Have Yourself a Mellow Little Christmas
If you bought one Christmas album this year, I hope it was Sufjan Stevens' five-disc Songs for Christmas, if you could find it. Took me all month to get my hands on one. It's nice to have something that's not your typical pop-star-does-"Santa Baby" album. Plus, who can resist a guy who includes in his liner notes and lyrics the directions to repeat the refrain "endlessly, until you can no longer sing, because that is when you know you've really made it" and to "feel free to play the wrong notes." My favorite tracks so far are "That Was the Worst Christmas Ever!" (this week's free iTunes song - get it now!), "Once in David's Royal City," "Come On! Let's Boogey to the Elf Dance!" and "Sister Winter." Those of the religious persuasion will also enjoy Sufjan's mellifluous versions of favorite hymns like "Holy, Holy, Holy" and "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing."

'Tis the Season, You Know
I was going to take a nap in anticipation of making it through this evening's 11:00 Christmas Eve service, but I decided instead to pour myself a shot of Bailey's and write a religiously inspired blog post about how I do not believe in the virgin birth. But the Bailey's got the better of me; my blathering became a little too much, so I decided to spare you a long-winded explanation of why I think the Christmas story is mostly a well-intentioned literary device to draw a people into the captivating story of the life of the most influential man who has ever lived. And now my window to nap has passed.

On that note, happy Christmas to you all. I hope you have a chance to experience some of the best that this holiday has to offer.

PS - Yo tech-alicious friends! How do I work with this new label function in Blogger? How do I change where it appears and how it looks on each page? And how do I add a list of labels to the sidebar?

Pick Your Excuse
I've been too ___________ to update lately.

A) busy
B) sick
C) lazy
D) lacking in content
E) All of the Above

But Don't Worry
I'm feeling better, feeling motivated, and getting a better handle on the coming deadline, so a new post will be coming soon. In the meantime, amuse yourself with the following super-long installment of:

Funny Sentences in My Inbox

Few things are scarier. I'm certain they'll never have sex. Certain.

He's a hoot! I love parents. They say the darndest things.

I also witnessed my first incident of spousal abuse when Jon 'accidentally' whacked Megan in the nose with his elbow - inflicting slightly black eyes!

Erica said pussy! It must be Friday.

You look great, but the red light makes it look funny, as if you were at a Brothel?

Hi there Miss Toots A Roni!

I downloaded "Century" for use in all my legal documents. TNR just doesn't cut it, IMO. Century looks like we mean business.

Is she the K-State sister??? Don't let her touch any of my Mizzou stuff...it might burn her hands!

So this is an update to my current status as being an unemployed graduate since this past May, though I will admit I enjoyed having this distinction, it is a badge of honor.

Apparently, he and I were involved in some "level one" flirting last night, but I was not aware of it.

Only in the gay community can you see forty-year-old men giggling about each other. It looks like junior high meets a monastery. But better clothing.

You're the most wonderfulest person ever for finding our chocolate.

It's official - I didn't drink today, so yes, you had more beers than I did this week. Now when does fire rain from the sky?

I've always wanted to be a journalist ever since I played a little arcade game known as Paperboy. Or to be Spider-Man or an NHL player.

I'm not using "lay" and "lie" because I don't remember the correct usage.

I'm all for consistency, except when it is consistent S-H-I-T.

Is Meredith really good in bed? Like, does she shoot out flames and bray like a donkey? Because I can see no other reason that Derek AND Finn would want to fight over her.

If I were a lesbian, we would definitely be a couple for as much as we hang out. She's like my other, tofu-eating, environmentally responsible half.

MU beat Texas Tech on the road. Arkansas beat Auburn. OU lost. The Yankees lost. Yeah, I'm pretty sure this is pretty much the best sports day, ever. E-V-E-R.

damn that's a long word which i'm sure i miissspellld.

it would be a sad day if your bird flu was what gave you your 15 minutes of fame. i can think of more noble causes.

OK, we're not using that e-mail subject line about lesbians anymore, because one of our columnists just walked by and shouted out, 'Lesbian porn training video? What? Explain!"

And I want to be nice, and I don't want to make any judgments before actually meeting her, and, you know, maybe it'd be different if I met a girl first and then received a note from her after already having a first impression. But... Really bad spelling might be an insurmountable obstacle. Does that make me shallow?

I say: You're either with us, or you are with Comic Sans.

P.S. The reporter sitting behind me just used the phrase 'naming rights,' which makes me think of Dan's blog, always.

Gaaaah! I was so glad to hear from you I got butterflies in my tummy. How cool is that? Um, so cool?

Of course I should try to get rid of the rat. I'm not inviting him to tea. We're not staying up late talking about boys.

