pinktalk

I am writing this post from the past!  I am waiting around to do something else and surely exciting, but I thought I'd leave you a little Xmas present while I am enjoying the holidays among my people, enjoying our sacred traditions.  (Which means, as you read this, I am probably eating some odd Italian pork product and/or fried cheese object, washing it down with some fine Pennsylvania beer [Yinz-ling, perhaps?] and yelling about some football game!)

But here's an educational video about the difference between Canada -- or as I like to call it, Canadia! -- and the United States.  The more you know!

Before we go -- I still have those beach chairs to remove, ahem -- I will leave you with this truly amazing interview with Jean Vanier.  No matter what your religious or philosophical beliefs are, I think you'll get something from this talk with the amazing man.  It's my gift to you, darlings,.

I know I complain every year about how I am not ready, but you have surely caught on by now that's just me posturing and bemoaning the fact that I can't knit socks for every member of my family before Christmas morning.  You know, Martha Stewart disease.  But this year?  Really and truly, I am not ready.  Packages?  Not wrapped.  Actually, presents are not even bought for about 20% of the people I am seeing in just a few days.  Christmas cards just went out today.  That is how ridiculously behind I am, people!  And it didn't help that we were at a boat party last night in Manhattan for Mr. Pink's work, which has made me fuzzy from leftover boozehead and general tiredness from negotiating taxis and trains so late at night.

But the bright side is, uhh, well, even if I don't get it all done, by 12/25, it kinda doesn't matter, right?  Also, I should probably get some perspective about this whole holiday thing, I don't want to become one of those people who are all, "Oh, I loathe Christmas!"  Those people bum me out!

We're leaving tomorrow and in just 24 hours, I will be in the suburbs of Pittsburgh enjoying things like shopping for seasoned meat in the Strip District and feeling like my relatives are trying to think of a polite way to ask me why I haven't had kids yet, you know, just in case I am actually infertile and they don't want to make me have a breakdown over the buffet. 

(Actually, that's one of my favorite parts of seeing my extended family, who are all pretty awesome -- the awkward conversations about how long we've been married, and the baleful looks at my age-peer relatives' kids.  [I always want to say, "Well, you know, you shouldn't get pregnant when you shoot so much heroin, right?" as a joke, but they are such earnest, nice people, I sort of worry they will mistake the joke for a tortured confession, ha ha.])

So the point is.  I am packed-ish...well, I put a lot of clothes in a suitcase, but when I pack so quickly, sometimes I end up with just a pile of non-matching items that make me look like a hobo.  And I have the presents kind of wrapped.  And all I should have to do tomorrow morning is roll out of bed and clean out the trunk of the car.  (Still have beach chairs, about 25 lbs of magazines from going down the shore with Stephen & Jen this summer, the final Harry Potter book and a Hello Kitty toaster in the back, ahem.   Shut up!) 

I probably won't check in except via Twittering, but then again, maybe I will.  I guess it depends on my level of insomnia and how fast I get my shopping/wrapping done.  Everyone have a lovely whateveryoucelebrate, and I'll see you in 2008.

XOXOXO!

In a deeply baffling development, our neighbors across the street have purchased an elaborate Christmas music and light display.  The music, it is seemingly endless and highly diverse selection.  And the lights, they blink along with the full orchestral arrangements.  I can hear it from any room in my house -- any  one!  The Christmas spirit will haunt my dreams whether I want it to or not, dammit!

Bummed out about the Steelers loss?  Oh, dear, this will make you feel better: 30 Kittens Per Second.  See, you're feeling better already, aren't you, love?

A sure sign of how banal my dreams have become: long, detailed dream wherein I thoughtfully selected and purchased bronzer, took it home, and applied it.

Dear WNYC,

When your weather forecast says "2-4 inches in the city, more to the North and West," is there anyway you can be more vague?  "More"?  Oh, okay, right, of course, "more."  I will prepare for "more" inches of snow, thanks a bunch.

Love,
Sarah

Speaking of sexism!  A parsing of the Stereogum's pretty people in indie rock.  Well done!

Uhm, I bought a gold sweater to wear to Mr. Pink's fancy holiday party (on a boat!) next week.  I think I have officially become a Jersey Girl, OMGz, I probably have to get bangs now too, don't I?  (Wait, do NJ girls have bangs?  I feel like that's some kind of stereotype, but maybe I am just making that up.  If not, please feel free to substitute your Jersey thing of choice.)

And: King Kauffman's column today, interviewing David Nylund about his new book, is very interesting, talking about sports radio and masculinity.  As a feministlady who likes the sports, I would love to regularly listen to sports talk, but oy vey, the misogyny was just too irksome.  Uhh, except when the Steelers are in the playoffs and I am desperate for positive news about their chances 24/7, ahem.

My abilities have deteroriated significantly, as in every holiday season, so here's some devolution for you: just some seen/heards!  (Oh, and then I go off on some crazy tangent at the end, which I did not at all intend when I started writing this.)

NYT's guide to Rose Champagnes, now that NY's Eve is upon us (confidential to my party people: are we having a thing again this yr?); Obamarama ramps up in Merry Olde New England; speaking of Senator Obama, his wife has to be one of the coolest, prettiest human beings on the face of the earth, for reals...I know that's not news, but come on, she is just so awesome; "congestion" utility pricing = interesting; killer virus!!!!!!!!; and Mike Ditka seemed to running some sort of weird charity scam or something?

Finally: I cannot think of a more cranky-making punishment this holiday season than being forced to see the Led Zeppelin reunion show.  Srsly, don't get me wrong.  I was a teenage girl in Western PA once, so you know that I pretended to like Led Zeppelin IV because, you know, I wanted to make out with boys.  (See also: Pink Floyd.)  I gradually developed -- maybe by fooling even myself? -- a real affection for the music, followed by -- even slower to emerge, due to my collegiate shoegazer/Britpop phase -- a respect for their musical influences.  Finally, it's become a sort of grudging but unconditional love for them.  And every time I hear "Ramble On" on the radio (usually when I am driving past Scranton, ha, along with some really awesome Rush tunes!), I have to just laugh my fucking ass off at the fanboy Lord of the Rings stuff, God bless their little hearts.  But these old people reunion shows, especiallywhen the band broke up for quasi-noble (like Zep) and/or totally understandable reasons (Fleetwood Mac, I am talking to you!), it's just depressing.  Remember them when they were pretty, people!  Remember them when they could actually still play the riffs at the appropriate speed, anyway, but mostly just remember them when they were pretty.

(P.S.  Someone remind me of this post when I am, like 67 years old and demanding my grandson stand in line to buy me tickets for the Arcade Fire reunion tour, mmmkay?)