Yes, Another List...

Hope everyone had a good holiday - Christmas, Hannukah, Yule, Kwanzaa, Festivus, whatever you celebrate. The non-stress plan went well. I must say that this past Christmas min-vacation was what I'd always heard it was supposed to be like: filled with fun, friends, food, and festivities. (Not to mention uncontrollable consonance....)

Vahn got into town safely, and we went to the Argosy Casino in Lawrenceburg with a friend of his. Now, I'm not big on gambling, but I was excited about catching up with my friend and I figured it would be a new experience. Had a good time, but I would have had a much better time if I had quit after the first round at the blackjack table, where I had doubled my money. (I figured blackjack was safe since I understood the basics of the game.) Unfortunately, I decided to try my luck at the craps table. Big mistake. My winnings disappeared in a matter of minutes. Won back $10 at the roulette table, and played a little more blackjack with less success than the previous time. Net losses = $10. Not too terrible, but I would have much rather walked out a winner. Oh well. Guess I'm not ready for Vegas.

Finished up my Christmas shopping on Saturday, and stopped off at Roger Mexico's to wish him a safe drive to his grandparents' house the next day. (He was stressing because his parents were coming up for a visit after Christmas and he wanted the apartment to be clean. Actually, it was reasonably clean to start with. I think he was aiming for immaculate.) Sunday was spent at the parents' house wrapping presents and preparing hors d'oeuvres for the shindig at Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's later that night. (By the way, I am the hors d'oeuvres queen. If I have the time, I can make finger food like nobody's business.) Shindig may actually be too strong a word, since there were more cats (12) present than humans (6). We ate too much, drank too much coffee (well, Hacksaw and I did), caught up on each others' lives, and played Joycean Scrabble. Joycean Scrabble is our own bastardized version of the classic game played on a giant customized board. The main rule: if you can justify the word, it's valid. It's not unusual to see something like exveganwail (the noise a vegan makes when he realizes that he's just eaten a substance containing eggs) or jedimettvoid (the lesser known Jedi mind trick that makes all of the smoked sausages disappear from the backyard barbecue...these are not the kielbasas you're looking for!) on the board. The conversation at times got pretty darned close to insane (like when Rosencrantz decided she wanted to meet the Dalai Lama, then kidnap him and take him waterskiing), but that's always to be expected when we get together.

Christmas Day was spent at Mom and Dad's, with the traditional non-stereotypical homemade barbecue lunch. Wow, my mom's a good cook. I'd weigh about a ton if I still lived at home. Presents were exchanged (I got a zoo membership, as well as a copy of American Beauty and Friday's gift certificates, so I was pretty happy), and my niece provided entertainment for the afternoon. That evening I headed over to Zappagirl's for dinner (Timmy was in town, and she had made enough food to feed us for the next several days) and present exchange. Their gift to me completely bowled me over...

Dude, they got me a computer. No kidding. I'm still dumbfounded, and more than a bit ashamed that I got this in exchange for bath salts and an aromatherapy candle. They kept trying to rationalize it by telling me that it wasn't that big a deal since Timmy had pretty much built it from spare parts, and all they'd really spent actual money on was the keyboard and the modem, but A COMPUTER, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! I won't have to post from work anymore! I'll actually be able to go wherever I want to go on the internet, without the firewall legal notice popping up half the time!

I have the best friends ever, and I'm not just saying that because they got me a really cool Christmas gift. Hell, I was happy with the Powerpuff Girls talking clip watch. (Buttercup, my favorite, of course.)

But now it's back to work, and it's insanity time. It's the end of the year, and of course all of our clients waited until the last minute on their accounts, so we have to work like crazy to get everything done before we leave here on Friday. I am not looking forward to tomorrow. Must remember to bring snack food to hide in my desk drawer, because I don't foresee leaving my cubicle for much of anything besides a really fast bathroom break.

Oh, by the way, if anyone out there has not seen Requiem for a Dream and it's still playing in your corner of the world, stop what you're doing and go see it now. I had seen Pi, the director's previous work, and was blown away by it, but this movie leaves it in the dust. Darren Aronofsky seems to have a talent for making his movies more than just a visual experience. (I've never had a migraine headache in my life, but after seeing Pi, I sympathize with all of you who do suffer from them.) I was on the bad diet pill speed trip right along with Ellen Burstyn, and I was just as freaked as she was. If the Academy ignores this movie, I'm going to be so pissed.

