Christmasy Thingies

So here's the thing: I am stuck at work today and tomorrow with absolutely NOTHING to do until my flight tomorrow night. I've been trying to make the most of it, but apart from being overly tired and headachy (oooh, I hope that's not a touch of the flu I feel...), there are just not enough nypost word searches or mahjongg games to keep my mind from wandering. I have no idea what this Christmas will bring or how I'm going to feel when I finally get back to the freezing Midwest (though I hear that it's going to be fairly nice when I'm there - in the 30s. Nice!), so in an attempt to keep my mind from falling off the edge, here are some of my favorite Christmas movies! Let's start with the oldies.


Miracle on 34th Street. I've never seen it. I know. But the Lady swears by it. And Natalie Wood sure looks adorable... I'm sure that it will be on Turner Classic Movies at least once, so I'll try to catch it. Unless Lady has it on DVD, which is quite the possibility.

It's a Wonderful Life. I get it. Life sucks, but here's what it would have been like without you. Life is grand, I want it! Bells ring, angels get wings, and Donna Reed is delicious. Really though, I haven't seen this in a while either, so a fresh viewing might help to melt my cold, cold heart. I do love Jimmy Stewart, after all.

"The best way to spread Christmas Cheer, is singing loud for all to hear."

I remember getting an email from K-10 or Woelker when news of Elf hit. All the email included was Will Ferrell's name and the movie poster of his legs, and I was laughing like an idiot. I saw it in the theater pretty much as soon as it came out, and I bought it the day it was released on DVD. We even had an Elf party last December! I can easily see this becoming a holiday classic, especially since it will age well.

I don't think that I've ever known anyone who dislikes A Charlie Brown Christmas. It makes me cry every time. I think that I love it for how it makes me feel, really. I find myself relating with Charlie Brown every year - I just can't get into Christmas and I feel down. Linus's recitation of the scripture reminds me of why I should care. Every time. Every year.



While I would never be able to choose which movie I like better, Vacation or Christmas Vacation, the Christmas version is just amazing. Chevy Chase and Randy Quaid, oh hilarity. "Every time Catherine would turn on the microwave, I'd piss my pants and forget who I was for about half an hour."



I've watched Home Alone three times in the past four days. I know. I love it, and I really can't tell you why. It's easily one of my favorite comfort movies, and I've been known to pop it in the VCR (yes, it's on tape, not DVD) in the middle of August when I need a good laugh. I don't necessarily love the painful moments, but when Kevin places the tarantula on Marv's face and he screams like a little girl, I double over laughing. Oh, and Catherine O'Hara is amazing.


It doesn't matter that it's on for twenty-four hours straight - I just wish it would be shown at some other time during the year. I really need to own it! I love A Christmas Story, and I'll watch it over and over again. I'll catch the last twenty minutes (fa ra ra ra ra) and the first twenty minutes of the next. It's rare to watch it all of the way through, really. It spawned some of the funniest lines in Christmas movie history (at least in my mind):

"Only one thing in the world could've dragged me away from the soft glow of electric sex gleaming in the window."

and

"Be sure to drink your Ovaltine. Ovaltine? A crummy commercial? Son of a bitch!"

and how about

"Fra-gee-lay. That must be Italian."

Simply amazing. Merry Christmas!

Fives Look Like Sixes!

So here's what my DUMB ASS did last night: So I have my sweet alarm clock on the other side of the room. It plays CDs, y'all - it's sweet. Do I use it? Um, no. That whole "getting out of bed to hit snooze will make me stay out of bed" idea didn't really work, so I just stopped it altogether.

Instead, I started using my cell phone's alarm clock and that seemed to be working out pretty well. Except that the numbers are kind of small. And blurry, once I've taken out my eyes for the night. Glasses? Who the hell needs those?

And so, when my alarm went off at what I THOUGHT was 6:15, I woke up diligently, stumbled to the bathroom and got in the shower. La di dah. I know that I take long showers, but it usually doesn't matter since CreePaul gets in the bathroom at 6:45 and Jenny at 7 (after she's come back from her runs. The girl is insane - she runs to work a few times a week. In ROSSLYN. From Union Station. Amazing).

I flip-flop down the hall to my room and CreePaul stomps past me to the bathroom. The fuck? CHILL! And then I saw the clock. 5:35.

What?!!? Fantastic. So I stood there in disbelief for a few minutes, and then figured I would get ready, have a nice breakfast, and get to work a little early. Ha.

