12.21.04 - 9:34 p.m.

New entry up on Turophile. A long-overdue entry for that one too, but WOOT. And I am also a published author on Gawker Stalker with my Adam Sandler entry.

It is now December 21st, le winter solstice. I have in my possession all necessary prezzies, except the ones I have either already deposited at the Dan Parents or sent to Grandma. (Oh, Bass, I put your name on that one too, so when she thanks you for the weird room freshener, just tell her you're welcome.) I have no money left anywhere, on credit or in checking, yet I still find ways to spend money on myself. Whatever. My compact powder was in tiny, tiny pieces that I would futilely pound into smaller pieces with my big poofy brush every morning. I did this for weeks to try and stave off the impending Sephora trip. And when I finally went, I only bought the powder and one extra eyeshadow. I defy you, magical Stila counter of doom!

However, there are still no holiday cards sent and no cookies baked, and there aren't going to be. It was hard enough putting up the tree this year, what with the hangover and the leaning and the exorbitant amount of money we paid for it. (Though it is a tough little guy. Almost worth it.) Instead, I've been drinking copiously all weekend for the past two weeks, spending aforesaid money and pissing my days away at work. Very unfocused Christmas. And I'm very ok about it.

Is there ever a polite way to say, "please don't ask me about wedding stuff I don't really want to discuss it with anyone or be the center of attention ever please please please?" If so, feel free to let me know via email or notes. Because I have a feeling I'm going to need it a lot, and soon.

After slaving over homemade semolina gnocchi for dinner, now Dan wants vanilla cupcakes. The nerve! Everyone knows chocolate cupcakes are the ones you want.