Roger Mexico and I got together the other night to compare notes on the family Christmas celebrations, share opinions on the movie (he'd seen it the previous week), and discuss life in general. With the upcoming New Year, we started making verbal resolution lists. If the two of us can manage to stick to some of them, I think the world will be a better place for everyone involved. Nothing outlandish was proposed, just a few changes to make life more manageable.

Here's some of the ones I've come up with so far...

I will get my apartment clean. I cannot move the new computer or my new kitten into my abode in the state it's in now. It just seems like such an impossible task right now. I keep meaning to do it, but trying to figure out where to start is so difficult. Rosencrantz has offered her help, and Roger Mexico has offered moral support and advice (yes, I know...baby steps). My goal is to have everything clean, redecorated, and moved in by March. I'd like to have an open house or gathering of some sort in the spring.

I will learn how to use my computer for more than just games, Blogger, and Napster (which I fear is inevitable). I've already requested to take every computer class I can fit into my schedule at work, partially because it will make me a more valuable and marketable employee, but mostly so I can play with my new toy. (Sorry, BossGuy. I did have ulterior motives when I sent you that email.) I will get online in a timely manner (must start ISP shopping), and if at all possible, I will have my own domain within the year. After all, I cannot begin my plans for world domination from Blogspot. I want graphics, dammit! (JohnnyB, you have been warned. Fire up the scanner, baby, and be prepared to actually start using your degree for something. You have been commissioned.) I'd also like to set up a "collective" website where my other creative friends could show off their talents, but that's still a way off. Selfish time. Me first.

I will start writing more, both online and otherwise. I've really neglected my poetry and the novel is still a big folder full of notes. As much as I try to convince myself that all of the scribbling I do at Roger Mexico's while he's composing will fit into the storyline somewhere, I have yet to sit down and figure out exactly where. With the addition of the new computer, I will have the opportunity to write here more than once a week, and I do plan to try to expand the format into more than "this week I did this and this and this." Granted, those entries will still be there, but I'd like to branch out a bit. Offer some opinions and criticisms on life as I see it. Torture everyone with my angsty poetry and whiny fiction. (My entire poetry group winces in unison....) Who knows where I might end up going with this little project?

If all goes well with the writing, I would like to submit my finished product somewhere. If I get rejected, that's OK. It's more of a confidence exercise than anything else. But if Hissyfit or Salon or whoever likes my stuff, so much the better.

I will get Joe Camel off my back once and for all. I doubt I can say the same for the cloves, but I will attempt to cut back.

I will start eating healthier. I guess this means I have to learn to cook. (And much as Roger Mexico tries, he will not convert me into a vegetarian. Yes, I like the tofu and the fake chicken, but I'm not giving up the Skyline Chili.) I will attempt to lose a bit more weight, since I'm pretty close to my target. No more weird diets. Just eating right and...

Exercise. Yeah, I know I say this every year, but I'll give it another shot. Dancing is exercise, after all. So is walking to the bus stop (which I plan to do a lot more of).

I will cut back on my drinking. Not that I'm passed out in the gutter every night, but when the first words out of my mouth when I visit Roger Mexico's are "I'm gonna grab a beer, 'kay?" I need to curb my actions.

I will read more. I am embarrassed by how little I read these days. What I do read is mostly crap. I'm going to try to space out the serious reading, alternating it with "fun" reading. More nonfiction, more classics.

Having said that, I will finish reading Ulysses by James Joyce by the time I go to the Bloomsday celebration with Rosencrantz and Gulidenstern. That gives me 6 months, right?

I will try to have a more positive outlook on life. That's a tough one, since I've never been an exceptionally optimistic person, and a lot of monumentally bad stuff tends to happen around me. But I did have a long discussion with Roger Mexico on this one, and I'm going to make every effort to stop being such a mental case. If it means going to the extreme of going the medical route, then so be it. I'm tired of living like this, and I'm sure that all of my friends are sick of my mini-breakdowns.

I will not read the spoiler boards for Buffy the Vampire Slayer anymore. A small resolution, but Jooles is holding me to this one.

Hopefully writing my resolutions out and posting them will make me feel a bit more obligated to try to stick to them this year. I'll let everyone know how it goes.

Since I probably won't have the time or energy to post tomorrow, I guess that's it for this year. Have fun this New Year's Eve, kiss someone you really love at midnight, and for God's sake call a cab and get home alive! See everyone in 2001 after I've rid myself of the obligatory hangover....

