Had Myself A Merry Little Christmas

Words have yet to be invented to accurately describe how terrible Christmas was last year, and this year has kindly steamrolled that further away from my memory. I had SUCH a pleasant holiday.
I flew down to my brother's house in Texas last Tuesday, and we hung out in Houston to wait for my sister's flight to get in a few hours later. I was nervous to see her because over the last few years we have not gotten along at all. It's frustrating to look at someone who has the same face and voice as me, yet couldn't be more different.
She recently started working her first job, and I think it's starting to change her for the better. We did not fight once over the break, and actually enjoyed each other's company.
As a family, we went to the movies twice (it's $4 to see a movie in Texas - amazing!) and saw Black Swan and True Grit - both highly recommended. During True Grit, a man was sitting in front of me chewing and spitting tobacco. How very Wild West of him!
We also went wine tasting and glow-in-the-dark mini putting where I got THREE holes in one! Speaking of "That's What She Said", I taught my mom what that means over the break, too. When we were waiting for True Grit to start she noticed that my wallet was sticking out of my purse and asked, "Do you want me to help you put it in?" I started laughing, and asked my brother if it was OK if I said TWSS to my mom. I explained to her what it meant, and she tried to start using it, but she's still learning. Even during Christmas Eve dinner, she pointed at the roast beef and said to my sister, "Go ahead and lay some of that beef on here." My brother and I started laughing hysterically, but she's still a little slow with it. It'll be nice to chart her perverse progress.
We do all our celebrating on Christmas Eve, so Christmas Day we just hung out and I cooked our big dinner. I made a southern meal with a delicious turkey, mashed sweet potatoes, collared greens, cornbread stuffing and, for good luck in 2011, some black-eyed peas. It was delicious! Later, I made my own turkey stock for the first time, and it turned out pretty well, too.
On a serious note: there was obviously a hole in the family with my dad not being there, but he's chosen to pull away. We haven't really talked in a year, and I obviously want him to start a new life for himself, but it's out of our hands.
There's no easy way to transition out of that seriousness, except for three words: Indoor Gun Range.
Texas is a really interesting place. I can't think of another state that has as much pride and guns as they do. There is an indoor shooting range next to their Starbucks, in case you need to blow off some steam after getting overly-caffeinated. Also, the whole town shut down on Christmas. My brother and I drove around that morning just looking at how deserted it was. Everything was closed, except liquor stores and churches, of course.
I came back on Sunday evening, surprisingly. The East Coast was slammed by a blizzard, and my flight was the last one being let into Logan Airport. The landing was the scariest I've ever experienced, but the cab ride home was worse. I gave the driver a $10 tip for not killing me.
Thankfully, yesterday my office was closed, too. I got a bonus vacation day and hung out with some friends in my neighborhood.
Anyway, I hope everyone had a lovely, stress-free holiday. It's been an interesting year for me, to say the least, and 2011 has a LOT of pressure on it to perform. Let's just hope those 5 black-eyed peas I managed to eat do the trick.

First Snow/Ugly Work Parking Lot

I'm on Shag Highway Heading West!

Tomorrow I leave for Texas to spend the deargoddon'tbeterrible holidays with my family. It's the first Christmas that my dad will not be in attendance, so we've decreased our chances of family combustion by a little bit. And, to make sure the holidays start off even more out of the red, I'm going to my friend Sarah's house tonight to watch the best holiday movie: Love Actually. We're also going to eat curries to make us feel more British, too. Merry Christmas!

More Gifting Suggestions From Mom

After my mom told me she wanted to "smell like Sarah" for Christmas, I didn't think she could top any gifting suggestions ... until I asked her what my brother might want.
She said, "Well ... your brother and I were talking the other night, and I asked him who he thinks is attractive in Hollywood. And, without missing a beat, your brother said, 'Keira Knightly'."
My brother confirmed this strange conversation when I talked to him on Saturday.
My mom goes on to say, "Lauren, you know things about the Internet."
To which I replied, "..." Sideways glance.
"Wouldn't it be great if you could find a signed picture of Keira Knightly for your brother for Christmas?" she asked.

