Not so blue ... not so mean

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If you are offended, disgusted, annoyed, or otherwise disturbed by the content of this diary, it's not my fault, and this disclaimer will tell you why. If I know you personally and haven't invited you here -- well, there's a reason for that, so kindly go on back to whichever part of my life you belong in. Trust me, this is for your own good.

The Long and Winding Entry

Thursday, Jan. 04, 2007, 8:52 p.m.

Before I begin blathering on about the continuous eat-fest that was my holiday vacation, I feel the need to mention that my next-door neighbor has just shown herself to be One Of Those People.

You know how in some apartment complexes, usually those with limited parking areas, the parking spaces are marked with individual apartment numbers so that every resident has a spot in which to park at least one car?

Yeah, well, my apartment complex doesn't have those. Instead, it just has supremely abundant parking spaces. And since each apartment is actually a more townhouse-y structure, everyone's on the ground floor, which means that no matter where you park, you are probably only about seven steps from your door. That being the case, I just park in any of the four spaces that are within my seven-step distance, and assume every other sane person in the area is doing the same.

Silly me. I must have forgotten that 82% of America's population migrated from LazyIgnorantShitLand.

My neighbor (who, judging from her uniform, is also in the military) rang my doorbell a few minutes ago. Since I wasn't naked (sadly), I answered the door.

"Hi," she said, in the kind of nasally, whiny voice that has been known to inspire premeditated violence. "Uhhhhm. Did you know that you're parked in my parking space?"

I looked outside, where about five feet away, our cars were parked within a single step of each other. I turned my head to look at the door to her apartment, which was close enough for me to enter with my left foot while keeping my right firmly planted on my own doorstep. Then, I looked at the parking area, which contained more empty spaces than the combined skulls of the Lohan, Simpson, Spears and Hilton offspring. And I said:

"You are what is wrong with America."

Except, I said it in my mind. Out loud, it sounded more like, "Ahhh ... really? They're not marked" -- because I was caught offguard, and thus not prepared to properly distribute verbal abuse.

She replied, "Yeah, that's my space. It's right in front of my door."

An adult woman, in full possession of two functioning legs, who is in the military -- a job where they sometimes require you to move around a little bit -- decided that this whole business of having to veer a foot to the left in order to walk straight to her door just HAD to stop. So what did she do about it? She veered one extra foot to her left, rang my doorbell, and showed me that natural selection just doesn't work fast enough.

Since I was still in a bit of shock that this conversation was even taking place, all I could say was, "Yeeeah. Whatever. I won't park there anymore." (In my head: "Instead, I'll park in the EMPTY SPOT RIGHT NEXT TO IT, you steaming pile of MORON.")

And with a look which I am really hoping communicated both disbelief and a desire to pay for her hysterectomy myself, I shut the door.

Oh, and while we're discussing people who spent their college money on a bitchin' Camaro, let me share this little gem with you:

Things that make you say
Oh, how I wish I could say that I pulled this off of some random website. How I wish I could say that I did not see it on the side of the road as I was driving home, at which point I was compelled to pull over, step out of my car, and capture it for posterity. How I wish -- I'm sorry, I can't finish this thought. My brain appears to have popped.


My stomach has not been truly empty since the day before Christmas Eve. That should tell you most of what you might want to know about my holiday season.

Husband and I drove, without incident, to Missouri and New York to visit our respective families, who celebrated our arrival by not only killing the fatted calf, but also ensuring that we ate every last bite of it. Don't get me wrong: it was delicious, but I may be needing to go on the Nicole Richie diet just to fit into my underpants.

Mmmm ...

Mmmm ... steak

Strong to the finich, cuz I eats me spinach balls

Beans, beans, they're good for your heart

Canollis!

Christmas cookies

DINNER!

Makin' the meataballs

Luckily, we were able to work off some of the weight ("Meatball Ass," as I lovingly refer to my added pounds) by participating in some public entertainment. A family friend of ours was playing guitar at a local bar, so we all traipsed in and, little by little, took over the spotlight. After he opened the floodgates by allowing me to join him in "The Day The Music Died," it was, as they say, on.


Bruvver, Mom and I have completely taken over the stage. At least Dad just consented to play backup harmonica, as you can see for yourself in this handy video:

Husband and I both got some fantastic Christmas loot from both families. My most addictive gift was my new camera (there really IS a Nikon D70 Fairy, and he apparently answers to both "Mom" and "Dad." YESSS!), and Husband's was a book of Sudoku (or, as we call it, "Sudooky") puzzles.

