New Year’s Eve or the Post Everyone Else is Doing
I was trying to think of a
kick ass readable post for New Year’s Eve. I thought of absolutely
Then I saw everyone else posting their reviews and was like, oh free post. Everyone will be incredibly interested in my stats. I must say, they are not nearly as fascinating as last year, when my top search word was crack whore. This year it was Dragon Tales. This was also my most popular post, even edging out my Freshly Pressed post. I think this scares me more than having crack whore as a search term.
You can check out my top posts and top commenters (thankfully they didn’t list how many times I had commented on my own blog.) Is commenter not a word? For some reason, commenters is underlined, while commenter is not. So it’s an illegal plural? Where was I?
Oh, right, so here’s where you can see all that fascinating crap like how all my views could fill several opera houses with spambots. If you’re bored and like watching computer generated fireworks, have a look. Stay tuned New Year’s Day for a look back on a year in Alice.
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 38,000 times in 2013. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 14 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.
Click here to see the complete report.
Thanks for a great year, you guyz,
Christmas! It’s the most wonderful time of the year! If you’re batshit crazy! I mean, really, it wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for all those people. You know, relative people and pretty much everybody who wants something from you (I’m looking at you Salvation Army ringer guy).
If Christmas were only about the Things, my Things, then I’d love it. I love giving them presents, because even though they are 9 and 13, we are at about the same maturity level. Some day I hope to be as mature as they are. Anyway, I love buying them dolls because I love dolls and if I’m really good, they let me play with them. They have the best games, the Things. The other day they made up a Sleeping Beauty play with Barbies playing the roles. The evil fairy said “I curse you with eternal dumbness! And puberty!” Yikes, that is harsh.
Yet Christmas is about more than my Things; it is about The Things – the things you have to buy people you don’t know and don’t necessarily like. My in-laws are not bad people, but I really don’t get them. It’s like I married into an alien family – a space one, not a Hispanic one, although some of them should be illegal.
They are conservative, which is not all that surprising since we’re in Bible Belt, Texas. Yet my husband’s latest stepfather is Fox News Ca-razy conservative. As long as he’s not talking that crap, he’s just mildly irritating while he and my husband talk endlessly about guns and cars and other things that go vroom and boom. But then the politics come up.
Did you realize that the whole reason the Salvation Army was not allowed to ring their bells at Target that one year was not a stupid decision of management but in fact because of the gayz? I sure didn’t, but the reasoning is totally sound. I mean, the gayz are ruining the sanctity of marriage. The fact that both he and my MIL are on their third spouse makes no difference. The only thing you can conclude is that gayz want to destroy marriage by first destroying the Salvation Army. I’m not sure how. Maybe they are stealing their bells for their dreaded gayz pride parades.
Did you also know that going to a fast food chicken place earns you a place in Heaven? Or that Obama sucks? I mean, really sucks? Did you realize Obama is black? I learn so much from family get togethers. Honestly, I’m not sure how my husband came from these people, because he’s one of the nicest, least prejudiced people I know. I mean, I’m much, much nastier than he is. He’s not adopted, so I guess occasionally you get a mutant.
Anyway, looking forward to all of this joy and festiveness made me slightly stressed. I had gifts I had thoughtfully chosen the Christmas before at 50 percent off – half-price bubble bath, lotion, and perfume gift sets from Wal-Mart! Who doesn’t like this stuff? Possibly they don’t, but they get it every year anyway because I have no idea what they do like, and I don’t ask them and they don’t ask us. It’s like every Christmas is one giant white elephant fest.
My husband’s sisters had babies early, and now all my nieces and nephews have started having babies early, as in high school in one case, and so I became a great-aunt at 28 and now have six of the little darlings running around. If there is one thing my husband’s family does well, it’s breed. I didn’t even like my own toddlers all the time, and it’s safe to say I do not like other people’s toddlers.
