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Why is it that I'm not Jewish and don't celebrate Hanukkah, yet I can't get the Dreidel song out of my head?!?!?

(I defy anyone to hear it and then rid it from their brain!)

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If you are a teenage girl who comes into my store in a bikini because you've just been to the local beach and can't take the time to change before you ask me for a job, I'm not going to hire you.

If you are a teenager asking me for a job and I say, "What's your favorite book?" and you say, "Oh, I don't really read that much, I just need the money," I'm not going to hire you.

If you are a teenage boy asking me for a job and I say, "We aren't hiring" and you get all bitter and say, "Can't I just leave my name and number so you can call me?" and I say, "No, we really aren't hiring. It would be a waste of your time" and you turn around and huff a REALLY BIG SIGH and then say, "GOD!" REALLY LOUD before you angrily bust out of my door, I'M NOT GOING TO HIRE YOU.



(but especially that last kid...)

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(see what I did there? Jackie Handy? Old Saturday Night Live reference? You know...oh nevermind...)

  • Um, what's up with Britney & Paris BFF? Obviously there's some social herding call that only skanky blondes with fake boobs and botox can hear...
  • It's really, really (did I say REALLY) hard to type when you are wearing winter gloves.
  • Apparently, you don't need a degree (or even a high school diploma) to write for the local newspapers here (yes, a topic revisited).
  • Webkinz monkeys are REALLY popular!
  • Apparently it's easy to get 5 bucks from my husband if you are the ravers living next door who shoot bottle rockets at my dogs, put up Christmas lights in August, and move a German Shepard in who barks incessantly. (See Bright Lights, Little City for background info)
  • In my area, if you go into a restaurant at 8:35 and they close at 9, they will not let you order. HM.


Just because you LITERALLY SPEND ALL DAY lighting and decorating your Christmas tree, it doesn't mean that you will get to enjoy it all lighted because one light bulb will go out and short the entire tree after it is completely decorated...

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We have this little Santa at the store. He is holding a book and when you press his hand he reads Twas the Night Before Christmas. It's really cute, he has a big fluffy beard and his head, mouth and eyes all move while he is reading.

Unfortunately, his hand pulled loose from the little book he is holding. I was super gluing his hand back to the book when I realized that I glued my thumb and forefinger to the book. Not just a little, but REALLY glued it on there. At that exact moment a customer brings up some books to check out and I'm really in a panic. I can feel sweat forming on my brow and I seriously canNOT pull my finger loose. HOW EMBARRASING! This nice older woman just stood there looking at me. What could I say?!?!

I tried to nonchanlantly pull my fingers off and I REALLY COULDN'T. She's looking at me, I'm looking at Santa...

Finally, I just ripped my fingers loose and a layer of the skin from my thumb came off (yes, OUCH).

Thus, I left some DNA on Santa...

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So we go on a Christmas tree expedition on Sunday.


I LOVE Christmas, but I just wasn't into the whole tree thing this year. Could have something to do with the fact that I already decorated at the store or that Todd leaves right after Christmas every year for an event that leaves me taking down all the decorations myself. Either way, I just wasn't into it. So, Todd says, "I saw a sign for cutting your own tree right down the road, let's go there." Last year, we went to this GREAT tree farm with our friends, but I just wasn't up for the hour-plus drive.

Let me give some background: We have vaulted ceilings, but with our furniture, not a lot of room. So, we must have a VERY TALL tree, but NOT very fat. You know, Charlie-Brownish, but not too Charlie-Brownish. Easy right?


Ok, so we get to the local place and I can tell as soon as we drive up that they don't have trees tall enough. I say, "They don't have anything here." I don't want to get out because, 1) I don't want to waste my precious time, and 2) It's too damn cold-I mean that wind cutting through to your very bone cold. Which is OK if it's snowing and pretty, but it's not. It's cold but MUDDY. *bah humbug* So, of course we get out where I get to enjoy the sounds of hunters shooting cute furry animals across the street every 30 seconds (that can ruin the Christmas cheer worse than no snow, let me tell you) AND have the guy send us on a fishing expedition because he "just knows he has those kinds of trees back there..." Of course, he didn't. He argues he does, we leave. Jackie's crabby (yeah, big shock, I know).

We starting driving to the hour-plus place and see another "cut your own tree" sign. What the heck? We try it. We get out, the first one I see I say, "Let's get it." (I obviously didn't really care). We don't, instead we walk around for an hour, traipsing through muddy fields (no snow here STILL, only rain) with the -40 degree weather (OK, so it really wasn't -40, but it felt like it). We get in the truck, I have to pee (NO, I'm NOT using THAT PORTA POTTY THING!) AND Todd notices we have something like 4 miles to empty and we're in the middle of nowhere. Imagine Blair Witch Project, only during the day.

