I helped Chris and his sister Stacy decorate their gingerbread house on Saturday night. I ate hellz of the frosting out of the squeezy-bag-thing. ^_^


Also, the frost on our lawn was particularly beautiful yesterday morning.

The Jones Soda Holiday Pack
I spent last night with the splendiferous cloudberry. Having lacked friends of the accessible, within-ten-miles-of-me sort during the past couple of weeks, I seized the opportunity to recruit her for one of the stupid-activities-I've-always-wanted-to-do-but-not-by-myself. So I drove her down to Target at 9 PM and made her fork over some cash to help me buy Jones Soda's holiday pack. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's sodapop flavored like traditional holiday foods. Our pack included pea, sweet potato, turkey and gravy, dinner roll, and antacid; and holy shit, they were hooorrible! I'm such a sucker for novelty items! When the Bertie Bott's every flavor jelly beans came out, I had to try those too. I think I'd rather eat a whole bag of the booger-flavored beans than take another sip of the liquid diarrhea Jones Soda has the nerve to call "turkey and gravy." By the time cloudberry and I got to the antacid-flavored soda, it actually tasted pretty good... MmMmMmmm, Pepto-Bismol. My curiosity has been sated, but I'm still not sure if the $10 was worth it.

Weight Gain and Female Retardation
While we guzzled down shots of Jones Soda's carbonated piss last night, we watched The Devil Wears Prada. Staring at Anne Hathaway's big doe eyes, pouty lips, and slim figure for some two hours is not the smartest thing to do after you've been constantly scarfing Mom's amazing Vietnamese food and neglecting exercise. I've recently gained a few pounds, and I don't like it. I can't decide whether the weight gain or my worry about it annoys me more. I know I am a good size. Very few things irritate me more than skinny girls who whine that they're fat when they're clearly not. Every time I hear them at the mall, I fantasize about violently stuffing pork rinds down their throats. Still, as much as I'd like to think that I'm above society's fascist beauty standards, I'm so totally not. I can't stop myself from wasting hours of my life obsessively scrutinizing the extra pudge around my mid-section or the slight cottage cheese texture at the back of my thighs. It's ridiculous. I keep promising myself that someday I'll get into "perfect shape," only half-subconsciously believing that being in "perfect shape" will make me a happier person... And why do I do this? Because I (along with much of the female species) am kind of retarded. We girls stare at supermodels and actreses on TV, and we read magazines like Cosmo, and though many of us outwardly sneer at the unrealistic beauty standards, we still inwardly want to conform. In my case, it makes absolutely no sense! I actually think heavier, curvier women are hot! I lust after them! But when it comes to my own body, I still seem to believe that I need to be thin, because no matter how hard I try, I can't unwash my stupid girl-brain. This year, I should be making my usual new year's resolution to exercise because I want to be healthy; but to be honest, I'll really be making it to look thin, which is so unhealthy. Bah on me. >=o\

Sex in High School
After the movie, we went through our high school yearbook, guessing who in our class has or hasn't had sex yet (hehe, fun). We went to a private Baptist school; so sex was really taboo for us back then. I remember when some kids got caught messing around in the campus parking lot, and we had to have a big assembly in the school chapel so that Pastor Dodson could express to us his deep grief over their actions. "It makes me sick," he said into the microphone, imploring us with his sad, misty old eyes to abstain until marriage. Only now do I realize how bizarre the school's dramatic reaction was. My 15-year-old niece is going to the same school now, and she might be suspended for being caught with a hickey on her neck. The poor thing was nearly crucified by the administration and her parents. I didn't understand it... I mean sure, hickeys are pretty trashy looking, but suspension?! She's freaking 15! When she called me crying and asking me to pick her up from school, I felt like walking into the office and shouting, "Don't any of you people remember what it was like being a teenager?--or being human, for that matter?!" I still don't know how I went there for 13 years (it's a K-12 school) and came out semi-normal.