... and to all a good night!

Santa looked like daddy,
Or daddy looked like him.
It's not the way I had him pictured,
Santa was a' much too thin.
He didn't come down the chimney,
So momma must have let him in.
Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked a lot like him…


When I was in preschool, Santa came to the party we had after our Christmas Program.

I’d never had a problem with multiple Santas – after all, I knew the REAL one worked at the downtown Bon, where Nanna took us for photos. The rest were just stand-ins, nice guys who would lend St. Nick a hand during his busy season.

This stand in, however, was different. While he was busy ‘ho ho ho’-ing, I was busy trying to figure out why he sounded so familiar. And gee, his eyebrows… they’d been painted white-ish, sure, but I knew those eyebrows. They looked like Dad’s. I asked Santa who he really was, but he just declared “Why, I’m Santa Claus!”

Not helpful.

By the end of the afternoon, I was convinced, but Santa refused to cop to being anyone’s Dad. I left off asking Santa at the party, but grilled Daddy mercilessly at home that night. Dad, however, knew nothing about the preschool Santa. He’d been to the program, but he hadn’t been able to come to the party until later – after Santa had left. I didn’t buy it. Sounded too much like Clark Kent never being seen at the same time as Superman. So, as any like-minded 4-year old is wont to do, I filed it away and threw myself into the pre-Christmas bacchanal.

As I got older, I’d ask Dad about it sometimes, and he’d never confirm or deny… but I finally wormed it out of him when I was in my late teens/early 20’s. He’d played Santa for my preschool party.

Do I still believe in Santa?

… well, I do believe in a guy with a beard who gives me presents. I always will.

Merry Christmas/holiday of your choice, all!

I believe I can fly...

Dude. Just.... dude. Who said humans aren't meant to fly?

"In Review" (with musical accompaniment)

As if the staring down the barrel of my impending birthday didn't get me reflective enough, those reflections now have a soundtrack.

On today's concert calendar I hear the Presidents of the United States of America are playing tonight at the Pyramid Brewery. I remember the first time I saw them -- it was '94 or maybe '95. It was the Moore, I was with the unrequited-crush-du-jour, and they were opening for - wait for it - They Might Be Giants. (Talk about your quirk-rock dream bill!) The show was a blast, and I've followed both bands with interest since.

Version .94 of me had her whole life ahead of her still. She was as optimistic as I ever get about the future. Then, it was just a question of time before I'd have "a life" (the stereotypical 'settle down with husband, mortgage and kids' scenario)... and if the "life" wasn't forthcoming, I'd have a career instead.

And version .07? Has neither. And is learning to content herself with that while be simultaneously embittered about the need to do so.

"I wish that I could help you feel the cool breeze
Set up an IV of sanity
Say there's a spy in one half of your brain
Spyin' on the other half and drivin' you insane..."

Hey Lunatic, indeed.

Dear Universe...

Hi. It's me. Your punching bag. Quit it.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I have the health, shelter, food, employment and family stuff covered. I'm painfully aware of how petty my complaints are, by and large. But I still got 'em.

I'm not saying I want sunshine, puppies and rainbows 24/7... but could you maybe just space things out a little bit? Maybe let me recover just a touch before you continue the next assault?

Seriously, you're ruining my Hallowe'en. I LOVE Hallowe'en, and I've been dealing with such a freakin' shitstorm I can't enjoy it anymore. So stop already.

Thanks.

PS 3WA Secret Pal person? I don't mean you. You are AWESOME. With ham and jam and Spam on it.

Y'say you want to overdose on the cute?

I'm here to help.  (Disclaimer:  I'm not a cat person.  However, these are KILLING me.)

Take THAT:



and THAT!

Goan yersel', lads... hee.

Travesty, not tragedy

Item the first: A rantlet.

Why did "Int0 the Wild" need to be made into a film? What's filmworthy or profound about 'Alex@nder Supertramp' (forgive me as I roll my eyes) dying of... well, stupidity?

I'll admit I've enjoyed what I've heard of the soundtrack, but would someone please tell me what's fascinating about being so wilfully ignorant, so bullheadedly stubborn that you wind up starving yourself to death?

Marching out into the Alaskan sticks with nothing more than a gun, bag of rice and book on edible plants isn't heroic - it's STUPID. (Hell, I've been stupid. Make a movie about me.)

While I do feel profoundly for the McCandless family and those who knew and loved him... this isn't tragedy. This is Darwin Awards material.

Item the Second: Formatting issues.
Could someone point me towards a quick-and-dirty tutorial on how I can put the lovely Shelfari and DDN ticker into a sidebar? I'm inept. (I can has codemonkey? Plzthxbye.)

Item the Third: Comment?
If you're actually reading this, would you let me know by dropping a comment? I haven't exactly gone capital-p Public, so I'm just curious if anyone but the StaceCadet's actually reading this.