I am not a Scrooge(mostly)

    This year I have been full of sentiments such as "I don't really do Christmas" "Christmas is bullshit" "Here's why Christmas is stupid..." as well as this post.  Allow me to clear things up-
   Honestly, I am usually baking cookies and other various holiday treats, decorating, enjoying the holiday cheer, etc. I love making people smile and spreading happiness. I still don't like that the "holiday season" starts the day before Halloween and all the stuff I wrote in my other blog post but that's beside the point. Last year, Christmas fucking sucked. Seriously. I got rear ended on my way home from work Christmas Eve by a moron stoner, spent the first half of Christmas in the ER and I'm still dealing with the injuries from this accident. Plus, asshole claims it never happened because I didn't call the police because it was Christmas Eve. That kinda killed my "Christmas spirit".
         I was having to stay with my seriously obnoxious boyfriend at the time because my parents hated my dog and I had nowhere else to go. So, getting rear ended and having to stay with a pain in the ass lying useless sack of shit kinda ruined my Christmas. The icing on the cake was my self appointed "perfect" sister called me first thing Christmas morning to complain. This is essentially how the conversation went :
Sister: Merry Xmas!! How are you?
Me: I got in another accident last night (I had been in a different accident less than a week before)
Sister: Oh that sucks!! Are you ok?
Me: Not really, I have whiplash and blah blah blah
Sister: Oh. You will never guess what mom did!!!!
    She then proceeds to whine and bitch about how our mom received a card from my sister's (recently) ex husband. For 10 minutes. And how mom was a bitch about it and pissed her off and how it ruined her Christmas. Directly after this rant she says "I have to go. Love you bye." Gee, thanks for the concern. And thanks for fucking up my Christmas in the process. She still has yet to talk to my mother. At all.
    So, aside from last Christmas being a complete bust, my entire year has sucked. I've spent the majority of it in the hospital. I did get married to the most wonderful man in the world, but that was about the only good thing. I don't feel like doing Christmas this year because it feels like last Christmas was yesterday. I'm also moving 4 days beforehand. To an entirely different state. Across the Pacific Ocean. I don't feel like hunting down awesome presents for people because I'm busy rearranging my life and I have very few people to get presents for anyway. I'm exhausted and I'm pretty sure with all the crap I've been thru in the last year I have a pretty good excuse for skipping Christmas this year. Maybe once I'm settled in to my new house with my husband we can have our own little Christmas. Or just wait til next year. I know "First Christmas" is supposed to be special, but what's even more special is that he's coming home from Iraq and we get to truly spend time together and have a real honeymoon. I think that's way more important than an over hyped false holiday.
   See? I'm not a Grinch, I just have my priorities straight. Besides, who wants to think about white Christmases and snowmen and chestnuts roasting on an open fire in Hawai'i? It'll probably be 85 on Xmas day. Which isn't so very different from San Diego, except its not gonna get cold at night. Santa, have fun delivering toys to all the little Hawai'ian children in your wool suit in 75 degree weather!!!

Packing... Oooh look shiny!!!

       I'm in the process of packing up all of my lifelong possessions and moving to Hawai'i. Kinda. I should be. I lost my mojo. When several rounds of "Runaround Sue" and "La Bamba" don't get my ass in gear I know its time for a break. And I have awful ADD. Honestly, how many people can actually look at their shit and go "ok, that's going in the suitcase, that's getting stored, that's goin in the dumpster and that's getting mailed."? Ok, probably a lot, but I'm not one of them. I seem to think I am going to absolutely *need* my great great grandmother's rolling pin. And her cookbook. And Grandpop's airplane tie pin. Because I'm ridiculous and sentimental. And extraordinarily scatter brained. So I decided it was time for a bloggedy blog. Yay!!!
     I own enough makeup to warrant its own suitcase. Ridiculous right? Yeah I thought so too. But its expensive, and its been accumulated over a period of time. So it gets its own suitcase. Oh fucking well. my clothes have taken up another 3. I have one empty suitcase and I'm debating leaving it. But I could put stuff I don't need in there. Like my coffee mug collection and my limited edition Batmobile model. Or the kitchen sink. See the problem here? I'm on a steady diet of Clonopin and muscle relaxers just to function. Every piece of my body is pissed at me. "Hi!!! Remember me? No? Now ya do!!!!!" Bastards. I probably have about less than half of my apartment packed. Because my body is angry. And my brain doesn't like focusing and coordinating. The sad thing? If I was packing someone else's stuff it would be done yesterday. Soy Capitan. I also have til the 16th to be out of my apartment, but I don't want to push it because I'm leaving on the 21st. So I'm moving out Monday/Tuesday (12th/13th).
      It doesn't help that Samuel L Jackson is constantly under my feet and getting into everything. I love him to pieces but he's spent a decent amount of time in his kennel today. Laying on my clothes while I'm trying to fold and pack them, eating bows off Christmas presents that took me 3 hours to wrap (several breaks were taken), trying to eat my fingers because he's a little you-know-what. And a Mogwai. So he got a few time outs. Which was very distracting. And counter-productive. I want a fairy godmother to swoop in with her magic wand and fix everything. *Bippity, Boppity, Boo*. Magic. Done. And she could transform Sam into something less obtrusive and obnoxious in order to save time and distraction. Meanwhile, I'm sipping coffee reading a book with my poor, aching feet up. My back and my neck are no longer protesting, they've gone on motherfucking strike. Every time I move something snapcracklepop zings. And I can't get in to see a dr til January. Guess where I'll be in January? Yeah, not here. Which brings me to:
    I love you, San Diego. You are beautiful and magical and will always hold a big place in my heart. I love your architecture, your unique mix of modern, retro and historic. I love your museums, your coast, downtown, your breathtaking hillsides and barren deserts. I love everything about you. Except maybe your over population issue. Its getting a little hard to breathe here. And as much as I love everything that you are, I need to move on. I know you understand. And I'll always come back to visit. Promise. Escondido, as dirty as you are I love you. Your downtown is amazing. I've lived with you my whole life. As much as everyone else hates you, I love you that much more. You are unique and wonderful.
       Is this long enough yet? Do I have to get back to packing? I really don't want to. My body is enjoying the rest. So is my brain. I think I'm pretty close to losing it. I'm tired and cranky and overworked. And just about everything hurts. And I'm hungry. Too bad I didn't buy any groceries. Dammit. Time to introduce Samuel L Jackson to Mr Oven...