Christmas Curiosities...

I very much like this picture.  I hope you do too...

Last time we talked, I was sharing with all of you the amazing photos I found on my top notch clip art/stock images CD.  Believe it or not, that was my most popular blog to date.  Who knew?  Less talky-talky, more pictures.  I'll throw a few more in for you viewing pleasure at the end of this blog, but I have a couple of quick questions in regards to Christmas for you:

1. What is the deal with this song Christmas Shoes?  If it doesn't make me cry, does it mean I don't have a heart?  I'm concerned.  I saw a friend tweet about it a couple of weeks ago, so I googled it.  I found a YouTube "original" video to accompany the song.  Worst video ever.  Horrible video The kids teeth are jacked, he's buying sneakers for his dying mom that look like they are used.  And I get that the sentiment is that he wants his mom to have new shoes to wear to heaven.  It's just a little over-the-top.  It's possible the video ruined the message of the song for me.  The Dreamlover video by Mariah Carey had the same effect on me....oh wait, I just don't like Mariah Carey.
2. The Lost Ogle blogged about this earlier today.  But I stand by the fact that I asked this just the other night, why is My Favorite Things now considered a Christmas song.  It's not about Christmas.  It's about a thunderstorm in Nazi-Austria when Liesl sneaks out and cute little Gretl is scared.  It wasn't even winter in the movie.  Somebody explain to me what is going on here.  If I decide that I would like Defying Gravity to be a Christmas song, can I just make that happen?  Who do I need to call?
3. How do parents explain to children how Santa comes into their houses when they have gas fireplaces that don't open.  I need to know, because Mr. Bojangles is getting old enough to be curious.  Does Santa just come through a window?  And do we just send our alarm code to the North Pole?  I mean, I just want to keep up with the times.

Enough of that, here are some pics I left out the other day. 

Another scary elf.  Yet to be determine where is he going.

You should probably just come up with your own caption.  Because I really don't know what is going on here.

Just because you dress in all red doesn't make you Santa.  Where's the belt?  The fur trim?  Where's your freakin' beard?  Fraud. 

So a sheep dog and a clown walk into a creepy old motel...

And finally, I know this isn't Christmas, but I really like this picture.  I think this might be Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater and his wife is inside there.

Happy holidays  everyone, I'll be back after I open all my presents.  I just know this is the year I get a Vespa.

A very special Christmas message

This summer, I purchased some clip art CDs.  I'm not really sure how the law reads exactly, but I know that it is frowned upon to just pull images from the internet and use them in publications.  Not wanting to get myself in trouble, I decided that it was probably in my best interest to invest in some clip art. I found a great deal.  More then 20,000 images for a mere $40.  How did I get so lucky?    I'll tell you how, the pictures are suspect.  I knew I was in trouble when I found the picture you see above in the "sports" folder.

Today as I worked on creating a electronic holiday greeting from everyone in the office, I went back to my trusty clip art CD.  Maybe, just maybe the holiday pictures will be better quality.  Not so much.  I've pulled a couple of my favorites for your viewing pleasure.  If these don't get you in the holiday spirit, nothing will.... enjoy.

Santa, minus the beard, plus dreads.  And of course he's grilling.

This picture was in the "holiday" folder.  I've yet to determine which holiday she is celebrating.



Hey, I've got an idea....let's just take pictures of things around the house and label them as "high res photos."  No one will know the difference.



Nothing says Christmas like a blurry, off-center picture of the front of a random office building.  'Tis the season, indeed!

Cucumbers, one pickle, a half-eaten cake.  Or as they say in the art-world: still life.

I don't know what is going on here.  I'm so confused I can't even come up with a witty caption.

Two obvious things to take away from this: the kid is wearing a sweet jacket and the man he is with looks like a serial killer.  Happy Holidays!



It was very difficult for me not to choose this picture for our office holiday card.  I personally think scary full-sized elves are really, really fantastic.



The End.

When I grow up...

... I want to type on a typewriter in my car, while driving on the wrong side of the road and wear a fedora.  At least that is what is indicated by this accompanying photo.

I stumbled upon an article about the Oklahoma City Thunder today on Grantland.  Here is a link to the story and here is a link to the site.  I of course loved it.  I then became sad.  Have you read Grantland?  It's awesome.  It also employs one of my favorite writers, Chuck Klosterman, so that was an instant selling point for me. 

I like to think that I'm not selfish, or self absorbed, but in all honesty, from time to time, I am.  Whatevs.    I volunteer a lot, that has to negate some of my bratty jealous moments, right?  When I read sites like Grantland I become instantly jealous of the people who get to write opinion pieces about sports FOR THEIR JOB.  Seriously, do these people know how lucky they are?  Coming from a girl who has an opinion about everything, the prospect of getting paid to be funny and opinionated makes me light-headed.    I decided, today at 1:45 p.m., that writing for Grantland would be my dream job. But fear not, friends, I've got a few other things I'm positive I would excel at:

1. An otter trainer.  I love otters.  They are funny and playful, and they like to swim.  Win, win, win.  That would be a fun job.

