So how was your Christmas, Chanukkah, Festivus, Kwanzaa? I celebrated 75% of those, Festivus being my favorite of course. I was so jazzed about airing my grievances I resolved to have a Festivus party next year. I want to have the biggest, baddest grievanciyest Festivus party on the block. It’s going annual, people.
On Sunday we exchanged gifts with TBU’s family. T’was Me, Teebs, two brothers Teebs, Mama Teebs and Stepdad Teebs. These are the parents who freaked the fuck out up mention of a wedding planner. You may recall this incident, I certainly do. Anyhow, stepdad Teebs approached me with a box and a very proud look on his face saying, “Here, handpicked by me!” I took my time opening it because the ribbons on there were not just decoration, they were some type of reinforcement. As I’m trying to break into my gift, stepdad TBU keeps saying things like, “I know you like to wear them, so I thought I’d style it up a bit,” and other weird things about my style and apparent lack of it. I open what I am assuming can only be a vintage Gucci gown and feast my eyes upon a plain, zip up hoodie. Seriously, it’s gray all over, it zips up and it’s a sweatshirt. Now I don’t know what he thinks I normally wear that this gem is so stylish but it got kinda insulting. It didn’t stop there though, he told me over and over in various iterations, “Now that’s a generous medium but if that doesn’t fit, they have larges at the store.” He kept reminding me to try it on because I could exchange it for a large. I was like, “I know! You think I’m a horrible, hideous, and particularly unstylish beast! Please stop reminding me that my fat ass might need a large! Thank you!” It didn’t help my case that I WAS wearing a sweatshirt at the time. But in my defense it was a roll out of bed kind of situation and it was a super adorable slug (go slugs!) sweatshirt commemorating the Grateful Dead donating their entire archive to the UCSC library. Soooo, I kind of feel that he was over reacting on my sweatshirt wearing ESPECIALLY since the whole weekend I was wearing actual put together outfits involving undergarments, vintage dresses and super cute shoes. But did he notice that? Noooo, he noticed my sweatshirt. Or something.
And another thing!
I had the grand idea to write my posts at work and just copy and paste upon my grand arrival at home. The problem with that is that the workday brings no pleasure to me and I can’t even pretend to want to get into the head space necessary for a Millz worthy post. Which reminds me are you reading Michael Ian Black’s blog? If you’re not I don’t know what else you’re wasting your life with, but it should be this. And this post in particular speaks to me in so many ways: blogging, excessive emo pop, it’s like he’s in my head.
The Millionizer says adios to to the naughties.