Year in Review

Well, Internet, it’s that time again, believe it or not.

Uh, not THAT time. I don’t actually think it’s ever time to zazzle, unless you want a probation officer.

The Week That Time Forgot

The holidays have been properly celebrated at JT Headquarters, Internet, and someone I know freaking SCORED.

Sadie would like you to know that the red string on that Fisher Price phone is her favorite new toy. Yes, THE STRING. In other news, 100% of these toys play music/have flashing lights/say weird things in creepy, sing-song voices. My house is not where you want to be dropping acid in 2010, is what I am trying to say.

It’s a Marshmallow World

Three things happened to me in the sixth grade:

1. I got a bra;
2. I won the school spelling bee (HOLLA!), only to lose the county bee on the word “irrelevant,” if you can believe that cock-ass bullshit. The girl before me had “dinosaur.” WHAT THE FUCK;
3. I had to sing “It’s a Marshmallow World” in the school holiday choral concert at the local mall.

And you’d better believe I wore my IRRELEVANT BRA to the concert, oh yes I did.

Daycaring

I have always believed that the reason pregnancy lasts nine months is so the mother has just enough time to be ecstatic, freak out, calm down, plan accordingly, freak out, buy some cute outfits, freak out, eat burritos, take naps, then realize she is so huge and miserable she’d rather just be done with it already instead of expending the energy required to freak out one more time.

I am actually freaking out NOW, because I do not remember EVER being this huge, and when this photo was taken, I STILL HAD 6 WEEKS TO GO, HOLY AMBER WAVES OF ASS.

Milestones

We had three major milestones this weekend:

1. First wave goodbye (Sadie);
2. First foray into the wide world of hand-clapping (Sadie);
3. First postpartum hangover

(Me)

PAY IT FORWARD: You Make A Difference!

Happy Friday, Internet! It’s time yet again for another installment of PAY IT FORWARD! Today’s forward makes the classic mistake of pairing what would be a genuinely positive and meaningful message with pictures so fucking lame and cheesy even Thomas Kinkade would roll his eyes.

OK, have you guys ever heard the PRICELESS accounts of Thomas Kinkade’s not-very-bucolic-and-glowy behavior? Allow me:

“The Times further reported that he openly groped a woman’s breasts at a South Bend, Indiana sales event, and mentioned his proclivity for ritual territory marking through urination, once relieving himself on a Winnie the Pooh figure at a Disney site while saying ‘This one’s for you, Walt.’

“…Kinkade became drunk at a Siegfried and Roy magic show in Las Vegas and began shouting “Codpiece! Codpiece!” at the performers. Eventually he was calmed by his mother.”

Aaaaand, you’re welcome.

The Scented Lotion of Blog Posts

You know how to tell if someone has no clue what to get you and/or doesn’t really have time to give a shit? You open your gift and see this:

The gift that says “I don’t know what the fuck you like, but you certainly could afford to smell better.”

PAY IT FORWARD: Brown People & Liberals Are Ruining My Christmas!

Today’s installment of PAY IT FORWARD is a double-header, my friends, and not for the weak at heart. Actually, it kind of IS for the weak at heart, since I’m pretty confident that both of these forwards were penned by a cranky, old, weak-hearted, glass-hipped bastard who spends the bulk of his day wishing there were more things in the world to hate.

In other words: Andy Rooney.

It Has Begun

Gifts have been bought, parties have been planned, Pandora radio is playing Andy Williams’ finest: Internet, it’s the holidays up in this bitch.

First picture with Santa: PROCURED.* And now that it’s done, I can freely confess that it kind of skeeves me out to see Sadie sitting on some weird old dude’s lap. GET YOUR HAND OFF HER LEG, YOU PERV!

Shanksgiblins I Have Known

A couple of years ago via email, my friend Bird and I started discussing our Thanksgiving plans. For some reason, one of us referred to the holiday as “Thanksgibbin,” and then it became a game of fucking with the word until barely recognizable (“Fankshiblin,” “Thanesmibin”), and thus, my favorite bastardization – “Shanksgiblin” – was born.

Bird is also the friend with whom I shared a very fateful trip to Chicago for grad school auditions. Through a series of very un-fun events, we ran out of money and had to stay at the posh Hotel Cass, where the front desk staff sat safely behind BULLETPROOF GLASS. I was entirely confident we’d never live to see another Ganksfibbin.