2. An English-speaking tour guide in Pompeii.  I have an obsession with Pompeii thanks to my high school Latin teacher, Mrs. Albert.  I will find a way to end up in Italy giving tours to Americans and Brits wearing fanny packs.  Last time I was in Pompeii, our guide told me I had real potential.  Grazie.

3. Butter chef.  You know, like Paula Deen.  How amazing would it be to be able to just cook everything in a ton of butter.  For your job.  I mean, come on.  Heaven on buttery, fat Earth.

I'm not sure how I would categorize my last dream job, but I think I would be excellent as a personal tour guide.  I would just go with you on your family vacations, take pictures for you, tell you all the random things I know about the places you are visiting, take you to great restaurants like Hard Rock Cafe, and basically become your best friend.  I would excel at that job.

That's all for now.  Back to my real job, where they unfortunately do not pay me to tell jokes or be funny.  Sigh.

Happy Nuggets

It's good to be back in the blogosphere, I really need to work on being more consistent in my writing.  I apologize web-friends.  You can assume one of two things if I'm not writing: I'm insanely busy OR I don't have anything interesting to say.  The theme of 2011 seemed to be, "How many things can Kathy find herself involved in?"  The unofficial results: 427.  I'd like to round that out to 430 for 2012.  A common scene in my house this year was me running through rooms yelling, "I'm so stressed out!"  I officially had a full plate this past year.  So full, the mashed potatoes were falling off the side.  Don't act like you don't get that analogy, everyone loves mashed potatoes.

Today, I'm going to share with you a few of my December favorite things.  It's kind of like Oprah's favorite things, but I'm not wealthy, I won't be giving you anything, and I won't be scream-announcing each one.  Sorry.

1. My Christmas Chicken.  My mom came up last weekend and we did a little holiday shopping.  We bought some Christmas decorations, because you can NEVER have enough.  Ever.  Anywho, we found these little penguins that are wearing Santa hats and bounce up and down due to the springs inside them.  Amazing.  My mom kept calling them chickens, which annoyed me.  Penguins, not chickens.  Quit  calling them chickens.  Despite my insistence of her avian misidentification, she continued to call them chickens.  What's the point in fighting it?  Just go with it.  So last night, as I was finishing my Christmas decor, I named my new penguin "The Christmas Chicken."  Then I would bop him on the head and watch him bounce up and down.  Boing, boing, boing, goes the Christmas Chicken.  Sometimes it's the little things that make Kathy the happiest.

2. The Animal Game.  You know how kids go through phases?  I do that too.  My current phase is explaining states of being by combining an adjective with an animal.  It started with Sad Panda.  I can't claim Sad Panda, I'm not sure where it came from, but I have wholeheartedly adopted it.  This morning, as I groggily stumbled through the kitchen, I announced that I was a sleepy penguin.  Husband said, "Oh yeah?  Not a sleepy chicken?"  I rolled my eyes.  Seriously, who has ever heard of a sleepy chicken?  No one, that's who.  I explained, "Um no.  Sleepy Penguin.  Christmas Chicken.  Sad Panda."  And per usual, I got a confused look of, "I don't understand most of what you say."  I'll be adding to the list.  Suggestions welcome.

3. Sending unexpected cards.  I like to send non-Christmas cards during the holidays.  I'm so unconventional.

4. Cliche confusion.  Have you seen the movie  Boondock Saints?  Are you familiar with the guy who mixes up his cliches/proverbs?  "You know what they say, people in glass houses sink ships."  I'm married to that guy.  Husband just smushes phrases together and presents them as some new wise pieces of advice.  This happens about three times a week.   Last night he said, "He just has too many bees in his bonnet." 
Me: "One bee.  Not multiple.  One." 
Husband: "But wouldn't you be more upset if there were a lot of bees?" 
Me: "That's not the point.  You can't just change phrases."
...as you can see, I'm kind of a hypocrite.  Of course you can change phrases.  So I've decided to just enjoy the ride.  Smush away, Husband.  The more obscure the better.

5. Tebow Time.  See above: I'm a hypocrite.  I'll be the first to admit that I found St. Timothy of Gainesville VERY annoying during his collegiate career.  I did kind of like when he gator-chomped towards the OU team during the 2008 National Championship Game, but besides that he drove me a little nuts.  And then Denver drafted him and I rolled my eyes.  But he has won me over.  Winning does that.  I love winning.  And I know that if he played for anyone else, I would scoff.  But he doesn't, so I think Tebow Time is fun.  I'm fickle.  Deal with it.  I think of Tebow much like I thought of Byron Eaton.  I cheer for him because he plays for my team.  He drives me crazy.  I don't understand his choices on the field/court,  but if he wins, I'm happy.  And you know, Tebow Time, much like Happy Hour, can't last forever.  So let's order another round of margaritas, virgin of course, and enjoy it while we can.