It's a Wonderful Lifetime Movie

This is me.

I cannot believe it is only seven days until Christmas. This season is flying by, but after getting my holly-jolly shit together last week, I am finally exhaling and reflecting on how epic it has been. All of my packages are en-route to North Carolina, Santa delivered a new suitcase early so that I have something large enough to hold all of my eclectic Christmas-themed onesies, and I can now sit back, relax and enjoy the Lifetime movie unfolding around me (the happy Christmas ones with the cheesy endings - not the creepy ones with murderers and baby stealing - just to clarify).

Despite the minor holiday-panic-attacks vented here, the past few weeks have been a flurry of magical happenings. From concerts and tree lightings, to getting wrapped up in decorations that rival the North Pole at the stunning Opryland Resort, to an awesome holiday party hosted by a lovely lady I affectionately call Pinterest-In-A-Person, there has been much to see and do. Sprinkle in Christmas movies with my sweet babies at either Vanderbilt Children's Hospital or the Burton's living room, and what you end up with is a pretty perfect holiday season.

Betch - Stop stealing babies. Eat a cookie.

I am so looking forward to going home and being with my family - singing with my sissy and being out-sung by the vocal styling of our amazingly-talented "brother" Ike (Dear Ike - stop being so awesome. People are going to discover that Lynnie and I are not actually as talented as we have brainwashed them to think with our magical spoon microphones - thanks in advance), baking cookies for Santa (yep, that still happens at 25 and 27), watching Miracle on 34th Street and naturally cheesing and boozing it up with my favorite people on the planet.

And if this Christmas season isn't feeling so magical for you - perhaps it feels a little more like some bat-shit crazy betch who can't act for her life stole your baby- then come find me and we can hug and I can frost you an artistically challenged Christmas cookie that may end up looking like a bird took aim and dropped a poop right on the top. Hopefully this will remind you that even in our most happy seasons, we all have issues and challenges that are tough to overcome, which is why I am glad we have each other. 

An Apology Letter to Jesus

Dear Jesus,

I'm really sorry for being a betch and saying I resented your birth yesterday. That wasn't very nice and I didn't mean it. The truth is, I was just having a bad day and overwhelmed by all the things piling up on my list - all the presents to buy, Christmas specials on my DVR to watch, and let's not forget, all the wine I intend to drink in your honor. I just started to feel time slipping away. Regardless, it was rude.

So I am going to spend some of that time today giving you some mad props. You're always there, but you really showed up in the past 24 hours following my self-absorbed rant about first-world problems. I am going to detail how in a little list I'd like to call:

What Would Jesus Do? Ignore My Crappy Attitude About Ass Fat & Be More Awesome.

1.  You knew exactly what I needed to hear and you spoke it to me through the latest Kid President episode. My coworkers got all of their "Thank You" bear hugs today in lieu of a card. My boss might have been a little weirded out, but hey - 'tis the season. 

Hands down, the most amazeballs show ever.

2. You absolutely blew me away last night during Andrew Peterson's Behold The Lamb of God concert at the Ryman - my favorite Nashville Christmas tradition. Some of the best musicians, singers and songwriters joined together in the most iconic venue in Music City to tell your story, and I am moved and reminded every time I am in that space that you are marvelous and you are what this season is all about. (Click on the link and listen to Labor of Love - then get ready to weep).

3. My chin is no longer peeling - which is just another reminder that all things in life heal with time (and in my case, an inordinate amount of moisturizer).

4. When my car didn't start this morning in the 25 degree cold and I had a panic attack trying to figure out how to open up the hood, you kept my heart beating. Then you blessed me with a calm and patient dad, and the magnificent services of the one and only Triple A. [But listen, I was thinking, maybe you could plant a little seed in the minds of college professors everywhere that they should spend a little more time on life essentials like hood popping. Just a suggestion].

