December 24th, 2005

absinthe

Christmas Eve's day's afternoon

A sleepy, rainy Christmas Eve's day. Things have been way busier than I expected, though, what with all the shopping and baking and present-wrapping this week. Last night I went to my college friends' Christmas party at the Lovely Emily's apartment (this is the Dirty Santa swap we have spoken so much of). And there were some awesome gifts being fought over--slang flashcards ("Doctor, I have to give you mad props for that successful brain surgery"), various bottles of liquor, a hotly-contested pair of earwarmers, and a Deluxe Jesus Action Figure (my contribution. With glow-in-the-dark Miracle Hands!). I ended up with a completely awesome "Terry Pratchett starter kit" from Jerry, which included Good Omens and two other books, and seemed weirdly destined to end up with me although I doubt he bought it with me specifically in mind. But I like Neil Gaiman, I keep hearing about Terry Pratchett and keep meaning to read him and never have, and even Geoffrey said when he was opening the first present (the Jesus), "Ah, it's from Lauren, so it's probably a book." I declared loudly that the Pratchett books were an awful present and no one would ever want to take them from me (much laughter), and sure enough, I went home with them.

I also got an awesome pair of pink and magenta-striped socks from Valerie, as well as a beautiful perfume bottle. And speaking of perfume, three BPAL orders came in within two days: my Yule decants (mmmgingerbreadpoppet), and arpeggiodreams even threw in samples of Glitter, my discontinued favorite (yay! Thank you!), and Safari; my Naughty/Nice order (I was judged Nice, and got a bottle of Snow Angel with my t-shirt); and my Pink Phoenix/Three Witches/imp pack order from the anniversary update. So I am awash in pretty holiday smells just in time for Christmas now.

Mom also gave me a couple of presents early--in my family, Presents Are Not Opened Until the Stroke of Six AM (that hour being the earliest my parents were willing to get up when we were little). Meaning that, unlike a lot of people, apparently, we don't open them on Christmas Eve or anything. And as happens with siblings, there are apparently some perceived inequities in the gift-giving: Sister Girl's are more expensive (and I have the eBay invoices to prove it), so she has fewer. Thus, I get a few ahead of time, like the silver Lucy's vial pendant I wanted, and the Zen Nano (eeee! It's so tiny!) to even perceptions out. So now I'm going to try to load the software and get some songs onto it so I can curl up in bed and write in my diary (yes, I have a separate paper diary just for me. I think it's a universal truth of online journaling that the number of personal things you can talk about is inversely proportional to the number of people who read your blog).

Linkspam:

Tonight, Phantom of the Opera on HBO, for those of you who want to do a read-along.

Heh, fun with lip balm. Cheetos, Hershey, and Twinkies lip balm. I want the Jelly Belly cotton candy balm bad--that's my favorite flavor of jelly beans. And then over here, the awesome Mabel's Laundromat balms, in Princess and Goddess and Bitch, oh my.

Bush to continue domestic spying.

Judge Rules Against Pa. Biology Curriculum.

Parole Board Denies Ailing Kevorkian.

Pa. Community Celebrates Festivus.

Sold: Home With Original Uncle Tom's Cabin.

Penguin Baseball. I like the little "hwee!" sound the penguin makes. It sounds like it's having fun. (Tip: Click once to "pitch" the penguin; click the second time about the time it crosses the yeti's head.)

Author Annie Proulx discusses the origins of her 'Brokeback Mountain.'

The trailer for Mel Gibson's Mayan epic Apocalypto. I can't speak for the movie, but... it is not a good trailer.</a>

Joss Whedon officially pronounces Firefly dead. Or does he?

Woman gets restraining order against David Letterman for sending her messages through her TV. 

Dammit, you guys, I was counting on this not arriving until next year. Not that I could afford it anyway:

Description: Chronicles of Narnia: White Witch's Wand. Specially designed prop replica from Disney's The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe.

Though she calls herself the Queen of Narnia, the White Witch isn't royalty...she's a tyrant. Having taken Narnia by force, she has ruled through pure, icy terror for over one hundred horrific years. A sternly beautiful woman, her frosty elegance echoes the coldness of her heart. Hardened by prick and power, the White Witch is more like the stone statues than she knows.
Wait, hardened by what?

While you ponder that, I will leave you with wishes for a Happy Chrismukkawanzaawalidan and go finish my crackers.


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galadriel scan

(no subject)

So, uh, someone up the street just rang our doorbell and said, "I was coming home and noticed that your car, the one parked on the street, the window's been smashed in and it's raining and all, so... I thought you might want to know about that." Indeed. And it's my car--the one I am theoretically going to be able to drive one day, as soon as I stop having panic attacks at complex intersections.

My mother is LIVID, and if you remember The Sonic Incident, you may understand that this does not bode well. I'm strangely unemotional about it--more curious as to who did it, and whether it was a bizarre accident or a purposeful strike, and if the latter, why? We've got some champion Ding-Dong-Ditch players down the street that my stepfather's going to instruct in the ways of pain if he can ever lay hands on them, and I'm kind of wondering if it was them. But why would they be out in the rain on Christmas Eve? And if it was a drive-by accident, how the hell do you smash in a window, just a window, on accident?

The truth is, I've been in an awesome mood the last day or two, partly because of what I think I'm going to end up doing this semester--I can't talk about it now, but it's both total awesomeness and a big relief. And I hate to say it, but I have to admit: as guilty as I feel about that car sitting there, racking up insurance payments while I'm not driving it (at least it's secondhand, not new), I probably don't feel deep and furious anger because I don't drive it, and I don't depend on it. I feel like it's happened to someone else's property, honestly. I'm more afraid of the discussion and resentment on the You Don't Even Drive It front that's probably going result because of this (even though me driving it would not have magically prevented the window-breaking, and if I didn't have a car at all, it would have happened to my sister's car two feet ahead, and she really does depend on hers). I feel awful in some peripheral way, like I should be apologizing for something.

(No, I don't think I'm being targeted personally. Even if I am, it's as [Real Name], not as Cleolinda Jones, and I can't imagine why anyone would target [Real-Name Me], or even know where I live, anyway.)

So... yeah. Merry Christmas, you guys.


ETA: Aaaaand the police are here. It's becoming increasingly obvious that it was not an accident.


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