Recommended wine for today’s entry: On our recent girls’ night out, my friend Tippi tried and loved a glass of Zolo Malbec (2006). It is described as, “an attractive and intense violet color, with black fruits, berries and raspberries flavors and finish complexity and elegance.” It, like many Malbecs, is from Argentina and is very reasonably priced. Have a glass while decorating the Christmas tree … fewer calories and much prettier than eggnog!
WOW! I don’t know if it is the 50-mile-per-hour winds, the hustle and bustle of Christmas shopping or the scads of coffee that I’ve consumed lately, but for the past few days, my mind has been moving a mile a minute. I can’t keep up. Some of the thoughts were so deep and Thoreau-esque that I just HAD to write them on the back of a receipt at stop lights, after I was done texting.
Here are some of the random thoughts that have been BEGGING TO BE LET OUT:
I am going to blow right off the road and into the holler and then a lonely hunter will happen by and either shoot me or have his way with me. Never again – no more high-profile vehicles. I thought they meant it would make ME high profile.
OMG, the lights flickered while I was in the bookstore. Damn it! If our power goes off again, before we get the generator, I will cut my husband into tiny pieces and burn him in the fireplace for warmth.
Look at me, eating an orange for lunch when there’s a whole new box of PopTarts in the pantry. I promise to eat one every day to boost my vitamin C and fend off any chance of the flu. Oh, shit. Did I wash my hands before I started eating this? How many stores was I in today?
Holy cow! Look how far the wind threw that rocking chair. I wonder whose newspaper that is? Oh, no … where’s the bag of disgusting smelling cat poop that we put on the side of the shed for distant storage until trash day?
I wonder if people in the Junior League crave Easy Mac.
Ack! They said the S-word on the radio. THE word. If I get snowed in with only one bottle of wine in the house, I’ll blow my head off. Well, I could drink the pink wine that my friends Jan and Sue didn’t finish last time they were here …
Janet Napolitano has a man’s voice.
Great. The wind is blowing toward the Big House street. Is that our trash bag?
A gelding is a castrated horse or mule; is there a word for a castrated Tiger?
What am I thinking? Pink wine? Oh my, what’s happening to me? Is this a manifestation of menopause? I wonder if anyone goes to an AA meeting and says, “My name is Ashley and I must be an alcoholic because I thought about drinking pink wine.” Maybe it’s more suitable for confession.
I think I may be developing a crush on the guy with the long, dirty hair on the FreeCreditReport.com commercials. I even like him in his tights at the Renaissance Faire.
If I just passed up the mini Snickers and bought ribbon candy and spice drops for the Santa candy dish, does that mean that I’m a Mimi? OhmyGod, how old AM I?
I wonder if Fox News is hiring any mature news babes? I have to find a new career.
How can dogs have such fast tongues and why do they only lick you inside your mouth right after they gnaw on their butts?
OK, that is the VERY last item I buy for myself while Christmas shopping.
Here’s a great tip I should pass on to my twelderly friends: If you have to go out front to plug in or unplug your festive, glittery lights and you cuss a blue streak about getting too cold when you do it, wait until you’re having a hot flash and kill two birds with one stone.
If you’re friends with someone on Facebook, can you cut them off your Christmas card list? I mean, really, they know about every move you’ve made in the last year. Do you really need to send them the blah-blah-blah-graduating-blah-blah-blah-new dog-blah-blah-blah-salvaged the job-blah-blah? I vote gone. If they know the date of your last trip to Target, they’re off.
Isn’t using a snow blower like vacuuming and then dumping the contents of the vacuum cleaner bag on the periphery of the room?
Today is colder than a witch’s titty. I learned that cute little phrase from my Mimi. Oh, no, the spice drops and now this.
The chia cat planter is hideously ugly. The only way it’ll look worse is when the cat eats all the grass and pukes all over the hideously ugly planter.
I wonder what percentage of my rapidly selected gifts are returned by 2 p.m. the day after Christmas?
I think I’ve given the Salvation Army at least two hundred dollars, one bill at a time. And there’s still sixteen more days. I wonder if the little ringer people have tax receipts?
Along those same lines, I wonder if the Salvation Army people know that the bell ringer at Hobby Lobby was singing rap music the other day?
These tidbits were stimulated by too much talk radio:
Some man in Japan got married to a Nintendo character in a real-live wedding with a roomful of real-life fellow psychotics. I suppose he didn’t like the Wii girl because she kept beating him at tennis. I’ve met some people who look like PacMan, but no one that’s the exact shade of yellow. I’ve never considered marrying them.
I actually just learned a religious fact from a guy from Mannheim Steamroller. Wow. Maybe I am headed for the pink wine.
And finally, a recurring thought and one that I will have to resolve:
I wonder if Rick Springfield still has a shag.
People. We need to find me a job.