The Sequel: Part 1 - Jade

I thought to myself on a 3.5 hour drive that sequels are simply for the follow purposes:

They have run out of new material
They think it's what the public really wants
People will still watch (or read) it, even if the first few weren't any good (mo' $$$)

So, I come to you with a sequel. I discussed with myself (at length) whether or not I would visit the idea of a sequel this early in my blogging career, and I told myself "No, and shame on you. You can think of 1000 other things to talk (or more accurately ramble on) about and that people (who may also be in my imagination, much like this argument) don't want a sequel, or to re-read the same thing, with a slightly less (or.. more) sarcastic tone to it.

Uhm, I think because I'm definitely  a 'right-fighter', here we are with a sequel. Dr. Phil has discussed with me (through his condescending southern tone and finger wagging on my tele of course) that being a 'right-fighter' is not usually a good thing, unless of course you're discussing seriously moral issues in like.. a legal setting of some sort. The only thing that Dr. Phil is lacking in this discussion with me, is what do I do when I get into these proverbial arguments with myself about seemingly miniscule things for imaginary fans in a blog I'm quite certain my own mother doesn't read. (And, we all know she's obligated to read it.. she's my mother.)

And, I mean - I hate to lose. So, I then use my experience watch the American television show The Office  on how to resolve conflict, and always pick the win-win-win scenario. (If you haven't seen the episode, I highly recommend it, it's really taught me a lot about problem solving in the real world.)

** Please note that I made an effort to find a link from Youtube to include on here to you could easily access the clip so you know what I'm talking about. It's obvious I failed miserably, but on the other hand, if you don't watch The Office you're missing out anyway, and no amount of blog reading is going to save you now. **

Sorry, back to win-win-win. The idea about this particular solution base is that not only do the two combatants win, but the mediator or third party problem solver also wins. Because of the nature of this argument.. uhm, with myself - I'm actually playing the role of all three. So, essentially, by being a 'right-fighter', and using these tools to mediate the argument I'm having with myself about writing a sequel, and then not actually writing the sequel I actually win.. x3.

How you ask? Well. I didn't write a sequel. But, I did write about writing a sequel, and thus avoided writing a sequel. I also blogged, and you also read. I won the argument by resolving to just write the sequel, mediated the argument successfully, and won the other half of the argument by not actually writing it and instead writing about myself arguing.. and then winning the argument with myself.. er against myself.

The sequel? Un-awesome things. I think, there are seriously so many un-awesome things that I could talk about, that I feel like a sequel wouldn't be so bad. I mean, especially if you all think they are really un-awesome, and don't think the actual post is.. un-awesome.

Especially when I was finished arguing with myself about whether or not I should discuss it again, I started thinking about all the things that are super un-awesome that I didn't mention in the original. (or did mention, and forgot because I didn't have the ability to recap while I was driving to Winnipeg this week, kind of because that's unsafe, but mostly because I didn't plan ahead and packed my Lappy in the trunk)

I also thought at the end of the self discussion, that I am witty as shit. And not really because I am (I've had my moments, but so did Hitler. Please don't send me e-mails about Hitler. I get it, it's not the LOLocaust, and I shouldn't make jokes. Anne Frankly, I was really only making a point.. I mean, he's feeding a cute little deer for frig sakes. Yeesh, nevermind.)

                                                     

But, I think to myself: "Shit, in a scripted argument that you can edit heavily in your own mind while driving across a flat-ass province that no one else can hear, that you're probably embellishing in a way where there is no wrong answer, you are a funny lady."

Then I snap back to reality (op, there goes gravity) and realise that I've driven 100kms and don't even remember doing it (good thing they only have one way to get anywhere out here.) and spent the last 50 minutes arguing with myself and then congratulating myself for being witty as shit. I think I need a better hobby. Or, to get some books on tape or something to occupy all this time I'm spending in the car. What was I talking about? Oh right. Sequels.

The only sequel I liked equally as much as the original was of course: The Lion King. I think I may be biased, because it's my favourite movie.. and sure, I know it's Hamlet with lions, but lions are my favourite and who doesn't love a little Hamlet-Cub (played by a white kid), whose Hamlet-Father (played by a black guy) gets killed in a massive stampede of the weirdest looking herbivores (next to Moose of course) in current existence by Claudius-Uncle (played by a British guy) who then mates and procreates with his half sister (played by a black kid, who grows into a white-Irish woman) to make a little incestuous cub (played by a white Canadian). That shit is messed. But, makes for wholesome family fun. And let's be honest, I own both on blu-ray and watch them at least once a month.