5. I just found out today that Aladdin the Broadway musical debuts in February. Talk about an answered prayer.

So the moral of the story is, I really am especially glad you were born. If I was there in that manger all of those years ago, I would have been guzzling wine, grabbing that drum out of the little drummer boy's hands and going to celebration TOWN with some Beyonce moves that would make even the Three Wise Men get their jiggy on. I just wanted to make sure that was clear.

Thanks for your time - I know you're super busy being awesome.
I will remember not to forget that ever again. 

Have a Holly Jolly - HOLY CRAP I HAVE TIME FOR NOTHING

Dear Creativity:

My well has run dry of charm and comedy.  I have nothing left to give you people. I try every day to dig deep into my twisted brain to come up with something refreshing for you all to read and smile about. But today, I woke up in dry heat with a peeling chin since the skin there has rebelled against my face and between work and holiday prep, I am just exhausted.

I am self-aware enough to know you guys don't pop on here to read about the epic debate I had over which oatmeal brand to buy at the grocery store yesterday. And so that leaves me with only a few things to say with the five minute break I am allowing myself to write.

• Question. Was I watching the Victoria Secret Fashion Show or the National Geographic Channel last night? Those woman are freaks of nature. Not even Taylor Swift's violent hip thrusts and new "mature" bangs could get her noticed among those (boobs) beauties.
• Christmas shopping stress has made me resent the birth of Jesus and the need to celebrate it with high-tech gadgets and gifts. If anyone knows what dads want this Christmas, hit me up.
• Dear Dads - start liking normal shit I can quickly identify and buy on amazon.com.
• Thank you cards are so thoughtful and sweet but my handwriting is chicken shit (I meant...scratch... shit/scratch, whatever, I don't have time to be accurate), I don't have your addresses, stamps are out of my budget this year, and the truth is, you probably are getting enough lovely Christmas cards of picture perfect families to give a crap about my illegible gratitude, so I'm skipping it. 
• With that being said, THANK YOU to all of my wonderful amazing family and friends who made my birthday so fantastic. I am truly so blessed. My ass fat also thanks you for the cupcakes, brownies, muffins, chocolate chip cookies, cake, and chocolates you provided. It is thriving and it is all thanks to your generosity. 
• Everyone is getting wine for Christmas. It is Jesus approved. It doesn't go bad so while toddlers might have to wait a bit, their time will come. And the concept of having a glass after getting home and moisturizing my chin is getting me through the day, so I assume it will bring you all the same joy.

Oh happy, happy, holidays!

The Monday Merry-Go-Round

This is me.

Mondays are not my friend. In fact, they make me feel like I am being forced to run on a treadmill (speed 9, incline 15) in the waiting room of the DMV with a dead cell phone, no coffee, while pmsing. Yes, you guessed it friends. Monday's make me feel like Kacey Musgraves at the CMA Awards.

This Monday is particularly painful as I am still in a food coma from my leisurely long weekend and December 9th regrettably marks the end of my birthday week. My days of glory are through, and now its time for Jesus to take the wheel until Christmas. Then it's JANUARY and my hatred for that month trumps even my disdain for the DMV.

Because misery loves company I will now give you the play-by-play of this Monday in a little list I'd like to call: Now I Know How Kacey Feels.

5:05am - Alarm goes off for sunrise hot yoga.

5:05.10am - Lots of expletives starting with the letter F run through my head as I try to think of every possible reason why sunrise hot yoga is a bad idea.

Son of a betch.

5:05.15am - Then I remember the buffet of cupcakes I consumed this past week.

5:05.30 - 5:35am - Self loathing. Snooze. Alarm. Self loathing. Snooze. Alarm. (This pattern continues in eight minute increments).

6:00am - I finally make it to sunrise hot yoga in the complete dark because ain't no sunshine when it's raining.

6:30am - Craving a cupcake mid-down-dog.

6:45am - Starting to get hostile at the instructor for thinking bicycle crunches are a good idea.

7:00am - Namaste. I earned a cupcake, right?

7:15am - I decide not to give a crap about my appearance (aka, shave my legs or wear heels) because that sounds too exhausting and it's winter.

8:00am - Arrive at work and turn on the computer. Sigh. Is it nap time yet?

