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I think I’ll call him Rags

I bought a Christmas tree this year. I had a little artificial tree that was pretty cute when I decked her out for the holidays. I’m not sure what happened to it. We didn’t decorate last year and then we moved – poor tree could be anywhere. I still had the three boxes of Christmas paraphernalia that belonged with the tree. I went searching for a tree.

Trees are easy to come by in New England. I opted for a small artificial tree. I do this for two reasons: 1) I have a dumb cat viciously attacks any living foliage in the house that she can reach and 2) I get tired of dealing with sap, water, droopy pine needles and the never-ending fear that I have a tree that a bird is hiding out in.

I hit the local discount store, to find an acceptable, artificial tree. And like all of my shopping endeavors – I went in with very specific requirements. I wanted something that was attractive, without any pre-lit features (fiber optic trees are awful), I wanted green and not fake frosty snow, and I wanted something between three and four feet tall. I found something that fit the bill – or so I thought. I didn’t see the actual tree displayed, but a close approximation. Or so I thought.

We waited a few days before setting up the tree. The tree is pretty... well, it’s sad. It’s like the Charlie Brown Christmas special tree. Except that tree was real. This tree is fake. It has no excuse for looking so badly. Deeps tried to be supportive and we pulled and tugged and twisted little wire branches to cover the tree’s pathetic nakedness. I suggested that if we strung hundreds of lights and ornaments on it, the tree would look better.

It does not. To add insult to injury, the tree lights now only partially work and it’s got a split-color thing going. The top of the tree is blue and the bottom of the tree is purple. The ornaments are okay – the tree is lopsided and even the cat has shown no interest in it.

After we finished coaxing some holiday cheer (or acceptable substitute) from the tree – we stood back and appraised our handiwork. I said it looked a bit better.

Deeps summed up the appearance of the tree like this, “What’s the matter boy, are you sick? Aww... you’ll be okay. I think I’ll call you Rags.”

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By: Alyssa | Wednesday, December 18, 2002 at Wednesday, December 18, 2002 | |  

Happy freakin’ birthday
It was my birthday. Yaay. Now I’m the prime age for using acne cream simultaneously with wrinkle cream all while fending off emails messages, phone calls and faxes from various members of my family asking, “When are you going to have a baby?”

Well, I’m happy to make the announcement here. I’m planning on getting pregnant sometime in the fall of Never.

Shout out to Amazon
Thanks for getting all my Christmas gifts to the right people all gift-wrapped and with a bow. I ordered everything in November just to be on the safe side – we’ve a few incidents in the past and I didn’t want a nasty repeat of the year when Deeps present didn’t come until Dec. 28. That was a bad scene and I did vow never to shop with you again.

But after yelling and threats and hate-filled emails you made up for it and I thank you.

By the way, my parents want to thank you for making sure that I received my birthday gift from my wish list in a really timely manner. My presents haven’t shown up yet and my birthday was only a week ago. Aren’t I lucky?

And while I’m rounding out the bitter
Thank you Boston for being such a bunch of whiners about the weather. Today it was 25 degrees and you’d think hell has literally frozen over. It's all over the news. People are going crazy. Put on a sweater and quit your crying. This is hardly frigid – it’s barely freezing. Just a scant few years ago (okay, more than a decade) I still had to go to classes when the actual air temperature was –37. That wasn’t wind chill people.

Every girl’s dream
I’m officially an turning into an old, bitter crank that is well on her way to being an old, childless, bitter crank with more than one cat. Thankfully Deeps has implemented a one-cat policy, but I think I could force the issue if I wanted.

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By: Alyssa | Tuesday, December 17, 2002 at Tuesday, December 17, 2002 | |  

I should really write more

It’s something I’ve been pushing myself to do on a regular basis. The blog seemed like a good solution. But I’ve been pretty bad about it since moving. And frankly, I got sick about writing the same boring crap. Boston’s weird – it’s hot – it’s cold – kids are weird. (Although, about once per week I see someone riding a bike and smoking a cigarette, which is a phenomenon I’ve only witnessed in Boston.) But, whatever. Boring. I thought it was boring and annoying and unimaginative – and I’m terribly narcissistic and write about myself. That’s not a good sign.

I don’t have much more to report now. So I’ve decided to take a new approach. I’m going to make stuff up. Or maybe I won’t – but I’m expanding my horizons so that what you read here may or may not be true. My only criteria is that whatever I right be either interesting or funny or both.

I set such low expectations...

Speaking of narcissistic
I flew back to the old homestead for Thanksgiving. My younger sister has lines on her face. Whoo hoo! Let’s here it for moisturizing...

That’s my only advice people – if you’re over 25, you should moisturize regularly. You’ll thank me later. Trust me.

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By: Alyssa | Wednesday, December 04, 2002 at Wednesday, December 04, 2002 | |