Christmas, Tolkien Style

Did my Christmas tour at the Atlanta History Center and I wore the most awesome Frodo-y robe ever.

And I met the CUTEST guy on my tour. I kind of want to marry him. :]

It's a Christmas Smorgasbord, Charlie Brown

Because I haven't gotten much of an influx of reader responses to my previous blog entry, I'm going to withhold my own feedback about my favorite holiday programming by at least one more day. (That, and I still don't know what my favorite-favorite is.)

And so, to tide you over, I'm sharing a video with you that I found today and, if for some reason you didn't see it on my Facebook wall earlier, you can indulge now:

My favorite way to speak like K. Stew? "Suddenly notice your hair." On. Point.

Let's interact

Only because I know that I don't have all 500+ hits to this blog all by myself. Get out of them hermit huts, boys and girls! Time to comment with your input:

What's your favorite Christmas movie/TV special and why?


I'll think on this one, myself. Will deliver a full report tomorrow.

Quest for Self-Prettification

After a typical hump day at work which was neither here nor there, I scurried off - yes, scurried - to Nila's house. Nila is this absolutely dear woman that I met through my equally absolutely-dear mother-in-law that cuts hair in a very cute faux-salon set up in her house's Florida room.

She's cut my hair a few times, and I daresay she shall continue to do so, because she's the closest thing I'll ever have to a fairy godmother.

No, that's not a ghost you're seeing. It's just a trim. Reh heh heh. No really; I'm pale. Sorry.

As is painfully evident by my cadaverous pallor as evidenced above (that, and an unusually harsh "flash" on my MacBook's PhotoBooth), I could also stand to get a tan. Well, I listen to my readers, so hey, guess what? I got a membership at a tanning salon. All right, it was a little more premeditated than that. 

Gross factoid alert: I've had eczema since I was a wee jaundice-ridden baby. It kind of comes and goes, and it will magically decide to migrate to different areas of my skin every year. Last year, I did a little research about using tanning beds (specifically, the UVA/UVB rays therein) to treat eczema, and I ended up with a pretty successful few sessions at a tanning salon back in Virginia Beach. Seeing as how it went so well then, I figured I'd give it a go again in an effort to battle the crippling skin conditions that resurface during winter's dry, scratchy months.

So I've got that going for me. Which is nice.

Gentlemen, a bobsled is a very simple thing.

I've been copping out on posting anything of literary value recently, but one of the benefits of keeping up a daily non-handwritten journal is that I get to post multimedia awesomeness and call it an entry.

Today's whole-lotta-nothing is brought to you by the greatest underdog film in history. When you look in the mirror and tell me what you see, when you have ambitions of living in Buckingham Palace, when you want to name the bobsled Tallulah, when you're not smoking (you're breathing), when the sled god's on the air, you know what time it is.

It's time for some Cool Runnings.

To the man in the orange suit!

Word, Garfield.

And was today ever a Monday. Plus side: tomorrow's Tuesday. That much closer to Friday.

Sunday Sunday

God's intention:

Sunday is a day of rest. We observe the Sabbath and keep it holy. Life is good, because we rest. Also, no Chick-fil-A for you.


Our perspective:

Sunday is a day spent dreading the impending workweek and lamenting the fact that the weekend didn't even feel like it even happened. And, to top it all off, no Chick-fil-A for you.


That could also be just my perspective, because it's Monday tomorrow, and I simply don't want it to be.

Christmas Lights in Hotlanta

A few highlights from this evening's promenade at Atlanta Botanical Gardens, including, but not limited to, a special appearance from Santa Mantis.

Warms you heart and soul, don't it?

Confession Time

I do have an Internet vice, and it is I Can Has Cheezburger. Today, I found something rather poignant that I must needs share with the class.

This is me, you guys.

"Oh, hi, lovely house. I like your party and OH MY WORD THERE'S A FUZZY ANIMAL IN HERE I'M GOING TO BE FRIENDS WITH IT."

(Oh, and in case you were wondering: My affinity for lolcats extends to the pictures/captions only. I actually get kind of cheesed off when I read people actually typing in lolspeak. And being serious about it. Nope; no sir, I don't like it.)

LIKE A LIGHTBULB!

To celebrate the season (and because it's socially appropriate to do so, it being the first day of December and all), David and I watched some Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer tonight.

This movie's got a lot of sentimental value to me. When I was a kid, we had an old beat-up VHS tape that we used to tape some Christmas specials when they aired on TV: How The Grinch Stole Christmas, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, and Frosty the Snowman. That puppy got popped into the ol' VCR every Christmas Eve, and even now, it draws up lots of pleasant nostalgia-y memories.

I hadn't seen Rudolph in a while, and I don't know if you have, either. But holy cow, the whole picture is a minefield of inappropriate social morals. I'm not just talking about the usual not letting poor Rudolph join in  any reindeer games business either. People are genuinely awful to social misfits.

Don't get me wrong, it's fully laughable.

Cherry on top: the folks at Cracked thought it was awful too.

Also: I want to adopt all the residents of the Island of Misfit Toys (especially the spotted pink elephant, and the dolly that has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG WITH HER WHATSOEVER).