His family is also incredibly unpredictable. One year we might get awful gifts, another no gifts, and another fabulous gifts (which is the year I gave them crap of course). Nothing is ever planned early, you never know which family members will be there, no one who comes is on time, and everything is chaos because we’re dealing with free spirits here! I can’t express how much I love free spirits!
So looking forward to not knowing when or where these spirits might pop up, I started to worry about the three Christmases coming up. (His parents are divorced. Mine are still together, mostly out of spite.) I’m very good at worrying. Also dreading. And then all of this stuph started making me sick. Which I was slightly hoping for, because as it turned out, I managed to get out of both in-law celebrations! Unfortunately, I have mucous coming out of every pore. Snot funny. Hahahahaha sob.
I did make it to my family’s. There was a meltdown, because no family get together is ever complete until somebody screams or cries. They moved their evening celebration up to lunch, which stressed my mom out although she wouldn’t say so. But it was for a good cause because my MIL was having hers in the evening. Except she wasn’t. Cause half the people came and went by 3 pm. And we had just finished eating lunch at like 2 pm. And it was time for dinner again, because they run on Wonderland time. I opted out. I’m glad I did, as my children’s Christmas presents might have sent me over the edge. They got – lawn ornaments. That say “Ya’ll Come back now” with a big Texas and a frog done in wire. As my friend Ravin said, “Tacky, yet Tasteless.”
Not that I can really be a snob, what with car parts in my front yard due to my mechanic husband. But really, would it have killed them to get us pink flamingos instead? I found out later she did give us some cash too, and really, it’s not that my spoiled children needed more things. It’s just – I can’t imagine the thought process that goes into “What would 9 and 13-year-old girls like? I know! Lawn ornaments!”
As I write, the Things and my husband are at my FIL’s celebration. I am getting to miss it on account of my snot. Maybe next year I should just grin and bear it and not make myself so sick. On the other hand, I have plenty of kleenex and I’m nice and comfy in my fuzzy socks and I can watch the Daily Show and laugh. Tough to decide!
So how did your family celebrations go?
Merry Christmas, George Michael
Ah, George. You with your dangly earrings and your bedazzled jeans! That charming way you shake your butt right in front of the camera! I heart you, truly, man. Nevermind those peeps who say you’re a has-been freak. You’re still tops in my book. Like, how could anyone forget that classic “Wake me up before you go-go?” And then when you rhymed that with yo-yo? Lyrical genius! I know my heart strings went “Wham!” on that one.
And “Careless Whisper” makes so much sense and is so true to life and all that stuff. Who hasn’t experienced the feeling of no rhythm because your feet are too guilty? I sure have. That’s why I can’t dance. Feet guilt.
What about “Father Figure”, huh? “Put your tiny hand in mine.” That’s just so cute, and not creepy. I mean, not once did I think about adding the lyrics “Would you like some candy / go hop in this van of mine.” Not even when you said “Sometimes love can be mistaken for a crime.” I mean, that’s totally understandable there. Sometimes love is, um, criminal and prosecuted by law and um . . .
People just don’t have “Faith” in you, George, but ya gotta have faith. You gotta have faith a faith a faith – ba-by! And I do, George! Despite your subtle, unassuming nature, I can really feel your tender love ballads, especially “I want your sex.” Talk about romantic. I remember parents being concerned about that song when I was a kid. I bet they wish they could have your songs back now, George!
It’s Christmas time again, George, and you remember what happened “Last Christmas”? You gave some girl your heart and she gave it away like the VERY NEXT DAY? Talk about rude! Especially since heart transplants are really hard to come by. You don’t have to worry about that with me, George, because I am here forever and ever! I watch your video “Last Christmas” every chance I get. It’s so groovy and modern, and your feathery hair just sets me a’flame, Georgie. Hang on while I get my skies!
