We're BACK!
First things first: depending on how things go around work (whether or not they decide to give us the day off, which ain't looking great at the moment), Gerald Ford may replace Lincoln as my favorite president. After all, I haven't actually gotten a day off due solely to Lincoln since they made that b.s. "President's Day" holiday combining Washington and Lincoln's birthdays. I can cry over Ford if need be. C'mon, he's like the Millard Fillmore of the 20th Century!
Moving right along. I'm back from the wilds of Cinnaminson, NJ. The full report is forthcoming, for now I'll just say that I think all involved enjoyed my presence, although it may have just been my presents. For now, I'm just going to rest on my ginormous mound of loot. As it turns out, unbeknownst to me, the Object had actually been paying attention to little things I mention in passing, and for the pressies, he gave what amounts to my list of semi-secret desires:
Old School Sesame Street: This is no mere singalong with Elmo, which until quite recently, was all that was offered. No, these are the original episodes and highlights, put together for my viewing pleasure. Now I can stop calling in late to work, pretending that I'm hungover so that I can drink tea on the couch and watch Plaza Sesamo. The best part? No Elmo. Actually, the best part is Gordon's sweet muttonchop sideburns.
Salsa Lizano: The most delicious condiment ever. Impossible to find and pay less than a bajillion dollars. Somehow, he managed it. Since Christmas, everything I've eaten has been drizzled with Salsa Lizano. Putting it on ginger cookies were a little weird, sure, but sacrifices must be made for the sake of deliciousness.
Dinosaur Hand Puppet: To be fair, the Object's parents gave me this one, and it's really been an asset at work the last few days. Nobody wants to fuck with a dinosaur. Or, possibly, no one wants to fuck with a grown woman wielding a dinosaur hand puppet and singing along to Sesame Street in a dinosaur voice. I don't care; it works.
Maus: Apparently, the Object searched far and wide to find a cool, unique book that I haven't read. Too bad that right before Christmas, he saw Sommer get a whole bunch of graphic novels. He turned to me and asked, "What do you think of graphic novels?" I got all effusive, "YEAH! I really do! I mean, I've only read one or two of them, there's this uhMAZEing one about the Holocaust called Maus!" The conversation turned, but for the rest of the night, all he would say to me was, "I hate you." By now, you've all guessed that yes, Maus is the sah-weet amazing book he searched far and wide for. While I feel bad that I have actually read every book already, making the Object's quest not so worthwhile, I don't have my own copy of Maus, nor had I read it since my internship at the Holocaust Museum. And I use "had," as I have already now devoured both volumes.
And that's just barely scratching the surface of awesomeness.
Speaking of awesomeness, how much does it suck to be Michael Steele today? I mean, I guess it's his own fault: having Mike Tyson stump for you is a little like having Marion Barry as your campaign manager.
Moving right along. I'm back from the wilds of Cinnaminson, NJ. The full report is forthcoming, for now I'll just say that I think all involved enjoyed my presence, although it may have just been my presents. For now, I'm just going to rest on my ginormous mound of loot. As it turns out, unbeknownst to me, the Object had actually been paying attention to little things I mention in passing, and for the pressies, he gave what amounts to my list of semi-secret desires:
Old School Sesame Street: This is no mere singalong with Elmo, which until quite recently, was all that was offered. No, these are the original episodes and highlights, put together for my viewing pleasure. Now I can stop calling in late to work, pretending that I'm hungover so that I can drink tea on the couch and watch Plaza Sesamo. The best part? No Elmo. Actually, the best part is Gordon's sweet muttonchop sideburns.
Salsa Lizano: The most delicious condiment ever. Impossible to find and pay less than a bajillion dollars. Somehow, he managed it. Since Christmas, everything I've eaten has been drizzled with Salsa Lizano. Putting it on ginger cookies were a little weird, sure, but sacrifices must be made for the sake of deliciousness.
Dinosaur Hand Puppet: To be fair, the Object's parents gave me this one, and it's really been an asset at work the last few days. Nobody wants to fuck with a dinosaur. Or, possibly, no one wants to fuck with a grown woman wielding a dinosaur hand puppet and singing along to Sesame Street in a dinosaur voice. I don't care; it works.
Maus: Apparently, the Object searched far and wide to find a cool, unique book that I haven't read. Too bad that right before Christmas, he saw Sommer get a whole bunch of graphic novels. He turned to me and asked, "What do you think of graphic novels?" I got all effusive, "YEAH! I really do! I mean, I've only read one or two of them, there's this uhMAZEing one about the Holocaust called Maus!" The conversation turned, but for the rest of the night, all he would say to me was, "I hate you." By now, you've all guessed that yes, Maus is the sah-weet amazing book he searched far and wide for. While I feel bad that I have actually read every book already, making the Object's quest not so worthwhile, I don't have my own copy of Maus, nor had I read it since my internship at the Holocaust Museum. And I use "had," as I have already now devoured both volumes.
And that's just barely scratching the surface of awesomeness.
Speaking of awesomeness, how much does it suck to be Michael Steele today? I mean, I guess it's his own fault: having Mike Tyson stump for you is a little like having Marion Barry as your campaign manager.
posted by The Goo at 10:13 AM
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