JusWondering… A New Years Resolution Revolution!

Hurry up people of the TripleDoubleU!  Hurry up people of the celeb mags and celeb shows!  Our time is ticking down to put together our Best Of’s… and Top Ten’s… and New Years Resolutions’s’s’s…’s…

For me, I never quite understood what it meant to make a New Years Resolution,  so I looked up the word “resolution.”  According to TheFreeDictionary (since I didn’t feel like getting up to grab a real dictionary), in the middle of a bunch of words I didn’t feel like reading, this phrase popped out at me:

An explanation, as of a problem or puzzle; a solution

New Years is about solving problems?!  I never knew that!  Consider that my first problem solved for 2009.  Or would it be my last one in 2008…?

Here’s a Best Of What Could Have Been on a Top Ten List of Problems I Will Get To the Bottom Of in 2009:

1) Why do eyelashes have to hurt so much when they get in your eye?  I understand their purpose is to keep other garbage off our orbs, but this is tantamount to sleeping in a bed surrounded by swords to keep monsters away.  If some dusteroid is about crash on your cornea, eyelids are your last line of defense – not barbed hairs.

Bed sores to the next level

Bed sores to the next level (x-treme!)

2) Why do socks come packaged in a Ziplock bag like they’re deli lunch meat?  Do they go stale?  Is that why feet can get stinky?  Is there an expiration date I’m unaware of?  (All to be resolved in 2009.)

Feet meet Meat?

Feet meet Meat?

3) How do you go about getting a job as a Going Out Of Business Sign Holder, or as one of those people that look through View-Masters at people holding sticks across the street?  Are they employed by the store that’s closing?  Are they new hires?  Do they go through an agency like Bret did on “Flight of the Conchords?”  And as for surveyors – what the heck are they doing out there?

She's thinking she needs a new loveseat...

She's thinking she could use a new loveseat...

4) Would sour cream sell better if it was called dairy sauce?  I’m adverse to buying a cream that’s sour (it’s beside the point that I don’t like it anyway).  Would people be adverse to buying a sauce with a dairy source?

Still... no thanks...

Still... no thanks...

5) Why are they even still making regular billboards?  Electronic ones kick ass!

I'm like a moth drawn to light... or a fat kid to candy.

I'm like a moth drawn to light... or a fat kid to candy.

6) Why, oh God why, am I better at singing Alanis Morissette’s You Oughta Know than Soundgarden’s Spoonman on Rock Star 2?  100% vs. 86%?  I’m blaming all of Chris Cornell’s random Mmm‘s and Oh‘s.  Come to think of it… why was I even singing Alanis Morissette?

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JusWondering… What’s The Most Impersonal Seasons Greetings Possible?

Merry Mass Texting!

Merry Mass Texting!

So far this year, I’ve received four Christmas cards.  You should know that I don’t send any out, but it hasn’t stopped people from sending them to me in the past.  And it’s not that I’m hoping for them, or judging anyone for sending or not sending me one.  I’m only bringing this up because I received more text messages this Christmas than other years (only ten so far… and maybe counting).

I wonder if the economy has anything to do with it.  Or simply it’s a reflection of my Yulitude.  But they’ve all been pretty much the same old…

Merry Christmas!

…which is no doubt a mass texting.  Again, I’m not knocking the fact that people are thinking about me when they’re going through their phone list (or address book in regard to the carders), it’s just that my sentimentality begins and ends with “It’s a Wonderful Life!”

At least with text messaging vs. cards, I can appear thoughtful with the forwarded response…

Same to u!

…but again, it feels lacking and tacky.  Maybe next year, I’ll try to be the one wishing all a Merry Christmas first, and see how many responses I get.  (I’ll have to make sure my phone plan allows for that many responses.)  I’m already thinking about the shorthand text I could send.  Perhaps…

Merry xmas!

…or…

Mry xms!

…or simply…

Mx!

…can do the trick. 

Man, now I can’t wait for next x!

Groundhogs, Explosions, And A Lack Of Clothes

It first occurred to me in Pennsylvania.  Punxsutawney, to be exact.  Some family and friends went there two winters ago for the 30th birthday of my sister, Becky.  (Sorry for letting the groundhog out of the bag…)
 
Her birthday falls on Groundhog Day, and the festivities at Gobbler’s Knob (um, yep, that’s it name) were surprisingly warm for it being so cold.  The people were nice at the Walmart we parked at and on the bus.  The grounds were cleared of fresh snow and already covered in hay which prevented soaking wet feet. 
I don’t get up at 5am for much of anything other than a flight, but I’m glad we awakened on time in order to witness this:
Catch a sparkler on your tongue!
Catch a sparkler on your tongue!

A fireworks display in the morning snow.

Normally, I’m not a big fan of the big booms on the Fourth (the mini-booms at my uncle’s house are a blast), but when they’re unexpected, they can be beautiful.  A similar feeling snuck up on me last night on Veteran’s Day.  I stayed at work a little later to avoid traffic… and read blogs.  Sometimes my wireless Internet doesn’t work at home because my neighbor turns it off, or starts fiddling with it somehow – asshole (j/k if you read this, which you probably don’t, so j/k).

On the freeway, I passed a mall presenting a full-fledged spectacular, grand finale and all (I stopped at a Best Buy – what’s wrong with me?)  I couldn’t stop smiling.  The music on the radio even seemed to mesh with the flashing and flaring chemicals (seriously, what’s wrong with me?)  It was… unexpected.

This made me realize that surprises are what it’s all about.  Like hearing Christmas music on the radio the day after Halloween.  It happens every year, but I forget that it’s going to happen and I actually enjoy it.  (Although I do grow sick of it well before Thanksgiving, and I feel sick for admitting this all – damn happy music.)

Or it’s just like going to a party where you don’t expect to meet anyone of interest (whichever path of interest you choose), and you gain an insight or catch an STD.  Regardless, it’s still a fun surprise!

In closing, it’s the same way with nudity.  If I go to the strip club, I’m paying for the fireworks and Christmas music.  But in public… on a Tuesday… in the rain – huzzah!  At a concert… when changing into another shirt – huzzah!  Or through my apartment window, into yours, across the alley.  Your lights are on.  Mine are off.  Huzzah…

JusWondering… Columbus Day

Update: Added one more holiday after a discussion with my friend, Devin.

This past Monday came and went in a flash, and it wasn’t until the next day that I realized a holiday had passed – one that hadn’t mattered since grade school, if even then.  But it got me juswondering… didn’t somebody disprove Columbus “discovering” America?

I thought the Columbus story went the way of Shakespeare, Brontosauruseseses, and Pluto (the Planet our Very Educated Mother Just Showed Us when we were wee)?

Perhaps Columbus Day is sort of like an appendix… something we keep around because it’s there, but it might kill us if it becomes inflamed, much like the boats Columbus used to discover this continent.

Then I started thinking about what body parts other holidays might be akin to.  For example, Birthdays are like crow’s feet… they keep coming whether you want them or not. 

Thanksgiving is like a spare tire – or a muffintop for the ladies – because we revel in unloosening our belt buckles and passing out watching tv (as if every other day doesn’t count).

Independence Day = genitalia… especially when it comes to fireworks.  Our fascination develops over time from childhood to adults.  At first, it’s all *yay* sparklers.  As adults, it’s illegal and Chinese and dangerous.

Valentine’s Day is like kidneys.  Two is natural… one is sad.

Halloween is any body part this guy fixes:

Labor Day could be an upset stomach because you can’t wear white after it.

And Christmas would be an itchy butthole… because sometimes you can’t pick what you get.