10 Christmas songs that make me want to throw myself over the freeway overpass....

If, at some point during this Holiday Season, you see my guts splattered all over the Loop 101 Freeway, this is why:

1. O Holy Night by Josh Groban - I don't know what it is about Josh. I am just not a fan. And the "holiday station" we have here in Phoenix plays this song at least once every 5 minutes. O Holy Something Else. Enough already.

2. Feliz Navidad by Celine Dion - I am sorry but there is something wrong with an over dramatic French Canadian belting out a song in Spanish. Frankly, it pisses me off.

3. Merry Christmas Darling by The Carpenters - I have hated this song since I was child. Why does she sing so slowly and over anunciate every word? Is it the lack of nutrition? The lack of energy? Whatever it is, I will starve myself right here and now if I never have to hear that song again. (I know. I'm totally going to hell for making anorexia jokes. Not funny.)

4. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus by Jessica Simpson - Obviously this was recorded when she still thought she was so cute. I can't stand how she doesn't pronounce the "r" sound in beard. Makes me want to sceam.

5. Sleigh Ride by Debbie Gibson - "It's Deborah Gibson, by the way." Thank you Ubes. I don't care if it's Debbie, Deborah, Deb or Dumb Dumb. She killed this song for me.

6. Happy Xmas by John Lennon & the Plastic Ono Band - You know that part in the chorus where you can hear Yoko whining singing "A very Merry Christmuuusssss, and a Happy New Yearrrrrrrr...." Well, I just figured out a few years ago that was her. That's how dumb I am. All this time I thought he had gotten like a bus load of special needs kids and invited them into the studio. Seriously, how did he think she was a good singer?

7. Caroling, Caroling by Natalie Cole - This song gets stuck in you head like a tumor. Ding Dong, Ding Dong! Somebody pass the Tylenol.

8. Favorite Time of Year by Kenny Rogers - It's everyone's favorite time Kenny. Get over yourself. Go back to your card game and leave Christmas to those who know it best - Bing Crosby, Andy Williams and the lovely boys of Wham. Thank you for your cooperation.

9. Christmas Time is Here by The Peanuts Gang - Is it just me or is this the most depressing song ever? All sad and melancholy. Whenever I hear it I want to start popping prozac. And then go skating on the thinnest ice covering a lake in the middle of no where. All alone. 

10. Joy to the World by Mariah Carey - It's just too much. Too over the top. Too loud. Too much screeching. Too much choir. Too Las Vegas or something. I find no joy. None.

And just relax, tomorrow I will be doing my list of songs that make me want to dance around in a Santa suit mini dress and go go boots. (Dude, if you're going to shake your ass in a Santa suit mini dress you have to have the boots. And fishnets. Duh.)(Does Spanx make a fishnet? Anyone?)(Oh you know I am so looking that up right now on The Google.)

Baking with Nana

Boo came home with a project for us to work on today. She was asked to make a poster detailing her favorite Holiday Tradition and she chose baking cookies with my mom.

We went through my scrapbooking supplies and found die cuts of Christmas trees and snowmen and snowflakes. We found fun holiday stickers, and even stickers with cookies and mixing bowls and spatulas and stuff.

"Okay Boo," I told her, "Now all we need is the cookie recipe."

"I don't know the recipe," she said. "But I do know we need lots of wine."

Awesome.

This is what happens when you jumble up the words Counterfeit and Duplicate.

So I was at work yesterday and apparently I was a little preoccupied with the fact that my husband may or may not have been kidnapped, I mean a situation like that does kind of impair your ability to focus, am I right? But this client came in and was asking me about possibly purchasing travelers checques.

Now first off I am not a fan of travelers checques. Mainly for the reason that they are a ginormous pain in the ass to give or receive. So I ask him where he is traveling to and he says Hawaii.

Hawaii. Really? You need travelers checques to go to Hawaii?

Whatever.

Anyway, I am really good at not selling them. Because they are such a ginormous pain in the ass and all. My secret is to list all the cons and make it sound like you would rather get travelers diarrhea than carry around these tiny booklets of paper. I start by telling him there is a 3% fee to purchase them. And then I tell him how many merchants no longer accept them and they are really an outdated form of payment blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda. The easiest way to pay for things while travelling is to use your Visa debit card as a credit transaction. No fees, plus you'll earn points towards your rewards. See? A win win. Now dude, please get out of here so I can go back to trying to track down my missing spouse. Sheesh.

Now this is where the distracted part comes in..

Ahem.

He asks me why don't many merchants accept them anymore.