Now, don't get me start on TLK 1.5, that doesn't count as a sequel. One, because it's only half of a sequel, and two because this is my blog.. so my rules. 

Anyway, so I suppose this is the announcing of a sequel coming to you, and that you should be prepared to read the same idea, with a slightly different twist, in the same format using the same characters who are slightly older, but not necessarily any wiser and/or better at whatever it is they are doing.

I also can't decide now if I've won or lost.. because I didn't write the sequel, but committed to it. But also, if I write one - is is the sequel to the original Un-awesome things, or a sequel to this piece discussing the sequel and making suggestions that it's next in line. Sequelception?

This is why I don't sleep very much. I argue with myself. ABOUT IMAGINARY THINGS THAT DON'T HOLD ANY CONSEQUENCE OR SIGNIFICANT MEANING IN ANYONE'S LIFE INCLUDING MY OWN. I hope this doesn't age me prematurely. 

"Congrats! You're half-way to 40 and you skipped teen pregnancy!" - Atomic Tangerine

Yes! It’s true! I am leaving to seek employment in the province next door. But, don’t worry – I will still do my best to keep on keepin’ on. Especially here – because I know that I need a good rant, and who doesn’t love to waste their day reading some ridiculous stories?

So, as my roommate Kristi knows well – I love Teen Mom. I can’t even help myself when it comes to that show, and I know seriously that it’s so bad. Like, it has to be horrifying that you get pregnant at 16 or whatever and then have these cameras follow you around while you awkwardly pass into adulthood while toting around a toddler or two.

Anyway, so I thought after the endless hours of mine spent in front of this show that I ought to have learned something from it to at least make it a little educational .. or something. So, I thought I would share some of the things that I learned while watching Teen Mom.

For those of you who don’t know crazy amounts about it – basically there is a show called 16 and Pregnant, and MTV picked 8 teens from those shows to follow around for 4 seasons. They split them into 2 shows Teen Mom, and Teen Mom 2. One couple gave their child up for adoption, one couple has twins but are all fairly dysfunctional and a few of the Moms are dealing with divorce, mental illness, drug addiction or dead-beat parents of their own.   

Here are some of the things I learned: 

 

Number of tattoos and piercings must get exponentially greater as the seasons progress.  

It’s interesting the kinds of tattoos and where we’re putting studs into our bodies. And don’t get me wrong, (much to my mother’s dismay) I have some piercings as well – but I can’t see how you can have a two year old and have the skin between your thumb and pointer finger pierced, or your collar bones filled with jewellery  and not expect them to be ripped out at some point. Also, tattoos are expensive and I think the show is designed to kind of scare or educate teens on the idea that kids are a lot of work, and they’re expensive.. but showing up in episodes with new tats is a little farfetched. Also.. some of them are pretty ugly (strictly in my opinion.. they didn’t get them to please me or anything.)

Ripped jeans and flip-flops are always appropriate.

A few of the teens get into some legal trouble while on the show, or have to go to court for divorces or custody agreements  or apply for mortgages – and they all wear flip-flops and ripped jeans to do it. It’s craziness – and I understand they’re young, but I’m only a year older than they are now, and I can manage to put on pants without holes and some footwear with structure to attend some sort of wedding or meeting at the bank.. like – you’re applying for money for a house.. and moths have eaten your pants. OR, you’re up in front of a judge to claim that you won’t be doing anything illegal anymore and you fell down and ripped the crap out of your pants (likely while high) and didn’t bother to change them. Makes complete sense to me. 

Have friends with kids. 

  

I understand, there is certainly comfort in common experience and you can do kid things together. But.. you’re 16.. how many friends have you got.. that have kids? It’s craziness how many toddlers you can pack into a high school.

Have friends with kids who name their kids weird things.

On top of the fact that you have kids and so do 6 of your friends, but the fact that all your friends have seriously named them weird things. Don’t get me wrong, I have a generic 90’s name and so do all of my friends, and I think it’s important that we move on with new generation names like we do with music and fashion as the generations progress – but let’s not get crazy. A lot of them are like Braxton, Aliannah, Aleeah, Brielle, Bentley and Brentley. Roll call at school is going to get interesting.

