Christmas/New Years

I feel like all I’ve done this year was complain about the rain, but I have no remorse, in fact I am doubling down. People live like this in Seattle, they say. I do not live in Seattle. I did not consent to be rained on to this degree. The rain has been so unrelenting, it is difficult not to feel as though God has forsaken the DC-metro area.


And look facts people, I am right. My complaining is justified. But I tried to pull up my bootstraps because even with the most rainfall on record, I am not giving rain Satan the opportunity to ruin my holiday sight-seeing, and more importantly, some boomer to write an op-ed connecting my soy-weakened constitution and inability to cope with water.

So we tried to visit the Capitol Christmas tree but every single walkway was flooded. So we looked at it from afar as I tried to hold an umbrella with one hand, and take a photo with the other, all under gale force winds and horizontal rain. The umbrella was contributing fuck-all, so I just let it dangle by my wrist as I desperately tried to wipe the camera lens then quickly hit the shutter, I don’t know what the shutterspeed is but it was evidently less than the speed of rain + the time to hold an open umbrella that is now whipping back and forth out of the frame.

capitol christmas tree 1capitol christmas tree 2capitol christmas tree 3

We went to the Canadian Embassy Christmas tree, which was blessedly elevated and closer to a sidewalk. There having given up on the polaroid camera, I was trying to hold onto the umbrella, which kept inverting, and take my cell phone out of my pocket, when I made the mistake of trying to hold the cell phone with my mouth as I zipped up my jacket since it was pelting rain, and I bit two holes in the gorilla glass screen cover.

There were two like, lit emos, like obnoxious goth-y former English majors cradling each other in a most conspicuous, posed sort of way, in front of the Christmas tree, and they would not fucking move. Like minutes are passing, you think they could stand to the side for 10 seconds so another human being can take a photo of the tree, especially since it is pissing rain. At this point I became suspicious they wanted to be in my photo, as if I were their personal street photographer. Perhaps they thought they could find themselves tagged on Twitter as “lovely likely militant Whovian couple canoodling outside Canadian Embassy tree” but really unless they were a) engaged immediately prior to me sloshing up the Embassy steps or b) one (ideally both) of them is dying, I think they were inconsiderate twats.

canadian embassy christmas tree
Christmas tree outside the Canadian Embassy

The tree was beautiful though.

By the time we got back, my boots were soaked. My jeans were soaked. My coat was soaked, with the left sleeve that was trying in vain to hold the shitty umbrella completely soaked through. We couldn’t hang anything in the closet because it wouldn’t get enough ventilation to dry so we opened all the doors and picked door corners to hang things off of, as I stuffed my shoes with wads paper towels. Changed clothes and then put socks on over my tights, because my boots were still wet, and packed a change of the thickest Reebok tennis ball yellow sports socks in my purse to change into at the restaurant if the first pair soaked through on the walk to the restaurant. Everything was soooo damp. Walking in the rain with all the warmth providing potential of your coat and shoes now gone and now having swapped pants for nylons was miserable even though it was a short walk to a happy place.

I love DBGB. We got a table by the window so I was able to look at the shops lit up by white Christmas lights and all the other poor fucks clutching their hoods to their faces as they attempted knowingly the futile task of minimizing wetness. We were all getting soaked. Immediately. There was no mitigation. Yet we all tried. We do not like to leave before the end of the movie.

Describing food seems kind of stupid, I’d throw in an apologies-to-the-field-of-culinary-criticism, but really, what are you doing. I’ve never felt like I could taste something as described, I just want to watch the chefs I hate based on personality get voted off The Final Table in the most personally and professionally scarring way possible.

I did have a cocktail table called High Noon that mixed bourbon and tequila together yet was somehow delicious.
We walked back. The discomfort escalated. We capped off French bistro with Live P.D.

Then, for real life, I slept through it but my sister was awoken to the sound of an adult human man throwing a scooter at another adult human man.
Christmas Eve-Eve we watched Murder on the Orient Express with a coffee table full of charcuterie and I still cannot believe that small pieces of French bread, cheese, and meat can make you that full (even when consumed at a blistering, constant rate over a 3-4 hour period) or that Kenneth Brannagh was Detective Poirot.
Christmas Eve we did the Winter Lights which is always my favorite fucking thing. It was actually nice out so all the little kids were hanging out the sunroofs (sunrooves?) losing their minds in their little hats and mitts (and one little Asian girl in earmuffs, omfg) and being adorable. The only other thing I wanted was to hear “Dominick the Italian Christmas Donkey” on the radio and it started just as we turned into my neighborhood and stopped just as we were getting out of the car and when I turned around their were people walking a Chihuahua behind me, so basically my Christmas miracle.
We ate tortiere and cheese fondue and Cajun sausages my Mom ordered off the internet. Yeah. They were good, but internet meat purveying still has some hurdles to achieve mainstream acceptance. Again, all the fancy internet sausage and the best combination was still a chunk of bread dipped in cheese.

On Christmas, we started drinking nearly immediately, which is an excellent way to start Christmas. I made Old Bay bloody Mary’s. I made mimosas. I made lunchboxes. I discovered a love of amaretto and made Amaretto Rose’s. We made eggs benedict as per family tradition. I put a packet of Vietnamese Cock Soup in my sister’s stocking. We watched probably six hours of Fixer Upper, including the “Shotgun House” I had heard about while Googling spite houses the night before (Christmas miracle #2).

