Well, I blinked and it appears 2011 has come and gone. The Christmas tree is shedding its needles all over my living room floor and I think we’re starting to see traces of was once my living room floor under the mountains of loot.
Tangent: We always hear about Santa and Mrs. Claus – wonder what their kids are up to these days, because Santa is clearly a grandparent. Who else would spend the entire year figuring out what toys to bestow upon hyperactive eager children?
Well, let’s get to it shall we? Let’s wrap up what’s left of this year – throw some winecones, bestow some smackaroos and be in bed before the ball drops.
Just putting this one out there: lack of vacation. I didn’t take this week off of work. I should have. Rookie move, really. (Note – I love my job, <*waves at boss reading this*> but time off is nice.) So in a wineconing twist – here’s a shot to any project that thwarts my attempt to get stuff done in an eerily quiet office. (Bonus winecones at anyone calling me a kiss ass peon.)
No joke, seriously getting a feel for being bullied at work by these stupid women and their constant, “You look sick, go home” comments. Seriously, this is ridiculous. Bitchy bitchy bitchy bullies. I was sick. I am NOT sick anymore. That’s why I came back.
Editor’s note: Seriously people, how many times do we have to tell you, “STAY HOME IF YOU’RE SICK.” However, we’ve long since figured out that people may still sound like they have desperate need of an apothecary long after the plague has passed. A winecone on both your houses… (That’s right, we’re wineconing with Shakespeare this week!)
My MIL wrote my hubs an email saying that since she didn’t get to see the babe too often, she should be allowed to never put him down when she visits. This to me shows a certain lack of understanding about the way babies work.
Editor’s note: You just need to give her a chance, since she never had a small child of her own. Oh wait…Screw that. Let’s have her cradle a winecone until she figures it out.
A wrap up of things that have made me say “UGH!” in the last few days. People who expect you to read their mind are obnoxious time wasters. Loud phone talkers – as in, people who still feel the need to scream into the phone to be heard. Poopspolsions <shudder>. Robocalls on my cell. Calendar alerts going off at all hours disturbing sleep. Winecones at cracked dry skin and hangnails thanks to constant hand washing and Purelling during this disgusting sick season. (I put on lotion a thousand times a day but it doesn’t make a damn bit difference.) And winecones at gift certificates for massages gathering dust because you are too busy/stressed out to use them when you need them most.
Editor’s note: This is why we have an unlimited supply, people. I’m just going to hand the bushel over and duck…
Kisses to kids’ alter egos! This morning, my son was fighting tooth and nail against going to day care. I managed to get him dressed, out of the house and in the car with minimal screaming and no tears. But when we pulled up, he started to freak. “Take me away from here! Just turn around!” So I said, “Spiderman.” (He was, of course, wearing the Spiderman suit that Santa brought him – he hasn’t taken it off since Christmas morning.) “I have a special mission. Your mission, is to protect this house and all the kids inside all day while I am at work.” The tears stopped. His face froze. Slowly, a determined little look swept across his face and he marched himself right into daycare, drama free.
Me again. Happy New Year! Having moved on from the mistletoe, may you have the perfect person to kiss as the clock strikes midnight. Don’t miss me too much; I’ll be sound asleep. Sweet dreams and see you next year!
‘Till next week, winecones and kisses!
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