What’s your fucking deal?
No, I’m being serious here. And—to avoid confusion—this time I’m speaking directly to the citizens of Missouri, as opposed to the state itself (we’ll get back to you, I’m sure).
I don’t know about the rest of the world (blame the public school system for that) but here in the US Thanksgiving is behind us and the holiday shopping season is in full swing.
Now, the internet is going to be full of advice for you: where to find the best sales, 10 Reasons to Do All Your Holiday Shopping Online, 7 Reasons to Get Out of the House and Shop Local, reminders that pets are forever and don’t make good gifts, etc. It’s the same shit every year, isn’t it?
There will also be loads of gift guides out there for people you don’t really have any difficulty buying for: Dad, caffeine addict, film buff; or for people you don’t actually have in your life: the wine expert, the world traveler, the modern art collector.
None of that here. How ‘bout a gift guide for the people you wish you didn’t have to buy a gift for?
As I sit—taking a sweaty break from frantically cleaning up after handymen who track in some sort of prehistoric mud that only comes up if you scrape it—writing this post, we are only 72% sure Offspring will be joining us for Thanksgiving. And, due to the stress of getting the house ready around said workmen, for a holiday dinner that may or may not include Private Squdgee BooBoo—who does not answer my texts when I tell him I am at the grocery store and need him to decide within the next 10 minutes whether he wants my thyme roasted carrots or the brown butter Brussels sprouts—I am admitting to you that you are not getting a written-on-Thanksgiving post-Thanksgiving post.
(looks back at weird, long, convoluted sentence)
Instead, I feel like now is a good time to update you on what the Meth Ghosts have been up to.
Friday’s child was un-fun and I promised you something lighter.
Can we talk holiday prep? Because it’s me, and you know it’s already ridiculous.
This is my new favorite thing in the whole wide world:
How… everything is that? Sure, it’s not glittery—I actually thought about adding glitter or rinestones, but I didn’t want to be tacky.
Apologies in advance: this is more of an update, and probably not at all funny. Something funny did happen and I do want to tell you about it, but I also want to keep you current on things that… well, you know. So if you’re only here for the funny, go ahead and click off now, or re-read this post, which still makes Husband laugh. I won’t judge.
When last I left you, I was not going to be a sky pirate captain because my husband is a quitter—a died-in-the-wool giver-upper who never supports my dreams.
I am, as it happens, still not a sky pirate captain.
I am, however, a person who has literally paid for a hotel by the hour, (though I’m sure the good people at Ramada don’t advertise this service) upgraded herself out of the best flight ever, and—because I love you—snapped a photo of the most mockable woman in all of Georgia.
Here’s what happened:
Here is how fucked up and disorganized I am:
I wrote that Monday night and published it on Tuesday. My actual flight was Tuesday afternoon.
Cut to me frantically throwing whatever’s reasonably clean into a carryon, because I have a feeling about this trip and I do not want to check any bags.