Ednas Lunchbox light beer amaretto orange juice Christmas tree.jpeg
Lunchbox cocktail originating from Edna’s bar, orange juice, light beer and a shot of amaretto, in front of the Christmas tree

For New Years, I watched an obscene amount of Reno 911, ate the rest of the charcuterie assortment plus a baked brie, and for the third year in a row watched Don Lemon get drunk while drinking the yellow label Veuve Clicquot. I also ate 12 grapes, which an episode of Modern Family told me was a Colombian New Year’s wish thing, which I was beginning to wonder if I just misinterpreted because I never heard about it again, but then CNN sent their New Year’s correspondent to… somewhere Spanish speaking that I can’t remember… and she brought it up as well. Two sources. It’s legit guys, the grapes are legit. I just figured I have never eaten grapes at midnight any other year of my life, and my life has turned out like this, so might as well give the grapes a shot.


Nail through the hand

My Mom was trying to unwedge my sister’s phone from between the couch cushions and got impaled by a loose nail. The cushions are so tightly pressed together she didn’t have enough space to back her hand off the nail, and the nail was in too deep to sacrifice some surface skin and just yank her hand out, so she yelled for my sister to grab something like a can they could pry the cushions apart with. My sister came back with a silicone spatula.


So on Tuesday we voted then I went to my music lesson and my Mom was driving us to McDonalds so we could pick up food before we went home, andΒ  it was really, really, foggy out so she starts making fun of my grandfather, how he would not be pleased with her driving in this weather, “but dad, it’s only a quarter of a mile” “THAT’S ALL IT TAKES FOR A MOOSE” so we’re laughing and I point out there are no moose here, only deer, which couldn’t do the same damage to a car, and right then a FUCKING DEER RUNS INTO THE ROAD, not close enough we had to slam on the breaks, but directly in front of our car, and it walks away, and we’re just like, holy shit, instant karma, instant karma for making fun of Poppy and the moose. Lived here for 15 years, no one’s ever seen a deer there, but a deer there was. So I’m sorry Poppy. That was the craziest shit I’ve ever seen and we drove home looking out for deer that 99% of the time are not there.

Some fun things I have watched recently

Okay the first thing is I got into is This Is Not Happening, which I have seen in it’s televised form (several comics, 30 minute episodes) but I didn’t know you could watch individual sets online, which I like much better, because sometimes the match ups on that show are dicey.

A stand out for me has been Kurt Metzger talking about Jehovah’s Witness drama. I had no idea Metzger was formerly a Jehovah’s Witness, or about the uh, very insular? nature of the Jehovah’s Witness community, but the payoff of the story is great. If there is any This Is Not Happening performance I want to be true, it is this one.

Kurt Metzger – “Jehovah’s Witness Drama” (This Is Not Happening)

I also was only… aware of Big Jay Oakerson, I had yet to bear witness to his storytelling abilities. So when he popped up on the queue, I was like, what a perfect introduction to Big Jay Oakerson, a story about bearing witness to a fat white girl fight.

Big Jay Oakerson Sees Some Boobs (This Is Not Happening)

It did not disappoint. I want to party with this guy so bad. I want to take him to a family barbecue.

To switch tones completely, I saw this video entitled “Life Lessons from 100-Year-Olds” (Although the title frame clearly says “LIFE REGRETS BY 100+ YR OLDS”) I watched it out of a sense of duty, just feeling it’s important to listen to other peoples’ stories, especially when those stories could help you live a better life. I was afraid I’d be left emotionally gutted, but it’s a very very life affirming video. Just watching people be happy and talk about how satisfied they feel, and how they have great memories but still look forward to the future… it felt so warm. Warmth, in 2018? Imagine that.

Trying to clean up my Watch Later playlist and noticed I had the video for Quicksand’s “Fazer” in there, and had to give it play. Suuuuuch a good song by such a good band.

Quicksand – “Fazer”


I finished all of Big Mouth because it is *fucking amazing* and I’m always impressed by the music featured in it, but this one caught my attention for it’s lyrical content, and punky Norwegian singer. I didn’t have this song in high school but I should have.

Then the always enlightening Fiona Apple answers a fan Q&A, as she is being VICIOUSLY ATTACKED played with by her adorable pit bull. She barely skips a beat. Honestly her professionalism is both impressive and hilarious.


Lastly, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS SHIT, The Curious Creations of Christine McConnell on Netflix? I’m so glad this was recommended to me, I would have never watched it on my own, because from the title and the Netflix icon, it looks like just another FOOD NETWORK PEOPLE TOUCHING CAKE THIS CAKE IS NOW UNUSABLE WHAT A WASTE THERE IS NO WAY THE CAKE SURVIVES THE HANDLING AND THE FONDANT THE FUCK IS THE POINT COMPETITION (FNPTCTCNUWWTNWCSHFFPC) but it is not. This glorious pale woman lives in haunted Sesame Street with (like actual Henson Studio produced) kind of raunchy puppets including a horny, neighborhood dog loving taxidermied raccoon with a fork for a hand and a mummified cat who can’t deal with the indignity of his current life and a very real Dita von Teese. She makes food art-y projects (usually one doable, and one advanced, but decent inspiration for common folk, per episode) and several spooky crafts I haven’t seen on Pinterest. Each episode has a little plot line involving the puppets and Christine’s daily life, i.e., Christine makes lunch for her deceased grandmother, like a most fucked up Ina & Jeffrey. It is truly wonderful, I have watched the whole thing twice. It’s so weirdly calming and enthralling, Christine McConnell making perfect, deeply disturbing shrunken head gingerbreads, the siren song of childhood regression courtesy the puppets, I feel during The Curious Creations of Christine McConnell the way I am supposed to feel during Bob Ross.