So I, being the articulate sales person that I am, explain . . .

"Merchants don't accept them because they are so easy to fornicate."

Uh-huh. FORNICATE. I really said that. Out loud. To a CLIENT. Yeah. Awesome.

So of course, right away I clear my throat, giggle a little and say:

"I'm sorry. Coun-ter-feit. They are very easy to counterfeit. So . . . um . . . yeah. That's why." Next my face turned about 8 shades of hot pink and then I died.

Luckily the guy was foreign, so I think the language barrier was already an issue. He just nodded and agreed it would be easier to use his debit card.

And yes, much easier than fornicating with all those merchants. Good Lord. This is my real life, people. Welcome. Please, make yourselves at home.

The Uberman Conspiracy

So for about an hour and twenty minutes today I was 98% sure Uberman had been kidnapped. Or his phone had been stolen. Which is just as bad and would piss me off royally because it's brand new, like one week old, and he just had to have some fancy phone that costs seventy bajillion dollars and then wouldn't let me get one too. Rude. But I was definitely leaning more towards the kidnapped idea only because he also did not respond to an email I sent him asking if he had been kidnapped. Again - RUDE!

At about 1:00 this afternoon I received a very cryptic text from him. It was just a phone number. A phone number not belonging to either of us or anyone we know. Weird, right? So I texted him back.

What is this? Whose number is this? Why are you texting me a phone number?

And I waited. No response. I sent another text a few minutes later.

"What's up with this number?"

Nothing.

Okay. Hmmmmm.... Why would he text me a random phone number? Maybe he was trying to text it to someone else and he sent it to me by mistake? Maybe he wants me to call him at this number? Maybe it's a clue?? Oh My GOD. Maybe he has been kidnapped and this is the number of his attacker or the place where they are hiding him!

I sent him another text.

Babe. Are you okay? Where are you? Have you been kidnapped? Taken against your will??

Nothing. No response. Which only added to my certainty that he had indeed been kidnapped and of course was unable to respond because he was all blind folded and tied up and the kidnappers had taken his bajillion dollar phone and were using it to play Bejeweled. Which duh, I totally would too. But still.

Or maybe his phone was just dead? So I called it. It rang 4 times and went to voice mail. Which proved it was not dead because when the phone is dead it doesn't ring, the call just goes to voice mail. Ha ha HA!! I totally should have been a detective.

I called the number he texted me. And while it rang I tried to think of what I would say if someone answered.

"Hi, um . . . I am not sure . . . but I think you have kidnapped my husband and he is stashed in your trunk . . . and um . . . we have no money for ransom but I suppose I could give you his new phone and a gently used Coach purse, but only the ugly one I never use anymore, and I think there may be a half eaten bag of M&M's in there and you can totally have those too, just . . . um . . . please give me my husband back?? Kaythanksbye."

Or... If someone answered I could just hang up?

But instead, I got one of those automated messages from the wireless carrier telling me they were out of service range.

Oh just great. They are taking him to the mountains or something. This is so not good. Because first of all he is not a camper. I mean at all. And secondly, he is allergic to trees and stuff. And third, he really hates it when he can't watch ESPN. And I highly doubt this compound in the forrest has cable. He's gonna be so pissed.

But.... What if he hasn't been kidnapped and his phone is just in the car?? Which has totally happened in the past and once again, is just plain rude. He should at least be able to respond to an email. So I sent this email:

You sent me a strange text and now you are not responding to me and you know how I am. So now I am thinking you are kidnapped and that is the phone number of your attacker. So I called it and it said the Cricket customer you are trying to reach is unavailable. So what the heck? Are you okay? Are you kid-nap-id? Because oh my god babe I just can't handle this so close to the holidays and you haven't helped me put up the tree yet and I can't lift it by myself. Plus you promised you were going to get the ladder from the garage when you saw me climbing over the bannister to get on the plant shelf thingy but you still haven't brought it in and now how am I going to plug in the lights and garland on the bannister without the ladder after you forbade me from climbing on the plant shelf thingy ever again?? I mean, dude, seriously. So, if you could schedule your kidnappings for a more convenient time that would be great. Thanks.

Okay, if he doesn't respond in a few minutes it definitely means he has been kidnapped. So I waited. And waited. And usually when I send him a bunch of texts and a crazy email he gets back to me right away because he knows my imagination runs wild and I will just keep texting/calling/emailing until the cows come home.

But no. Nothing. It's been like an hour since the last text he sent me. He could be half way to Flagstaff by now. And Flagstaff sucks.