So last night I dreamt that Protz and I were in New York, and she was seduced by Snoop Dogg. I promptly sent you and Pat a text message that read, "OMG OMG OMG."

i totally sent that email to you b/c i designed it and was all "e would appreciate this." and i like to send my friends all of my clippings, a la eli cash in tenenbaums.

Why can't good Mizzou news happen on a day I'm at work? 'Cause dangit, you guys already took both angles I was about to pounce on: "I wonder if they'll take their ATVs along, or if they'll leave them for future troubled juco recruits?" and "If he next goes to Manhattan, we'll know he's stalking Erica, just out of order."

The title track will have you dancing in your underwear...at least, that's what I do...wait, that was probably too much info. Uhhh...yeah.

This Week's Sign of the Apocolypse
My mother is shopping at Forever 21.

Thankful
Health, happiness, a chance to get to know my sister again, supportive parents. These are the things I'm thankful for this season. Oh, and a day set aside for raucous family games of croquet, dominoes and cards.

Don't Cry For Me, Arizona
So I finally gave in and tried that site that tells you who your celebrity lookalikes are, and the only one they gave me – the ONLY one! – was Eva Perón. But it wasn't a smokin' hot Madonna-esque picture they paired me with. It was a frumpy old woman version of Evita. I blame it on not having a decent picture of myself since I am always behind the camera. Thus, I am now soliciting your help in locating a suitable ( = smokin' hot) picture of me looking straight at the camera that will prove that I do indeed look like Reese Witherspoon, Laura Linney and Janel Moloney, or at least not an alleged fascist. Seriously, this is kinda depressing.

UPDATE
So apparently I didn't understand how this thing worked. I thought they were going to show me a nice collage like the ones people have posted on their blogs. So, going back through the process, I have discovered that it's not just that I look like an aging frump of a woman. I also resemble a Japanese animé director, Alan Alda and Moby, among other less-than-attractive men. Sharon Stone is the only redeeming face on this collage, and she's the bottom of the list. This thing is full of crap. And yet, I'm going to keep on trying pictures until I get the matches I deserve, of course.

Suggest Your Own Hedline Here
I stopped by the post office after work today to ship a package, and the guy in line in front of me looked familiar. I don't know many people outside of work around that part of town, and I couldn't quite place him. He was looking at me like he recognized me as well, so I said, "You know, you look a little familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?" He replied, "Yeah, I was thinking that too. Maybe from the clinic?" And this was the trajectory of my thoughts: Clinic...clinic...clinic...? Oh! The doctor's office! Oh! He was the doc who saw me while mine was out on maternity leave. Oh. My. God. The last time he saw me I was naked under a paper gown and he was looking up my vajayjay. I promptly turned red and probably remained that way for the 15 minutes I was stuck in line next to him. I don't think I've ever taken so long and done such a thorough job filling out the customs shipping form.

More Funny Sentences in my Voicemail
11.15.06 8:21 p.m.
"Hi! This is [CENSORED]. You may remember me from such appearances as 'That Guy You Knew in College' or 'That Guy Who Used to Return Your Phone Calls and Emails Promptly.'"

Why I Might Need a New Phone Sooner Rather Than Later
Or, Funny Sentences in My Voicemail
Lately my phone has not been notifying me when I receive a voicemail, so tonight I spent 15 minutes listening to old messages.

10.19 9:30 p.m.
Hi! It's [CENSORED]. I had a TiVo emergency and I missed Grey's because it didn't record it! I don't know what happened; it's a mess! So I need the rundown from you. So if you get this, it's 10:30 where I am right now, which means 9:30 where you are, or maybe it's 10:30 now. I always lose track of what our time difference is. But, um, if you get this tonight or anytime tomorrow whenever, just give me a call I need a little synopsis because I missed it! And they're not running it again any time soon. So boo on that! Anyway you will be my rescue.

11.6 6:06 p.m.
Jagshemash! This is Borat! No actually, it's [CENSORED] but that's my best Borat impression. God that was such a funny movie! Anyway, I'm on my way to a story. I'm running like a wild chicken today. This is the life of a small town newspaper reporter. This morning for a style story...Then I came to work and had to do calls...had a meeting, and then I was a night reporter and so I got sent to cover a fire... And now I have to go to a meeting...And then I have to go...And then I have to go back...and get everything else in line for election night...It's just nuts. I'm going crayzay! But anyway. This is going to be a really long message. Sorry. Anyway...Talk to you later! Bye!

11.6 7:10 p.m.
Haha! Holy whale's balls! This is like an intense game of phone tag all in like the past 24 hours. It's kinda like intense McGee...I've got old man ears recently and my phone was also kinda like "wah wah wah" kinda like Peanuts.

11.7 8:24 p.m.
Why hello! It's [CENSORED]...I haven't had access to my email so I feel like I'm in the Meideval Times...Oh! And your state is one of the reasons why I was not completely discouraged after the elections yesterday because if I remember correctly Arizona was the only state that had a same-sex marriage ban on the ballot that didn't pass...Anywho, I'll quit yabbering and Talk to you later. MWAH! Bye!

11.7 10:03 p.m.
Hey! It's [CENSORED]. We're having bad luck on the whole getting a hold of each other thing this week...

Cue David Bowie ("Ch-ch-ch-changes...")
Whewy, folks! It's been a crazy post-election day, huh? I've been almost giddy today when tracking the news:

+ A mandate on the need to change our tactics in Iraq
+ Rumsfeld's resignation
+ A woman just two heartbeats away from the presidency for the first time in history
+ Arizona the first state to reject a marriage amendment
+ A state-wide ban on smoking in bars and restaurants in Arizona
+ Looking forward to watching JD Hayworth pack up his office, which is just 4 doors down from our suite at work

But one of the best moments of last night's coverage on CSPAN was watching Santorum's son try not to break down on national tv. I know that's mean, and I probably wouldn't have made it without bawling, but seriously, you should have seen the poor kid.

PSA
Vote, yo.

How I Almost Became a Wannabe Rockstar's Kinda Girlfriend. Maybe.
I don't blog about my love life. There are many reasons for that; chief may be that it's somewhat disturbing to discover that someone has been publicly chronicling his every step to get in your pants.

That being said, The Airport Guy was a walking blog post from the very beginning. And since it's been about six months since I last heard from him, I believe the statute of blogging limitations is over. I was awaiting my flight to St. Lucia (via Miami and Chicago) when I started overhearing this guy's cell phone conversations. From what he was saying, it became obvious he was in some kind of band and his bandmates had somehow left him the night before and he had to find his way to Ireland to meet up with them. His name-dropping became quite impressive (excessive?), so I started jotting down the names in my little travel Sudoku book: Interpol, The Strokes, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs (apparently a guy who used to play with Airport Guy's band is now playing for them), Death Cab for Cutie (Airport Guy's band was supposedly going to be playing with them in Ireland), Drew Barrymore's father (A.G.'s mother, an entertainment lawyer in LA, had him over for dinner the other night, nevermind the fact that John Barrymore died two years ago), Marilyn Manson (who apparently broke A.G.'s keyboard with a beer bottle the night before). Because I like talking with interesting people, regardless of whether they're being completely truthful, I struck up a conversation with him. During our conversation, or rather, during his monologue, I learned the following:

+ He was originally from Mississippi and moved out to Flagstaff after Katrina.
+ He grew up a few houses down the street from some Nobel prize-winning author (whose name I can't remember).
+ He was a big Faulkner fan.
+ He had written a book that told the "fictional" tale about how he had killed his best friend in a drunk driving accident and then spent 6 months hitchiking around the country doing a lot of drugs and sleeping with a lot of women. A few weeks later, Penguin Books was apparently flying him out to NYC to talk about publishing his novel.
+ He went to boarding school with Julian Casablancas.
+ He had packed weed in his checked luggage.
+ He had recently given up drinking. (He said this about 10 minutes before he offered to buy me a drink from the airport bar at 10-freaking-30 in the morning).

Somehow he talked me out of my phone number before boarding his plane to Dublin; I really never expected him to call, but sure enough, upon his return to the States, he rang. One of the first things he mentioned was that he had run into Phillip Seymour Hoffman while walking around some town in Ireland and offered to buy him a drink. He also ran into Dolly Parton in Temple Bar in Dublin. By this time I had enlisted Sarah's help in checking some of his previous story, and we learned that Death Cab for Cutie was definitely NOT playing anywhere in Ireland for the next three or four months. But Jason (I finally learned his name during the phone call) the Airport Guy amused me so I didn't really care how real his stories were. The next day he called to invite me to Sedona because his buddy Maynard Keenan from Tool was having a party celebrating the opening of his new vineyard. I had to decline because the party was that Tuesday and I had to work. He called me the next day to invite me up to Flagstaff so the two of us could go bike riding. When I told him I didn't have a bike, he said he'd buy me one. The next day he called to invite me to Sedona for a full moon party and even offered to charter a plane to fly me there. The next day he called me three times in one day.

And that was when I stopped returning his phone calls. I never did figure out what band he was supposedly in, not to mention which stories were real and which were completely fabricated, though I think the one about Marilyn Manson destroying his keyboard with a beer bottle might be my favorite. "Jason the Airport Guy" is still programed in my phone and I get a good chuckle when I scroll past it.

Rockstar?
Con Artist?
Confused Crazy Guy?

Who knows. But it makes for a good story.

Splish Splash
I have the flu, and my sister has kindly told me that my hair is greasy and that I stink. I think this means it's time for a bubble bath.