Love your greatest fan ev-er,
Santa sucks. We all know this. I mean, I’ve been talking about it for how many posts? Still not even close to the number of 50 Shades posts? Eh. Anyway, I’ve been shopping for gifts and thinking of those poor parents who are still playing the Santa game and how this Santa freak is taking all the credit. Adults are getting rightly tired of this crap. Well adults with the exception of Megyn, Fox News anchor, who still believes in Santa, white Santa, because she’s not too bright. That also explains why she can’t spell her name correctly. But most adults do not believe in Santa, and are ready to kick the jolly fat jerk.
Wait, did someone say kick? Guess what? You’re in luck! There is a game that the Things introduced to me – it’s totally educational. No, really. It’s from a Math site, so you can learn Math stuphs while having a reindeer kick Santa toward a chimney. You know the reindeer have totally been waiting for this chance for centuries. As the game goes on, the challenges get greater. Sometimes you have fans blowing Santa into fire and stuph. Or he gets impaled, bloodless of course, on spikes. Because it’s a kid’s game.
Other times he just smashes into walls, and flops down. It’s like his body is made out of stuffing. Like toy Santas. At – at least I think they’re toy Santas. We’re gonna go with toys, not dead bodies of the multiple Santa clones seen in malls the world over.
It’s such a popular game that they have come out with Santa Kicker I, II, and III! I love it when people makes stuff so I don’t have to! Also so I don’t look like the only disturbed individual! Anyway, the best part of this game is that it is free and on the internetz so you can play it anytime! Except work of course! You wouldn’t do that, would you? Of course you would. Go check it out. http://www.coolmath-games.com/holiday-Christmas-games-puzzles/super-santa-kicker/
You Better Watch Out : Scary Santa Songs!
Ah, Santa Claus. He’s a hoot because he gives you a chance to lie to your kids and get away with it. It’s for a greater cause, of course – getting the little punks to behave lest they lose any of their much wanted merchandise. Recently, Santa has gotten lazy, though, and enlisted the help of the elf on the shelf. This little freak narcs on kids to Santa for an entire flipping month. He’s so creepy. That . . . that grin. And he keeps moving around. You never know where he’ll be. Some elves even stage elaborate pranks. This scares the heck out of me, and I’m not even a small child.
Why do you need an elf anyway? Isn’t Santa scary enough? Oh, sure, Coca Cola painted him as a fat old jolly fellow in a red suit, but they also made polar bears look adorable, and those things can rip your face off. All you have to do is listen to songs about Santa to make you start questioning this kind little fairy tale we all tell to our kids. Well, most of us think it’s a fairy tale. Fox News had four commentators on – there’s actual video – discussing Santa’s ethnicity. In case you were wondering, he’s white. According to Megyn, Fox News Host, that’s a “verifiable fact.” Also in discussion was Jesus who naturally was also white. So I guess that explains why some minority children get crappy gifts. Anyway, some people believe in Jesus and others don’t, but I’m pretty sure most people over eight or so realize Santa is imaginary. And thank goodness for that. Here’s just three songs that point out why I find Santa kind of scary, and you should too. But first, check out the scariness of Fox News.
Exhibit A: Santa Claus is coming to town
This has to be the worst one of the bunch. Just for kicks, try replacing “Santa Claus” with “Serial Killer”.
You better watch out, better not cry
Better not pout I’m telling you why
Serial killer is coming to town.
See? Happy, happy! Note that you can also replace “Santa Claus” with “Christian Grey” and get the same effect. These next lines, slightly edited by yours truly, show that Santa is really not to be trusted.
He sees you when you’re sleeping
He knows when you’re awake
He knows what your address is man
So lock your door for goodness sakes
Elf on the shelf really can’t come close to that kind of terrifying wackiness. I don’t even think he has a song unless you count “Somebody’s watching me” or “Every Breath You Take”.
Exhibit B: Up on the House Top
This one’s just really, really odd. I had to look up the lyrics because they didn’t make sense and they still don’t make sense.
