Friday, December 22, 2006

we are the world, we are the children

Today is Global Orgasm Day. Go back to bed and do your part!!!

I was trying to explain to Female Offspring #3 the fine art of sending Christmas cards.
There are four levels of Christmas cards:
A. Personally bought at card store. This card goes to all the people
you're dying to impress, any crushes and your spouse. Not necessarily in that order, OF COURSE.
Let's put it this way: if you screwed (or wanted to screw) this person within the last year, they deserve a personally bought card.
B. Nice box of discounted high end card store cards bought at drug store.
This would be the box of Hallmark cards you got 50% off of at Rite Aid.
These cards go to friends you'd *like to* impress, but you won't get all bent out of shape if it
doesn't work; family you like and your landlord. Might help you stave off a future rent raise.
C. Huge $2 box of card from Dollar General. These cards go to family that you like but rarely see,
friends who didn't fit into the first two categories, dog walker and the mailman. But *only* if he leaves your packages by your front door.
D. Free cards from the Humane Society or the Heart Association. You send these cards to family you barely get along
with. In my case, my sister in law. I can't scratch her off the list totally or my mother would freak, so I send them a free card.
You should also send these cards to people you graduated high school with but haven't seen in 20+ years and the paperboy.
Now you guys can see why we spend so damn much time in the card aisle.

I went to my mother's last night, the first time since she and Mr. G had the big blow
out. Since we're not going down Christmas Eve, I wanted to take their gifts down.
Let me just say this, my mother is NOT a very forgiving person. I mean they argued weeks before Thanksgiving, for Pete's sake.
The problem is that my mother has no son-in-law who openly disagrees with her, except my husband.
The others are immune from years of exposure and lack of a spine.
Kinda like the antibiotic scenario--the more you use them, the less effective they are against germs.
The only time I felt my mother really appreciated us kids was when my sister died.
For a few short months, she was the loving, genuine mom I've always wanted.
But I realize people do the best they can. She admitted to me on several occasions that she kept having kids because of being Catholic and
because she felt she had no choice. Although I think it's absolutely ludicrous that the Church tells you how many kids to have, that
was her time and her choice. I guess it's just natural that she resents the fact that her life was just about raising kids.
Anywho, she was pissy with me the entire time I was there and I hated every blasted minute.
All sixty seven and a half of them.
The annoying thing is that when I avoid her for another month or so because of this behavior, she'll blame me for that and
the whole cycle starts all over again.
When there's trouble between Female Offspring #1` and myself, my mother is quick to point out that it's my fault.
When there's trouble between my mother and myself, again, she says it's my fault. Interesting how that works out.
Ain't life grand?!



I was reading (even more) about Rosie and The Donald's fighting, and I have to say that
while I agree with Rosie's notion that Miss USA should not have been given a second chance,
I don't agree with the way she carried on during her View segment.
(I'm not talking about the hair bit, of course. That was hilarious and dead on.)
Rosie reminds me a lot of Roseanne.
Both brilliant comediennes, but neither has much tact. Because they don't
act with much diplomacy, they come across as loud mouthed, pushy bitches.
But, at least, Rosie speaks proper English. Roseanne's
use (and when I say 'use' I mean 'mangling') of the English language is frightening at best.

Note to self: Cut back on the amount of money you spend on Overtime Hawg's gift next year.
This year I bought everyone a really nice "Brownies in a Jar" gift that was almost $10 per jar.
Not a whopping amount, but then again, I don't make a whopping amount.
Everybody I work with likes chocolate and sweets, so I thought it was a nifty gift.
If you've never seen them, they come in a glass jar, and you have all the dry ingredients you need
for a batch of brownies layered, then topped with a nice Christmas covering. I also included jingle bell ornaments
for everyone with their names painted on them.
Overtime Hawg gave me a jar of Avon cream that had obviously been regifted because
it didn't even come in a box. Avon stuff ALWAYS comes in boxes.
As a little something extra, she tossed in one of those free gifts you get when you order from Swiss Colony.
You know, the tiny sausage and a tiny cheese? Oooo, pinch me. I must be dreaming.
Yes, I KNOW it's the thought that counts and I THOUGHT she gave me a shitty gift. Pffft.
Gifts are important to me. And don't misunderstand me, I'm not talking about the cost of the gifts,
I'm talking about the thought behind the gift. Gifts that show you're paying attention to this person's likes and dislikes.
For instance, I rarely wear anything from Avon because their perfumes are too strong and smell too much like alcohol.
She would know this IF she paid attention because she sells AVON and I told her that when she gave me the book.
I like lotions and body creams but only if they have a fruity smell like melon or kiwi. Stuff like that.
I don't like Overtime Hawg any more than she likes me, I imagine, but I noticed enough to know that she likes chocolates and baked goods.
I came from a big family and my mother never
worked outside the home, so for Christmas we usually got one or two toys we wanted for ourselves
and then a big gift that us three younger girls shared. And of course, we'd get the lameass
underwear and bras disguised as gifts. Everyone falls prey to that nasty scheme.
On the other hand, my best gf was an only child. I'd go to her house at
Christmas and I'd be blown away by the stuff she'd get. I remember thinking, "Wow. If my parents
loved me, they'd buy me gifts like this." Which, of course, is totally skewed thinking, but hey, I was a kid.
Nonetheless, because of this experience I still tend to think, "if he/she liked me they'd buy me gifts." LOL.
Ok so I'm basically every bit as skewed now as I was as a kid. So sue me.
I've gotten over this feeling as far as my husband is concerned and it's a good thing, too.
He'd rather donate a kidney than shop for a gift for me, and we're not exchanging this year.
Well, let's put it this way, I'm giving him the gift of not having to buy me a gift.
My aunt was a notorious regifter, and she was so bad at it that she'd often leave the gift card
inside the box from the previous person. As kids, we thought that was just hilarious.
My mother used to get mad and I never realized till I was older that it was because my aunt was loaded with money and while my
mother would buy her something new, she'd give my mother something from the thrift
store or a regift. I always loved my aunt's gifts, though, because they were rather funky. She'd get us a
cool purse or hat and we'd just love it because it was different from the sort of stuff my mom
would buy. Most importantly, it was tailored to the things we liked. She was my aunt. She didn't have to buy me underwear.
And even though they came from the thrift store, the gifts were never given just so she
could say she gave us something, which is pretty much how I felt about O.H.'s gift.

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