Loud Sounds, Bright Colors - it must be Christmas!

I'm going to a concert tomorrow night and I am so excited!! Trans-Siberian Orchestra, the best Christmas music ever! Can anything be better than listening to an electric guitar slide it's way through Hark the Herald Angels Sing and O' Come All Ye Faithful? And how can you not like a song call Christmas Jam! Christmas music improved one hundredfold - es muy excellente!!

I've started my Christmas shopping. And, after buying 3 gifts, I stopped. Not because I'm poor or anything, but who has time? I used to frown on people who gave gift certificates or cold hard cash. Now I'm one of them! (Oops, I think I just told my kids what I'm getting them for Christmas. Daaaaamn!)

Seriously, this is one of my fave holidays. I love the tree, I love the food, I love foil wrapping paper. I especially love lying at the base of the tree looking up at the colored lights, squinting my eyes so they are all starry; I love the kaleidoscope of colors that is Christmas.

On the other hand, I don't so much like Christmas morning, when all that nice blur of color is a huge crumpled mess of color. Hm, does that make me obsessive compulsive or just a neat-nick?

Anyway, I just got back from a short vacay to California. I had an awesome time! I got to see the littlest angel sing, I got to visit with family I seldom see, and I got to meet all kinds of new people, including the funniest man I've ever met and a darling irish lad of 40-some-odd years :-)

And I had my first shot of whiskey. I was comatose for the next 24 hours, so I don't remember if it was good or not. I do remember toasting my birthday with my daughter and two guys we'd never met, one bartender-cum-homey and one dilf, as the angel dubbed him. Oh, and I remember throwing up and telling l'ange that ALL GUYS MUST LEAVE AT ONCE. She cleared the room forthwith, as a good daughter would do. I vaguely recall smooching noises as she did it, but I'm not completely certain it wasn't part of the cacaphony of sounds ringing in just my head.

The next day, I got to fly home. On a plane. And all morning, in the towncar, in the airport, on the plane, people kept asking me was I ok. You'd think they'd never seen a green face before! And you know, the stewardess was downright rude when I asked for a second airsick bag - sheesh!

To the gorgeous redheaded woman on her honeymoon, thank you so much for your concern! You were very sweet!

To the littlest angel, thank you for holding back my hair!

To the second middle angel, thank you for driving me through McDonald's - Stephanie Plum is right, Mickey D's is the perfect hangover food :-)

Hazing to prevent hazing?

A young boy walks by an old man sitting on a porch. The old man says, "Son, whatcha got there?" The boy answers, "Why, this here's chicken wire!" "Whatcha got chicken wire fer," asks the old man. "I'm gonna catch me some chickens," replies the boy with confidence. "Son," the old man scoffs, "you cain't catch no chickens with chicken wire!" The boy shrugs and continues on. Soon the boy walks back by the old man, dragging his roll of chicken wire with 3 chickens caught in the mesh. The old man scratches his head in amazement.

Next day, the young boy walks by the old man, who says, "Son, whatcha got now?" The young boy replies, "Why I got me a roll of duck tape!" "Whatcha got duck tape fer?" asks the old man. "I'm gonna catch me some ducks," replies the boy with confidence. "Son," says the old man, "you cain't catch no ducks with duck tape!" the boy shrugs and continues on. Pretty soon, the boy walks by the old man, dragging a strip of duck tape with 3 ducks stuck to it. The old man scratches his head, astounded.

Next day, the young boy walks by the old man. "Son," says the old man, "whatcha got there?" The young boy replies, "Why I got me a pussy willow!" "Hold on!" says the old man, springing to his feet, "I'm comin' with ya!"

Tommy Trojan is duct-taped. When I was in high school, mean kids duct-taped nice kids and it was called hazing. It was also grounds for expulsion. Clearly, college is a different scene altogether. Tommy has been duct-taped to prevent hazing, or so I am told.

Tommy Trojan is USC's mascot, a 15-foot tall bronze Trojan soldier. And this weekend is the USC/UCLA game. And Tommy is not only duct-taped from the tip of his feathery Trojan headgear to the soles of his Trojan sandals; he is guarded by the Trojan Knights, a group of students dedicated to preventing the pillaging of their beloved school mascot. 24/7. They fear foul play.

Really, how much harm can The Bruins get up to? Well, they have, in the past, dumped manure on Tommy from a helicopter, painted Tommy Bruin colors, dressed Tommy in drag, and sheared off Tommy's sword and welded it to his nicely-shaped Trojan ass. So, perhaps the Trojan Knights have good cause to watch and worry.