8:10am -  Lots of expletives starting with the letter F run through my head as I see my mailbox load new emails.

8:15am - Decide to put those emails on hold and get coffee - my divine savior.

9:15am - Already had three cups, two calls and one meeting. Is it lunch time yet?

10:00am - Planning what I am going to eat for lunch.

10:15am - Wondering how it is only 10:15am.

11:00am - Decide getting up to use the restroom is overrated. My limit of physical exertion for the day was tapped out with the crunches.

11:15am - Emails, emails, emails. Can no longer hold my pee.

11:30am - Decide I have earned a break and write this post. 

The sound of my thoughts.

12:00pm - LUNCH time. The entire Gay Men's Chorus sings out in my head - HALLELUJAH! - in 17-part harmony.

Now, I am no fortune teller, but here is how I foresee my afternoon panning out based on past experience: 

1:00pm - Back from lunch. What should I have for my afternoon snack?

1:30pm - Is it time for my afternoon snack yet?

2:00pm - Emails. Calls. Clients. Bosses. Coffee. Gchat. (This pattern continues in eight minute increments).

3:00pm - Time for my afternoon snack! NOM NOM NOM.

4:00pm - How is it not 5pm yet? I am done for the day, can I please go home now?

4:45pm - ALMOST TO FREEDOM. 

4:55pm - A flood of emails, emails, emails. Calls. Clients. Bosses (This pattern continues in eight minute increments).

5:55pm - If I don't leave now I am going to miss E! News.

5:56pm - As I walk out the back doors of my office I shout into the pitch black night
"Suck it, Monday. If I could taser you, I would!!"

Hope you have a fantastic Monday everybody! (said in a sarcastic tone since let's get real, I actually hope you are all suffering with me).

Functioning is for Overachievers

It is the day after the day I was born, so naturally, I took the day off. My plan was to be extremely productive - workout, get my oil changed, put a dent in my holiday shopping list, visit some friends I haven't seen in a while. And then it decided to pour down freezing rain. So instead I got a two hour massage and planted my booty on the couch. I am now unable to physically move my body. So in an effort to make myself feel a little more like a contributing member of society, we're going to visit a little list I'd like to call:

Things I Should Be Doing Instead of Making Procrastination My Betch.

She made hills come alive, dammit. I'm a lazy piece of crap.

1. Writing a thoughtful and witty blog post reviewing the live telecast of The Sound of Music starring Carrie Underwood. But honestly, twitter took care of that for me last night. Let the record briefly state, haters are gonna hate #JulieTakeTheWheel and #Un-un-un-un-un-un-undoit, but I thought it was very well done with a lot of exceptional shining moments - including when my entire living room of girls in their pajamas became the von Trapp family at the commercial break.

As Seen In A Box, Unopened in my Kitchen

2. Drinking a ton of water to rehydrate since my massage therapist was more like a paleontologist of pain digging out every knot in my body. But ain't nobody got time to pee every five minutes.

3. Changing banks instead of waiting on hold to the sounds of Sonic the Hedgehog video game music for 30 minutes simply to request a new card. Dear Wells Fargo - get your instrumental-hold-music shit together.

4. Setting up the new swivel sweeper I got for my birthday so that I have a more fun and enticing way to clean my apartment. Yes - being an adult means asking for infomercial cleaning products as your big ticket item.

5. Writing thank you cards to all of my amazing friends and family who made my birthday so special and will continue to do so tonight as I request their presence at my pizza party birthday dinner. Yes - being an adult means having pajama and pizza parties. I'll save the sophisticated soirees for my thirties.

Wow. That took a lot out of me. I think I deserve a nap now.
Happy Friday, friends!

What had happened was, I WAS BORN.

I have the same look on my face right now.

Happy Thursday everyone! Peace be with you! Joy to all the world! Oh happy, happy day!

Why all the elation? Well, guess what?! I know this has been a huge, big secret because I am naturally cool, calm and discrete about all self-centric moments in life (I'm just really shy and quiet like that) but today is MY BIRTHDAY. Yes, friends! Today I am officially in my mid-twenties. And you know what? - It feels amazeballs.

