Purple Christmas

My husband surprised me with an early Christmas gift. A trip to...
...a place that has this:


and this...


and views like this:



But that's not all! On Saturday night, we got to see the only person who would perform on a stage that looked like this:



He's awesome! (Oh, and so was Prince.)

It could have been worse.

My husband and I carpool together. Well, one evening traffic was atrocious, so we took an alternate route. The issue is getting our daughter before the daycare closes. Once it closes it's a dollar a minute (CHA-CHING)! We took a back route that involved a ferry. It's a wee ferry, and old-timey and quaint when you're not racing the clock. I rustled up some cash. We zipped through town to the ferry dock and then...there was a line. A long line. A line that involved an hour of waiting for our turn on the ferry. At that point we had to wait it out.
So we waited.


And waited:


And then we were on:


We were so late. I even had a breakdown in the ferry line which required a counseling session from my husband. It was frustration for being helpless in that situation. In the end, we were 90 minutes late. That's $90, folks. CHA-CHING! And ouch. And sigh.

When I read this today, I knew the meaning of "And just when you think it couldn't get worse..."

Fa la la la la!

Some people like doing gift exchanges. I can see how it would be fun. You can search for something for someone, wrap it up and send it off. Then, not only does that person receive your well thought out surprise, but you received your own little box full of treasures.

I don't do this. It is nothing against anyone, it's just that me, getting a gift together, packaging it, and sending it is too much. I didn't even get it together for my best friend. Her birthday gift was sent a month late. I know it's terrible, and it seems to get worse each year. This is why I opt out of gift exchanges. It really is me and not you.

There was a secret santa thing at one of my old jobs. I gave truffles and cookies from Trader Joe's and in the confusion, the gifts got split up. They were not very popular anyway, but this was not the worst gift. I received some kind of glass oil lamp/pipe-bong looking thing, and lots of laughter when I opened it in front of the entire division. It "accidentally" got left behind in the ladies room.

On one of the message boards I visit, they used to do these every year. One year I didn't get a gift. One year I was unemployed and really should have skipped it because I was scrambling. One year someone started a "What do you want," and it turned into someone's rant on what they didn't want. She went by a name of a pretty big basketball player. One that did a forgotten genie movie? One that hates Kobe Bryant? Anyway, after one person got the idea to maybe do videos (do you see how these things start small and turn into a project?) this person went on and on about how she didn't want to see a video of you, your kids or your pets because she wasn't interested and had no need for that and so on. How jolly.

Then, a few years ago, someone mentioned the holiday exchange. And I was one of the first to suggest skipping it, and from there it seemed like everyone was relieved to not go through it. From then on, we lived grinchily ever after.

She-Ra love

Once in awhile I’ll find a gem on Netflix. This past Sunday it was “She-Ra” princess of power. Do you know about this? Just telling the backstory took five episodes. Five! That’s a lot of “To Be Continued…”’s going on. Don’t you hate that? You watch the clock, see that time’s running out and there is no possible way “the rest of the story” (said in my Paul Harvey voice) can be told. Then those dreaded words fill the screen (always with the ellipsis following). You think, Aw man, I have to wait. At least these shows ran daily and you could knock out the story in a week.

I watched this with my daughter. I got to explain that she was a princess and a superhero. She asked why Hordak snorted when he talked. She got a good laugh out of watching him.

My husband will say these shows were lame. He’s more of a Transformers and Thundercats kind of dude. I accept that the animation wasn’t the best, but here is what I liked about the Masters of the Universe. First, I know it was a marketing ploy to sell dolls action figures. But the they didn’t shy away from female characters (evil and good). If you were a girl, you didn’t have to look to the token girl character who added NOTHING (Cheetara, I’m looking at YOU). Men and women played equal roles (which is marketing brilliance, since you get twice as many viewers and twice as many suckers parents buying the toys). Sometimes there was flirting and jealousy (and oval shaped, sparkly magic portals to other planets!). It wasn’t all about boys.

Quoth the metro train operator:

The guy operating tonight's train home occasionally said the following before shutting the doors and pulling away from the station:

"Step lively, doors closing."

STEP LIVELY! Almost makes you think he would purposely open and shut the train doors to make people on the platform do a desperate dance to get to the train in time. I know they have a schedule to keep, but how effective is hazing people who are paying a lotta money to ride the train? Then the perverse side of me wondered how Jame Gumb might say it.

It walks faster or else it gets the doors again?

I know, I have problems.

In other news, I don't usually take the train anymore. I have been riding shotgun with El Hubbo to work. He drops me off at work and picks me up on the way home. I know--spoiled. But days when he's not driving, I take the train. There's another car like mine in the parking garage, and we sometimes park together.

Exhibit A (one day):


Exhibit B (the next day):


We happen to arrive pretty close to each other in the morning, and so, we park together. This morning I actually felt bad when I took the spot between two already parked cars and he drove up and had to park in the open space on other side of one of the cars. Can you believe that? I felt guilty! I'm giving myself a complex over absolutely nothing. IT MAKES NO SENSE ATALL!

The driver of the darker blue one is a slim little old man who wears a cabby cap. We have seen each other a few times and once I asked how his car was holding up that winter. He responded, but with a "Why the hell are you talking to me, lady?" look on his face. Do you know that look? I hate that look. Anyway, aside from that failed exchange, we don't talk. We park next to each other, but don't talk, or acknowledge that we park beside each other. It's like Fight Club or something.

And then, sometimes, if the stars cars align just so...you get a jackpot.

Wish list

For once my daughter had specific things on her Christmas wish list (instead of her usual request for "presents"). Well, ha, so do I! The wishin' and hopin' doesn't end once you become an adult.

Without further ado, I present my wish list:
1) The Badonkadonk tank. Is it street legal? Does it matter?
2)Off road Segway (for when the path gets too narrow for the "Donk.")
3)Uranium ore
4) In the "because I never had one" category: Lite brite

So that's it--4 things. I think that's reasonable.

Flush your mouth

I'm realizing the title of this blog might be a turn off to people who don't know what it means. You see the word "poop" and your mind goes in the gutter (or the toilet). It was never supposed to be crude, but maybe it's time for a change.

I don't even know if I ever properly explained the title. The Sunday Night Poop was something plebes (at one time this was me) memorize at West Point. It is recited on Sunday nights, when you're in formation, about to face another fun packed week. I hate Sundays and have for as long as I can remember. It's not that work is so awful, it's that your time to yourself to do what you want is ending until Friday night.

Shouted out it goes like this:

Six bells and all is well.
Another week shot to hell.
Another week in my little gray cell.
Another week in which to excel.
Oh, hell.

See? I told you it wasn't crude.

I even changed the title for a moment, but it didn't look right.