My favorite Christmas present!

And my brother, proving once again that he and I are on the exact same wavelength, presented me with another one of the Best Gifts Ever -- this book.

We spent a fun-filled Christmas evening with my extended family, which included the annual singing of "The Twelve Days of Christmas" (remind me to tell you the story, someday, of my mom's alias: "The 'Partridge in a Pear Tree' Aunt") and the soon-to-be annual playing of "Catchphrase," a game which could, if not carefully monitored, cause three generations of one family to turn on one another.

It was Husband's first Christmas with my family, and I have to commend him on his chill-ness, for we are a rowdy bunch who do not become quiet unless the large amount of food in our mouths forces us to. He and my cousin's fiancee', who is also fairly new to The Family, handled it quite well, even after we forced them to sing the part of the Five Golden Rings.

Cousins + boys
See? You can't even detect the fear in their eyes.


My cousin Nick and his pet hedgehog, St. Francis of Assissi, tried their best to intimidate the boys, but to no avail. Props, boys!

The day after Christmas, Husband and I went on a thousand-mile jaunt down to Missouri, where his family welcomed us with open arms and heaping plates. I have relatively fewer photos from that part of trip, mainly because most of the time, I was too busy eating to press down on the shutter button. I did, however, have multiple moments of photographic bliss when we visited the pet store in search of new fish for the aquarium.

Snuggly ferrets

And of course, how could I neglect the evil cat who rules over Husband's family's house?

Evil kitty
"I don't need Meow Mix because I feed on your SOUL."

New Year's Eve, which fortunately arrived around the time that we had finished digesting our holiday meals and needed several gallons of hard liquor to wash them down with, was, as you might expect, a bit of a blur. This picture should kind of sum it up, though:


This picture was attempted at least twelve times, and I think this is the clearest shot we ended up with -- presented in glorious whiskey-vision.

On our way back home to Georgia, Husband and I stopped in Metropolis, Ill., to pay a visit to the Superman Museum -- and pay a visit, we did.

Heh heh.
Maturity is the key, when you're standing directly underneath Superman's giant sack.

I made him do this
I made him do this.

Time to go fight some evil ... things
"Please stop making me pose."

I ended up purchasing some overpriced shorts emblazoned with the phrase "Faster Than A Speeding Bullet" at the museum -- because, come on, I had to buy something -- but I still felt as though something was missing from the giant Super display in front of the courthouse. There was Truth (in advertising), Justice (re: courthouse) ... but what was that other thing?

Ah, yes ...

Faster Than A Speeding Bullet
... the American Way.


I have three more things to say before I finally finish this MASSIVE entry, which I am truly sorry not to have broken into smaller, more digestible pieces.

1) If you have never heard of Flight of the Conchords, I'm going to assume that you feel a bit empty inside. Go here and watch every single video, and if you die from laughter, that's a price you should be willing to pay.

2) Remember my group diary, unfukd? That thing I created when I wasn't getting any sweet lovin' on a regular basis? I realize I've been neglecting it since I've been back in the Land of the Laid, but today I decided to do a little touch-up work, and added a Comments section to each entry -- now we can all FULLY commiserate with each other's celibacy! Except, I also fucked up the template a little bit ... surprisingly. Um. If anyone wants to help me unfuck it (pun SO intended, har har!), please step forward! And let me know if you want to be put on the guest-posters' list -- I'm sensing that there are mathousands of nonsexed folks out there in Cyberdom who need a place to bitch about it.

3) Speaking of celibacy, the Army is moving Husband to Norf Cackalacky in a few weeks, so I shall be without him involuntarily once again. I'm sure I'll go and visit him once in a while, though. (For those of you in that region whom I've been meaning to stop in and bother, consider yourselves warned. Drinks are forthcoming.) I haven't yet re-enlisted, for reasons having to do with incompetence FAR above my rank, but my plan is to get it done as soon as I can, because if I get stuck in Fort Stewpid past March 30, I'll be headed back to Iraq -- my home away from home -- in the summer.


I hope all of you had absolutely scrumdiddlyumptious holidays, about which I beg you to give me all the sordid details, because I am always looking for new people to live vicariously through.

And to the Year 2007, I say: BRING IT.

The Night Before - The Morning After


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