'Tis the Season to be Stressing

Finally! Blogspot is back up and running! I've been very frustrated for the past few days. Not that I've had all that much to say, but just the fact that I couldn't post was pissing me off big time.

Well, so far there hasn't been a ton of snow here. The predicted Great White Death of last week turned out to be about an inch or two of snow. More is predicted for tonight, but I'm taking any and all weather reports of massive accumulation with a grain of salt. It is, however, very very cold. I just ran the mail across the street for the evening, and I left my gloves in the office. Brrrrrrr. There was a guy busking on the corner, playing off key Christmas carols on his saxaphone, and all I could think of was the reed freezing to his lips in the middle of "Winter Wonderland."

Big news this past weekend. I got an early Christmas present from my parents - a digital phone. Yeah, I know, I swore I'd never have one, but my pager went insane on Thursday, and whenever I tried to pick up my voicemails, all I got was an earful of static. After a lengthy call to the customer service department, I was informed that there was no problem with my service. (I guess it was all in my head or something? Whatever.) So I weighed my options, and decided that it would make more sense for me to get a phone, which I had always regarded as a yuppie gadget.

After a few days of changing my ring tone and adding everyone I know into the address book and switching faceplates and text messaging Roger Mexico every twenty minutes, I've revised my opinion. I'm in love with my new phone. I sat at the Warehouse with my friend Jaybear for at least half an hour compiling the top zillion cool things that our new playtoys do (he just got one from the same company). I'm sure the newness will wear off soon, but for now it's my obsession.

JohnnyB was in town this weekend, and we spent the entire weekend hanging out with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Somehow, a late lunch on Saturday turned into a 30 hour party. We ate entirely too much food, played with the kittens too much, laughed more than the law should allow, and managed to fit in a matinee of The Compleat Works of Wllm Shkspr (abridged) at the Cincinnati Shakespeare Festival. (If you ever get a chance to catch this show, see it. All 37 of Shakespeare's plays in two hours, done by three actors. Same goes for CSF. I have yet to see a bad show by this company.

Unfortunately, the party had to end, and he headed back home for the holidays. He's coming back for New Year's Eve, and since this will be the first year in 7 years that I will not be behind the bar slinging champagne, I'm actually looking forward to watching the ball drop this year.

JohnnyB's departure coincided with other friends arriving in town, though. Hacksaw and eBeth got here on Tuesday, and Vahn called me this afternoon to let me know he was "home" and wanted to get together for dinner and drinks sometime in the next day or so. Guess I'll be dying my hair tonight. I haven't seen him in three years, and my pride won't allow me to greet him with nasty brown/gray roots. (Of course, he still reads my page from time to time, so I guess I'm busted, huh?)

I've been so stressed at work that I haven't been able to get into the Christmas spirit this year. I didn't put up the tree, I didn't bake cookies, and I'm nowhere close to being done with my shopping. Presents wrapped? HA! You're funny.

Rosencrantz and I were talking about how insane the holidays have been this year, and she has decided that this should be the year we all just chill out. Every year for the past ten years or so, she's had a huge blowout on Christmas Eve - the past two years the party was held at the bar that she and Guildenstern owned. This year, she's inviting a few people over to hang out and polish off a few bottles of wine, and I personally think it's the best idea for all of us. No extravagent cooking experiments, no giant gift exchange. The presents can wait. Who says Christmas has to be on Christmas? I'm personally planning on making my Christmas cookies on Martin Luther King Day.

I do still feel guilty whenever I get a Christmas card, though. I used to be so good about this. I sent cards to everyone I knew, shopped hardcore to find the perfect gift for everyone on my list, baked 24 dozen cookies and countless loaves of banana bread, made fudge, hung up stockings for me and the cat...all while I was working two jobs. What happened?

Oh yeah. I got old and tired.

Somewhere down the line, the concept of the holiday season got lost. It turned into a long list of haftas. I hafta start shopping in August, or I'll never get done in time. I hafta put up enough flashing lights on my house so it's visible from space. I hafta write a yearly newsletter to everyone I've met in my entire life to include in the custom Christmas cards with the picture of the kids and the dog underneath a giant evergreen. I hafta run up all my credit cards so I'll be paying on this holiday when it's June. I hafta run myself completely ragged so I'm too exhausted to actually enjoy the family gathering.