So, now I only have a few days left to figure out how to use TheInternet.com, and hope my 30-year-old college professor, PhD brother still has room on his office wall for a signed picture from his girl Keira.

Four Loko is SO October 2010

A few weeks ago, some girlfriends and I went to Newport, RI for all of their Christmas celebrations. It was so fucking quaint.
Santa arrived via boat, we saw a tree lighting, there was caroling and wassail.
We also took a tour of a old mansion set up to reflect what a Christmas Eve would look like in the 1820s. During the tour, we learned about an Old Timey (amazing) drink called Artillery Punch. Tonight, friends, I'm going to a party where it's being served. Brace yourselves for the ingredient list:
Black tea, whiskey, red wine, rum, brandy, herbal liqueur, orange juice and lemon juice.

Goodbye and I love you all.

Holiday Lessons

I learned a lot yesterday on Christmas. The only lesson I feel comfortable sharing right now is that commercials really work, especially on my sister. As I type this, I'm wearing one of my (favorite) gifts from her: a hot pink Snuggie. She also bought a Bump-It for her best friend and a Pedi Paws for our family cat - the poor thing has already lost two nails as a result.

Related: If I can fit into the child-sized version of a Snuggie, does that mean I don't have to diet or train for that half-marathon I signed up for?

Question

Say you know a diabetic. Say this diabetic may or may not be related to you. Is it "recommended" to eat or drink 7 (full-sized) powdered donuts, a quart of chocolate milk, a medium Coke, medium French fries and two chocolate fudge sundaes from McDonald's and another bowl of ice cream with a few more cans of full-sugar soda in about 6 hours?

Really, this is a rhetorical question, but isn't that horrifying?

Somebody to Love

Last night for Valentine's Day I went on a date with myself. I had a few invitations to be out and about, but decided to stay home for a few reasons: 1) I was out until 2 am the previous night with my newly-engaged, finalist in the best couple contest friends "celebrating" 2) I went to brunch VERY early at Sullivan Diner and had french toast with a SIDE of toast and more coffee and water than the waiter was comfortable with and then walked uptown window shopping/flea marketing with a friend and finally 3) because I had two awesome movies from Netflix, Queen Under Review: The Freddie Mercury Story and The Last Waltz, the Martin Scorsese documentary on The Band's last concert.
This may not seem like the most exciting thing to do on the Hallmark Holiday, but it was perfect. The Last Waltz is highly-recommended. The Band was friends with some of the most amazing musical artists of their time, and some of my personal favorites: Neil Young, Van Morrison (who does NOT match his voice at all - hello purple suede glittered outfit!), Muddy Waters and Bob Dylan, to name a few.
The Freddie Mercury Story was amazing for a whole other set of reasons. Queen is definitely one of my favorite bands, but I didn't know much about them. Last summer I was shocked to find out that my aunt and uncle (who are in their 60s) had NEVER heard of them before. I always thought they were comparable in popularity to U2 or Coldplay (who my aunt LOVES) today. I burned them all the music from Queen I had, and my uncle's response? "Hm, I thought they wrote this music for baseball games!"
My favorite part of the documentary was when they were discussing Freddie Mercury's sexuality. One of the talking heads said, "It became abundantly obvious he was homosexual when he grew his moustache." Wait, what? Now, I'm not here to judge anyone - including the intelligence of the British who have given us such brilliance as English muffins - but, it wasn't obvious when he was dancing around in a bare-chested unitard? Or how about the music video where he wore a black, leather mini-skirt. No?
But before you pity me (hopefully you don't), my night wasn't without a little steamy action. When the guy who delivered my supper showed up, I realized that after I gave him a pretty generous tip and went back inside my apartment, my shirt was pulled down revealing a significant portion of my right boob. Nice.
Happy Valentine's Day!

Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up let's go - let's look at the snow!