I texted him again:

Babe. Seriously. This is not funny. Where are you?

Nothing.

Ube R. Man!! You better text me back like PRONTO or I am gonna sound so stupid calling the police for a maybe missing person. And you know how I hate to look bad.

Five minutes or so go by. And then, my phone vibrates on the counter. Finally, a text from him!

I'm ok.

Ummmmm . . .  really?? That's it?? After all that, this is the text I get back?? WTF?

And then I thought, maybe it's his attacker! He took a break from playing Bejeweled and is trying to pass off a text like it's from Ubes, sort of throw me off the trail. Well I am not falling for that. I am on to you, kidnapper!

I text him back.

Really? You are okay? What's the password? 

Two seconds later:

(Secret Password)(Of course I can't reveal the secret password because, duh, then everyone will know it and next time he gets kidnapped for real, the kidnappers can trick me! Always thinking ahead my friends, always thinking ahead.)

Me:

You scared the crap out of me. What was with the phone number?

Ubes:

You are funny Babe. I saw a really nice El Camino for sale. I wanted to make sure I had the phone number so I can call on it later.

Uuuuuuummmmmmmm?????? WHAT?????

Now let's sit here and count how many things are wrong with this situation.

1. EL CAMINO??? Like, for real?? FOR REAL??? 
2. I was planning to pay his ransom with his new phone, an ugly used Coach purse and a half eaten bag of M&M's. EL CAMINO??? Are you kidding me??
3. Stop wasting my text message inbox with your junk! I am not a secretary!
4. You have two unfinished project cars in the garage.
5. El Camino?????????????

So let me tell you all a little something. The moral of the story here is this -  If he comes home with an El Camino, he is going to wish he had been kidnapped. The end.

The Queen goes to the doctor...

Doc: So what brings you in today?
Me (whispering): I have a rash.
Doc: Why are you whispering?
Me: Because rashes freak people out.
Doc: But we are the only two people in the room.
Me: I know, but still.
Doc: So when did it start?
Me: A few weeks ago. But then I showed it to my mom and MIL on Thanksgiving and they totally freaked me out and then I looked up rashes on Web MD and now I am convinced it's something really bad and I'm gonna die.
Doc (shaking head and sighing): April, stop looking at Web MD. I know I have talked to you about this before.
Me: Oh come on! You have a million patients! How do you know we have talked about this before? You could have told anyone that!
Doc: Because I specifically remember the last time you were here two years ago you thought you had throat cancer because of Web MD and it was just strep.
Me: So. That's a common mistake, right?
Doc: And then I told you it was strep and you inisisted it was Bird Flu.
Me: Whatever. You are confusing me with someone else.
Doc: Stop looking at Web MD. Okay?
Me: Do you want to see my rash or what?
Doc: Let's see it.
Me (lifting my sleeve): See, it started under my arm, but now it's on my legs and belly.
Doc (bending closer): Hmmmmm...
Me (raising voice): What does that mean?? Hmmmmm? Oh my God. Is it cancer? It's cancer, isn't it?? Web MD said it might be. Am I going to need chemo? Will I lose my hair? Because my friend Sarah is going to invite me to a hair party and I think I want to grow it out because I am so sick of this style and I really want it a little longer, not shorter. Not non existent. And wigs are just so yuck. But I do look pretty awesome in a hat. But still, I like having hair. Oh my God, this is awful. What? Why are you looking at me like that?
Doc: I think you are overreacting.
Me: That's because you don't know my friend Sarah and you haven't seen her hair. It's fabulous. Like, amazingly fabulous. If you saw it you would totally understand why I need to go to this hair party. Are you on Facebook? I could send you a picture.
Doc: I think you're going to live. It's just a rash.
Me: Really? Just a rash?? So how did I get it?
Doc: Hard to say. Have you recently changed detergents?
Me: No.
Doc: Bath soap?
Me: Nope.
Doc: Fabric Softener?
Me: No. I don't like change. I tend to be pretty brand loyal.
Doc: Well, it could be from an animal. A pet.
Me: I don't have any pets.
Doc: Sometimes you can get rashes from the gym. Sharing towels and stuff. Dirty gym equipment.
Me: Do I look like I go to the gym?
Doc: Well then there's no way to tell where you got it. I'm going to give you a topical steroid for the inflamation. And a pretty strong antihistamine for the itching. It will help you sleep at night without all the scratching.
Me: Wow. How did you know I was scratching at night? You're like a soothsayer or something.
Doc: Um no, I can see marks from your fingernails.
Me: Oh. Am I contagious? You know Uberman is going to freak out. He's kind of a germaphobe.
Doc: Don't you think that's the pot calling the kettle black?
Me: Whatever dude. Whose side are you on?
Doc: (shakes head)
Me: Can we tell him I'm allergic to my birth control and the only cure is for him to get a vasectomy?
Doc: Um, you are on your own there honey.
Me: Seriously? You aren't going to help me out here?
Doc: I'm going to give you medication to help clear up your rash. This antihistamine is no joke. Take it only at night and don't drive or operate heavy machinery after you take it.
Me: Heavy machinery? Seriously? Does a Kitchen Aid mixer count? Because I am having a party on Saturday and I need to bake.
Doc (rolling eyes): Bye April. I'll see you in two weeks if it doesn't clear up. (Turns to leave the room)
Me: If? What do you mean if? Why wouldn't it clear up? Oh my God. Could it be more than a rash? Are you not telling me something? Hello??
Doc: Bye April.
Nurse: Here are your prescriptions. The doctor would like to know if you need one for anti-anxiety as well?
Me: No. Why would he say that?
Nurse (smiling): What about Uberman? Do you think he needs something?
Me: You people think you are so funny. All high and mighty in your scrubs and lab coats. Whatever. Do you hear me? Whatever!
Nurse: Happy Holidays April! Hope your rash clears up.
Me: Oh now you're just being mean.