(Side note, a guy once told me that he saw a kid’s nametag in the hospital and it said ‘Ladynasty’ and he’s all.. you named your kid.. Lady-Nasty? And MommaBear was all “No.. it’s La-Dynasty.. like that show, or that car.. with ‘La’ in front of it.)

Quality vs. Quantity

The number of boyfriends you have should be excessive, unless of course the quality of the boyfriend is far below a normal standard in which case you should keep them around periodically for dramatic purposes. 

Boyfriend Change = Car Change

As much as you change your man, you need to change your ride. So, different car every 4^th episode is standard.. but there is also room for erratic car changes with reasons that don’t really make any sense. Like, one of them bought a new VW.. and then 4 episodes later had to buy a new car because the other one.. “broke down”. I’m sorry.. your  new VW broke down? That’s like suggesting you had lunch with BigFoot. Riiight. 

Bad/Excessive Make up and weird skin tone changes are required

I can’t tan.. that’s just the way it goes.. but when you routinely change races because of excessive tanning or make up – you gotta stahp! Let’s stick with normal amounts of product and a normal exposure to the UV. 

Ed Hardy/Victoria Secret Merchandise is a must 

It’s important that on top of your ripped jeans and flip-flops you wear expensive sweaters. It’s even more important that you complain that you don’t have any money for things that babies or people need to sustain life while wearing this stuff. It really plays down the fact that you make 5k an episode and just bought a new car to go with your new Hollister wearing Baby-Daddy.

Peirce Weird things.. then play with them

Back to getting the strange piercings in places that toddlers are likely to rip out – it’s super important that while speaking with your friends or family.. or even your co-workers that you should play with these piercings. Enough so that people notice .. or don’t notice because they have the same weird thing pierced and are also playing with it while talking to you. Perhaps you could just tug on each other’s piercings..? Gross. Nevermind. 

 “I’m really going to dedicate some time to thinking about that.” (I quipped this gem when Amanda’s Mom suggested I try something.. being the ‘try everything person’ I didn’t want to say no.. but it was a particularly busy time in my life so that’s what came out of my mouth – I still haven’t lived it down.)

Being only kind of committed to everything is the way to be a successful Teen Mom. Go to school, have a kid, have a job, have aspirations on top of your social life – it’s best that you do everything.. but just do everything a little bit.

Complain

It’s important that we get the complaining down pat – but the key to success with this particular show is to incessantly complain about things completely within your power to change.. and then continue to do nothing about them.

Cry Incessantly 

Crying is a natural reaction to a lot of different emotions. I mean, it’s biology.. I do it, you do it.. we all do it. But, for these particular ladies, it’s important that the crying escalates to the ‘Ugly Cry’ frequently, that your make-up resembles that of Beetlejuice shortly thereafter and that it’s required  for every event however insignificant they may be.

Cry about Crying

This is key, because when you’re ready to stop crying and take action in the situation at hand, the best thing to do is to get upset that you’re upset.

Assume the worst at all times

Complain loudly about your doomed future. Do nothing to change it.

The longer the better

It’s really important that as a new Mom that your hair and nails are did at all times. On top of this, the longer-is-better rule always applies. Make sure that you get them done and then complain about your finances while in your Hollister sweater, driving a new vehicle. 

Finally:

MOVE ABNORMALLY FREQUENTLY.

I don’t know how people manage to do it, but they can find enough money, enough people and in a small amount of time manage to move their entire lives into a new place in the span of an hour long episode. I don’t even know how people handle the stress of moving so many times, but it’s important that if you’re not moving every episode you’re threatening to move or disappear for a night or two in frustration.

For those of you who don’t watch the show – I would recommend it, I guess. I mean, I don’t even like reality TV (and not really sure how real it is.. it does get pretty ridiculous) but check it out. And even if you don’t like it, you’ll feel better about your own lives ten-fold.

   

Kijiji: Citrine

I love .. LOVE Kijiji.

I actually think it is better than sliced bread (which is pretty great too.) but over my fervent use of Kijiji has lead me to some interesting experiences – I thought I would share them with you.

I thought it would be good to point out that I am an amazing buyer – I am courteous, punctual, communicate well and haggle fairly (for the most part). I say please and thank-you and I drive (so no deliveries are required) I am also fearless when it comes to going to peoples’ houses. I know my parents don’t really want to hear that, but the fact that I will go somewhere without telling anyone with cash to someone’s place is a tad terrifying – but that’s the name of the game I suppose.

