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IT’S MY FAVORITE TIME OF YEAR - IT’S CHRISTMAS ONCE AGAIN IN SANTA BARBARA!!!! Anyone who knows me knows that this is my absolute favorite time of year, despite my deep seeded love affair with the summer - that is more of a care free fling. My love for the holiday season is that of Jack and Rose - every year it’s too fast but it’s filled with passion. (Note: I view Halloween as the official start, 3 weeks after Thanksgiving just isn’t enough - so Starbucks I applaud you for getting those red cups out November 1st, I know you took some heat for that - haters gonna hate).
There is not one night of the year that I look forward to more than Christmas Eve. I know that as a girl your wedding is supposed to be a dreamed about affair but my wedding night better be fucking amazing if it has any plans to compete with the magic that is 12/24 (if that is not an obvious hint as to when a future potential suitor should propose, I don’t know what is). Every Christmas Eve we get Christmas Pajamas (the most recent edition pictured below) so that we can sleep in fresh threads and look as festive as can be opening presents. (My mother tried to phase out this tradition once my brother and I were both in our 20s, but that worked out as good as Michael Jordan’s professional baseball career - it is safe to say PJs are back on after a one year hiatus). My mom makes white wine fondue while my father stokes the fire and heats the hot tub. Yes, my dad still reads us The Night Before Christmas and never fails to point out the mice sleeping in corner on the first page of the beautifully illustrated book - and my brother never ceases to chuckle when the words “The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow.” A hybrid of the Coca-Cola Santa and the Santa described in the poem is the vision I would dream about every eve until - well….we don’t have to go there.
Every year my brother and I would wish and pray for Santa to bring us snow and we would always complain that it did not feel like Christmas as we sat in the hot tub on Christmas day with the sun shinning, which is why we despised that our parents (both born and bred in New Jersey) loved the “No Snow/Christmas in Santa Barbara” song. We couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t want our front yard to look like your “typical” Christmas scene. Flash forward to Snowmageddon 2011/December Blizzard which paralyzed travel for days (Mel in Ohio for 33 hours), and I fucking get it. Not only that, but I finally had the perfect Christmas scene (mostly, and by mostly I mean entirely, taken from Home Alone 2), tree in Rockefeller, store fronts decoarted, hussle and bussle, snow covered lawns, lamposts with lights and ribbons traveling up the post - but for me, something was missing and I was dumb-founded. Then I stepped off the plane in Rainbows on 12/22 in Santa Barbara, saw the Palm Trees with lights encircling the trunks, boats on the ocean festive with holiday lights, and got in the hot tub in December and BAM! Cue “Christmas Once Again in Santa Barbara.” Since I was raised with Palm Trees in place of Evergreens, rollerblading along the beach rather than sledding and of course what you hear in the above video (my fam signing the No Snow Song, on repeat) that is what Christmas was and is for me and ya know what Hallmark? I wouldn’t have it any other way. (Disclaimer: I blame Hallmark for my distorted image of what Christmas should be and Matel for my distorted image of what my bod should be - thanks Barbie.)
So, as Clement C. Moore says….Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
A friend of mine went on a date this past week. She called me to tell me about it. The bachelor started the date with, “There are a couple nerdy things I need to tell you, in case we see each other again.” Smooth, nice – already making me sign a pre-nup agreeing to accept your crazy pills 5 minutes into the date. Having no other choice she listens to him explain that he has a Muppet Collection….she justifies this by thinking, ok well I have a borderline unhealthy addiction to Harry Potter as evidenced by the Lego collection hidden under my bed (and bonus maybe this nerd will want to play HP Legos with me and we can throw in some Muppet on Potter action). He then discloses that these are life size Muppets. (I’ll give you a moment to get a visual here). But since they were in San Fran, which is second only to NYC in living space, on the upside, at least he must have a big apartment to house his life size Muppet collection.
