Today's Lesson

All I really wanted was a daddy-daughter dance.

Maybe a Hawaiian beach will make up for it.

Yawn.

Santa Christ.

Not to be the secular downer at this party, but...

Doesn't it seem sometimes that we perpetuate this Santa Claus myth so that kids get innoculated to the idea that there's no great giver coming from the sky to hand us everything we ever wanted... just so long as we've been good?

Are we just preparing them for the even bigger letdown?

Anyway, Merry Christmas Eve everybody!

I'll be here all week.

Two nuns, a penguin, a man with a parrot on his shoulder, and a giraffe walk into a bar. The bartender says, "What is this, some kinda joke?"

You have conviction.

You're that woman, older, gaunt, fond of plaid, who stands on a street corner I pass every Thursday morning. You hold this sign that says "Jesus SAVES." It's nothing spectacular, white with sharpie-marker-black letters. And you thrust it out toward every passing car. You know, in case they didn't see it in the first place.

I wondered, this week, what does the rest of your day consist of? Do you have other Jesus promotions planned? Is the sign just a warm-up act to leaflet distribution in front of porn shops? Or is it the big show that you hold a solitary pep rally for every Thursday morning in your kitchen, practicing that thrust, choosing just the perfect plaid skirt, saying to yourself, "Let's go convert some heathens!"

Do you have other activities to choose from that you ignore to concentrate on your sacred duty? "No, Agnes. No bridge for me today. See, I made this sign."

Or is that it? Your TV's broken; any books you had burned up in that housefire that killed your eight cats; and the AARP newsletters just aren't as entertaining as they used to be. So you pull out the poster board and spread the holy.

Are you convinced a random driver will pass you by on their way to a crack den to have sex with strangers and think, "Jesus saves? Well, gee, my life's all wrong. Maybe I'll go home and read the Good Book." Or do you just hope so?

I suppose I'll continue to wonder, next time I pass you on the corner, clutching your little sign, thrusting your weird little way into my daily routine. Til next Thursday...

High strung.

Trend arising here at Another Bad Obsession.
Birds on various wires and cables.
What does it mean?
What the hell does it all mean?

Probably just that I need to get out more.

Another Christmas, another chance to fail.

I like the feeling of regret too much not to procrastinate.

Take for instance:
   I have 12 Christmas cards, addressed, signed, and anxious to make their journeys across town and country sitting on my kitchen island. They've been there, that way, since December 4th. But I haven't stamped them, and I probably won't mail them for another few good days.

Why?

Because I just know I'll relish the feeling of being almost late, barely beating a deadline, coming so close to regret that I can feel its fur, but backing away from its claws at the very last minute.

I'm also quite lazy.

We need to talk.

I've been avoiding you.

There, I said it. Is that what you want to hear? Well, it's true. Things just aren't the same between us anymore. In the beginning, everything was so easy, and I could just ramble and babble and rant and blather... until both of us got bored and wandered off... but we'd be OKAY about it. You know?

Now, there's just so much pressure. I see you sitting there, just staring at me, waiting for something to make you giggle with tingling interest, like before... like it was. But I'm different now - WE'RE different - and I've got other things to do. I've got a wedding coming up, stressful work issues to deal with, Christmas shopping... It's just not going to work out between us.

Maybe it's best this way... maybe...

Oh... No... Don't cry. Don't cry.... I hate it when you do that.

....Shhh....

Okay, okay. Fine. Let's try to work this out. I'll try to post more often. I will. It'll be okay. It'll be okay.