"Come on gang, don't fight. You people focus so hard on the things wrong with Christmas that you've forgotten what's so right about it. Don't you see, this is the one time of year we're supposed to forget all the bad stuff. Stop worryin' and being sad about the state of the world, and for just one day say, 'Ahh, the heck with it, let's sing and dance, and bake cookies.' "

- Mr. Hankey, South Park

(Yeah, that's right. I'm quoting a talking piece of poo. Deal with it.)

I'm coming up with a new list of haftas this year. I hafta remember that the season is about spending time with the special people in my life, my friends and family. I hafta realize it's not about the presents or how much money I spent. I hafta realize that I may not find that perfect gift until February, but it doesn't mean it won't be appreciated then because it's not given on December 25th. I hafta realize that sugar cookies taste good all year, even if they're not in the shape of reindeer and trees and Santa Claus.

I hafta relax.

Having said that, of course I'm off to do some last minute shopping. I'm such a hypocrite.

Wintry Mix

I refuse to comment on the election results. Check out CrewsClues; he put it much more eloquently than I ever could. At this point, part of me is just relieved that I will never have to hear the words "pregnant chad" ever again.

I have spent the last two hours watching the Doppler radar readout, watching the first official winter storm of the season move in. As I type this, it looks like a big blue spin art project, with Cincinnati as the center.

In other words, the weather sucks. Snow, sleet, and freezing rain. A commuter's nightmare.

I'm not big on cold or winter. Well, snow is fine as long as I have nowhere to go. If it's a weekend and I have nowhere to go, I love looking out the window while a small drift forms on my balcony. I love it when the branches on the trees are encased in ice and the whole world looks like it's coated in confectioner's sugar. I have no problems with that...as long as it's melted by the time I have to go to work on Monday.

I guess the big reason for this is because it's such a pain to get in and out of my apartment complex during inclement weather. My street dead ends into my apartment parking lot, at the bottom of a rather steep hill with a 90-degree turn thrown in for good measure. Miss that turn and you go careening down into a steeply graded copse of trees, with little hope of correcting your mistake on the way down. In the five years I've lived here, I've yet to make the fatal mistake, but there have been times when I've not been able to get up the hill in the morning. There have been times when the streets are so iced over that I went down that hill five inches at a time. (Yes, I drive like an old lady in the snow. Deal with it.) There was one year it snowed so much I wasn't quite sure which snow-covered lump in the parking lot belonged to me.

People in Cincinnati don't deal with wintry weather very well. If the weatherman predicts flurries, people are buying groceries and supplies to last them a month, preparing for the Great White Death.

Other than that, snow isn't such a bad thing. Somewhere over the course of the winter I will nail someone I know with a snowball, and run like hell. I love the crunchy sound my boots make as I tromp through a deep snowbank. I smile to myself when ever I drive past a snowman standing proudly in someone's front yard. (The fraternity houses near my apartment always take advantage of the snow to create a Frosty, usually holding an empty Budweiser. Goofy and immature, yes. I still laugh every year.) Last year, after a blizzard ruined a decent Saturday night's business at the bar, my boss and I went to breakfast at First Watch and came back to do donuts in the empty parking lot. You haven't lived til you've seen an incredibly tense 37 year old man skid his CRX around a deserted parking lot in the middle of the 'hood, grinning like an idiot the entire time.

Maybe I'd enjoy winter more if I knew how to ski. It's always been on my list of things to do before I die, but the closest I ever came was about ten years ago, when the guy I was dating suggested we give it a shot. The friend that offered to give us pointers broke his leg, and we decided it was a sign from God. (I did go sled-riding with him though. I wiped out halfway down the hill, and another group of friends barrelled over the top of me. I threw my back out, and spent the rest of the day sitting at the bottom of the hill demanding Advil and hot chocolate.) Despite this setback, I still would like to attempt to ski...as long as I have health insurance.

One thing that has been crossed off my list of things to do before I die, however, is rockclimbing. Roger Mexico and I went to see Vertical Limit, and I think it suffices to say that I won't be conquering the K2 any time soon. The movie itself is not as bad as I had expected, but was certainly not one I would have picked if given free rein at the theater. ("Oh no! Am I making you see a movie you're going to hate?" Roger Mexico asked as we drove to the show.) The scenery is breathtaking, and there's a lot of near death breath-holding action. Some of the effects are a little icky, for you squeamish kids out there. Let's just say that frostbite is a nasty thing, and pulmonary edema is not a pretty way to die.

