Happy New Year!!!!

Sure, some people will be partying it up tonight, but not us. We'll be assuming our usual positions in front of the television...more than likely asleep before the ice in most peoples' drinks needs replenishing at their festive gatherings. Do I miss the days of desperately looking for a cool place to be on New Year's Eve, because it was so important to be around people on this night of nights? Not at all. We're even foregoing our usual routine of eating dinner at "The Meadow" this year, but only because we went to Ye Old Steakhouse last night instead. I hadn't been there in years. The food was as good as I remembered, but the parking was worse. Don't let that deter you. Just wear comfortable shoes.

Anyway, Happy New Year to all of my loyal readers and you know who you are!

One of my resolutions is to blog everyday. Of course I've vowed to start working out, too. So don't hold your breath!

From Our House to Yours...

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Feliz Navidad! Happy Hanukkah!

Peace and Love!

Still On the Hunt

Can you say, "picked over"? There's absolutely nothing left at Marshall's, Ross, or T.J., and I still need to buy three or four more gifts. I did find this one shoe at Ross...it was so perfect...if only I could have found its mate. Oh my God, it looked the aftermath of a storm in that store. "Clean up on aisle six...seven...eight...nine...oh hell...clean up on the entire store." Seriously, they just need to bulldoze it. Don't get me wrong. I'm all about digging for bargains. PhillyTwo and I shopped at Filene's Basement in NYC once and loved it. Then they put one near Lennox Square in Atlanta, but that one was more like a typical department store. We went there expecting the same "rummage sale" concept, only to find it was all very neat and organized. It was a complete turn-off. Never went back. So you see? I love a good hunt. But what I experienced today was beyond a good hunt. It was like being on safari (Out of Africa) without Robert Redford. I mean, who's gonna shampoo your hair?

MMMMMM....This Room Smells Just Like a Baby's Butt

It's so hard to get in the mood for Christmas with the weather like it is...i.e. too warm and too wet. Christmas shopping should be done in chilly temps with an occasional snowflake or two for effect. Instead, it's in the fifties with monsoons. I don't want to leave the house. I'm not letting Fred --------------> outside either. Not even to poop. He has to go in the garage. I know. That's kinda sick, but we did put paper down. And he goes on it. It's an easy clean-up job - for Ron - who loves Fred so much that cleaning up his poop doesn't even bother him. The thing is, I hate to let Fred go out in the rain, not because I'm looking after Fred. Hardly. It's because when he comes back into the house, he's all wet and stinky, and then he wants to roll around on the carpet to dry off. I mean he stinks to high heaven...like all dogs do when they're wet. He did that the other day and he left a delightful odor on the carpet. So I decided to remedy it by sprinkling baby powder all over the place, in hopes that it would absorb a little of the odor. Then I vacuumed it up. A brilliant idea, I thought. But Ron didn't agree. He said the damned baby powder smelled worse than wet dog. See, now that's where we disagree. I can't think of too many things that smell worse than wet dog. Unless it's just pure-out dog shit. Or Ron's upper lip.

I say that in reference to my childhood (may it rest in peace). Around our house, if you ever announced that you smelled something bad, you were always told it was probably just your upper lip. What in the hell does that even mean?

I Love Richard Curtis

He wrote three great screenplays: Love Actually, Notting Hill and Four Weddings and a Funeral.
I watched Four Weddings and a Funeral for the umteenth time the other night. I think that movie is a classic with dozens of lines that need to be remembered and quoted. The real problem is that most of the clever gems fly by so fast it's hard to grab them.
Here are a few of my favorites:

Tom: The great advantage of having a reputation for being stupid: People are less suspicious of you.

Serena: Excuse me? [points out Charles's brother, who is talking to Charles in sign language] Serena: Who's the boy over there? In the grey?
Matthew: Name's David.
Serena: [watching David admiringly] He's something of a dish, isn't he.
Matthew: I've always thought so.
Serena: Why are they... why are they...? [mimicking the sign language]
Matthew: Oh, the dish can't hear.
Serena: Gosh...
Matthew: Yeah. Silent, but deadly attractive.

Fiona: There's a sort of greatness to your lateness.
Charles: Thanks, it's not achieved without real suffering.

Matthew: I remember the first time I saw Gareth on a dance floor. I feared lives would be lost.

Henrietta: Charlie! Oh, God! The way you used to look at me! I just misread it, that's all. I thought you were going to propose and you were just working out how to leave.

Charles: Ladies and gentlemen, l'm sorry to drag you from your desserts. There are just one or two little things I feel I should say, as best man. This is only the second time l've been a best man. I hope I did OK that time. The couple in question are at least still talking to me. Unfortunately, they're not actually talking to each other. The divorce came through a couple of months ago. But l'm assured it had absolutely nothing to do with me. Paula knew Piers had slept with her sister before I mentioned it in the speech. The fact that he'd slept with her mother came as a surprise, but I think was incidental to the nightmare of recrimination and violence that became their two-day marriage. Anyway, enough of that. My job today is to talk about Angus. There are no skeletons in his cupboard. Or so I thought. I'll come on to that in a minute. I would just like to say this. I am, as ever, in bewildered awe of anyone who makes this kind of commitment that Angus and Laura have made today. I know I couldn't do it and I think it's wonderful they can. So, back to Angus and those sheep.

Charles: How do you do, my name is Charles.
Old man: Don't be ridiculous, Charles died 20 years ago!
Charles: Must be a different Charles, I think.
Old man: Are you telling me I don't know my own brother!
Charles: No, no.

