It is the most wonderful time of the year!

love Christmas so much. Every year I eagerly wait for Halloween so I can start enjoying Christmas in full swing.  I view Halloween as a minor annoyance and the final barrier to my Christmas extravaganza. Now that I too old for trick or treat to be socially acceptable (although honestly I still love the idea of getting dressed up and taking candy from strangers), Halloween is pointless to me. Sure there are costume parties but getting drunk is not nearly as much fun as harassing strangers for candy in the dark while running down the street in full costume. I have already bought my Christmas music and my wrapping paper. I have also started accumulating ingredients to make yummy Holiday dishes. For the next eight weeks I enjoy everything and anything pumpkin flavored. Pumpkin cookies, pumpkin bread, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin ice cream and last but not least pumpkin coffee. Suffice to say, by the end of December I am throwing away anything pumpkin flavored. Apparently there really is too much of a good thing.  Also by the end of December I am on carb overload. I give up meat for most of the month so I can cram in more carbs. Bread, biscuits, pasta, mashed potatoes and stuffing oh my! Last Christmas I only took one bite of Turkey so I could fit in more carb friendly food. Some people might say that is extreme but in my humble opinion the holidays are not the time to focus on eating your fruits and veggies. I have plenty of time to catch up on veggie eating after the New Year. I happen to love this scarf ( perhaps a little bit more then would be normal) Wrapping paper is one of the most fun items to purchase.  I like to create a whole theme with my wrapping. This usually starts with good intentions. I buy several roles of wrapping paper, and ribbon and gift tags. I arrange a little wrapping station for myself and blast the holiday music. This works well for the first twenty or thirty gifts. But after that there is very apparent decline in the quality of wrapping that gets done. It is no longer fun or a novelty by that point. I am just staring at the mountain of gifts that still need to be wrapped. And do not even get me started on the odd shaped gifts. How in the world do you wrap a build a bear box without it looking like a five years old’s creation?  How about hand weights, nerf guns, golf clubs, and footballs. The list goes on and on. Some presents it takes me five minutes just to try and decide how in the world I am going to coat it in wrapping paper. I also dislike taking unnecessary steps so I guessstimate the amount of wrapping paper I will need for each gift without actually measuring it. Most of the time this tactic works, but there are the occasional epic fails. Usually this experience ends with me throwing down my scissors and tape in disgust and pouting until I can convince Clinton to take over gift wrapping duty. Now what causes this mountain of gifts waiting to be wrapped in the first place?? Somebody who has to buy the perfect gift for everybody on her list.  I will hound people for their lists starting in mid-September. I will then start obsessively searching stores and internet deals for just the right item.  I actually really enjoy this part. I am competitive so I like to make sure that I am getting the best deal possible.  I don’t like knowing that I overpaid for something. Even if I just overpaid by few dollars. It is still the principle of the thing. It is a rush when I get a gift at an awesome price. I have fine-tuned my system over the years and now have it down to an art. But the best part of the holiday season is getting to play Christmas music 24/7 and inundate everyone around me with my beautiful renditions of classic Christmas carols. Well actually the best part might be attempting to unwrap the gifts Clint has for me so that I can figure out what he got me. The problem is he is getting wise to my maneuvers and is hiding my gifts in undisclosed locations. I told him he could trust me to be good, but he wasn’t buying it. I am really hoping for Bassett hound with a big red bow tied around its neck sitting under my tree, on Christmas morning….ahem….ahem….

This might be the most epic idea ever.

So I am trying to decide if I am crazy for wanting to drive to Minnesota or a genius. My parents drove to Minnesota and Florida with four kids several times when I was a child. And all I remember is that by the end of that drive it was a miracle there was no blood. Anytime you are forced to be in a car for more than eight hours it is impossible to look on the bright side. And Minnesota is no eight hour drive in case you were wondering. 

So why in the world would I want to drive my three sisters and myself to Minnesota. There is one very simple reason: money. I refuse to give the airlines that much of my money when flying is a miserable experience.  To fly five people to Minnesota is over three thousand dollars before taxes, baggage fees,  parking fees and airport food.  That is no small investment. And for what? So you can be harassed at security, be delayed during boarding and be delayed while waiting for takeoff. Oh and be forced to sit in the middle seat between two people competing for the last spot on Jerry Springer.

