You Like Every Boy. What's Wrong with That?

I have sometimes wondered what Violet Bicks' story was. She grew up in an idyllic place like Bedford Falls, and yet she was such a slutenheimer. Could she have been victim to some sort of abuse? Because how else do you explain her inappropriate behavior?

Do you think I have watched It's a Wonderful Life a few too many times? You are just lucky we didn't do When Harry Met Sally lines this month.

Once again, I have many odds and ends (emphasis on "odd") to tell you. Because my leading gets screwed up every time I use a bullet list, I will instead bullet my paragraphs with the scales. Seriously, how annoying am I?

Do. I told Marvin about how one of you referred to me as a saint. He said, "June. The Patron Saint of Lost Marbles." Who loves himself? Remember how Mr. Roper would say something mean about Mrs. Roper, then grin at the camera? Marvin TOTALLY did that. Hearts himself.

Re. You know the family we all talked about adopting for Christmas? I think they don't want our help. I called the guy, reminded him who I was, told him I'd love to get a few things for his kids. He called back and just left this message: "Mrs. Cutoff Cash? Thank you. Very much." Then he hung up. This means thanks but no thanks, right? Cause you know I want to call him back and say, "Does that mean no?" This should give you some clue as to what kind of cool cucumber I was in the dating world.

Me. Speaking of me, I am so excited about next year's health blog that I wish I could just start it now. I have already got the web address, the design, the concept, the whole shebang. Don't you hate people who say "the whole shebang"? Another overused phrase? "Voracious reader." Can't you be some other sort of reader? How about just "I like to read"?

Fa. A long, long way to go.

So. Screw it. We are getting a Christmas tree. I am getting really sloppy about not spending, aren't I? I don't care. The only reason I care is because I have this blog and you're all watching me. (I sound like that idiot who sang that song. I always feel like somebody's watching me! Get a prescription, bub. No one gives a crap.)

Last year, I spent Christmas day 100% alone, Marvin was at work. It was awful. Then I had to work the next day, which really should be illegal.

Two years ago, Marvin had to work (he is Rudolph. I have not wanted to mention it. His nose really comes in handy when we drive in fog.), so I went to midnight mass myself, which was at like 7:00 so why do they continue to call it midnight, and then I came home and cooked Christmas lasagna. I had just cut a piece of lasagna, put in (shocker!) It's a Wonderful Life, and JUST when I hit "play," my cat Mr. Horkheimer sprayed blood all over the VCR. So I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas day at the vet. There was another guy there putting his cat to sleep, and he was weeping like a child. It was heartbreaking.

The POINT is, I refuse to have another depressing Christmas. So I'm gettin' a tree. The end.

La. Speaking of sick cats, I had to take my cat Ruby DeLuna to the vet today, and she either has a cold or cancer. Okay, thanks. There's an undramatic scale. When I wrote the check ($87), I said to the receptionist, "It's Pearl Harbor Day" and she looked at me like, "Who's Pearl Harbor?" I hope I am wrong about this.

Te. Tonight we watched Swingers. I should really, REALLY stop watching shows that in any way celebrate Los Angeles. Maybe I should rent Earthquake, or is there a Manson murder movie I could see? Is there a movie of someone just sitting in traffic trying to get home from work to their $2,000 a month studio apartment? That would help.

Do. you feel sorry for me that I don't have kids? It just occurred to me today, for the first time ever, that when I tell people that, they may actually think, "Oh, that poor thing." When people ask me why we don't have kids, sometimes I love to say, "Oh, we try and try!" so they are forced to picture Marvin and me fornicating just all the time. But in reality, neither one of us wanted kids. And that is that dramatic yarn.