I am a sucker for hand-me-downs, which is why it’s unfortunate that of all three of my sisters and none of us can share ANYTHING. Emily is shorter and her feet are much smaller. So, unless I’m preparing for a flood with sore feet after packing them into her midget shoes – she’s out. Krissy’s legs are much longer than my own, and her waist is shorter than mine, and on top of that (or.. below that I guess) her feet are bigger than mine, so she’s out. Lauren is also much taller than me and out of the country so – she’s also out (unless of course you’d like to mail them to me.. then I’m so in!). This leads me to Kijiji for the seconds of others. And good deals, obviously.

It’s a great outlet to try out styles that may also be outside of your comfort zone as well, and not spend crazy amounts of money to end up not liking it or something – and also for things that are incredibly expensive such as Lulu or Bench stuff – I mean people are guilty of buying it at full price and then wearing and washing it once. You’re going to wear and wash it anyway, so might as well get it at a 60% (often even greater) discount for something you’re going to do to a new garment anyway.

Of course it’s also good for everything else too – furniture and crap too, so it’s great. But then there are the not so great (or hilarious) encounters.

I left my Mom unattended: 

Once I was selling a sweater that I no longer wore (but I bought it on Kijiji to begin with, so not guilty of the buy-new-and-wear-once scenario). While I’m average sized, the sweater was a small-medium. So, a bit tight but whatever. So I received a response and they agreed to come over at the set time to check it out (the price was 35 bucks) and take it if it pleased them. At the last minute, work called and asked me to come in so my Mom agreed to take charge of transaction which was supposed to be very straightforward. So, this MASSIVE woman shows up at the door and exclaims that she is going to try on the sweater before buying it. After struggling she gets herself mostly in the sweater and suggests that she will pay 20 bucks for it. Because there had been no previous mention of a potential haggling, I had not prepared my Mom in the event that this should occur. (My bad.) So, my Mom politely declines and makes it known that she is a third party and apologises for my unexpected absence, and that the price is the price. With a few grunts and groans, she pulls out some wrinkled bills from a fold of skin somewhere and haughtily barks “Well, we had to pay to get here you know!” and promptly pays my Mom and leaves. I’m glad I wasn’t there to mention that I only paid 20 for it and was making a tidy profit from this massive human. I also apologised to my Mom for the experience with a large quantity of coffee.

And he was on the floor naked:

I’m not one to care too much where you live – we all need a place to stay so whatever. As long as the thing I’m buying is relatively clean – we’re good to go. One time I went to try on a dress (which I do frequently because of the amount of Army functions we attend that have a formal attire requirement) and I showed up to this bachelor apartment that was a basement of someone’s house. And as I was invited in and wall of Satan’s fire hit me right in the face – I mean, this place was HOT. And I would live in a sauna if it wasn’t weird, but this place was incredibly hot. And when I was lead around the corner to the bathroom, (it was a tiny place) there was a mattress on the floor, and a guy lying on the mattress wearing just some undershorts. I get that it’s hot.. but stand up.. and put some pants on. I didn’t end up getting whatever it was, but seriously – I had to STEP OVER him to get to the bathroom. I also worked up a sweat just getting up enough step to get over him.. bleck.  So, as a note – please have clothes on when you’re expecting guests.

I thought she brought a dog:

One time I was selling some dining room chairs for my step-Dad and had an older couple come over to take a look at them. They seemed lovely but as the interaction continued it kept getting weirder. The woman inspected them quite thoroughly but while she was going about her inspection she made like, weird crying noises. You know, when the dog wants something, and he just makes an annoying whining noise to get your attention.. yeah? That! She wouldn’t stop! I thought she had actually brought a small dog.. but nooope! It was her the whole time! And don’t get me wrong, she bought the chairs, which is awesome, but I couldn’t get over the strange inspection noises she made the whole time.

She didn’t live there:

When I was in North Bay I learned the city by picking up some stuff on Kijiji. This one time, I went to a house to pick up a Volcom Sweater (which, as most of you know, I own 4) because I love them so much. Anyway, so I got there at the appointed time and knocked on the door and the people who answered the door claimed she didn’t live there.. and then got around to admitting they knew who she was but that she was working and they didn’t have any idea what I was talking about when it came to picking up the sweater.  It was a bit embarrassing so I emailed her when I got home and she gave me some broken story about.. something. Anyway, I got a new address and picked up my sweater, but still. The whole thing was weird.