So I thought I would a genius and avoid paying the airlines for the privilege of a miserable, delayed filled travel experience and put myself in charge of a miserable, mile-filled car ride.  If you look at it solely from a monetary perspective it makes sense.

Cost to rent a car for 10 days  - $250.00. I do have a car that I could drive but considering that my car is very temperamental, it is probably not a good idea to allow it to possibly strand us on some random highway in Tennessee.  I would also like to point out that even if we flew to Minnesota, we would still have to rent a car once we were there.

Cost to stay in a hotel on the way there -$150.00. This is a necessary cost because I refuse to do all the driving in one day.

Cost to stay in a hotel on the way home - $150.00 Again necessary because only someone with suicidal tendencies would think it was a good idea to drive home in one shot, after having looked at these same people for ten days straight.

Cost to put gas in the car - $550.00. Got to get the car to move. I could have them push it, but a snail probably moves faster. We would have to spend some money on gas even if we just flew because we would still at some point acquire a rental car to fill up.

Cost to feed the animals at the zoo - $250. If their mouths are filled with food, they will hopefully be less inclined to use their wonderful backseat driving directions.

Grand total -$1350.00. So I feel like a genius for keeping two thousand dollars to spend on a Bassett hound and my exotic animal collection. However, there is a part of me that is questioning just how much my sanity is worth. I might save two grand but lose my mental stability in the process.

Don’t get me wrong. Flying with my sisters and Clinton would be stressful I am sure. Trying to get everyone through security and make sure they don’t over pack and arranging seating so everyone can look out the window. But not sure anything compares to sitting a car with three other people for two consecutive days.  I may or may not hate myself and my travel companions; but I am not sure that I want to find out the hard way.

Sure, driving through scenic roads and cute little towns is a great way to spend an hour or two. But after about five hours all you want to do is just get out of the stinking car.  Plus there is the huge possibility that somewhere, on some highway we will get stuck in some ridiculous traffic jam.  And that is a recipe for disaster. I don’t mind being stuffed in car, but that damn car better be moving.

So I think we are going to go for it. If for no other reason than driving as opposed to flying allows me to cram more clothing into my luggage. I also already have extra rope so I can tie someone to the roof if they get on my last nerve. I already have someone in mind for this actually….oh and I can’t forget that I need to make a detour to Coburn, VA and pick up a goat. Don’t ask me where I am going to put the goat at the hotel or while we are in restaurants because I haven’t gotten that far. But at least I know where to go to get the goat.

 

Oh and Clinton is chickening out of the car ride and flying directly to Minnesota. He is doesn’t think he would be allowed to live through the car ride otherwise.  And maybe Clint and I should go ahead and get married before this trip because afterwards he might want to try and get as far away as possible, so I out to trap him before he knows any better.

This is a sneak peak of my glorious driving skills. 

 

I want a Basset Hound for Christmas. That is all I truly want.

I have been steadily trying to convince Clinton the merits of owning a Basset Hound, particularly an overweight, slobbery one. He really isn’t warming up the idea yet, but I still have time. I think he usually just gives in because he is tired of listening to me. I tend to have that effect on people. I also tend to bother other people to amuse myself when I am bored.

For example, we went for a walk the other day and I spent the entire hour long walk poking him with my hair clip when he wasn’t looking. Now the reason this was so amusing was because I would poke him and he would attempt to swat me away, but since I had already retracted my hand he just ended up smacking himself. At one point I was laughing so hard I honestly thought I would just have to sit down on the side of road and make Clint go get the car. He informed me however that he would just leave me there and go home and enjoy the peaceful calm of the house without me. This got my butt in gear because I didn’t want to be left on the side of the road without someone to torture for my amusement.

Another favorite pastime of mine is pulling down Clint’s pants. When he wears something like gym shorts, I like to randomly try to pull his pants down. Now don’t worry, he is wearing underwear so he wouldn’t be completely exposed. And I don’t even pull them down far. Just four or five inches.  Enough to annoy him and make him have to stop what he is doing to pull them back up.  Thankfully for Clint, he doesn’t wear gym shorts very often, but when he does I get my fun in.

I also love bothering Clinton to force him to do his animals imitations. He does an excellent platypus, owl and brontosaurus impersonation .Now he normally only does these impersonations to shut me up or to prevent me from making him endure any other plans I may come up with to amuse myself. A couple of animal imitations usually leaves me satisfied for about fifteen minutes. And those fifteen minutes are very important because they give Clinton a chance to regroup his sanity. 