The date moves forward – the check comes. Red flag number 2, he wants to go halfzies – the person who asks for the date, picks up the check (regardless of what limited edition Muppet you’re saving up for). He proposes going to bar to prolong the date, she orders a glass of wine and asks him what he is having…his response: “Oh, I don’t drink.” This was the deal breaker; it wasn’t the life size Muppet collection, or the tacky split the bill move – but rather the fact that he doesn’t drink – you can have your Muppets but my God do not expect me to be sober to accept that addiction.
In conclusion, life size Muppet collection fine, splitting the bill….ok, if you don’t drink, I really don’t see a future for us – which is unfortunate because I was warming up to the idea of Muppets sitting down to dinner with us and you impersonating their voices…..really, I was.
(Instances like this make Yankee Candle Nights-YCN* perfectly justified….you could be taking the risk of waking up in a room full of life size Muppets….or worse, sandwiched between Kermit and the Muppet Collector.)
*Yankee Candle Night (YCN): You go radio silent, put on a good flick, light some warm scented candles and call it a night.
Even though you know you’re still going to press OK when you reach this point…its a nice thought…maybe add some password protection??
(via soulhunting)
A well tailored and creative spin on a baby dressed as a lobster sitting in a pot, being carried by a parent outfitted in a chef Halloween costume.
One of the few things I look forward to in parenthood in my later years is dressing my kid up - he/she will have costumes that will make the other kids on the playground SWOON and wonder why their parents went with the amateur b.s. store-bought pumpkin/witch/cat.
(via regardzfromhell)
@YannisPappas “You can call them the NYPD if you want to, or you can call them what they really are, 30,000 Yankee fans from Staten Island.”
Disclaimer: I’m not a born and bred in NY Yankee fan- nor am I claiming to be even a fan - but this video is huh-larious. (Last thing I want is a Yankee fan thinking I have can talk Yanks, because I can’t, I can talk hot dogs and beer though, which go with baseball - so what up.)
I miss it.
(Source: westcoastbestcoast, via joshlevien)
Do It Longer.
With fall upon us I have made the decision to do as the clocks do and fall back and have myself a little Sober October; plus its the only month that rhymes with “sober” so it feels right - themes are game changers and motivators. Therefore, on Friday night I found myself at the gym, like a sweet, innocent, cupcake angel. I conclude my cardio and I am approcahed by what may have been Gramercy’s finest meatstick* - I was suprised he did not have a protein shake and/or Slim Jim in hand. His opening line was: “I noticed you on the treadmill.” My response: “Fact, I was there.” First off, great observation skills, like what was I supposed to say, “Oh crap, I thought that was the stair master, thanks for pointing that out.” He went on to make small talk, and finally got to where he was going and asked if I wanted to go out sometime. This is when I noticed his shirt, which read “Do It Longer.” I’ll let that marinate with you for a second.
Naturally this left me completely pool-sticked*, I was at a loss for words, which is an instance that rarely happens to me. I stood there with my mouth gaped, (which God knows what was going through his head with my mouth in this position) tried to mutter something but ended up just walking away.
Couple of things here, that shirt would be ideal for one of those MySpace in the mirror take it yourself photos, but I wouldn’t suggest it for courting purposes, I do not care if it’s laundry day and it’s all you have - at least turn it inside out if going out in public. Also, despite what it may look like, I usually do things on Fridays, so I don’t need your pity date - we’re good here, and thanks for trying to ruin my innocent gym outting. Lastly, moments ago I saw you do that thing where you make your hands into guns and rapidly point them at something repeatedly, which were your dumbells; I understand getting the zone and amping yourself, but a little to GTL for my liking. Thanks.
*Meatstick- Male who that has an unnatural amount of muscle that has likely resulted due to the consumption of protein shakes and muscle enhancing drugs, which in turn have made his brain into mashed potatoes to compliment all the meat on his body.
*Pool-sticked - When you are at a complete and utter loss for words due to an extreme state of shock and surprise, leaving you stiff as a pool stick.
