Things that make me die a little inside:
read more ↓• The live action version of How The Grinch Stole Christmas. My Grinch was not a showboating attention whore with dramatic tendencies who was interested in becoming the holiday cheermeister… and what the hell is that, anyway?!? My Grinch also did not have some BS unrequited love story from his childhood. No, my Grinch was just a straight-up bastard for no other reason than being a straight-up bastard. He was droll and bitter and prickish, and at no time did he act campy or silly or behave any other way outside of being a complete jerkoff until he decided to save the Whos Christmas. (I say this after being stuck on the tarmac in Dallas as they fixed the front door to the plane, and they played that horrid Jim Carrey monstrosity to keep us from losing our minds. If they were really smart, they’d have opened up the bar.)
• One of my neighbors insists on stealing my packages from my front door when Fed Ex leaves them there for me. Often times, they steal things I need for work. Seriously, what’s the point? Do press kits and random junk really excite you that much? What really chaps my hide about this is this time they stole something I actually ordered for myself and spent my own hard earned money on. (It was something related to my spiritual studies, so maybe karma will be extra hard on them.)
• Not being able to tell someone how I feel when I finally get the guts to tell them how I feel.
• Running out of wine (which may be helping with the former a little.)
• Realizing that it’s really not reasonable to bring a second suitcase when all it’s going to house is wine and books.
It’s bedtime… I have to leave for my next destination in the wee hours tomorrow morning, and I have to write a list of things my subletter needs to keep track of while I’m gone.
One last trip, and then I’m home…
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