It Ain't Christmas if You Don't Rock Out Loud

Another Christmas has come and gone-- I had a lot of trouble getting in the spirit this year, mostly because in the wake of all the wedding hub-bub, I kind of forgot that I had to continue on with the remainder of life's tasks (what? I had to organize a wedding and pick out presents for every member of my family? This excuse also works well with getting your teeth cleaned, paying your bills, and vacuuming your carpet).

But around one o'clock on Christmas afternoon, my cousin Katie broke out her newest game-- Guitar Hero II for the PS2-- and the Christmas Spirit struck. And it turns out the Christmas Spirit is remarkably like the basist for Foghat.

All I know is, this game is the video equivalent of crack-- I would gladly have remained at my parents' house for up to eighty hours, helping Katie promote our new band, Grubmonkey, to new levels of success. Sadly, I was actually kind of a hindrance to Grubmonkey, as I routinely forgot to actually strum the guitar, or got confused between red and yellow, or realized that "Surrender" is not actually the song I thought it was. But I think she was still all right with me being in the band, as kind of a Ringo character, only without the awesome haircut.

Luckily for me, there's a version for the Wii, and it includes two of my all-time favorite songs: "My Name is Jonas," by Weezer, and "Rock and Roll All Nite" by KISS (which I played in marching band, so that's bound to give me a leg up on the competition). However, this game is not available ANYWHERE in the nation, except maybe at K-Mart, and, having solemnly vowed to let K-Mart die with dignity, I cannot spend any more money there, at least until they get wise to Sears' soul-crushing succubus nature.

So it's officially on my birthday list, but I was kind of hoping we could pretend that my birthday is today, and that I would magically find a copy lying in the bushes outside my house, so that I could turn it into the rock temple that it deserves to be.

In the meantime, I suppose I could go and get the ACTUAL guitar my parents gave me out of the basement and play that to take some of the edge off. But it seems like kind of a downer if I can't use it to interpret "Heart Shaped Box," which I can't, because I never learned to play it, and there may or may not be mice living in the guitar case.

A Very Crunchy Christmas

Dear Friends of Kim,

It is I, Crunchy! The angry Christmas nutcracker. Bask in my return to cyber-typing!

Some of you may not know me, Crunchy, because Kim was infected with the so-called "Christmas Spirit" last year at this time, leaving me, Crunchy, silent on the writing desk, surrounded by pictures of black-and-white old timey people of which Crunchy does not approve. Even though they do not move, Crunchy can see that their jaws are capable of free movement, and their legs are not really one big, non-working wooden leg with roundish planks for feet.

But this year Crunchy is back with a very special Christmas message, which is this: your Kim is a bad person! Because does she write you Christmas cards? No, she does not! I can see her right now, from my old-timey people perch-- she is playing Nintendo Wii! And not sitting in her chair writing you cards of good will wishes.

She claims that this is because she is tired out of writing cards, because of her thank you card writing debacle. But if she is so tired, how has she managed to become a pro at the Wii Tennis, with so much limb flailing and the cursing of small animated computer tennis players?

The truth of the matter is, only Crunchy loves you. And by loves you, I mean does not like you at all, again because of your working jaws and non-conjoined legs.

So rise up in your unhappiness at the Kim-not-writing-cards fooferau! Adopt the Crunchy as your new favorite Oja! You will be most satisfied, as Crunchy was built for loving you.

All best,

Crunchy

The Angry Christmas Nutcracker

Happy New Year!

Sorry I've been away for so long-- I've been out of town visiting Ben's family, and then heading to Cincinnati to spend New Years Eve with some friends.

Oh. And GETTING ENGAGED!

(Oh, God. I'm such a girl.)

Ben proposed to me on Christmas, after all the presents were opened-- he reached into the tree and pulled out one more, noticeably ring-box-shaped box, which was addressed "To Ben, from Santa."

"Should I open it?" he said.

Come on, man! Open it!

Which of course he did, and there was a ring in it, and he got down on one knee and proposed and I said yes and then cried my face off and ran around screaming for about half an hour, when I finally calmed down enough for him to point out that he hadn't actually even put the ring on me yet. I called my mom and screamed at her about it for awhile, made a few more calls, and finally passed out around two in the morning.

Here, for my own greedy edification, is a picture of the cry-and-scream-inducing ring:

So, that having been said, I had just about the single greatest Christmas of all time. And as if that weren't enough, I got TiVo, too! You're so jealous. Mostly of the TiVo. I can tell.

Anyway, consider this blog post to be the end of my weeklong blog absence (blogsence?). And I hereby make a solemn vow not to talk about my wedding plans on my blog. Too much. Very much.

Seriously.

Merry Christmas to all...

Since I'm going out of town for awhile after Christmas to visit Ben's family, I wanted to swing by and wish you all an early Merry Christmas! Most of you know that I'm not the most religious person in the world, but Christmas has always been by far my favorite holiday. When I was little, of course it was for the presents-- it was for the presents probably for much longer than it should have been. But as a teenager, I started flagging in my Christmas spirit-- it wasn't as easy to wake up on Christmas morning, where only a few years before, I had been up since four, eagerly awaiting my chance to go downstairs and see what Santa had brought.