Of course, USC students aren't helping matters; all over campus, poor little bears dressed in Bruin colors are being dragged around by rope, suspended from tree branches and light fixtures by nooses, and treated to all manner of disrespect. I wonder if there is a society that protects stuffed animals from hazing...

Tommy, by the way, has been around since 1930. Duct Tape has only been around since 1942. Both are equally manly. In fact, duct tape is part of the average American male survival kit. A man is not a man without at least one roll of gray duct tape; all other colors of duct tape were created solely for women. A man's man would not be caught dead with a roll of lime-green duct tape in his tool box.

There are even duct tape bandages for big, burly construction workers who don't want to feel emasculated if they get an owie on the job. Of course, duct tape bandages hurt like a sonofabitch when they are taken off, but big, burly construction workers can handle it, right?

According to wikipedia, duct tape was developed during World War II by Johnson & Johnson, for use in waterproofing ammunitions cases. Since then, it has been used to seal just about everything; it's even cited as being an excellent gag when smoothed over someone's mouth. I'll have to remember that the next time I need to shut someone up.

To my knowledge, however, this is the first time it has been used to seal "head" gear. Ironically, most people use a different kind of Trojan for that...

Lip-locked or tight-lipped?

"Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind." Ah, The Princess Bride! What every heterosexual girl wants - a Wesley or at least a Dread Pirate Roberts :)

Twice in my life, I've been kissed to the point of swooning; the second time quite recently, and it was amazing. Anyone who can kiss in such a way as to make all of the blood rush straight to a certain nether-region is well worth kissing again, and again, and again, and...

If you've never experienced it, you need to kiss a few more frogs or, if you're a guy, whatever the female version of the frog/prince theory would be. Thinking back through all the childhood fairy tales I've read, I seem to recall one beautiful girl being turned into a swan, although that had something to do with loving her brothers which is just...well, ick!

But in any case, I really can't imagine a whole lotta guys getting their feet wet on the off-chance that the swan they are kissing is truly a beautiful princess under a spell, or even a girl swan. Can you imagine the surprise on their face when the swan turns out to be some handsome, horny dude? Oopsies!

So, do you think if a lesbian kisses a frog it turns into a princess? If I was gay and I puckered up to a slimy pair of green lips and the spell was broken and the amphibean became human and it did not have a pair of boobs, I would be downright Pissed Off!

You know kissing is really not taken seriously anymore in the whole love-making process. And, for the life of me, I cannot figure out why! It's so...well...exquisite! I mean, you've got the most wonderful mix of strong muscles and soft tissues and all that wetness! And it's such an excellent way of communicating exactly what is going through one's mind! If you are thinking of doing something else with your tongue, and you can't figure out how to communicate that through a kiss, then you likely need to FOCUS.

And hands, by the way, are definitely involved in the whole kissing process. Kissing with your hands in your pockets is a big no-no; same if you are kissing with a remote in one hand and a beer in the other. The hands should be entwined - in hair, other hands, clothing, something. If you have a free hand, then get with the GD program! Unless, of course, your hands are tied. If your hands are tied, you are likely doing just fine although you might want to test the bond, struggle a little, to show you would really like to get your hands on sum o' that!

Interestingly enough there was a swan in the background when this second swoon-inducing kiss took place. The swan was, I'm sure, asleep with his head tucked beneath his feathery wing, and could likely have cared less that I nearly lost my balance. Still, I think the guy found it somewhat encouraging, or at least amusing. I imagine he also thought I was just drunk. Hu uh!! I swear his tongue was saying, "Wanna see what I can do to a pair of wet lips and everything in-between?"

Yes, please.

Fruit Cocktail

Did you know that Acetaminophen can cause liver damage? Likely not because the freakin' print on the freakin' bottle is so freakin' tiny NO ONE can read it without a freakin' magnifying glass!

I knew it though, because I read the WARNING labels on all prescription and non-prescription medications I take. I worry that, if I don't, I might miss something. This has been my SOP since a near-fatal accident that could have happened to me but actually didn't. But it could have.

I have a social anxiety disorder that, on rare occasion, requires medication. The drug of choice is called Alprazolam, aka Xanax. One day, I decided to carefully review all the prescription and non-prescription medications in my cupboard to determine which could be used with alcohol and which couldn't. Alprazolam can be used with alcohol (although alcohol may intensify the effects), but it should not ever be used in conjunction with eating grapefruit or drinking grapefruit juice. Huh what???