Here's Your Sign

Last Sunday Ron and I lost our minds and drove up to the Tanger Outlets in Sevierville. Mainly we were on a shirt mission...to the Van Heusen store (for Ron, of course), but to get me to go with him, he had to at least pretend that it was for Christmas shopping. That, and a promise for lunch at Connor's was enough to reel me in. The traffic was surprisingly light on the way up. Not so much on the way back...as every tourist, shopper, mountaineer, moonshine-runner, and backwoods goat-herder decided it was time to get the hell out of there at precisely the same time that we did. Anyway, I digress.
Van Heusen was one of the first stores we went in and it didn't take long for Ron to realize the pickin's were slim. There were only a couple of solid dress shirts in his size - both white - so he got them and we headed to the check-out. The young man behind the register recognized Ron and immediately started gushing - about how he had heard he had shopped in there before and how he had grown up watching him on the news. And the guy behind the other register had obviously waited on Ron in the past, so he acted a little cooler about it, but star-struck nevertheless. So there were a few moments of friendly banter...then the cashier/fan rang up the sale and announced the grand total, and Ron handed him his debit card. And the guy...I shit you not...immediately became freakishly stern, and in a tone that would rival a Tennessee state trooper, he looked squarely at Ron and said, "I'll need to see your I.D."
Now that's funny, I don't care who you are.

HoHoHo!

I was in the attic looking for boxes yesterday - for gift wrapping purposes - when I came across something that I bought last year to give as a Christmas gift. Actually, I barely remember buying this "thing" and I'm not sure who I bought it for. I'm not at liberty to reveal the identity of said gift at this time because I'll definitely be giving it to somebody this year. I haven't yet decided who the recipient will be, but suffice to say, he/she may be a reader here, so I can't disclose any further information. I will tell you that this is not the first time I've forgotten a gift. I've been known to find things days or even weeks after the presents are opened...but usually it's just later on in the day on Christmas...most often during dinner. Something somebody says will strike a chord and I'll jump up like something bit me and I'll scream, "Oh, (insert your favorite expletive) I forgot your other gift!" And I'll know exactly where I hid it. My family has come to expect at least one of those every year. But finding this orphaned gift so close to Christmas this year...well it changes the rules. I'm not gonna just hand it over to the intended recipient (still a mystery) at this late date. No...someone will get it for Christmas this year and be none the wiser. I just hope it still tastes okay.

Christmas In The City

Honoring a tradition we started a couple of years ago, PhillyTwo and I headed down to the Regas for our pre-parade happy hour Friday evening. The Regas bar happens to be my friend Horatio's favorite hangout, and true to form, he was nursing his Dewar's and water when we arrived, alongside the other regulars who frequent that prestigious establishment: William the Conqueror, Diamond Jim Brady, the Kodiak Bear, and Gary the Greek, all being expertly served by Roy, the Company Man. You really couldn't ask for a better group of people to while away the hours with, all of us in pursuit of that illustrious buzz that we so diligently work for and so richly deserve.

Twas the Night Out at Regas

PhillyTwo in her wine glass, and I in my beer,
Had just started glowing, when it all became clear,
That out on the street the parade had begun,
We'd have to go watch it and leave all our fun.

With our liquor coats buttoned and feeling pleased with ourselves,
We headed for the sidewalk to watch for the jolly old elf.
But as soon as our fingers and toes lost all feeling
We headed for another bar...because we're silly, but we're not stupid. It was fucking freezing out there. The End.

And Continuing With the Xmas Theme...

Let the shopping begin!
First stop - Big Lots - where else?
The best is that I had been shopping for about 20 minutes and I already had a few items-for-consideration in my buggy, when I realized it was time to meet PhillyTwo for lunch. So, I hurried to the checkout, only to find that all of the lines were over the three-person-limit that I normally allow. Therefore, I had to abandon my buggy in the trim-a-tree aisle and rush out of the store.
Not to worry. After lunch was over, I headed back to Big Lots, and yes, you guessed it, the buggy was right where I left it...with my dry goods intact. Actually, some astute shopper had taken advantage of the situation and added an unwanted set of plastic bowling pins into the mix, but that was no gutterball for me. I just shelved those bad boys and continued on my merry way, as if my lunch were a scheduled break and it was back to business for this determined shopper.
Now for all those lucky people on my list (and you know who you are) you'd better not turn up your nose when I mention Big Lots because that's just for my high-end shopping.
I'll be doing the remainder at Dollar General and Family Dollar.
After that, it's the Attic...more specifically, my attic...where I keep the huge selection of re-gifts and used shit that I'm willing to part with. If you get one of those "treasures"...well it just means you've been less than wonderful to me this year (and you know who you are) and I have placed you at the very bottom of my Christmas list.
Yeah, I'm gonna need you to be a little nicer to me in '09, so you can maybe move up on the list for next year's Dollar Store bonanzas.
And, well, otha than tha-at, Feliz Navidad, ya'll!

The Spirit of Christmas Past

We just can't let Elvis go, can we? He's on Good Morning America right now singing a duet (Blue Christmas) with Martina McBride. I found the video on You Tube of their performance. Let me just say that he really was something special. He had the just right amount of grease in his hair, his smile was so damned engaging and his voice was just like velvet. She's okay. Kind of amazing how she was dropped into that scene and that it came out looking so authentic. See for yourself. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8yQLbMtPFA

And speaking of velvet...

Brown is the New Black

I hope the new color scheme wasn't too off-putting.
It's like rearranging furniture: every once in a while, I've just gotta do it.
I think this is the fourth time I've put some new face-paint on my blog.
It probably won't be the last.
Inconsistency is my constant.