Ho, ho, ho, who wouldn’t go
Ho, ho, ho, who wouldn’t go
up on the house top click, click, click,
down through the chimney with good St. Nick.
Well, I wouldn’t go up on the housetop and I’m not so sure we should be encouraging children to do this either. Hey, there’s some weirdo on the roof, Willy, why don’t you go check that out? Don’t worry, honey, you can slide down the chimney to get back down! Then you can open your stocking and see what totally appropriate toys Santa got you!
Next comes the stocking of little Will
Oh, just see what a glorious fill
Here is a hammer and lots of tacks
Also a ball and a whip that cracks
Holy crap. I’m thinking this is just asking for a trip to the ER and multiple lawsuits here. Little Nell better hide her dolly unless she wants her brother to hammer some tacks in her. Or use his whip. I can’t believe whips weren’t on the top toys list for Toys R Us this year. Ah, the good old days when you could give your kids fun stuff like whips, hammers, and lawn darts.
The next song really confuses the heck out of me, but it does lend credence to the theory, sported by my then four-year-old daughter Thing One, that Santa works for God. Something like middle management, I guess.
Exhibit C: Here Comes Santa Claus
Hang your stockings and say your prayers
Cause Santa Claus comes tonight!
Why do we need prayers? Are these prayers that Santa is okay, or prayers that Santa leaves our house untouched?
Santa Claus knows we’re all God’s children
That makes everything right
We are? All of us? What about the kids who are other religions? Do they not count? I thought Santa was Pagan. When did he convert? I’m really confused here. Maybe Fox News could explain this to me a little better.
So let’s give thanks to the Lord above
That Santa Claus comes tonight
We’re thanking God for Santa Claus? So then – God created Santa? But wait, if Santa’s not real, then is this song lying about God? I mean, talk about a way to mess with a child’s mind there. Or does Santa just hire out maybe? Like he works for Pagans sometimes, and Christians sometimes, and Muslims sometimes, but this particular song writer just assumes that Santa is Christian? If this isn’t a Fox News Christmas Song, I don’t know what is, you guys. Let’s thank baby Jesus for sending us white Santa Claus who stalked us and snuck in our houses and gave us weapons, la la la la la! Yay!
Letter to Holiday Paul
Last year I started a letter writing campaign to Santa. It devolved faster than your average comment section on MSN, resulting in blackmail, un-friending, multiple lawsuits, North Pole code violations, threats of nuclear devastation and kidnapped reindeer. It all turned out well because I got all those My Little Ponies I was never given as a child. Thanks, Santa! Considering I’m probably still on the naughty list, I figured I’d hit up a newer, better holiday joy bringer. Holiday Paul!
Who is Holiday Paul? Oh, man, I can’t believe you asked that. Merbear has a post about him on her blog. He’s like the elf on the shelf, but not creepy, because he’s a Beatle, you see. As in the band “The Beatles”, not the insect; don’t be ridiculous. You might be wondering why I would write holiday wishes to a former member of a band. Well now I’m telling you why! Christmas time is here again so Holiday Paul is coming to town. Listen up.
Holiday Paul was part of the Beatles and the Beatles were uber-famous and the first long haired freaky guys in the states! Their hair was like over their collars!
Holiday Paul is totally a knight, which is pretty cool.
Holiday Paul flies his Yellow Submarine on a magical mystery tour every year to deliver gifts of joy and joyness to children around the world! It’s a hard day’s night but someone has to do it.
Holiday Paul gets by with a little help from his friends – the elves who sang the background to Lennon’s “So This is Christmas” help him make the gifts. Oh, you thought that was a children’s choir? Silly people.
Holiday Paul has much better holiday songs than Santa, like “Let it Be” and “All You Need is Love” (he was just kiddin’ with that one) and “Help!” (possibly recorded when he was mobbed last year at Macy’s.)
Holiday Paul is freaking loaded.