I will now elaborate in a little list I'd like to call:
Reasons Why Being Born Is Even More Awesome Than Cheese

1. This is the only day when spam email from retailers and restaurants actually contains something personal and exciting - like discounts and FREE BROWNIES.

Get in my belly.

2. Your Facebook page morphs into a ode to how awesome you are. (You also become distinctly aware of how many "friends" you have, even if you haven't heard from them since this day last year).

3. You get to feel for one day what it must feel like to be Celine Dion (enter your favorite celebrity) every day.

Not much has changed.

4. You have a perfectly acceptable reason to over-indulge in the following without judgement: sweets, cheese, wine, karaoke, selifes, procrastination of all things work-related, tap dances, cake, fashion, massages, sprinkles, glitter, confetti, jazz hands... basically, all things you would find at a gay bar.

5. You can subject your friends to things they may not have chosen to do if it wasn't your birthday. Such as: requesting their presence in pajamas as they witness you inhale a bottomless glass of wine and lose your shit throughout the live telecast of Carrie Underwood starring in the musical production of The Sound of Music (it is like NBC knew this was the day of my birth). 

[Let's get real here. This was a list developed around a loop hole. You see, you can't eat cheese without being born so THAT is the only real reason why being born is more awesome than cheese - being born allows you to consume cheese. And you know what time it is? CHEESE TIME BETCHES.]

In the words of Destiny's Child: It's Just Emotions Taking Me Over

This is me.

I am feeling a little emotional today. I think it was sparked by the bipolar program of the Lipscomb Lighting at the Green which went from magical lights and amazing talent taking us all to church, to a seriously depressing poem about the heinous world we live in, ending with a solemn group-sing of Silent Night.

And then I had some crazy-ass dreams ranging from calorie-free cupcakes to genocide. 

So I am struggling with which end of the spectrum to share with you today. I'm between "oh sweet, beautiful, peaceful world that birthed me 24 years, 11 months and 29 days ago, - I am so blessed and grateful to lead the life I do" TO "World - you freakin suck ass and I want to sucker-punch you in the nut sack."

Since I am an indecisive person by nature, we are going to explore both in a little list I'd like to call:
Dear World: You're Awesome. But Be MORE Awesome. 

Don't mess with me.

KEY:
FBAG - Feeling Blessed And Grateful
SPYITNS - Sucker-Punching You In The Nut Sack 

FBAG: My metabolism knows what's up. By fasting post Thanksgiving, I no longer look as though I am four months pregnant and therefore, the panic attacks in the mirror have subsided.

SPYITNS: Sam Champion is leaving Good Morning America and I'm not okay about it. He was the smile that started my day, rain or shine. Why, Sam? Why?

FBAG: This kid.

SPYITNS: All means of transportation need to get their shit together. The tragic NY train accident and the awful car crash taking Paul Walker and his friend's life, and every other loss we have experienced in an attempt to get from point A to point B. I've had it. Why have we not invented teleportation yet? I'm confused. 

FBAG: Celine Dion Christmas Pandora Station.

SPYITNS: Mother nature needs to get her shit together too. You are constantly PMSING and it's PISSING ME OFF. Stop with the typhoons and the natural disasters. Chill out. Eat some cheese. 

FBAG: Kid President.

Prepare your nuts.

SPYITNS: To all the Grinches out there who maintain a hateful demeanor all year long - stop talking altogether, then go seek out help and a hug. Then turn on Celine's "The Power of Love" and learn what it means to have a caring, human heart. Then watch every episode of Kid President.
In short, take the massive chip on your shoulder and shove it up your ass.

FBAG: Cheese.

SPYITNS: Terrorism.

FBAG: For all of you.

[Disclaimer - this post supposes the "world" is a man with a nut sack. I'm not trying to imply that the world couldn't be a woman but I'm not really interested in sucker-punching lady parts. So deal with it.]

[And no. I'm not PMSING. But thanks for asking.]