Christmas!

I will be "out of the office" to celebrate the holidays with my family for the next five days. To everyone out there, have a great time and merry christmas!

Daily frustrations.

While I am not shy about expressing my distaste of all things Ohio, one of the things I could always say was "At least it's not West Virginia."

Apparently, I can say that no longer. Exhibit A:


This blazer has been mysteriously "parked" in front of my house now (inexplicably) for over three weeks. I have no clue where it came from (although the Native American rally stickers plastered over the rear window lead me to assume it's one of my hippie new age landlady's friends) and really do not like the fact that every one of my friends who passes by has to bring it to my attention.

Yes, I know it's there. No, I do not know where it came from. Yes, officer, I will tell them to move it if I ever see anyone near it.

Didya go to Drug Mart across the street and just get too lazy to get back in the car? Are you still over there in the plaza- possibly eating the world's largest Won Ton noodle at Hunan? Or maybe you moved into abandoned pizza place? Other theories offered: the roads were bad and they slid off and opted just to leave it there, parking was limited at the neighboring daycare and they decided just to leave it there, they are selling it- sans for sale sign. Or, my favorite, they were finally zapped up by the Wheel in the Sky that I'm sure they pray to every night in the sweat tent on the edge of the property (no, I kid you not).

If the weather was nice, I probably wouldn't be so ornery. Let's face it though, I'm always ornery and the snow just exacerbates the situation. Worsened by the fact that my tires are balder than a waxed va-jay-jay, it is a daily challenge to keep from sliding off my own driveway into the damn thing (at a rate of 5mph).

Hot stuff.

Umm, can I just say that President-Elect has a hot bod? Good. Lord. I don't care which way you vote or swing- the evidence is RIGHT THERE. The man has a six pack! This is a presidential first for America, to be sure. I know this isn't very intelligent- but blogging when you're sick is hard.... LIKE BARACK OBAMA'S BODY. (See what I did there?)

Housekeeping note.

Because it's winter, I am sick once again. Don't worry, I'm working on some really "hot shit" for y'all (do I sound like the kids?). I just need the room to stop spinning first.

Stylista.

So my hero, Dooce, likes to put up a piece of Daily Style every day on her website. Emmy does this too, although it's not so much Daily Style as it is Daily "Look What The Idiots Are Buying Now." As you will see, both women have very different but equally entertaining blogs. Moving along, I just thought I would share my recent find with you all. To the right-and by right I mean left- is the best purchase I have made all year, seconded only by my Old Navy empire waste pea coat that makes me look like Suri Cruise. It is a grocery bag from World Market ($4.99). While there are no pockets- literally a grocery bag people- it was the beautiful teal paisley design and the peacock print that I fell in love with. There are others in different colors with different animals, but I liked this one because my coat is lined with teal satin.

So, if I had any guys reading this before, I lost them at the title of this post. Aaaaanyway.

The great/bad thing about these "purses" is that they are, in fact, BAGS. And by bags I mean a thing in which to throw stuff. In the three days I have had this, I realized that I have accrued the following:

• a random t-shirt
• a copy of "The Reader" by Bernhard Schlink
• a small notebook for ideas
• a USB zip drive thingy
• a potato
• my wallet
• cell phone
• keys
• a shoe (not two, one)
• a used kleenex
• empty Arabica coffee cup

Some of these make sense while others are slightly more questionable. My mom said that she can tell a lot by a person by what she has in her purse. Screw the DSM, shrinks should just use the Purse Method. Using that logic, she is definitely a schizophrenic. I am a compulsive hoarder. My grandma is an OCD Neat Freak. And my sister... well, let's just say she should be locked away in Promises.

I hope Jesus forgives me.

So, I have a confession to make. It is one that haunts me every Christmas- especially because I live in Cleveland and this is considered sacrilege... what's that? I'm not a browns fan? Yes, that's true but I feel that this may be even worse. Ready?

Seriously... this is bad.


I've never....


...actually seen "A Christmas Story." Ahhhhh! I know, I know. I'm sorry. Calm down. I told you it was bad. The funny thing is I get worse reactions to that here then I probably would if I told them that I was holding key evidence in the Marilyn Shepherd murder case for all these years.  Or that I really really hate the Browns.  Or that I think the Rock Hall is more of an eyesore then a tourist attraction and the whole thing should be moved to New York since it costs us more money then it makes us.  Or that I think the Cuyahoga River stinks to high heaven (burn on, biiig river, burn on).  

No, "A Christmas Story" is sacred here.  "But CJ," you ask "didn't that take place in Indiana or something?"  And you'd be right.  However, many key scenes (including in the department store) were filmed right here in the Cleve.  Ralphie's house is actually located here in Cleveland and is now a museum for fans of the film.  I think it's great that it's had such a long lasting legacy here.  You don't see a "Scarface" Museum at Tony Montana's mansion in Meeey-ami do you?  Or a Gump museum in Greenbow (ha, because Greenbow doesn't exist)?  Or a "Titanic" museum- oh wait, nevermind.   That we are part of such a film classic (considering that Hollywood hated us so much that they refused to film a movie about our own baseball team here- "Major League" was filmed mostly in Minnesota) is kind of comforting for culture vultures like myself.

That being said, I really just never have the patience to watch it.  "I thought you watched that when you were little?" my mom always says.  And I shake my head.  Because, save for the usual "You'll shoot your eye out, kid!," I have no idea what it's all about.  A kid and a gun and a lamp and Santa and a dad... I dunno.  

Call me sacrilegious, call me a phony, call me a Grinch.  Either way, I'm not going to make sure I catch it one of the 122,000,000+ times it will be on this week (including the 24 hour marathon on Christmas- which really pisses me off in itself).  The movie is the same age that I am, which doesn't mean it's bad but really kind of puts off first time viewers.

I realize that I am now "un-datable" to the many, many (ha) men that read this.  

Guess who's coming to town?!

Countdown to the big guy stands at T minus 5 days.