We drive down the street, find a skanky gas station with an even skankier bathroom (oh joy!) where there is (wait for it...)
A MIRROR ON THE WALL INSIDE THE STALL! I stare at it for a few minutes convincing myself that it's a two-way mirror (I really do think it was). Who cares? If they want to see my cottage cheese a**, so be it, I have to pee.

Leaving gas station, describing two-way mirror to my husband, almost get sandwiched between a car in front of us and a truck behind us when stupid car at front of line slams on breaks.
We weren't paying attention because we were trying to find the radio information to see if it was Dean Martin singing about "Rudy and his red beak" (Dean, you arrogant SOB, must you blaspheme Rudolph?).

Finally arrive at the tree farm an hour-plus away AND find our tree in 10 minutes. WAY. And that's INCLUDING the time it took to listen to the girl explain the tree farm map.

Shall we recap?
-Furry animals dying
-Redneck tree farm liar
-Minus 40 degree weather
-Muddy traipsing
-No tree again and porta potty
-Two-way mirror
-Dean the SOB and red-beaked Rudy
-Sandwich smash
-10-minute tree

I think that pretty much sums it up.

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I was cleaning the kitchen on Saturday and flipped on the little counter TV to keep me company. I happened upon a series on MTV, VH1, or one of those, called something like, "My Super Sweet 16." Have you seen this piece of crapola? Here's the premise (it's the same for every episode):

Spoiled bratty child (I've only seen girls) with extremely rich parents makes fool of self throwing temper tantrums until she guilts parents to drop loads of money on a 16th birthday party that costs more than a college education.

So, you get the point. I watched a couple of episodes beacuse it was like a train wreck. I just couldn't look away. I was so infuriated at those ungrateful little brats that at the end of those episodes I actually had to call and yell at my husband about something (which, without fail, ALWAYS makes me feel better). Here are some highlights:

The first episode I saw started with a girl going to take her drivers license exam. Her dad says, "Did you study?" and she says (insert valley voice), "UH YEAH, for about, all of FIVE MINUTES." She, of course, fails her exam, sits in the DMV crying and causing a scene and yelling at her dad to "LEAVE ME ALONE!" He, of course, rewards her good behavior (and ability to fail a driving test) later by giving her a brand new BMW M3 convertible, which someone drove out of a truck at her catered dance/rave party with a big bow on it.


At her private party with hundreds of people, the entire night is spent avoiding a girl that was a friend but now isn't a friend anymore and wasn't invited into the VIP room. It made me break out in hives and give a thousand blessings that I was no longer in high school.

This episode ended by showing the birthday girl driving away in her new car (yep) with a voice over saying, "My party cost more than my parents wedding, but, like, I'm worth it. I'm princess Jazmin, duh."
(this one's a real brain child).

Episode 2 was in LA with 2 BFF having their 16th party together. Their dads (who obviously know some people who know some people) are trying to get a live band. At one point, one of the dingbats says, "Beyonce said she would do it, but she wants half a million. It's, like, ridiculous to pay that to play for an hour." *eye roll*

SHE'S BEYONCE YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE B*TCH. She's charging you half a million dollars because you are a big NOBODY and, this may come as a shock, THE WORLD DOES NOT, IN FACT, REVOLVE AROUND YOU.

*whoo-saw...find your happy spot...whoo-saw...*

Ok, so these two chicks go to Saks where they CLOSE OFF A SECTION so that these girls would not have to be bothered by, I dunno? COMMON PEOPLE staring at them during their PRIVATE FITTING while they try on dresses that Selma Hyak wore and shoes Nicole Kidman wore. The best line out of this segment was when the mom introduced the Saks lady and said, "She's been fitting Jacqueline FOREVER..."


(and, yes, here name really was Jacqueline. Shut up.)

So, they do this invitation-only, 700-people party where they get a local grunge/mosh pit band to play and then are surprised when people are "starting to fight for no reason." WELL DUH...you invited 700 hormone-induced-frenzied TEENS to a MOSH BAND, you dumb b*tches, what did you expect?!?!

Of course, one of them ends up having a really bad time and says, "It's getting too crazy, I just want to go home." YEP, pretty sure the parents appreciated that after spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on a birthday party.

Wow. And I thought getting Barbie baked into a dress cake was a treat when I was growing up. Do you remember what you did for your 16th birthday? EXACTLY MY POINT!

I'll end by saying something to these parents: Don't be shocked when your kids can't become contributing members of society (and donating last season's Jimmy Choos to a charity auction doesn't count...). Oh wait, that IS how Paris Hilton became famous, isn't it? HM. Nevermind.