I thought about calling 911:

I went to a really nice place on the outside of town a few weeks ago to look at some stuff and they had a super grand staircase (the kind you see in the movies) that wrapped its way up the whole entrance way. It was amazing. Anyway, so at the top of the stairs was the bathroom and blah blah, so when I came out the girl who had let me in came flying up the stairs and tripped on the hardwood and smashed her face on the way up. It happened so fast that I made a weird noise and dropped what I as holding – it took her a few minutes to move and slowly get herself up, but I was worried when she did say something she had knocked out all of her teeth or something horrid. She giggled a weird and kind of broken giggle and said she was okay.. but I had dialed 9-1 in the phone already and was glad I didn’t have to call her an ambulance. I offered to help her out with a ride to emerge if she wanted it, but she declined and I left awkwardly. It was seriously so weird.

She wished me lick:

I was selling a Bench jacket once and had it priced for like 70 bucks or something. Anyway, I got an email asking if I would let it go for 20 – I politely declined and received an angry response claiming that the jacket was being sold in the store for 25 and I am ridiculous for suggesting it was worth any more. I thought it was a bit forward, (I guess they’d never been told no before) but what I don’t understand is that if they’re being sold in the store for that why not .. go to the store? I mean, for the sake of 5 bucks you’re going to argue with me? Anyway, so I told her that in fairly polite words and she responded: “Well, when you realise your mistake, I’ll give you 20. But good lick anyway.”

Good lick to you too.. I suppose? Rude.

I think I may have a small addiction to the ease and practicality of Kijiji, but it has certainly been an outlet for picking up things I need or some new threads or whatever. So, don’t be an annoying buyer who doesn’t show up or is wicked late or.. rude or whatever. And seriously.. have clothes on when you answer the freakin’ door.   

This post gets the colour Citrine, because Kijiji is mostly yellow.     

Ecru: A is for Adult.

Sometimes, I hate being an adult.

Sure, I like all the things that come with being an adult, you know: R rated movies, driving, being able to make my own decisions about stuff.. blah blah.

There are a few things I hate about being an adult, which I suppose could be summed up by suggesting that I hate the responsibilities of being an adult. For instance: I hate buying groceries and paying the internet bill. I also hate getting my ass out of bed at a ridiculous time so the neighbours can watch me chase down the garbage man in my footie pajamas and I hate buying things to clean my house with. In fact, I don’t even mind cleaning the house – just buying the shit to do it with. This brings me to today.

Today, I set about cleaning the house like a good adult, I cleaned the bathroom, ran the dishwasher, wiped down the counters and cleaned the sinks and then as my final task for the day (before sitting down to copious amounts of eggnog and the BBC) was to vacuum. (Or, after all these hours of the BBC - hoover the place from top to bottom.) 

So, I get out the vacuum and spend the first few minutes brushing the dog and cutting his nails (so I can just suck it all up and not even worry about the 14 lbs of dog hair in the living room) and being to assemble the pieces together to get on with my adult responsibility of not living like a hoarder. 

The next portion of my time is spent taunting the dog a little bit (because I have to have fun too) and then get on to the actual vacuuming part. Plug the sucker in, turn on the switch and the vacuum begins to make terrifying noises, which not only terrify the dog, but also scare me. Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re expecting me to tell you some hilarious story about how the vacuum exploded and there were not 14, but 25 lbs of dog hair everywhere and we all had a good laugh and so on.

No.

The vacuum that I inherited has always been a bit scary – and temperamental to say the least. Sometimes it would suck.. and awkwardly, sometimes it would blow. (That’s what she said.) Usually a good kick and we’re off to the races, but for the most part it does the job and sits in the closet for another week. Today, I gave her a kick and she is still making scary noises. Alright, at least I left this part last – so, for the most part people would think I’m an average house keeper, minus the dog hair that creepily looks like I’m saving to make myself a new dog. So I turn it back on and look at it, somewhat expecting it to just come out and tell me exactly what’s wrong with it, when I notice that the vacuum as a ‘Performance Indicator Light’ – whatever that means. So, I note my performance with it, thinking I’d get myself at least a 9.8 in the Hoover Olympics when a thought occurs to me that there may be something stuck in the tube to prevent it from sucking. (That’s what she said.)

I decide to pull the stupid thing apart, and figure out what on earth could be preventing massive amounts of dog hair from being tornadoed into a small bag, made of material I can’t quite put my finger on. After pulling apart the vacuum, getting down on the floor to get a closer look (I guess my eyesight isn’t what it used to be) the dog has his nose in it (‘What a grand adventure!” Dog thinks excitedly, “She’s conquered the roaring Beast!”) and we discover that the bag is simply full. 