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t spend every minute of every day annoying Clinton. But it is great entertainment when I am bored. This is probably why he does not enjoy long trips in the car with me.

But I didn’t come up with these ingenious ideas all by myself. No, you see I learned the art of being annoying when bored from a very dear friend. This friend has done quite a lot of ridiculous things to me over the years.

There was the time we drove to the beach and she spent over an hour stuffing grapes in my ears. In case you were wondering – cold squishy grapes feel very gross when shoved in your ear canal.

There was also the time she was bored and decided to coat my entire face in cheap makeup and give me cornrows.

I can’t leave out the time she decided to stuff our clothes with pillows so that we looked the 300 pound sumo wrestlers.

She also had the brilliant idea to cover me with  tattoos drawn on by gel pens.  My mother scrubbed me with rubbing alcohol so hard I was red for a week.

Whenever we were somewhere that is exceptionally boring like Mass or standing in line at the grocery store, I will find my nose being honked. This causes me to make a noise like a horse which provides her with endless delight. She has continued to honk for nose for like past 12 years. And it continues to provide her with amusement.

So you can see that I came to the idea of harassing Clinton quite naturally. It was what I was always used to.

 

Not my puppy but proof that I love cuddly, furry things. 

 

Those poptarts came in handy.

Well it is a good thing that Clint stocked up on Poptarts and Granola Bars because low and behold we did actually lose power.

All day during the hurricane I was insisting that the weather wasn’t that bad and everyone needed to stop being so babyish. Sure the rain was annoying and the wind made the trees sway ominously. But that didn’t mean the world was ending.  Well we went out for an essential trip to Target around 430 and after a gust of wind literately pushed me backwards I decided maybe this was a little more than just your typical wind and rainstorm. We packed it up and headed home.

At home I tuned on all the TVS so I could thoroughly enjoy the dramatic weather reporting being done by our local newscasters and Clint and I broke out Monopoly. Now our version of Monopoly is a little bit different.  Most people stop playing when they run out of money, but we just go into debt to each other and the bank. This can make for a very long marathon game. We also compete with each other to buy the most property and load it with houses and hotels so that whoever lands on that property is bound to be indebted to the owner. This constant cycle of buying also leaves us with no cash to pay the rent if we land on a taken property so we just start a sentence of servitude to the owner.  We had just started to buy up the property in earnest when our lights went out.

Clint and I spent a good five minutes lighting every candle that we owned and then we enjoyed the novelty of lighting the house by candlelight for a good sixty seconds. We then realized that even though the candlelight kept us from walking into the walls, it did not provide us with enough light to do anything but sit and talk. It was too dark to read or continue playing so we sat on the couch and stared at each other.  This was no longer amusing after five minutes. After an hour I was desperate for any source of amusement.  The TV is a lifesaver. It provides a great distraction when I don’t have anything else to do.  It was too dark for me to even read. So out of sheer boredom Clint and I went to bed at 8 pm.  Because there was only so much we could talk about after an hour or two. Had there been enough light I probably would have been bored enough to actually go through my clothing and organize my kitchen. Or maybe not……

When we woke up the next morning life seemed great. The sun was shining. It wasn’t hot. And then I went to get water from my refrigerator and it took me a minute before I realized that nothing was going to come out. And the reason that nothing was coming out was because we had no electricity. I was doomed to drinking room temperature water from the tap.  The morning only got worse as I came to the realization that I would have to throw all the food away that was in my fridge and freezer. I was upset about losing the food, but I was most upset about losing the ice cream in my freezer. I had so much ice cream and I had to throw it all away. I was devastated.  All that magnificent ice cream gone to waste.

I was also annoyed at the lack of hot water. So I did what any reasonable person with three gym memberships would do. I went to each gym until I found one that had power and hot water and promptly made myself right at home. Can’t beat borrowed internet and hot water.

However when I arrived back home and started make my routine visits to the fridge to find something to eat. I was greeted by a depressingly empty fridge each time. This was starting to depress me. I was also getting annoyed by the lack of air conditioning. I thought about posting a sign in my yard stating that I was looking for a fan boy who looks good shirtless. But I didn’t want to risk making Clint suspicious…..he would definitely believe that I was desperate for some relief from the muggy, humidity that is Richmond, but he might question my insistence on a shirtless barely legal boy.