Dried my hair and went back to bed is more like it. Got up at 7, got dressed and whatnot, and got to work 5 minutes early. I still can't believe what a MORAN I am. Yes, I know it's spelled wrong. If you're a reader of FARK, you'd understand. No? Okay, well, then let this be a clue:

Simply amazing.

Saturday

When I decided to start posting links to the books I was currently reading, I had no idea that I would want to write a review of each one! But that's what it's turning into - they've all been so good, I want to share them with everyone!

Early Monday morning, high in the sky (my flight was at 6:40 - who the hell schedules flights that early?), I finished Ian McEwan's Saturday. Everyone else in the cabin was asleep and snoring. I was that obnoxious passenger - the only one with her light on. Sorry!

Anyway, it was, as his other novels, poignant and brilliant.

Saturday follows a British neurosurgeon on a random Saturday. It's set sometime after September 11th and the invasion of Iraq, and McEwan reflects the views and opinions of both sides - using his main character, Henry, and his daughter, Daisy, as mouthpieces. The best part about this side storyline was that both Henry and Daisy began to understand the other's views and appreciate their differences. That's something many people could learn!

The reader comes to meet his small family and really makes you like each of them. Tragedy strikes, of course, and Henry is faced with an astoudingly difficult situation and decision.

McEwan consulted with top neurosurgeons in order to craft what should have been very difficult, impossible-to-understand medical-jargoned passages. But his words flow flawlessly, and I actually found myself really following a brain surgery - and enjoying it. If that's possible...

I really recommend any work by Ian McEwan. He has yet to disappoint me.

Snow! Well...

Here we are again - the beginning of the snowy season in Washington, DC. Honestly, though, it should be called the Season of FREAKING THE HELL OUT. The first "snowstorm" of the season started at noon on Monday, and after the media had been reporting the severity of the storm for a few days, the stores were packed, milk and bread were completely out of stock, and schools were already being cancelled for Tuesday.

At 5 p.m. yesterday evening, I had a half hour to finish up at work (read: fuck around until slinking out five minutes early). My boss appeared in my doorway giggling, "We're the only ones left in the office. The southerners all wigged out early."

So at 5:30, I headed out into the "storm." It was warmer than it had been earlier in the day, the snow was softly falling, and the sidewalks were ice free. To give them a little credit, the snow was sticking in a few places - grass and flower planters. Walking home along the streets around Union Station, all of the trees were covered in a light dusting of snow and looked so pretty!

I love snow - or at least I love the idea of snow. It gets annoying after it turns to slush, and unfortunately, that's about all we have in DC. I miss real snow that sticks around for days. Snow that packs well and can be easily formed into snowmen and snow forts. Snow that flutters down to the ground and accumulates in drifts. Snow that you can catch on your tongue.

"It's too early. I never eat December snow. I always wait 'til January."

But really, there is nothing better than a new snowfall on Christmas morning. Just beautiful! I can't wait!

Fever Pitch

I watched a sweet little movie called, Fever Pitch, starring Jimmy Fallon and Drew Barrymore - two actors that you may have heard of. I love them both, and had been wanting to see it for months. The fact that the movie is based on a book by Nick Hornby (author of High Fidelity and About a Boy) made it even more of a "want-to-see" for me.

I really liked it and recommend it to all! It's not a sickeningly sweet chick flick, and it really tugs at guys' (or any sports fan, really) heart strings. As you watch the poignancy of the 2004 baseball season, you can think back to the times your favorite team won it all (GO WINGS!) or even imagine what it would be like (Um... GO LIONS! Heh. Right, like that will ever happen).

It also wasn't that predictable - at least for a romantic comedy. I liked it, especially because Jimmy Fallon's character didn't have to... oh, wait. Don't want to ruin it for anyone!

Try it out!

Score: Mice - 0, Us - 4

The smell of death has left the building!

I suppose I should backtrack here. So we had mice. Several. CreePaul put out snap traps, which made me sad, but as I never discovered any "successful" traps, it wasn't that big of a deal. The traps caught three mice, but I got home from work one evening to find a sprung trap and blood on the floor. But no mouse.

Not good.

About a week later, the kitchen was permeated with a definite smell of decay. I knew that it was a mouse, but I couldn't find it. Now that I know where CreePaul found the mouse, I feel like an asshat (right near the washer/dryer), because I would have found it had I looked harder.

He said that he's glad Jenny and I weren't there to see him act like a huge wuss. I'm just glad I don't throw up in my mouth every time I enter the kitchen. I think we should buy him cookies.

The mice never had a chance.