Thinking my local pharmacy must have accidentally stuck that sticker on there, I decided to research on the internet. Sure enough, Alprazolam and grapefruit are a big no-no as a morning cocktail. Who woulda thunk?

Now I'm wondering if there are other drugs that should not be combined with other foods or drinks (besides alcohol). Like an acne medication that should not be taken while eating spinach, or a heart medication that has the opposite effect intended when combined with carrots, carrot juice or carrot cake. What could possibly be in a grapefruit that makes it, specifically, a very bad thing to ingest when there is alprazolam in your system?

I really feel like I had a close call with that one. I mean, I don't really take Xanax very often, maybe once or twice a year; and I seldom eat grapefruit or drink grapefruit juice. Still, it could have happened! For an unknown moment, I was living on the edge!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to wash my meds for paranoia down with a marguerita.

Sticks and Stones

I'm learning to play pool. Shoot pool, I should say. I figure I already play golf and darts - why not add yet another male-oriented sport to my pretty handbag of talents?

In this particular "sport," there is actually a rule that states you must have one foot on the ground if you are using the table as support. So it's not uncommon to see people leaning chest-down on the table or resting one hip on the edge as they line up their next shot. As long as one toe of one foot remains in contact with the floor, the entire rest of your body can be on the table. Is that a great sport, or what?

Clearly there are no concerns within the school of pool that a regulation table is not going to hold the weight of an adult human being. So why, at the bar last night, when I am resting one butt-cheek on the edge of the table (revealing a length of nylon-clad leg) and my gentleman friend is resting one butt-cheek on the edge of the table (revealing a length of jean-clad leg), would someone even bother to come over and ask my gentleman friend to please not sit on the table?

Did this person think the table, the very one intended to take the weight of someone leaning into his shot, could not possibly support two butt-cheeks at once? Oh, come on! I've been in that bar when some 250 pound guy was using the edge of the table to support his belly for each and every shot! Does one extra-large sized tummy really weigh more than two slim-trim butt-cheeks, albiet each shaped a little different than the other?

And why did he ask the man but not the woman? I suspect the jet-black nylons had something to do with it, but I can't say for certain. I know they had something to do with why my friend was sitting on the table in the first place...

Thought Provoking

I've been told I think too much.

Is that possible? To actually think too much? What is the right amount of thinking? Are there people who have actually perfected the art of thinking just the right amount? I want to meet those people.

For sure, I've already met some people who think too little; I'd like to meet the other! But what does that look like, when someone thinks too much? Are they recognizable? Is their brow permanently furrowed? Finger to chin, head tilted slightly up and to the right? Gaze glazed?

Can someone think so much that they think themselves into a state of utter confusion? Does exploring all avenues of thought lead to indecision, rather than clarity? Does wisdom actually come from thinking less?

Is it dangerous to think too much? Does your head explode? Can you strain your brain? If one were to ask the greatest thinkers of all time whether they thought they thought too little or too much, what would they say? Would they respond, "I don't know. Can I think about it and get back to you?"

Hm. Food for thought.

Innocence Lost

I resent what happened on 9/11. I went to the doctor's today and left the office with a monitor strapped to my chest. Surgical tape showing at my neckline, wires hanging out at my waist; red, yellow, green, white, black. Green light flashing. Measuring life.

And I'm hesitant to go out in public now. Why? Because, how comfortable do you think the guy at Starbuck's is, having me sit in the drive-thru looking like I'm wired with explosives?

I work for a very, VERY large software company. Think there would be any consternation if I walked into any of its 150 buildings flashing green at the waist, all systems go, just don't piss me off or I'll push this little button here?

Yes, what happened on 9/11 united the nation in compassion, empathy. And it robbed us of an innocence that we (rightly or wrongly) can go to work in comfort, not fear.

Am I the only one who watches planes in the sky now? Looking for irregularities? Sure, I could get shot while out dancing on a Friday night - but that's internal conflict. Our own civil wars, something we have control over. Or at least the illusion of control.

What am I really bitching about? I don't know; perhaps that such tragedies make us have to grow up, join the rest of the world in facing reality. Humans have been terrorizing each other since the beginning of time. They likely won't stop until time ends. I can only do my part in staying home today. No reason to worry people needlessly.