Since Christmas has gone bye bye, as you grip this little pressed pulp masterpiece in your latte-holding little hands, I wanted to say thanks for another fantastic year of listening to me blather Grinchfully about a slew of topics that only I find interesting.
Alas, there are a few things for which I’m not always thankful. OK, perhaps you’re right. It’s more like most things I do not give thanks for.
For example:
— Little Legos and small sharp toys, which I only seem to find while barefoot on the hardwood floor and when the lights are off. Salty words tend to carry in the dark.
— People who don’t make even the smallest physical gesture when I’m driving and I let them in line are most likely brain-dead, rabid zombies and should probably be wrangled into a quarantine situation … in Siberia. For their own good. If you can’t put down your iPhone long enough to wiggle your hand in good faith of me making your day easier, then you don’t deserve to breathe our air. Just a thought.
— People still talking about the Shake Weight. We get it. It looks like someone masturbating. Oh my good gosh, how tawdry! It’s not like we’re in the Bible Belt here folks, get over it. When “Saturday Night Live” has done a skit on it, that thing should crawl away and die. Let it go people.
I guess I could keep this list going indefinitely, which is not healthy for my blood pressure. As it turns out, we are all annoyed by most everything. It’s the American way.
Except my Kindle. That is the only proof I have remotely found for a benevolent deity.
Since we’re on the topic of Amazon’s digitally fantastical device, my sick sense of curiosity had me looking at what Amazon bequeathed upon us as gift ideas.
For moms: Beauty products, jewelry, heated blankets, coffee mugs and cutlery. So according to Jeff Bezos, moms across the planet are ugly, cold, tired … and wielding sharpened weapons. I’m not touching that one.
For dads: Grilling tools, history and political DVDs, power tools, GPS units, cologne and home bar accessories. Nope, that works for me. I’m OK with those choices. Except the cologne. If you stink, don’t cover it with French stank. If you smell badly, you just smell badly. Water, soap, shampoo, repeat.
Something for someone with everything: Ah screw them, who cares. If they already have everything, that means I’m probably jealous and dislike even the sight of them. Can you buy someone a twisted ankle?
Here’s to all of you having a fantastic 2011. Fantastic 2011? Sounds like a 1970s space movie with terrible writing and wooden acting. On that note, I’m going to go watch “Star Wars” for twenty eleven.
Happy New Year!
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