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My daughter calls me up the other day and tells me that she took down her Christmas tree.
It was a live tree. You know one of those wonderful precut live trees that we all think we need to have.
Baby Jesus didn't have one, I don't know why we have to have one.
Come to find out, she blew the motor on her new vacuum cleaner vacuuming up the pine needles off her carpet.
Had to buy a new vacuum.
The next day my sister in law calls screaming about the same thing.
I finally got the nerve to take mine down and it took an hour out of my busy schedule to get the needles out of the rug and then out of my socks.
The whole thing gave me a major flashback.
The year was 1970, I was 5 years old. I think this is my first memory of Christmas. I have no idea what in the hell I got for gifts, but I remember my Dad dragging the tree out the door. I remember the sound of the vacuum cleaner and then alot of hollering. I remember my Dad making a "pine needle vacuum getter outter" from a wire coat hanger. I remember my mom cramming it in the hose of the vacuum about a hundred times until all the needles were off the floor.
I also remember my Dad waking up from his nap and stepping on the one last remaining pine needle and running it in his big toe.
When I moved out on my own, I got a real tree, a vacuum cleaner and bought some wire coat hangers.
Maybe these were the real gifts that the wise men offered baby Jesus?
Talk later,
Annie
OK, I still have no job.
It's not that I don't have enough to do here, but I don't have an "official" job. You know, the kind where you go and get paid for doing something.
I think I have picked out my new career.
I have been watching the Food Network everyday now for about 10 hours a day for the last 6 months.
I have no life outside of the Food Network.
I think I could have my own show on there.
For God's sake, what are the prerequisites anyway?
1. You have to know how to cook.
2. You have to be fat.
3. You have to like to talk.
OK, got it covered.
All they do is show you how to cook and say "Y'all and "feel the love".
My favorites are the Neeleys, this blonde haired girl who is also named Anne something, The barefoot Contessa, and Paula Deen.
All of these folks are no size 8 I tell ya.
This Anne girl has the most awesome punk rock haircut and her arms are bigger than mine.
No one has arms bigger than mine.
The Neeleys run around cooking food for black people while kissing each other and saying "y'all" 100 times on each episode.
Paula Deen is just Paula Deen. She loves to boss her kids around in the kitchen.
Easy enough.
So, I have been practicing in the kitchen.
Of course no one listens to me, but it's fun anyway.
I have Wheezer saying "Feel the Love".
It's a start.
Talk later,
Annie
OK, I had three people ask me this week where the heck have I been and am I still gonna do "the blog".
I thought I was spending too much time on my computer typing out stories that no one gave a crap about.
Then my internet was shut off. I found out that if you don't pay your cable bill,this little troll in Buffalo somewhere pulls out the plug that goes to your house. You have no telephone either. Makes for a very quiet day.
Thank God we still had something called "basic cable" where you can still watch Hannah Montana 24 hours a day and catch all the episodes of "Snapped".
Whew.
I thought if I didn't waste all my time blogging about meaningless crap, I would spend all that extra time cleaning my house.
I was so wrong.
Maybe I would quit smoking.
Wrong again.
How about spending tons of quality time with my kids?
Major wrong.
I still smoke, my house is still a wreck, and I spend no time whatsoever with my kids because I cannot pull them away from Hannah Montana for more than 5 minutes (which is how long it takes them to inhale their supper).
So, to make a long story short, I will start blogging again, and writing about the crap that goes on in my life.
Talk later,
Annie
