Merry Day Late Christmas.

I was chowing down at the food table my mother always makes for our Christmas day. We have a good number of people come to the house, so she figures she needs to feed them all. She's a fine cook, only she rarely cooks anything I like (on such occasions, anyway)...so I wasn't really chowing down, but rather looking at the food oddly and asking others, who were more bold than I, what was in "that cube-shaped thing with the green". In the end I stuck with what I knew; a pig in the blanket or two, and a fried mozzarella stick or three. Not being the most filling "meal", I decided to also grab a chip with some oh so delicious French Onion dip on it. If all else fails, there will be chips and dip. So there it was, a bag of very dippalicious chips and two containers of dip. One was about half gone and was beginning to get juice pooled in the middle, because obviously the guests don't know you need to keep the surface perfectly level or you'll run into such disgusting problems. For those of you who don't eat such dip (I know you're out there), it's pretty much the same situation as peanut butter that has sat around a while and builds up oil.

Never one to be fond of the juices, I decided to tear into the new, untouched, yet open, second container. I soon found out why it was untouched. In my haste, I didn't take the time to read the side which was grimly read: "Sour Cream" (which was apparently for something else that was sitting nearby). My mother no doubt set this fiendish trap up in order to have a good laugh in repayment for my 21 years (thus far) of torture. Little did she know it would also prove to the ruin of us all.

Not unlike the time I took down a whole mouthful of buttermilk thinking it was normal milk, the surprise (and general disgustingness) of the change caused me to rapidly rid myself of the foreign "food". An not unlike the buttermilk incident, where the milk went back into the original persons glass, I didn't say a damn thing when it went back from whence it came. Perhaps I would have, had I not been busy downing an entire gallon of milk (had it ended up being buttermilk, I'd have shot myself) to rid myself of the taste.

I'm older now and, supposedly, more mature. While as a child, I let my grandmother drink the buttermilk, never telling her I had spit it all back in there, more is expected of me now, given not much. I still didn't tell anyone, of course, but I took the most massive chip I could find (which of course buckled halfway through my task) and removed the redeposited substance...at least, I did to the best of my ability. I fled the scene of the crime as soon as possible. So be wary if you ever eat a meal with me. Ask this guy; he can vouch for my truthfulness. He's had food/drink end up in his face on a number of occasions, though normally through his own folly of telling a joke while my mouth is full.

And to you, "this guy", no offense taken. Word, if you will. Word.

At the ticket booth of the film that I've waited a long damn time to see (go Viggo!), the woman giving tickets out was telling people who were speaking into the mic to "back up", because she couldn't hear them (no logic, I know), and seemed perplexed (and really mad) that she couldn't hear them the second, and even third, time. She didn't hear people on the first try four times in a row and was getting more bitchy by the second. Part of it was due to her talking to a friend in the booth, causing her to ignore your first request. When you'd stare blankly at her, she'd just roll her eyes and tell you to repeat. When I got up there, she was telling her friend, all loud, that "everyone who comes to the booth is a moron...but we suffer this job because that's the way it is...[to me] what do you want?". I now see why they have the bullet-proofish glass surrounding the counter. Of course, maybe she meant we were morons for going to the booth that she was working because, obviously, she's not cut out for the job.

Christmas came just in time this year. I needed some new stuff to entertain me...my boredom was reaching shameful bounds. Just the other day, I was so bored I watched...I watched...Cocoon. And Cocoon 2! Right in a row. And I've seen them both twice now in a week. It was a sad day; a day in which a part of me was lost forever (probably sanity). But hey, at least it wasn't Home Alone (you know who you are), so that thought keeps me going.

devolve | evolve