Got excited during the coming attractions for about 5 seconds because I thought we were getting a trailer for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Then I realized it was Miss Poutylips (Angelina Jolie) and we were getting a preview of Tomb Raider instead. Bummer. I was personally freaked out because the trailer ws obviously done by the same company that put together the one for Gone in 60 Seconds. Same fast cuts, same sultry female voiceovers. What the hell?

We did get to see the trailer for Finding Forrester, which looks promising. Three words. Sir Sean Connery. In a Gus Van Sant movie! (Welcome back, Gus! We forgive you for the Psycho debacle.)

As we were leaving the theater, "Same Auld Lang Syne" (you know, that sappy 70's holiday song by Dan Fogelberg, King of the Wussies) was being piped in on the Muzak, and a thought occurred to me....

WHY IS THE SUPERMARKET A POPULAR PLACE TO RUN INTO EXES IN HOLIDAY SONGS?

I mean, Dan and his ex run into each other in the frozen foods aisle and spend the rest of the song catching up and getting tanked in her car because all the bars are closed. And in "Christmas Wrapping" by the Waitresses (one of my personal favorite holiday songs), our heroine tells the tale of how she met this fabulous guy at the beginning of the year and spent the following months trying to get together with him to no avail, only to run into him at the supermarket on Christmas Eve. (They had both decided to spend Christmas by themselves, and both neglected to pick up cranberries to go with their respective turkey dinners. Awww. How romantic.)

I can relate to the telephone tag and broken dates part of the song, but I can't say that I've ever run into an ex in a supermarket, and definitely not on a major holiday. Maybe it's because I don't like cranberries. Therein lies the sole reason for my singlehood.

OK, I'm outta here. Hopefully the snowplows and salt trucks have visited my neighborhood, and I'll make it home alive. Go outside and play in the snow, all of you.

Open Letter to the Big Guy

Dear Santa,

I guess you're probably a little surprised to be receiving this letter from me. After all, I haven't written you in over 20 years. But I think we should just let bygones be bygones and move on, OK? Let's just pretend that I never had that conversation with my mom all those years ago. I believe in you. I want to believe. I need to believe.

I wish I could say that I've been good all year, but both you and I know that's a big pile of reindeer poop. I've tried to be nice, but sometimes I've been naughty. My intentions were good, though. Can sheer intent change my status?

I told the woman in the coffee shop that she undercharged me this morning. That's got to count for something.

Some of my requests (Ok, almost all of my requests) this year are a bit massive. I know you can handle them, though. You've got all the right connections, and I figure Christmas is the season of miracles, right? Let me re-emphasize, I believe in you. You didn't let me down when I asked for the Sunshine Family when I was little. And if you could bring me those poor hippie Barbie relatives, then this stuff shouldn't be much more difficult or outlandish.

Here goes. This year, for Christmas I would like:

A vacation. A real vacation. One that requires a plane ticket or a very long drive to get to. One that requires a hotel or overnight stay somewhere. I haven't had a real vacation since I went to New York with Rosencrantz and Mike Dangers five years ago. My vacation last year on Roger Mexico's cruise ship fell through. If possible, I'd like this vacation to include sun, swimming, possible sightseeing, eating too much, travelling companions that I can get into trouble with at night, and no worries about what's going on in the real world.

A new computer for my home. I know you've seen that mentally challenged thing I have currently, and we both know that it isn't ready for all that I want to use it for. I'm tired of getting firewalled at work on stupid things (latest victim: Squishy) and it would be so much easier to do this journal from home. I'd like a set-up with all the bells and whistles - super fast modem, scanner, color printer, CD burner (so I can make my own mix CDs since all the ones I buy have at least one crappy song on them). I promise I won't use it for Napster. Not much. Really. You believe me, don't you?

A big box of computer know-how so I can actually use the abovementioned computer. I'd like to learn more than what I've gleaned from peeking over JohnnyB's and Roger Mexico's shoulders. I'm tired of looking like a moron when I try to do something relatively simple. Come on...even my mother has some computer savvy, and I panic when I have to do something more complex than post via Blogger or send e-mail. I'm tired of being the idiot savant. Gift certificates to MicroCenter will be graciously accepted.

My very own domain so I can get off Blogspot. It's a nice place to be for the price I pay (i.e. not a red cent), but I cannot continue with my plans of world domination on a text only site. Somewhere I can call home. Somewhere I can print on T-shirts and coffee mugs when I start shamelessly marketing myself.

A big bottomless box of motivation, which seems to be in short supply lately. I feel bad telling people I have an online journal, and then only posting once a week. That's rather pathetic of me.

