Every year when Christmas approaches, I get really excited. Because of Baby Jesus? No. Because of all the presents I’m going to receive? No. Because of the paid day off from work? Nope. My panties get electrified because of the salmonella-laden drink we call Eggnog.
I have a love-hate relationship with The ‘Nog. When I first see this holiday treat decorating the dairy section, I do a little happy dance right in the middle of the aisle. It looks like a cross between the Harlem Shake and the Cabbage Patch. Basically, shit gets crazy at Safeway.
You too can do “The Eggnog” in your local grocery store (credit: Polyvore)
Unfortunately, my enthusiasm causes me to lose my ability to judge how much eggnog I can drink before I want to die. I always go for the big carton, have a couple of glasses, and then regret my decision to purchase so much
buttermilk liquid butter of the raw egg concoction. Continue reading
I’m a sucker for Christmas traditions. Some people string popcorn and hang it on their tree. Some people sing Christmas carols. Some people attend midnight mass. I have fond memories of these lovely Tonic Family traditions:
- Cussing up a storm as we try to figure out which bulb is causing the whole strand to blackout
- Having tree sap stuck to my skin and hair for days after helping get the tree in the base
- Waking up at ungodly hours because a tiny person in the house wants to get up before the sun does to open presents
- My parents arguing because my dad forgot to charge the camcorder battery for the 900th year in a row
- Feeling bloated and praying for a swift death after consuming too many sweets
Christmas 2009. This is me right before I “gave birth” to the cheesecake, rum balls and fudge I ate earlier in the day.
I wanted to publish this post yesterday, but couldn’t because of a monkey on my back. Not an actual monkey as they can be volatile and rip your face off without warning. Let me take you back in time so I can explain…
Caffeine and I have had a tempestuous relationship. Growing up, I thought coffee tasted like chalk. My mom and her relatives would sit around the table while the kids came around like waiters, bringing them their liquid crack. When I wasn’t acting like a slave, I was sneaking little tastes here and there. I vowed never to drink it.
Photo by Julius Schorzman
Then college happened. It was the late 90’s. It was Seattle. It was cold. I was tired. Starbucks stores were on every single corner. I was like one of those vulnerable people who fell into a cult, only I was worshiping baristas. Continue reading
NaNoWriNO Day 27
Topic: Greeting cards- the final frontier
I didn’t intend to do another set of greeting cards as I have already done two posts like this during NaNoWriNO. In the comments section of the last post like this, a few of you requested specific/customized cards. How can I possibly say no? You guys have been kind enough to read this crap every single day for a month, the least I can do is give back a little.
To old wife from new wife (requested by UndercoverL)