I think those are great reasons (especially the last one) to write to Holiday Paul this Christmas. So without further ado, here is my letter:
Dear Holiday Paul
Alice here. I know you say you can’t buy me love, but I was thinking you could try anyway. My list is really simple this year. I want you to stop all the wars and the crime and the poverty and the Tea Partiers. This would truly bring us Peace on Earth. I know, it’s so unselfish of me, which is why I figure I can get away with asking for the next few items.
I want a million dollars. I don’t really care if they’re marked or not, as long as they are spendable. I’d also like a few more houses and here’s why. I need one that my nine-year-old can live in with the lions, tigers and bears you give her as pets for Christmas. Oh, and I’ll need a nanny to go with that. I’d also like another house for my husband. It could really just be an enormous shop with a bathroom in it. He’d be happy as a lark. My thirteen-year-old needs a house so that all that stuff she crams into her locker and backpack can spread out. And that would leave me with my house, where I can rest comfortably. Oh, yeah, we’ll need a maid for that also. I don’t care what size he comes in – medium is fine. I’d also like an Ear-Vac, just because.
I guess that’s all for now, Holiday Paul. Thanks ever so much.
P.S. Your version of “Twist and Shout” was totally the best.
Hey, have you guys got any wishes for Holiday Paul? If so, feel free to write your own letters in a post linking back to Merbear, who first let me know the beauty of Holiday Paul! I think it would make Holiday Paul and Merbear very happy. Otherwise, just write down your wishes in the comments, and we’ll see if we can get to them. Hint: Letters are way better.
Alice’s Independence Day Special
Today is the 4th of July, or “Independence Day” in America. Some people forget this is actually just a holiday in America, not the entire planet. Although, come to think of it, these days I bet Britain is also celebrating getting rid of us. I came very close to being a sesquicentennial baby (my birthday was on June 29th thanks for remembering about that super soaker I asked for oh WAIT you didn’t) as I was born in the year 1976.
Two-hundred years before my entrance into this crazy world, there were a bunch of colonists getting their pantaloons in a wad. See, Britain had paid a crapload of money to ship off people to colonize this great country that was technically already colonized by Native Americans, or “Indians” as Columbus brilliantly called them since he had the directional sense of a blind raccoon. My point is, Britain had invested lots of money in an overseas project and it was, as usual, costing a wee bit more than the government had figured it would. So they were like who else can we tax for this? We taxed the heck out of Britian already oh hey WAIT I have an idea!
So they taxed the tea they sent us. That’s right, our friggin’ TEA, people. Nevermind that we could have say, drank water; tea was our right as British citizens! The colonists didn’t want to pay the tax because we were not being represented properly in Britain. At least that sounded like a good reason not to pay taxes. If they had just allowed us to vote for people we had no clue about into office and stuff (like we do today!) we’d have been all happy and paid the tax. I’m sure of it. It’s not like people don’t like taxes or something.
So a bunch of guys (yes, guys, the women were busy washing their freaking pantaloons) got together and decided to dress up like “Indians” and dump a bunch of tea into the Boston harbor, thus beginning a long tradition of pollution. A little over two-hundred years later, another group of wackos would decide to call themselves the “Tea Party” in honor of the first people to dress up in weird costumes and pollute water in order to whine and moan about the government.
This annoyed the British (they wasted TEA dangit!) so they decided to put naughty Massachusetts under the charge of the British army. That would keep them in line. I mean there’s no way they’d still be stockpiling weapons or anything oh WAIT. So the British army confronted some local colonial militia and traded bullets. This was the “shot heard round the world” by people with incredibly good hearing. The British also didn’t like that we’d kinda made our own government too, called the Continental Congress, so they called us traitors to the crown and said now we were really totally grounded, like forever. We didn’t like that, so we decided we’d be our own nation. Suck it, mom and dad – I mean, Britain!
