It Ain't Bad To Get Mad

Oh, lord; take a picture.  ‘Codia said “ain’t”.  :-D  But it is a justifiable “ain’t”—an artistically-licensed “ain’t”.

I am better today, and I am not pissed off at Son-Friend, because he is a dingbat.  I have *known* that he is a dingbat.  And it looks like the kittens are hanging around and sneaking back to his patio to eat the tuna.  I told him to keep putting it out there so that they will not wander too far, and I will get the good trap back from Chrissy and get it to him (I have the one that I don’t like much, and that one is making an appearance out at Eviljob to hopefully someday catch Mehitabel).  Chrissy was too busy today, and that is not her fault; it *is* freaking Christmas Day.  Or was, rather.

So I apologise for my venting-ness.  I was just…errr…venting.  

I am done venting now.

My Christmas Day went well overall.  I did get some very kind and thoughtful things, and have to make sure to write thank-you emails.  Meg is going to get a thank-you kick in the pants, however.  Despite my insistence the other night that I did *not* want to go get a massage with her, she went and gave me a gift certificate for one anyway, and so now I am supposed to come with her and a friend of hers.  

Ummm…I think I might be sick that day.  Augh.

The other things I received (I am cheese ball enough to actually wait until Christmas Day to open them…and then go out for Chinese—whilst listening to Public Radio Chanukah programs—in honour of Jewmas) were nice.  Mom, of course, supplied the bizarre presents as usual.  :-)  And the Chinese was great.

‘Pants phoned early in the morning to rouse me so that, as she put it, I can get moving and pack eight days’ worth into twenty-four short hours; she and I have had a few running jokes ever since we met and compared biographies (though her other half is some Protestant something-or-other, and mine is not); we both saw the same comedian years ago poking fun at people who could not pronounce Chanukah, which is where our “Happy Harmonica!” wishes come from (spoken as if the person to whom you are speaking is stupid or deaf), and in at least many facets of this, we have had a lot of similar experiences.  Well, not counting the time I was *actually* called stupid (in a syllogistic way), but…  

lol…maybe I will tell that one tomorrow night.  :-)  Another one of our jokes (that I re-borrowed from years ago with another halfer friend and told ‘Pants about) is that we are the Neo-Sabras—American half-n’-halfs who are not really religious at all, ‘cos the old Sabras just weren’t trendy enough, or perhaps hired a bad advertising firm.  :-)  ‘Pants also told me about this, which I’d not thought to look for; perhaps my whole Holiday Season thing really *will* someday take off!

And yes; growing up, my father would have slapped my face off if he were to have heard me being disrespectful for a laugh, so I do not do it in public where it might be misunderstood (just privately and here), and I *have* successfully weaned ‘Pants off making possibly unappreciated jokes in public, at least when she is with me (one of my few successful ‘Pants-trainings).  

Butsoanyway—‘Pants phones to tell me to drag my ass out of bed and open my present from her, which is seven different types of flavoured coffee, and a cute mug; I asked in mock amazement if she were actually jewing me out of my eighth bag of coffee (another joke; don’t get upset!), and she told me to look *in* the mug (gift certificate to Coffee Cool-O-Rama).  Very cute.  :-)  

That was after I inadvertently made her think (I hate it when I do that); she started off the conversation with “HOW’S YOUR KNICKIE GOING OVER THERE?”

(Yes, she still yells quite a bit, but I will overlook that if she will be nice to other people and calmer…which so far she has been.  And for what it is worth, she’s getting “Knickie” from Khanike, yet one more way to spell it that has a little more clout, not that many care.)

Butsoanyway.

I told her my Knickie was going wonderfully, and my Rizzo wasn’t faring too terribly, either.  Well, that’s what you get when you wake me up screaming—the first connection my tiny brain can make.  

Long pause.

I decided to help her out; I told her that I had no idea how Sandy or Danny were doing, however.  

Long pause.

Then, just as I was about to throw in the towel, ‘Pants literally *roars*, “HAHAHA!  I GET IT!  RIZZO!  HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

So I held the phone away from my ear.  

Hey…I can meet someone halfway.  :-)  

Now let’s sing the RamaHanuKwanzMas song and eat our cashew chicken like good little pagans…