three a.m.

It’s my favorite week of the year: no more faking holiday cheer, just plain old sitting around entertaining false hopes of becoming a better person next year.  Me, I’m going to eat healthier, write more, bathe regularly.  Self-discipline like a ninja.   But not for two more days.

Here’s what I think: people don’t know each other at all.  The proof?  Your Christmas gifts.  Me, I got a battery-operated radio-lantern.  It’s like a hanging flashlight that gets fm.  I don’t know if that’s the best or worst gift I’ve gotten this year.  It’s like this tee-shirt I got in high school, a bright red one that said "Gone Fishin’" and had a big green fish puffing out of the fabric.  Looking back, I should have worn it at least once. 

On the other hand, I got a razor blade made specifically for shaving a head.  It’s called a head blade.  Even if it doesn’t work, that’s pretty awesome.  Actually, I got lots of great stuff this year, which was nearly enough to make this Christmas charade worthwhile.  To be fair, even the lantern/radio came with a gift card. 

But I still want to know what the lamest/weirdest gift you got was, which was kind of the point of all this.

What I’ve been up to: sitting in the waffle house with my family, drinking coffee and working puzzles.  (Are people doing these sudoku things?)  For those of you who don’t get south of the mason-dixon line too often, the waffle house is a 24 hour greasy grill where old men, stoned teenagers, bored millionaires, crackheads, and drunk pregnant girls hang out.  It’s a good place to sit.  A couple of nights before Christmas, I was in there with Mom and Dad when a group of 10 or so high school kids came in and sang carols, accompanied by a trombone and a violin.  Even the waitresses were singing along. 

A good movie I’ve seen in the last month: You and Me and Everyone We Know (or something like that)
Current Music: Recommend me something
Currently reading: The Secret Goldfish, David Means.
Place I’d like to be: Skellar, w/Guinness

In fact, I’ll be going there Monday Night, when I get back in town, assuming I can scrounge up some company…