This “Declaration of Independence” happened on July 4, 1776 which is what we’re celebrating, not actually winning our independence from Britain. That would come in 1783 when the British finally said oh heck with it and went back to their tiny, rainy country. In between, there was a lot of bloody fighting, and we Americans love to tell the story about how our ragtag bunch of farmers defeated one of the major superpowers of the world. We’re so proud of our history that some people actually believe that July 4th is when we won independence, not when we declared it. We would also use this declaration, and the constitution and bill of rights that came after it, in practically every argument we would ever have again ever. Even if the argument is about mayonnaise.
But how did this ragtag group defeat such a great and powerful army? Here’s a few things we had on our side.
- An ocean. We didn’t have to cross it just to go fight them.
- France. Their entering the war on our side was one big “nanner, nanner” to Britain.
- The British fought like civilized people, marching in line with bright red “I’m a target” uniforms, thus allowing us uncivilized colonists to hide in the bushes and pick them off like ducks in a barrel.
- Scurvy. The British Navy suffered great losses because they weren’t given FRUIT.
- Meanwhile, the allies of the French (Spain and the Dutch Republic) were battering Britain back home. Maybe they shouldn’t have ticked off so many other countries first . . .
That’s not all, but I’m tired so I’ll stop there. This is a day that we Americans celebrate the creation of our country. But we should also remember that we didn’t do it alone. Without Britian, many colonists wouldn’t have been here to begin with, and without the support of France, Spain, the Dutch, and many others, we probably wouldn’t have won that war. It also wasn’t independence for everyone – that would come much later for the black men and women we kept as slaves and the women of all colors whose voices we silenced. And it would come at the cost of the independence of the Native Americans.
So today we celebrate by waving our flags and being all patriotic. There will be fireworks, and parades, and barbecues, and probably more than one beer, firework, and barbecue related accident. It’s the American way.
An Alice Mother’s Day Special
I know. You’re shocked. Here it is, another holiday, and here I am with another post. What are the odds? Just be happy that I don’t make a post for every holiday out there. There are TONS of random, stupid holidays made up by people every day. My coworker discovered a site full of them. For instance, we’ve already had numerous holidays this month including Star Wars Day (May 4), Lost Sock Memorial Day (May 9), and Eat What You Want Day (May 11). I celebrate these days regularly, and you should too. I bet you didn’t even buy a CARD for Star Wars Day, did you? I know a storm trooper who will be extremely disappointed in you.
But most people remember Mother’s Day, for one major reason: guilt. For once, the shoe is on the other foot, children. Mothers are made to feel guilty from the time that stick turns pink (and even before, hence the popular plea why haven’t you had babies yet???). You didn’t have a natural birth, you didn’t breastfeed, you put your child in daycare, you stayed home with your child but did not provide him with Baby Bach and routine trips to the museum, you didn’t make your child’s baby food from scratch, you didn’t wear your child like a coat, you didn’t write down every one of your baby’s accomplishments in a book or worse you did it for one kid and forgot the other, you didn’t homeschool, you let your kid watch T.V., play video games, and eat fake cheese product and even if you did all the right things and none of the wrong things that just makes other moms hate you.
There is no winning for moms. But we have a day, you guys, one day that is all about us, where people recognize our greatness with cards, flowers, and maybe even a trip out to eat at some fine establishment like Hooters. If your child is younger, he or she might make you a homemade card. The card will say sweet things like “I like my mom because she smells like oranges.” And there will be a little hand print. And you’ll say aw, that is so sweet and you will intend to put it in a frame somewhere but then forget and lose it and feel guilty forever and wonder why did those teachers have them make cards do they have no decency?
But I usually tell you about the origins of these holidays, don’t I? This time I looked it up, I really did, on the History Channel, where history is made today so they can show reality shows about loggers (Ax Men – it’s like it’s something cool, but it’s not!) Mother’s Day (at least the one in America and let’s face it the American one is the only one that counts amIright?) was invented by Anna Jarvis who I should point out not never married or had kids herself. She thought American holidays were biased towards the achievements of men (who’d a thought?), so she wanted a holiday on the calendar about women and their achievements. Namely producing a human out of your body and raising it without killing it. Pretty big deal.
