01/01/10

Life is full of contradictions. New Year's Day is a great example of this. People run around wishing each other a "Happy New Year," when, in reality, a decent amount of those people actually dread January 1st. Why? Because they make the rash decision to participate in a whimsical (read "mythical") phenomenon known as "New Year's Resolutions."

I suppose self-inflicted guilt is trendy or something. Maybe assigning a specific start date for things we should have already been doing makes us feel like we're really getting a break until New Year's - just in case the past twenty, thirty, or forty years weren't enough of a procrastination.

Maybe we never decided to lose that weight, take that class, or spend more time with our families because the timing was all wrong back in 2009. Yeah, man. The timing. The weather! The prices. The... the... load of crap.

Whatever. Two-thousand ten's gonna be different. Better! I mean, we've got new calendars now! There's no stopping us.

Maybe I'm just a sarcastic bitch* and New Year's resolutions aren't masochistic or idealistic at all. But that's neither here nor there.

What is both here and there, is this:

I resolve to have no resolutions other than the one contained within this very sentence.



And I am going to rock that resolution to the ground.






*This suggestion contains a high concentration of potential accuracy.

Harrowing Headwear Happenings

I was at Urban Outfitters on Black Friday night and happened to pick up a fedora not unlike the one pictured. For whatever reason, I also happened to notice that the tag on the inside read:

"Not for children under 14."

How this hat would be of harm to persons under ANY age is beyond me, but your suggestions are warmly, nay, ferociously invited.

Santa's Slovenly Shenanigans

I texted Santa tonight. The real Santa. Santa Claus. It's true. I found his number online. It's 1224. That's his number. Get it? Like, 12/24. Christmas Eve! How clever. I wonder how famous you have to be to get your cell phone number shortened to a mere four digits. Probably pretty famous.

But I digress. The following is our textual conversation in its entirety:

Me: Are you really Santa?

Santa: Just received your wish list! Isn't it great I can receive texts? even at the North Pole!? I will look over your list now, but you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I'm telling you why... I'm coming to town soon! Ho Ho Ho! Sincerely, Santa Claus

Me: Thanks for answering my question, Santa. I hate you.

Santa: You're very welcome. Ho Ho Ho! - Santa

Me: You obviously misunderstood.

Santa: Hi there! Nice List! It's the most wonderful time of the year, isn't it? My elves and I have been working hard in our shop. I hope you're staying busy singing carols, hanging mistletoe and above all, being nice! Ho Ho Ho! Sincerely, Santa Claus




Santa is a jackass.



Merry Christmas.

Witches

I was somewhere between the ages of seven and ten. My siblings and I must have been tucked into our beds for a decent amount of time because as I stared at the ceiling from my top bunk, I remember thinking that I was probably the only one still awake. It always made me feel kind of scared when that happened. I was not fond of the stillness of being the only conscious person in a room.

At this point in my life, I was especially fearful of the supernatural. I went through a very long phase of being terrified of witches. On this particular night, I lay there, aware of my every breath, believing that any sudden movement may provoke an unknown entity to action. In my head, I was going through everything I knew about witches. As I was about halfway through my mental witch Rolodex (???) my little sister uttered a phrase from the bottom bunk that caused my blood to curdle and my bones to chill:

"Carsten," she breathed solemnly. "Witches aren't real, you know."

Let's just say I am unaware of how I remained in control of my bladder at that moment. There was absolutely no reason she should have said that. I was not talking about witches earlier in the day. We had not watched a film containing witches anytime in the distant past. It was not common knowledge that I was afraid of witches. I asked her why she said that. She said she didn't know.

So now, whenever a creepy coincidence involving both of us happens, she always says, "Wiiiiiitches!!!!" Yeah, it's cute. But it doesn't change the fact that, to this day, I consider that story one of the most petrifying coincidences of my life.

2008

I was looking around my posts today (December 14th, 2009) and noticed that I had one unpublished one. I began writing it on 5/23/08. Would you like to see it? It doesn't matter. I'm still going to show you:


jar of jellybeans on the counter.

note: do not eat jellybeans before dinner!



girl comes in

[end post]



Being that this is the only post I had even come close to writing in 2008, I guess you could say it sums up my existence during that year. I didn't even publish it. What a great year for my blog. What a great year for my life. Maybe now you understand why I felt the need to publish this worthless garbage: so that you would feel sorry for me and how pathetic I am.

I do not have the slightest idea where I was going with this post. Is this story about the jelly beans something that actually happened in my life, or was it fictional? What was the girl going to do when she entered the room? What would happen to her if she were to eat the jelly beans before dinner? I really don't know so do us both a favor and stop wondering. We'll never know, okay? I don't remember. I don't know anything! For all I know, jelly beans don't even exist.

There. Now I have produced something to represent an entire calendar year for which this blog was in a comatose state, were that possible.

I hope you're happy.