Why am I saving the Where-Is-My-Holiday-Tip postcard from our paper carrier? My paper gets delivered at 5 am. Do you think I'm awake at 5 am to see this dumbass drop the paper at the bottom step? This could be the same individual who parked his muffler-needing truck in our driveway while he delivered our neighbor's daily paper, even though we only get the paper on weekends. Or maybe not. I never get the impression paper carrier is a career choice. I could be wrong, but I don't think so.

Besides, when it rains? Mr. Dumbass has a habit of putting the paper - in it's supposedly rainproof blue plastic sleeve - on the bottom step with the sleeve opening at the top. This creates the most wonderful paper mache, but does bupkis for our ability to find out when the movie starts or who's not playing for the Lions this week. Poor Hubband can't even find out who died this week, and he looks forward to making sure it's not him.

We gave our mail carrier a little giftie, but we've had the same mail carrier for quite a while now. He's a cutie pie with a nicely greying pony tail. I notice these things. Plus, Hubband's late mother was a postal worker (before it became fashionable for them to go crazy and start shooting up the place) so I think he's more postally inclined than most people.

But we should have done better by our hairdresser. The poor woman cuts all of our hair, including the hyperactive, tickleish Little Boy. But we tip her well and give her lots of business and recommendations so it's okay.

Really, I'm not a bad tipper. I'm not. I swear!

Oh, the guilt...

Today was our last day at work before the holiday. We had a pot-luck. I brought my cocktail weinies, which, aside from being impossible to mention without causing someone to laugh, were pretty popular with the crowd in Suite 219. Since these are incredibly easy to make, I'm always surprised by the reaction, but I take the kudo's where I can get them. I got the recipe from the Hillshire Farm's website, in case you're so inclined.

Boss-man had the inspired notion to turn his "some type of pasta thing" into Macaroni and Cheese. A couple scoops of that topped with a scoop of weinies and I'm in comfort food heaven! Add yummy things like Taco Salad and brownies and Chex Mix and I'm just about as happy as they come.

One of the sweeties on the Help Desk (which is heavy on the adorable 20-year-old boy side) forgot to bring his dish to pass and spent a goodly amount of time feeding quarters into the pop machine for everyone. So cute!

Santa (my co-worker friend) got Joy "Buffy The Vampire Slayer - The Game" and the 3 of us blew off about an hour trying to play it. They are not kidding when they say for Ages 12 - Adult. They might want to include a Ph.D. or two under that. It took us half an hour just to set the damned thing up. Co-worker friend had called "Willow" before I got there, so I couldn't be her and Joy wanted to be "Oz", so I got to be the "Forces of Evil"!!!!

That's right! I got to be Spike, and Drusella, and Darla (who got dusted by Willow in the second play of the game.)

It was totally hilarious and the instructions are like about 12 pages of very complex play. We instructed Joy to take it home and bring us back the Cliff Notes after the New Year.

Then we all kind of packed it up and went home.

I'm still feeling kind of weird and I still am not sure why. The food put me into some sort of semi-comotose state so by the time I got home all I wanted to do was sleep.

I'm a little bummed at the uncomfortableness that has sprung up again between my friend and I. I'm very worried about her. She doesn't handle personal stress well and she is under a lot of it. At the same time, I'm not as inclined to take it out on me as I probably should be. I think the time off will do both of us some good. Then, hopefully, the whole job thing will be resolved and I'll be more involved and her family will be gone because I know they drive her nuts when they're here.

Blissfully, I have nothing specific to do for the next two days.

Perhaps this lack of direction has something to do with my mood. Or the impending doom of PMS. Or the fact that I'm all caught up on "Buffy" reruns and can no longer make a good case for sitting in front of the tube all night.

No, I'm glad. It's a clean slate. A new year. Days and Days of nothing to do but write in my diary and read and watch "Trading Spaces" and go to the gym.

Sounds loverly to me!