She got her way. But then the merchandisers caught hold of it. Soon it was all about buying cards, flowers, and other crap, more than it was about actually say, seeing your mom and saying hey thanks for popping me out of your uterus and supporting me until I was the legal age you could get me out. Poor Anna. By the time she died, she’d already denounced the holiday and tried to get it removed from the calendar. The road to Hell is paved in good intentions, dear Anna, and thanks to you we now have this stupid holiday. I say stupid, even though I partially benefit, because it isn’t just about me. I mean, I have a mom and my husband has a mom and we have to get them stuff too. And then there’s those who have lost their mothers, so this holiday gets to remind them of that and feel crappy while people who aren’t jerks buy their mothers gifts. Just all around fun.
But hey, at least you might get to go out and eat at one of these lovely dining establishments with your whole family. Which makes the whole thing worth it.
An Alice Easter Special
Yes, folks, it’s Easter! That special time when flowers bloom, bunnies are born, eggs are painted in many pastel hues, tiny tots are dressed in pretty little dresses, and that dead guy comes back to life. You know, all that stuff.
But do you know the real meaning of Easter? You’re in luck. Now is the time for me to
screw up tell you the story of Easter. Once, a long, long time ago, there was a rabbit that wore a little blue jacket. His name was Peter, or Simon-Peter, take your pick, and he was always getting into some sort of trouble, because he was trying to spread the gospel.
What is the gospel? It’s from this book with teeny tiny illustrations that teach lessons to us all. There’s the tale of two bad mice, and that one about Mrs. Tittlemouse, and Squirrel Nutkin, and of course no one can forget the unforgettable parable of Jemima Puddleduck. Anyway, he wanted to spread these stories, even though it was dangerous to do so.
One who definitely needed converting was a Mr. McGregor. So Peter ignored his Mother Bunny, who happened to be a virgin bunny – don’t ask, and crawled under the fence, on a mission to spread the Word. Sadly, he got caught and baked into a pie. All the animals were sadfaced. How would they learn the Word of the Great Potter now?
But lo, after three days, Peter emerged from the oven, alive! He scared the crap out of Mr. McGregor, man. He was now an angel bunny, who told his followers to “Do this in remembrance of me guyz – Paint eggs and hide them from children.” “Wtf?” asked his followers. But Peter said, “Yo, don’t question me.” So they did it. And they still do it today, although all the history got mixed up along the way.
And that’s the story of Easter. Yes it is. Now I’m going to eat a Cadbury egg.
Alice’s New Year
Here is yet another post with my name in it. They’re like children’s books, only not. This post is about Ye Olde New Years Resolutions. I did one of these posts last year, and managed to accomplish everything on the list! Of course the list included things like breathing, eating, and going potty, so admittedly it was not the biggest challenge, considering I am not handicapped. Well, not physically anyway.
But this year I thought I’d do a little research into resolutions. And by a little, I mean a very little. I googled “new years resolutions” and picked the first thing. I found an article on About.com that listed the top ten New Year’s resolutions. This guy is really fond of Pittsburgh. He manages to work local attractions into every single item on the list. That’d be fascinating if I lived anywhere near Pittsburgh. Maybe. Anyway, here they are:
1. Spend More Time with Family and Friends
Wait, what? I just got through Christmas with these people. Like I want to spend anymore time with them? These are the guys that make me actually want to go back to work. Maybe I’ll tell them to meet me at popular Pittsburgh places for family fun.
2. Fit in Fitness
According to this article, “regular fitness has been associated with more health benefits than anything else known to man”. He doesn’t list a source for this. I’m suspicious. Sure, exercise sounds fun, if you’re insane. But there’s got to be an easier way to achieve this fitness thing. Like one of those fat magnets. I’m getting one of those, although I’ll be sure to check out Pittsburgh area charity walks, runs, and rides. The ride one sounds pretty good, provided I am riding in a car.