Happy Holidays from my half-naked, half-cowboy, half-mermaid house to yours.

For relaxing times, make it Early Times ...

For the last eight years, I've gone north to my aunt and uncle's house for Thanksgiving to Newburyport, Massachusetts - a sleepy town on the Merrimac River. For the last four years, my brother has joined me in the trek since moving from California to Philadelphia. For the last two years, I've run in Newburyport's Annual Turkey Trot. This year, my brother decided to run it with me.
We woke up early Thanksgiving morning, laced up and headed out into the frosty morning to run 3.1 miles in Maudsley State Park. My brother, who hasn't exercised since 1999, was reasonably terrified. We stood at the back of the 1,500-plus pack of runners, with senior citizens in front of us, runners with small dogs on leashes and some eight-year-old doing military style push-ups before the race. For the first half of the race my brother and I were neck-and-neck, but at the halfway mark I lost him. We both finished at a mildly-respectful 38 minutes (me) and 40 minutes (him) - not bad for two people who rarely exercise, one of them not since the threat of Y2K loomed close.
The soreness set in almost instantly. Mine lifted by the time the turkey was placed on the table, but my brother's ... well, I'm not sure if it's gone yet.
My grammie came over around noon and began her typical questions on repeat: Do you like to cook? (my question to answer) How is school? (my brother's question) When are you going to shave your beard? (I'll let you decide whose question that was) What kind of drink would you like? (a question for both of us)
My grandmother is an expert when it comes to libations. She's been drinking Southern Comfort for years and years, "because it's sweet". Every time we see her she pushes for us to drink up Janis Joplin's cocktail of choice. For years, when my grandfather was alive, they'd have happy hour together and she's sip her liquid "dessert". My brother doesn't really drink much, and, with his body in disarray he decided, to ease his pains, skip the SoCo and to try a little bourbon - Early Times Bourbon.

This bourbon has been in my aunt's cupboard for at least 15 years. The bottle was covered in dust, and she only uses it when she makes Lobster Newburg. I took one sip and started coughing, and my brother took a sip and said, "[he] could see through time." On a roll to prove his athletic prowess, he made a sport of drinking that bourbon and was lightheaded within minutes. And even though I may have won the foot race, he was the true champion of the day.

Thanksgiving Week Gluttony

A meal with a co-worker:

Missed Connections

I missed my subway to work four times this morning.
After sleeping a measly three hours, I woke up at 6:30 am to escort my beautiful sister - who is visiting the East Coast for a week - to a bus in Chinatown headed to my brother's apartment in Philadelphia.
When I dropped her off, I headed north to Canal Street on my way to work. My first mistake was going underground on the wrong side of the street. It wasn't a big deal, but I had to go down stairs and then upstairs to run and try to take the N train that just arrived in the station uptown - miss number 1.
Another N train came a few minutes later and it was express. I didn't think about this clearly enough, and the train zoomed right by my work's stop at 49th street - miss number 2.
The train made it to the 57th street stop; I went up another flight of stairs, and down another to head back downtown. I hopped on a W train and was so busy looking for a very specific My Morning Jacket song to make me feel better that I didn't realize the subway was at my stop until the doors were closing again - miss number 3.
I got off the train at Times Square to head back uptown. I went up the stairs to cross over to the other side of the platform. I heard a train I needed pulling into the station, but am so afraid of falling down stairs, that I gave up the chase and decided to wait - miss number 4.
This is just the beginning of what is sure to be a very Charlie Brown Halloween.

Keeping tradition alive

It wouldn't be my birthday if I wasn't sick. On the eve of my 26th birthday, my eyes are starting to close because of my "Nighttime" high (CVS' answer to NyQuil), I keep clearing my throat every few minutes and I'm consuming an insane amount of honey lemon cough drops.

