowing my gourd. Whaaaat is going on. Seriously. I make ANOTHER attempt at getting gas. Tell him he just helped me, and that I needed gas. I am really about to have an aneurysm. I think there's no fucking way this is happening. WHAT THE SHIT?!???!?

Again, takes card, returns card, then walks off. NO HOSE. NO GAS.

Then all of a sudden a fireman walks up to him and puts his hand on his back. This is right in front of my hood. He pats him softly and motions to his mouth. Perhaps the red stuff was blood? The EMT seems to think so. He then walks Super Joe Gas Attendant off to the hospital or the loony bin or whatever.

I am somewhat soothed by this operation and decide to get the fuck out of there. I don't know if they guy fell and hit his head, or is just crazy in general. My fragile hungover mind can't handle anymore shenanigans. I jump out hit the "cancel" button 39 times and close up my gas tank. I'll be getting my gas from elsewhere.

feeling festive yet?

Wrap up your pictures! So festive! :) Love it!

going mental

My life isn't always what I expect or want, so I have a tendency to read funny books. David Sedaris couldn't write books fast enough for me. Why can't he be more like Stephen King and crank a book out 3 times a year? Ahhhhh well.

I just finished this book and highly recommend it. I love reading how people's lives are more messed up than mine. And how they are able to laugh at it. Which helps me realize that nobody's life is all sunshine and roses, even if that's how they portray it.

Here's a couple funny tidbits from the book I wanted to share...

Irritated by my mother's ridicule,I rip open a package of Oreos that she's attempted to hide behind t he lettuce. I keep count while I eat them, and after knocking off an entire row, I don't trust myself to stop and throw t he remainder in the garbage. I even spray the leftover cookies with Lemon Pledge to avoid the temptation of retrieving them from the trash later on.

Seriously, who hasn't been there?!?

His lipless mouth, turned up at the corners, projected to the eye of the beholder either an aura of judgmental calm or of creepy mischievousness.

And my personal favorite, which rings all too true...

Part of the problem is that everyone ... wants a guy which a good sense of humor, but also wants a guy with "no emotional baggage," as if you could have one without the other. Let's be clear: if a guy's witty, he's got a Samsonite filled with issues. And i f he's a laugh riot, he's got a steamer trunk with decals of where he's been -- depression, suicide, addiction. Humor doesn't just come with baggage; its the matching cosmetics case that completes the set.

Everyone run to Borders and buy this book. It was buy one get one 50% off when I was there.

OH, and to my faithful reader(s) I've fixed the comment problem. I think you should be able to comment with no probs now.

Happy December!!