A little holiday fun

I will eventually write a blog but for now, let's take a break and decorate.

I think the holidays are making me soft...and lazy. Back to work!

Gingerbread Cookie

Rollin' with the N'Crackah

Creature in Seattle put this one together.

Pimp My Nutcracker

Santa's out. Chris Christmas is IN.

Vote for Chris Christmas

Author's Note: In my hurried, passionate post I forgot to include the cutest of funny cuties: Ms. Sweet Tweets. And she's not all tweets either. She can write too!

My sincerest apologies, Tweets.

Buyer's Remorse?

So, I've been having a slight case of the "new job blues." Whether or not this is common or I'm just an ungrateful bi-atch, I dunno. I mean, I'm not hating work or anything; just was expecting something else. Something more like....school. I know! REAL jobs are NEVER like school, though schools try their damnedest to make you think they're giving you "real world" experience. So here are my biggest complaints (I know...ungrateful bi-atch):

1. I miss concepting. Lately, and mind you my "lately" has only been three weeks, I've been doing 100% design work and 95% has been for web stuff. Yes, I know. I'm an Art Director. I GET THAT. And I really do enjoy designing stuff. But what I get juiced up for is concepting. I have this serious love/hate thing for it. As many times as I've thrown myself against a wall in hopes of knocking loose some brilliant ideas, I've always, in the end, have felt this feeling of satisfaction. And then! I get to the design part.

2. I miss male creatives. OK, don't hit me. I'm oh-so-overjoyed that many creatives these days are of the estrogen-producing kind, and some of my dearest friends (RBrown, CrazyVirgo, Half Listening, BLH, BDH, etc.) are awesome examples of women who are brilliant, funny and DAMN GOOD CREATIVES. Maybe there's a different strain of creatives-with-boobies (CWB) in Dallas? I dunno. I just don't have the same repertoire as I normally do with guy creatives. Is that seriously fucked up? Again, I dunno. This leads me to my next thought...

3. I'm a guy-girl, not a girl-girl. If you're unaware of this terminology, let me explain. Now, guy-girls tend to have a lot of guy friends and are typically more at ease hanging with guys in a non-sexual/let's joke around kind of way. They have girl friends also but those friends are usually guy-girls themselves. They also may have the occasional girl-girl as a friend but usually keep her around for some great makeup tips and some possible advice on how to sew pillow shams. On the other hand, girl-girls tend to be very...how you say...GIRLIE. They tend not to swear and it's hard for them to rough it out in the wilderness without their entire collection of MAC makeup. They talk girlie. They act girlie. They're just girlie. Questions?

Now, I'm not saying that the CWBs I work with are the girl-girl kind. They seem too cool for that. I'm actually having some difficulty labeling them, y'know, because that's how you really get to know people -- by labeling them first.

Someone stop me.

So maybe I'm just being a little snot who despite being very busy still finds the time to bitch about shit like this. Aaaannnddd great. My CD just walked by and saw my blog name. Perfect. Now I'll be looking for a new job come Jan 1st.

I think I'll shut up now.

Idiots: Stop breeding.

I am utterly fascinated with space. All of it. It excites me and frightens me at the same time. To think of how BIG space really is gives me a headache. I mean, the Hubble Telescope has received light from galaxies that are 60 million light years away. Do you get what that means? It's like turning on the bathroom light and then waiting for 60 million years to finally see it. Yeah. It gives me a headache.

So I popped a few Advil one evening and sat down to watch a two-hour show on space and new findings brilliant scientists had discovered. My mind was swirling with galactical eye candy and I soaked up all the info I could in 100 minutes (minus 20 minutes for commercials, of course). You would think I'd had my fill but noooo. I greedily jumped on the computer and bombarded Jeeves with questions. Three hours later, somewhere between coming back from peeing and my next Diet Coke, I stumble across something curious. The Flat Earth Society ? What was this all about? My mouse clicks on the link and I'm transported back to my caveman ancestors.

The "flat-earthers" seem to believe that the Earth is not in fact round, but is instead flat. WTF?! At first glance, the site seemed so genuine in it's message that I actually was totally dumbfounded. People like this exist? They really believe the Earth is flat and that we've been "programmed" all these centuries to think it's round? Such blasphemy! As I kept digging away through their website, I noticed the somewhat obvious sarcasm in the writer's words. Now, fingers crossed, this site was the brainchild of some dude up in Alaska who gets his rocks off by convincing the idiots of the world that they're living on a giant pancake. But does he (she??) realize what could possibly be at stake here? That some poor, half-wit, "my-mama-fed-me-chewin'-tobacco-while-I-was-livin'-in-her-belly" MORON might actually believe this to be true?! Are there really people that stupid who live on our planet? Is there a way to get rid of them? Like a mass ignoramus extermination? Would that upset some crucial balance in the world by giving geniuses too much power?