FULL. 

How is this possible? I mean, when I was less than an adult the fridge would fill itself, and the bathrooms would clean and organise themselves, and the vacuum would simply vacuum upon command.. no maintenance required. Alas, being an adult means changing the vacuum bag. Alright, I can fix a toilet I broke; I can fix a vacuum I filled. 

I wander over the supply cupboard and pull out the plastic bag that contains the weird blend of crap the vacuum bag is made of to discover, to my dread – the bag is empty. We have no vacuum bags. And I have some serious vacuuming to be doing. Noting the price tag on the empty carcass of a container, I pack the plastic bag into my purse, pull on a coat and avoid looking in the mirror as I head out into December bitterness just to avoid scaring myself with the state of my hair.

I pull into the parking lot, only to discover that I forgot that it is ‘Holiday Season’ and people are at the mall en masse. Much like my Father, I hate everyone and everything when it comes to shopping – other than shopping itself. I would shop at Wal*Mart at 2am all year round to avoid the hordes of people shopping. Alright, I will prepare myself to fight off enthusiastic-holiday-sweater-stretched-over-massive-humans to get the bags and get the hell out. 

I begin by parking in Narnia, because frankly – parking at the mall at 2pm on a bitter December Sunday is impossible. After I fight frost-bite, dehydration and a pack of angry wolves I come through the wardrobe and arrive at my destination: Sears. I hate Sears (but we can talk about that another time) and with shoulders set back, elbows out and line-backer mentality I prepare to elbow old-ladies and tackle their elderly husbands who can’t hear my when I say ‘Excuse me’ or see my when I wave my arms at them and finally get up the oddly small escalator (What is this, an escalator for ants?!) and make it to the vacuum section. 

Before any sales person attacks me with perfume, or pots or candle holders I should buy my dear Aunt Mildred, I whip out my empty vacuum bag bag, and aggressively show it to the sales man:

“This! *points at bag* I need these. I don’t know where they are, but I am prepared to pay you handsomely for them if you give me exactly what I want and let me purchase it right now without asking me any ridiculous questions or trying to sell me any warranties. I guarantee to you that I will be your best customer. I will even leave quietly. If you do not help me, next time I will come unprepared, try to describe to you my need for vacuum bags, show you a vague hand motion about how big they are and what a strange shade of beige they are - I will then tell you I can’t remember the kind of vacuum cleaner I have but will insist it’s a company that doesn’t exist, or exists and doesn’t make vacuum cleaners. I will then tell you the colour of the vacuum cleaner because that should directly indicate which bag I need, and THEN I will demand to speak to your manager about how unhelpful you are. Give me the bags, and your day will end well.” 

He looks at me and shuffles away quickly to return with my desired vacuum bags and then looks at me squarely in the face and says to me: 

“Would you like one package or two?” 

WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH 20 VACUUM BAGS AT THIS VERY MOMENT IN TIME? NO, I DON’T WANT TWO PACKAGES. I DO NOT HAVE THAT MUCH VACUUMING TO DO THAT I AM GOING TO REQUIRE TO HAVE ON HAND, 19 BACK UP BAGS JUST INCASE I FILL THE FIRST ONE. I WANT TO PAY FOR MY 10 BAGS AND THEN LEAVE THIS AWFUL PLACE. 

I quietly pay for my bags, come home and finish the vacuuming.

The point of this (other than avoiding ulcers that I mentioned in my earlier works), was to suggest to you that I hate running out of supplies and then having to buy them to clean my house. What I hate more than that, is running out of things I need in the Christmas Season and then being required to hip-check old ladies buying their kids slippers and stocking stuffers just to buy 9 more vacuum bags than I needed in the first place. Because I’m not here to ask you about the quality of this bed-in-a-bag, or whether or not you think my Niece would like this cat sweater – no. I want to park reasonably close to the door, not stand in a line-up where we wait long enough to have picked each individual dog hair up by hand faster and then to avoid stupid questions about my plans for the holidays. I’m doing what every normal person is doing:

 Eating-Napping-Eating and Family Time.

Needless to say, I finished vacuuming and I am now sitting, comfortably filled with Nog and pictures of the BBC are dancing in my head.    

Today I chose the colour ecru, because if I had to pick what colour the vacuum bags are.. that would be it.