Needless to say after our power came on I went around turning lights on just for the novelty on of it. I was tempted to turn my air conditioning to artic settings but I didn’t want Clint to have a stroke when he got the power bill.  I learned a lot from my lack of electricity experience, mainly that I can live without a lot of things but I cannot live without hot water, a way to keep food cold and cook it, and a fan or air conditioning.

This picture is from a year ago before I so lovingly totaled Clint's car. Amazing what happens in a year. 

 

Priorities

So yesterday for the first time in my adult life I got to experience an actual earthquake. I had previously experienced little tremors that felt more like a garbage truck rolling by. But this was my first experience with an earthquake that actually caused me to evacuate the building. I would just like to take this opportunity to state that even though I have endured countless pretend evacuations during all my years of schooling, I still had no idea what to do. I was more concerned with finishing my food then hightailing it out the door. I also had to find my cell phone because I had no idea how long I was going to be stuck outside and I had to have entertainment.

However the earthquake lasted just long enough to interrupt my snack time and didn’t result in any real missed work time. So not only did I have to go back into the office but now I had to entertain ridiculous theories about the earthquake offered up but anyone who deemed themselves an authority. For example anyone who thinks that just because they own a computer they are an expert on any given topic. The current topic at hand : the cause of the earthquake.

 

Here are a few of my personal favorite explanations. (Most of these are explanations that people posted on facebook.)

1. God  is good. Thank you for showing us your power.

I don’t know about you but I would rather see God show us his power in a way that is a little less threatening. Maybe a little bit more compassionate. He does not literately have to shake the earth to remind us he is in charge.  Just a thought.

2. The earthquake was caused by an unknown fault line : Obama’s fault.

Pretty self explanatory.  Though I don’t think you can blame the earthquake on just one person in government. In my very humble opinion though, the earthquake’s fault line is a result of every single person who works in the government. Bunch of idiots running around trying to make the other person look bad, and stockpile money and benefits for themselves. Now if I participated in that kind of behavior at my job, I would be fired, but up there in Washington it is just par for the course. So naturally good old easy going mother earth got fed up and was so angry she shook. Makes perfect sense to me.

3. The wasn’t an earthquake. That was the effect of a 14 trillion dollar check bouncing when Washington tried to cash it.

I don’t even know what to say here.  I guess I shouldn’t get grumpy when my bank puts a hold on my measly paycheck for a day.  At least the checks I am cashing are so little that if they bounce the tellers actually laugh.

4. The earthquake is a sign of the rapture.

Now I don’t know about you. But it I were Jesus I would want to announce my arrival a little more dramatically. Like maybe literately splitting the earth in two. And have people fall in the crack screaming for mercy. If you want people to follow you, you have to give them a good show.

 

I also like how just like the threat of a good old snow storm (anything about an inch), people flock to the store to stock up on supplies. Because you know you could totally be stuck in the house for weeks. And it is not like you don’t have a couple of pound of fat to live on. So last night Clint goes to Target to stock up on supplies and comes home with Quaker chocolate chip granola bars and pop tarts. So at least if the world is going to end, he is going to end it on a sugar high. All I know is that I do not want to be stuck anywhere with him for any amount of time if that is what he plans to base his survival diet on. A 31 year old man running around like sugar is the new crack is only cute when you can watch it from behind a plexi-glass secured area.

Proof that Clinton enjoys his sweets. 

If I show you a picture of an exotic baby animal that I think looks like you - it means I love you.

Clint and I have been together for five years. That might not be long time for some people, but it almost a quarter of my life. At any rate it is long enough for me to plot ten different ways of revenge for Clint “accidentally” shrinking my favorite pieces of clothing. Not only were these pieces my favorite, but they were also pieces that couldn’t just go grab off the shelf at Target. They were usually items that I found on the sale rack in the last size that could possibly fit me. This makes it impossible for Clint to go out and buy me an exact replacement.  Now I say he shrank them accidently, because I am sure he did not do the laundry with the intent of starting World War III but since the well being on my clothing is not nearly as important to him as it is to me, he didn’t pay as much attention to the various articles of clothing as was necessary. Had he glanced at each piece as it came out of the washer, he would have seen that is belonged on the rack to air dry. But in his logical mind, it was much easier to just cram everything in the dryer and hope for no ill consequences.  Probably nine out of ten times he can get away with it, but it is that one time when he shrinks not just a T-shirt, but one of my prized shirts, that I lose it.  I have a feeling that he thinks if this happens enough times, I will not ask him to do my laundry.  But unfortunately for him that is not the case. I am very persistent and I view this as opportunity for him to get as much practice as possible so he can prevent other episodes of clothing ruining.