Maybe I'm reading too much into all of this. So some nitwits think the Earth is flat. Big deal. I used to identify with R2-D2. And I turned out pretty normal.

Hell freezes over.

There are two things that don't mesh well together: Texas and Winter. OK, Axl Rose and cosmetic surgery don't mesh well either, but that's for another day. We had our yearly ice/snow occurrence (I'd call it a storm but who am I kidding?) and people freaked out as usual. The media didn't help matters any. Local meteorologists warned of freezing temperatures, hazardous driving conditions, bridges icing over -- hell, even Satan was going to make an appearance. "Grab your rock salt and your bible, folks! It's gonna be one helluva night!"

Are you kidding me?

What is normally a half hour drive home took TWO-FREAKIN'-HOURS because people thought going over 10 MPH might kill them. Drivers were confusing the sand dumped on the roads for snow. Wha-?! OK, yeah, it was COLD. So cold I thought my niplets were gonna get frostbite and fall off. But people! WE GO THROUGH THIS EVERY WINTER. Why is it such an ordeal? Why do we feel the need to ask if every business/school/place of worship/whore house will be closed the next day over a little bit of ice? Fine, I may be a bit judgemental having been born and mostly raised in Canada. But if my fellow converted northerners can remember how things go between the months of December - February, why do native Dallasites get winter-amnesia?

I pondered these things last night as my car swerved down my ice-coated driveway, stopping some mere inches from my neighbor's backyard fence. I got out of the car and witnessed a truck pointlessly spin it's wheels in an attempt to get up the slightly inclined street in front of me. Such drama!

Ah shit. The Indian's gone and shot off her mouth again. Here come the angry Republicans with their ice scrapers...

Why do you tease me so Ferrero Rocher?

What the hell is it about chocolate? I mean really. C'mon! How can one, bite-sized, scrumptious little piece make me lose all my senses? Why is it that every time I see a new news story about the benefits of chocolate, how chocolate will save you from a heart attack, how chocolate will one day be President and will save the world from evil non-chocolate believers, that I leap with joy? "I can eat all the chocolate I want!" I proclaim. And then my gullible ass happily dives into the easy-to-open box, plucking away one helpless morsel after another, letting the creamy goodness melt in my mouth and without a moment's hesitation of how clean my hands really are, lick my fingers so not one molecule is left outside my mouth. It's sickening, disgusting behavior. Yet I keep indulging, like some twisted, chocolate-addict FREAK. That's when the hate settles in. Hate, not for my weakness, but for the sneaky, deceitful, crushed nuts covered piece of chocolate. You coy little bastard. I can almost hear you laughing. Damn you! That's when I put my foot down and swear to never touch you again!

That is, until I see an article stating the benefits of eating chocolate while PMSing. Y'know, those calories don't even count! Who knew?

Sarcasm: Friend or Foe?

I don't think some people get my sense of humor. I mean, there's not really a whole lot to get so where's the confusion? I recently noticed this at my new place of employment. Now, I'm the token "new girl" and I'm suffering from "new girl syndrome." Not fun. Yeah, I know. I'm mysterious. People must be talking about me between bathroom stall dividers wondering if I like to party or if I live alone with 10 cats. I have the luxury of pulling whichever one of my multiple personalities forward and no one would be the wiser. But, it's still a little lonely (cue in violins). So what better way to break the ice than to drop the sarcastic comment here and there?

Yeah. Hmmm...not quite.

You see, as much as I love to joke around with my friends WHO HAVE THE SAME SENSE OF HUMOR AS ME, new people don't always get it. At times they'll respond with a blank, mouth-slightly-open-minus-the-drool expression; not exactly what I'm going for. It's not until I ruin the ending by cracking a smile so they get that I was kidding. That's when the jittery "oh you were JOKING!" laugh gets plugged in. Now, don't get me wrong. These people are funny. I hear them (eavesdrop?) in their conversations and I join in with my own muted little chuckle. I'm thinking it's just a matter of time before we get to know one another. That hey, the "new girl" is laid-back; she can dish out a saucy comment and by golly, she can take one too!

Until then, I will sit patiently at my desk and wait until the next happy hour before I display my sassy sarcastic nature. As Jack would say, "Wait 'til they get a load of me."

A little bleeding...

So, I've officially been de-blog-virginized. I have to say, not too bad so far. Feeling a little shakey but I think it'll pass. The fact that there's a body part in my blog title doesn't help that feeling either. However, after reading my very funny, fabulous friends -- FFF, mind you -- post such entertaining and humorous thoughts of their own, well, I just had to hop onto the blogging bandwagon. So here I am world. Be a little gentle. It's my first time.