3. Tame the Bulge
So, like 66 percent of Americans are overweight or obese (hence bulge, get it?) I admit I could stand to lose some pounds. The article says the two most important factors in losing weight are setting reasonable goals and staying focused. I thought it was not eating so many Cheetos and exercising till I fall over. I guess I could read these Pittsburgh weight loss help ideas but oh, hey, Honey Boo-Boo is on!
4. Quit Smoking
This is a good one because I don’t smoke. I am rather annoyed when other people do it around me because of this thing called asthma that can make it hard to breathe even clean air. I get chronic bronchitis and recently recovered from pneumonia, the lung disease from hell, so oddly enough, I’m not fond of breathing in second-hand poison. If I’m dying of lung disease, I’d rather it be from my own stupid habits, not yours. So stop it, preferably by going to quit smoking classes in the greater Pittsburgh area.
5. Enjoy Life More
I don’t know about you, but those earlier resolutions don’t seem to fit with this one. If you are spending all your time exercising, dieting, and hanging around with your family while wearing nicotine patches, I’m guessing you aren’t enjoying life all that much. You know what would help with that? A chocolate cake with a lit cigarette candle. Wait, no, sorry. My bad. Find some things to do in Pittsburgh instead.
6. Quit Drinking
If you weren’t having enough fun with your diet, exercise, family-time, non-smoking, enjoyable life, here’s another guilt trip for you. You drink too much. This is another thing I don’t have a problem with, as alcohol is way too expensive and I am way too cheap. Also, it doesn’t rot out my teeth in quite the same way as my Dr. Pepper addiction does. But it’s a good idea not to drink so much, because you really can’t trust your friends not to do stupid stuff with your drunk self. At least I couldn’t. Instead, find alcohol recovery and support. In Pittsburgh. Of course.
7. Get Out of Debt
Is there some reason that none of these resolutions sounds like fun? What do these people have against fun? Even our government can’t get out of debt. They go around charging everything and they never have to show receipts. No fair, I say. Yet money woes are stressful, so it’d be best not to drink, smoke, sit, eat, be alone, or spend money. Gosh I can’t wait to put this plan in action, you guys! Let’s start the party by finding a financial planner in Pittsburgh!
8. Learn Something New
Crap, now I’m supposed to learn something? That sucks. I refuse to learn anything next year. My recaps of the 50 Shades books should help with this. Nevermind that I’m working in a library. Not gonna learn a thing. But if you want to learn, you can always find lifelong learning in Pittsburgh! Step one: figure out where the hell Pittsburgh is.
9. Help Others
Yet another downer on the list. Volunteerism? I didn’t even know that was a word. Oh, and guess where they think you should volunteer. A library. Cause like, all you have to do is read, amIright? That sounds EASY. Try it. I dare you. Volunteering is like a job, only without the benefit of pay. Which is sort of what every employer wants from you. Don’t give in to their ploys! It also mentions donating your stuff. There’s lots of crap I could donate, like single socks. But whatever you do, don’t donate National Geographic magazines to your library. We don’t need them. We literally have buckets of those stupid things, and overnight they breed. Find some volunteer opportunities in Pittsburgh instead. Be sure and bother their librarians.
10. Get organized.
Organized? Hahaha. I can’t even organize this list. Let’s see, I’m not supposed to drink, smoke, or eat; but I should spend time with family exercising and volunteering by running around the library while I learn new stuff from those book thingies. Or was that the other way around? So confusing. But hey, there’s a lady in Pittsburgh named Patty Kreamer (no really) who offers an e course on organizing. That should help, if I can quit saying “kreamer” over and over in my head.
So there you have it. Top ten resolutions for 2013. Do you have any resolutions this year? Do you live in Pittsburgh? Let me know.