Confession Vol. IX - The End of BloMoFo Edition

Well I did it. Thirty posts in thirty days. I'm such a bad ass.

And honestly, I loved it this year. Even though I was tired and some posts totally sucked and some got in just under the wire, I loved it. I loved talking to you guys every day. And I feel like this totally got me back into the swing of things as far as writing and being creative. And I need that. My soul needs that.

And I can't promise to continue posting every day because oh my holy heck you should see the pile of laundry and dust bunnies that are piling up around this joint. It's disgusting. CPS is going to send in a SWAT team to take my kids.

But I do want to post more. And I feel like the pressure is off to post something awesome each time. I said in the beginning, this blog is for me. It's a place for me to vent and celebrate and complain and praise and just get all the crap out of my head. I think I have done a pretty good job of staying true to me this month. If you don't want to read it, you don't have to.

But I appreciate all of you who do. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart!

And now, for your reading enjoyment, Confessional Monday!

(thunderous applause!)

Sometimes I still don't know the difference between "upload" and "download."

Furthermore, I never know if it's a forward slash or a back slash. I think it's a matter of perspective. I mean really, who is the person that decided leaning to the left is forward slash? Or is that one back slash? I really don't know. I think it's confusing and I can't be alone in this.

Last week I wrote a guest post for Uberman's secret blog. And it ROCKED. It was a work of art and I am super bummed I can't link it here.

If I could, I would eat cake for breakfast everyday. The only reason I don't is because it is socially unacceptable and I care too much about what other people think. My cake for breakfast aversion has absolutely nothing to do with the inappropriate amount of fat and calories I would consume each day resulting in my ass being the size of Tex-ass. My fear of being scrutinized by others is greater than my fear of being fat(ter).

In 5 days, Ubes and I are hosting our annual Christmas Hunko Drunko Bunco and there is no indication we are getting ready for a party whatsoever. And yet I am not worried. I have my head up my bumhole as usual.

I have decided to go back to school next semester. I am going to be a pretty kick ass English teacher in a few years.

Goodnight Dear Readers! Thank you for making my day!

Snow

I miss the snow.

When I moved to Arizona so many years ago I never thought in a million years I would ever say those words. But every year at Christmas time, I feel like something is missing.

I don't miss the cold. I don't miss the gray skies. I don't miss the scary driving conditions. I don't miss the patches of ice or shoveling the sidewalk or putting 900 pounds of clothes on to go outside.

I miss that first snowfall. How you wake up one morning and your entire world is covered in that soft white, sparkling blanket. I miss the quiet that comes with crystal snow flakes falling to the ground. I miss walking across that untouched whiteness and the crunching sound beneath my feat. I miss how it makes you anxious for Christmas.

I think it's sad that my kids don't know what they are missing. Even Uberman has never had a white Christmas. I mean, yes we can wear shorts and t-shirts while we are decorating our tree and stringing lights on our cactus. We don't have to put chains on our tires or sprinkle salt on the sidewalks. We don't have to sit in the driveway for 20 minutes while the car warms up or scrape ice off the windshield.

But still... This time of year is not the same.

I miss the snow.