A peace treaty between me and the Muses, because I've apparently done something to piss them off and they're not stopping by to play as often as they used to. I know I've got at least one novel in me, possibly a few decent short stories, and who knows how many poems, but I can't count how many times I find myself staring at a blank computer screen or notebook trying to think of where to start. Roger Mexico mentioned the other night that he'd like my input on lyrics and I didn't have the heart to tell him that I've misplaced my inspiration. (Yeah, like I could write lyrics. I don't rhyme, and meter has always been a foreign concept to me.)

Once the Muses have started playing ball again and I actually start getting some stuff down on paper, I'd like more poetry gigs this year for the group. I love doing them, and the shows have been too far and few between this year. (This is probably on Diamond Doug's list as well, so you'd be killing two birds with one stone.)

While we're on that subject, a big swig of confidence so I don't get nervous onstage would be nice too.

A job that I actually like. Yes, this one pays the bills and the benefit package is great and all, but I'm tired of the daily struggle to actually get motivated enough to get up and go every morning. You saw how jealous I got the other night at Roger Mexico's birthday gathering. You remember. He and his work friends were talking about how even after all those years, theater work wasn't just a job, and how it was still all about the show. This job doesn't really do that for me, but I still haven't found a calling that does.

Heck, while we're on that note, I might as well ask for financial stability for all of my friends, so we can quit doing the stupid non-fulfilling jobs that pay the bills, and start doing what we really love.

Cable television. Yeah, I know that television is the tool of evil and cable would just provide me with (to paraphrase Bruce Springsteen) 57 channels of nothing on, but after all these years of just 6 channels with nothing on, it would be nice. And now that JohnnyB's out of town, I'm missing my Powerpuff Girls fix. And my South Park fix. I even miss Crocodile Hunter.

Real hair. I mean, this is a joke, right? I know I should just get it cut and be done with it, but part of me likes the idea of being able to actually have hair long enough to flip and pull back and put cute little clippies in. I know that every woman in the world with hair longer than a pixie cut doesn't spend 2 hours in the bathroom trying to look presentable.

And on a similar topic, enough with the skin breakouts. I'm 32 years old, and I get more zits now than I did when I was a teenager. And don't give me that whole hormone arguement. I don't see any near-middle-aged women in those Stridex commercials.

A better mood. I know a lot of it is because I'm dissatisfied with the way my life is going (career/creativity/relationship-wise), but I also know that JohnnyB and Roger Mexico are tired of bailing me out emotionally every time I crash and burn. I'm tired of being whiny. I'm tired of being moody. I'm tired of being monumentally depressed. (I'm sure some of my readers concur.) Can I have a freakin' good day, please? A week? A month?

A new car. I love my car, but she's no spring chicken, and she's starting to scare the neighbors.

A better birthday than last year. One of my friends passed away right before my birthday this year, and I spent my natal day standing in the rain at a memorial service. That sounds so selfish of me. I mean, last year Larry came in for a visit, and that was great and all, but I'm sure I would have enjoyed his company a heckuva lot more if I hadn't been a big overemotional sobbing mess.

A big huge gigantic radio tower with a super-powerful signal for 97X so I can listen to it at work. WEBN is eating my brain, and I'd like to take home the stash of CDs in my desk drawer.

Speaking of CDs, could I have my own copy of Movement in Still Life by BT? I'm sure Nash would like his back sooner or later.

A season pass to every amusement park known to man.

A membership to every zoo known to man.

Time to use said passes and memberships.

A tuner peg to replace the broken one on my bass guitar so I can actually learn to play the damn thing. Oh yeah, and time and ability to actually play it reasonably well. Yeah, I still want to be a rock star. And chick bass players are cool.

Something to distract my cat Elvis so he doesn't try to escape every time I leave the apartment.

Infinite patience (for both me and Elvis) if I decide to get the new kitten I've got my eye on. And a lint brush.

A bunch of devoted readers who think I'm brilliant. (Sorry. Now I'm just getting greedy, aren't I?)

Rather than leave out milk and cookies, I'll leave you a beer in the fridge. (Milk has a tendency to go bad in my apartment, and cookies don't usually last very long because I tend them all.) Good beer, too. No Bud Light for jolly ol' Saint Nick. I'll have to limit you to one, though. The last thing I want is for you to get pulled over for reckless operation of a sleigh while intoxicated.

Hugs and kisses to the missus and all the elves. Tell Rudolph I said hi.

Love,

myopic