Only in the last few years have I learned how much more fun it could be to be Santa, instead of just waiting for him-- and this year, I have tried to be Santa to the T. Decorated house? Check. Christmas cards actually mailed out, not just bought and stored in an empty space in the linen closet? Check. Sugar and spice pecans, oatmeal cookies, and copious amounts of Chex Mix prepared-- and meant to be shared with others, and not simply gorged on in my darkened living room while watching Clue? Check. And thoughtful presents for all? While not enough to compensate for the years of presents my parents have so thoughtfully purchased for me before I finally caught on about this whole giving v. receiving situation, check.

I hope for myself, and for all of us, that this Christmas, we wake up feeling like we did when we were six years old. I wish you all the happiest of Christmases.

PS: Crunchy is very mad that I wrote such a mushy Christmas post, and wants to remind you all that Christmas spirit is for jerkwads.

Creepy Ronald, the marionette

I would just like to say that I had the greatest Yankee Swap present ever, in the form of this marionette:


Originally a wedding gift to my friend Denise, it ended up in the hands of Kibby, who then mailed to me upon leaving for Peru. And it stayed on my bookshelf for a year and a half, biding its time. Until Yankee Swap.

It ended up in the hands of Rich, who was most happy with it, posing it in many Christmassy ways and, finally, embedding it deep into the tree, where we would forget about it for awhile, only to be creeped out again by its withered face whenever we glanced at the tree just right.

Ooh, baby. Is that mistletoe?

I cannot be stopped

I will bring Christmas cheer no matter what, at the cost of the well-being of all those around me, as well as those brave knick-knacks who sacrificed their prime places on the entertainment center and writing desk to make room for Christmas Cheer in the form of Yukon Cornelius and Hermey bobbleheads, as well as other Christmas paraphernalia (mostly purchased at Marc's).

Above is our tree, which, while the picture is small, you can probably tell is decorated in 95% cartoon character theme (Patrick Starr being the most prominently featured, for some bizarre reason). This was the first year that we even had enough ornaments to do the back of the tree, which we usually neglect because it is not easily visible.

The rest of the house, also not pictured, is similarly Christmas-laden, and officially ready for the full-on, practically disgusting Christmas obsessiveness I bring out every year around this time.

I don't know why I do this, but I always have, ever since I was on my own, starting with a one-foot tree I purchased at AC Moore my first year in Wilmington, after my roommate took the TV and couch (but before I set the kitchen on fire). I think it's because I was one of those kids-- unless we're all one of those kids, and I just assumed I was overly Christmas obsessed-- who so fanatically waited for Christmas, and was sad to see that feeling inevitably wane as I got older.

But with the presence of Rudolph-themed bobbleheads, the Christmas spirit is alive and well. And bobbling.

(I know these aren't the aforementioned bobbleheads. But I believe this to be the most sickeningly cute ornament ever-- my mom made it for us.)

Santa's little helper

Despite the 60 degree weather and the the decidedly un-Christmassy feelings it inspires, I have begun, in earnest, the purchase of this year's Christmas booty. And this year, I'm doing it with a budget, which is serving no purpose whatsoever other than

a) to give me a reason to write in my new "I Heart AU" notebook and

b) to drive me absolutely insane.

But my Real Simple magazine said that using a budget was the best way to shop for Christmas without going broke, so I'm going for it. This is in stark contrast to last year, in which the theme was Buy Everything, No Matter How Much People Will Scorn Its Lameness, So That a Large Portion of the Presents Under the Tree Are From You, Even If They Suck. This was both expensive and unfulfilling, mainly because the vast majority of Christmas 2005 presents with "Kim" on the "from" line are now defunct, if ever opened at all.

That strategy itself was a large revolt against my previous previous shopping plan, which was Be Cheap and Blame It On Being Poor. Which I actually was poor, but, coming from a family with very generous relatives, I felt downright chintzy. So now that I have a real job (sorry, Day Spa!), I feel it is my duty to buy the very best. Or at least, to buy something that isn't from the Mikasa outlet at the Aurora Farms. (Or, I shudder to mention, from The Paper Factory, where the majority of Christmas 2002 was born.)

So far, the budget is going well, even if it is frustrating (I have a ledger AND charts explaining who got what gift and how much it cost). In another very un-Kimmish move, I have completed at least half my shopping in just the last two days, using nothing but the Internet (and, in future days, the friendly nature of my office's front desk receptionist, who will be thoughtfully receiving my packages for me, as I fear that whoever broke into my house this summer will be lurking around to swipe whatever the hapless delivery guy may leave on my porch). I'm kind of bummed that it's looking like I'm going to miss out on the Mall Experience, but at the same time, how can you not like something that involves Super Saver Shipping?