My friend Tess writes jokes that probably already made you laugh. She spent years writing for The Soup, worked on roasts for Comedy Central, and now has a new book that perfectly captures the difficulties in maintaining perfect hostess calm while entertaining your drunk-ass friends.
I have been one of these drunk-ass friends on more than one occasion, and I’m almost positive none of my antics made it into this book. And that is a little shocking because I have had some moments in this lady’s backyard, including the morning I let myself into her pool at the same minute she opened her curtains while fully naked. Good morning! [I still promise I saw nothing!] Read more
a few notes to send out
As much as you love visiting your family, I’m very excited that you are coming home tonight. I wish it weren’t so late. I’m not too familiar with the new airport, so I don’t know if I’ll meet you at the gate or not. I’ll be somewhere around there, though, so don’t worry.
Give my love to your family before you get on that plane. And don’t forget to bring home your Christmas presents again, like last year.
P.S.– The washing machine seems to be broken. I’m blaming Matt and Becca. I know that they used it when we were gone. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I threw our throw rug in the wash thinking it would be spotless when you got home, but instead tore itself to shreds inside the machine and turned the inside of the machine a bizarre orange. But, you know, school spirit and all, we should have a burnt orange washing machine, right? Heh-heh. Uh, anyway, now it seems to just hold water in there for a while and not wash or rinse anything at all. I’ll talk to Matt about it, so don’t you worry about anything.
P.P.S.– I love you!
from a remote site
Merry Christmas Eve.
I made it to my parent’s house, and my favorite thing about the drive here (well, it’s really the only interesting thing to see on the entire drive…) is a sign that’s posted in front of a Pecan Stand. It proudly boasts in large letters:
I can tell the holidays are coming because I’m very busy and completely mentally occupied. I’m not thinking about what I’m doing, but rather what I won’t be doing when my vacation gets here. I just crank out work, crank out essays, crank out code, but inside I’m thinking “three more days. three more days. three more days.”
I’m ready for a vacation. I’m all cranky and bitchy. And not at anyone, or for any real thing. I just want to stop working for a couple of days. No more deadlines.
stuff in my head
place: pamie’s brain
time: the past few days
Oh my God, look at my calendar! It’s almost Christmas! Time to start shopping! What does everyone want? Who am I buying for? Oh, no! It’s already Christmas time! Jeez! Calm down, we’ll be fine. Excuse me? Are you the brain? Are you? No. No. I didn’t think so. What are you? I’m just pamie’s voice. Right, so shutup. I’m the one doing the thinking here. I was trying to help. Yeah? Well, go help someone else. I’m having a crisis here telling pamie what to do. I was just– You were just making me take longer, that’s all.
Maybe I can do all of my shopping online….
basically just a link
Okay, first off, go read my new Get Real recap at Mighty Big TV. I’m rather proud of it, and I get depressed when no one posts on the Get Real forum because no one watches Get Real and then no one reads my re-cap. Go. Please?
celebrating my freedom to do nothing for four days
Did everyone have a good weekend? I sure did.
The great thing about the Independence Day holiday is that you really don’t have any sort of obligations like you do with other holidays. You don’t have to go and see people. You don’t have a long list of gifts to buy and a list to make of people who may get you things so that you can return the favor. You don’t have to travel. You don’t have to get up early to worship or eat or anything. You just do what you want, and if you feel like it you make sure you can see the sky around 9:30 at night so you can see a few fireworks.
Eric and I spent the weekend doing as we pleased.
childhood memories involving chocolate
I have been sitting around looking at that box of chocolate and I’ve been flooded with so many memories:
When I was younger I was a chocolate hoarder. I would never eat all of my Easter candy because I always wanted some left over for the option of eating later. Having a younger sister made this difficult, so I would hide my Easter candy in my closet. It never failed that right around Halloween time my mother would find a rock-hard Chocolate Easter Bunny with one missing ear near my folded up winter clothes. She would complain that I was wasting candy.
Every Easter she would find my old plastic jack-o-lantern sitting under my good shoes with a layer of M&M’s at the bottom.
i go neurotic about hosting
I will never catch up on my journal reading. I am just going to accept that and move on with my life.
My sniffly, sneezy life.
a headache for me
So, I just wrote this huge entry, when my machine shut itself down and erased it.
So, to recap, since I’m angry: