Sunday, December 28, 2008

Merry and Bright

What's with all the warm-and-fuzzy posts lately?
I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm not even drunk, or anything.
Oh well.
Sarcasm and spite to return soon, I'm sure.
Even they need a vay-cay every so often.

But anyways

It was wonderful, thanks for asking.
Even though no one bought me a new car or laptop or paid my speeding ticket (note to self: pay that or find someone who will pay it for me...M-O-M).

I rolled into my parent's house around 4 am Christmas morning, with none of my gifts for my family wrapped. I think requesting that I drive that night after work instead of in the morning was my mother's way of ensuring that I didn't drag my entire family out of bed at the crack of dawn like I do every year. Yes, I'm 23. Don't judge me. It's freaking Christmas, people.

This year, I let everyone sleep until 10.
They'll get around to thanking me later, I'm sure.

Santa (aka my super-great mother) brought me a tea kettle, some new knives from Chicago Cutlery, some jewelry, new Oneida flatware, a new purse (it was a very Dolce and Gabana Christmas at the Sullivan sister got TWO. But that's just because she's a brat), a pair of brown boots from Aldo that are so wonderous I want to be buried in them when I die, and a bunch of other stuff.

My Dad got Janie, Joey, and I the Shepherd Ferry Barack Obama poster (you know, the one that says "Hope").

Janie gave me a beautiful scarf from Urban Outfitters.

Joey left our presents in Providence.
But that's okay, because they probably weren't wrapped anyway.

After gifts and coffee by the fireplace, we ate some pancakes and played with our new toys, and then realized that it was 1:30 and we were supposed to be at Tom and Beth's house by 2.

We joined Tom, Beth, Sophie, Ethan (and their new Wii), Gramma, Grandpa, David, Jenny, and Jenny's friend Danita who has been to so many of our family gatherings, she is like one of us (only african-American....and I use that term because she prefers it to the word "black", and I respect her enough to honor her wishes even though she calls us "white"...that's how much I like you, Danita) for eggplant parm, apple pie, and some of the best red wine I've ever tasted. And I've been to Italy. So, what does that say about my uncle's good taste, huh?

We decorated cupcakes, and Ethan used an entire bottle of sprinkles on one single confection.
We conducted our traditional grab-bag, and everyone fought over the wireless, battery-operated ligthtswitch (except for me because I got an iTunes go with the iTunes on the computer I don't have).
We played Wii tennis and Sophie cheated. I'm pretty sure she gets that from her dad, because Beth is way too nice to ever cheat at anything.
We sat around on the big L-shaped couch, which magically fits all 14 of us (I told you it was magic), and talked for hours.
When we got home, Janie and I watched Tivo-ed episodes of "Little People, Big World" and passed out.

As you can see, we're very stringent about our holiday traditions in my family.

Today brought more Christmas-y activities.
Kind of.
Okay, the only thing that really made it Christmas-y was that we got gifts.
And as long as someone is giving me a present, I'll call it whatever the heck they want me to.

Blake's mom took Bryan, Lara, Blake and I out to dinner at Gabatoni's, which always looks like a freezeframe from the movie "Goodfella's." My kind of place.
Note: We were supposed to go to Ginger, but Bryan hate's aisian food (he sucks at life), we had to make other arrangements. As much as I wanted to go to Ginger because they have fried tofu that is to DIE for, there is no way it could have been nearly as interesting as our night dining with central Illinois mafiosos. So, thank you for being difficult, Bryan. Your unwillingness to compromise added flavor to our evening, and I forgive you for depriving me of my beloved orange-tamarind dipping sauce.

Blake and I had yet to exhcange gifts, and Blake's mother had forgotten to give Lara one of her presents and also had a little something for me (including a really awesome purple stocking!!!), so to the apartment we went.

I was really excited about giving him his gifts because I put a lot of thought (a LOT) into them this year.
He got a Calphalon omlette pan, plastic glow-in-the-dark zombies, Guiness pint glasses with vintage adverts on them, and custom "Shaun of the Dead" and "Evil Dead" character cartoon prints (apparently, supporting this weird zombie fetish of his is the only way I can convince him to like me).
Wouldn't you be excited about those really awesome gifts?!

Not as excited as I was about what he gave me:


With a pink controller.
And and AND... Rockband 2.

He's a pretty neat guy sometimes.


VintageMagnolia said...

I want one. Not the boy. The game console....or at the very least, a boy to buy me a game console.

Anonymous said...

i laughed out loud alone in my room when i read this


Anonymous said...

oh i didnt know it would say my name..weiiiird

Nada Nada said...

You now have a Blogger identity!
That's great.
It's slightly weird, though. I agree.
Do you feel a little exposed?

PS- I love that you comment now.
It makes me feel important and special. You should continue to do it because I'm the best sister ever and you love me.

PPS- I'm glad you laughed! That's my number one goal always and forever. That, and to be kick-ass. And it's okay to laugh alone. I do it all the time. If you do it often enough, people will eventually stop giving you weird looks.

Nada Nada said...

Oh, and you might wonder why I'm being extra-super-creeptastic and stalking my OWN blog, as implied by the fact that I commented approximately 3 minutes after's because I'm professional and get my e-mail sent to my Blackberry. Which is sitting next to me because I need it within three feet of me much the same way I need air in my lungs and peanut butter on my bananas.

And then I just go so excited that I had to respond. I wanted to wait so i wouldn't seem like such a loser, but three minutes was all I could handle.

Besides, you're my sister. So, I figure that you're already away of the magnitude of my loser-ness.