Now I still love Clint even though he murders my favorite clothing items, and lord knows I probably give him some grief as well. One of my favorite pastimes is sending him pictures of baby animals that I remind me of him, or that I want to adopt. I am currently filling his AOL account with pictures of baby sloths. I am trying to show Clinton that they bear some resemblance to him, and for that reason we should adopt one. It would be a great outlet for my mother hen skills. For some reason he is not buying this. Something about the illegal ownership of a wild marsupial.  I say it isn’t illegal if they don’t know about it. I think if Clint just turned a blind eye to some of my escapades, my life would be a whole lot easier and his life would be a whole lot more peaceful. 

For instance, I see nothing wrong with biking without a helmet. The helmet makes my head hot and itchy and ruins my hair. It is possibly the most unattractive thing I could possibly wear. It makes me look awkward and clumsy. Clint’s argument is that it would protect my brain if I fell off my bike. But I have two counter-arguments to that point. First of all, I am so clumsy that I am just as likely to hit my head when I stand up from bending over underneath something, and I don’t wear a helmet for that. And second of all, a knock on the head could be argued as something that might actually help me. But he refuses to listen to reason and insists on me wearing that flashing beacon of plastic that signifies the opposite of grace and poise.

Clint also does not agree with the way I handle confrontation. I hate being bothered in the morning when I am trying to get ready for work, and  chances are I am already running late because I have mysteriously lost a piece of outfit in my black hole (aka my closet). So I am probably frazzled and annoyed because as usual my hair is taking forever to straighten. Clint usually decides to bother me during this time frame and this elicits a very territorial response from me. My solution is to chase him with my hair straightener until he leaves me alone.  I feel like if I burn his butt once or twice he will most definitely leave me alone and the order in my universe will be restored. But for some reason, Clint thinks that me chasing him with a very hot hair straightener is an example of boyfriend abuse.  I have tried to explain to him countless times that I would not even be chasing him with a very hot object if he had not been attempting to hijack my personal space while I was in the middle of a very strenuous battle with my hair. So in my point of view, he needs to be burnt a time or two to help him remember to keep his hands to himself while I make my morning preparations.  This would make me a whole lot calmer in the morning which would benefit our relationship.  But I am pretty sure part of the reason he keeps this whole ritual up is that he enjoys seeing my squawking chicken impersonation when I get mad.

 I think this is a perfect representation of our love. 

I am an addict!

“Hello my name is Samantha Severson and I am a facebook addict.” I cannot be the only person who should be attending facebook addiction support. Every time I kill one of my phones I go through withdrawal. I get twitchy, irritable, and my skin itches all over.  A minute seems to take an hour. I managed to occupy myself for a whole three minutes before I began climbing the walls in an effort to calm myself.  I start to worry that I will never be able to access facebook whenever I please.  I can handle the first five minutes without access to facebook, but after then, everything starts to get blurry.

I mean what in the world do I do for amusement if I have to sit through more than one traffic light? Or if the person I am having a conversation with is boring me? Or while I am waiting for a movie to start? Or while I waiting for the waiter to bring my food? Or while I am hold with the customer service representative who sounds like they definitely do not reside in America. So many opportunities for boredom. I need to fill those time sucks with constant updates of my “friends” mundane life events and the hilarious but poor choices of life partners/jobs and their general poor education and economic decisions.

I compulsively check facebook whenever I can. So the first step of addiction is admitting you have a problem. Clearly even Stevie Wonder can see my phones spends so much time on facebook that when my data bill is analyzed, I found out I spend 98.9% of my data package on facebook.  I have a problem. Now someone please help me. I could wean myself off of facebook using twitter, but isn’t  that is just replacing one social network with another? I can’t possibly be the only person who has to know what all 500 of their closest “friends” are doing at all times.

Thank God for facebook mobile.