Here is a small list of medical ailments/unfortunate events that have happened on or around my birthday over the years:
- The aforementioned fainting on a subway platform/relationship break-up/grandfather passing
- On my eighth birthday, I set up our MINI-trampoline right next to the swimming pool in our backyard so I could jump up higher and right into the pool. I attempted the jump and my feet got stuck under the cloth covering the springs. My body went up and got yanked down with my knees hitting the pavement full force.
- I wanted to see the latest Woody Allen movie on my birthday, when my mother discovered - as we walked towards the theater - what she thought were SCABIES on my arm. She thought I could have picked them up at the retirement home where I was a waitress. I spent the rest of the day with the doctor. (in retrospect this was a good thing as Curse of the Jade Scorpion was TERRIBLE)
- I had lice. I still went to my birthday party, but endured the most violent and rigorous of RID treatments before and after. My friends commented on how shiny and beautiful my hair was; they had no clue I'd been raked over for the past week.
- My mother scheduled a dentist appointment on my birthday (at least it wasn't a lady doctor appointment - she liked to book those on Christmas Eve)

There are more honorable mentions, but it's certainly a proud tradition. In fact, one year my sister got very ill on her birthday and said, "But, [my sister] is the one who's supposed to have the terrible birthdays!"

Despite being sick, I'm planning on making the best of it tomorrow. I'm driving back to New York after a very relaxing weekend in Northern Massachusetts (I can actually hear frogs outside right now). Then I'm going out for Mexican food with some of my favorite people.

p.s. Happy Birthday Brooklyn Sea Hag!

I'm fancy

I attended a Fourth of July party at a penthouse overlooking Madison Square Park and next weekend I will be lodging at the Ritz-Carlton in Buckhead, GA - an upscale neighborhood outside Atlanta.

Before any jealousy sets in; I'll need to recap what happened at this party. I was invited because a good friend of mine from work is dating one of the tenants of said penthouse. I've met him before and they couldn't be a cuter couple. The apartment is at 22nd and Broadway and overlooks my favorite: Madison Square Park. From the terrace you can see the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building.

I brought my friends STEVIE and Gabriel with me so they could experience such a fancy night, and so I would have witnesses to back up my bragging. When I walked into the apartment, I expected to be greeted by Mr. Belvedere and large quantities of imported beers and brie cheese. Instead, there were half a dozen cases of Miller Light, tons of "bros" and a very nice dining room table covered with lawn trash bags and a beer pong set-up. Everyone at the party was extremely nice, but so not what I expected.

Time passed and Gabriel showed up with a lovely bottle of white wine. I was walking him into the kitchen to get it chilled in the custom Sub Zero refridgerator when one of the bros stopped us. "DUDE, let's get that crack-a-lackin' right away; set up on the table!" ... meaning in the cups for "chardonnay pong".

We gathered out on the terrace soaking in the view, huddled under an umbrella and waited for the fireworks to start. From up there we could see both the Hudson and East Rivers so we were primed for a great view. Unfortunately, a new building was being constructed to the right of our view towards the East River, so we only saw about a third of the show. But, the sky lit up in some VERY patriotic colors.

After some time outside, the three of us went in to sit on the couch and drink the chilled white and people watch. This one guy in the kitchen totally reminded me of that dude from Napoleon Dynamite and I said, "That guy is a D bag." and Stevie, being the hilarious girl that she is, said "Which ONE?" Good summation, buddy.

I'd have to say the only low-light of the evening was when after we left; I went back up the 30 some-odd floors to get my umbrella I had forgotten to discover that someone stole it. Umbrellas are replaceable, but it was my souvenir Life Magazine umbrella from when I used to work for them. When it opens up it says, "Is it Friday yet?" I learned two things: crime is everywhere and I'll never have an umbrella with as good a sense of humor as that one again.

Either way, I don't think I'll have another opportunity to have that view and touch what it's like to live like that ... until I'm ordering around people at the Ritz next week. And, just so you know, I'm still keeping it "real". Here is what my Saturday night consisted of: Wearing socks I bought at Kmart, pants I bought at Wal-Mart, drinking some Cherry Coke Zero and watching Sigur Ros' "Heima."

Glamour needs the night off sometimes.