Happy Seasonal Affective Disorder

I'm still a little taken aback that Thanksgiving is weeks behind us and there are only a few days left until Christmas. I, for one, never cared for the holidays; mainly because growing up any holiday that revolved around giving or receiving presents turned into a guilt festival for not being helpful or grateful enough. As I've grown up though, I've noticed that all Christmas has turned into is "go into debt buying shit for people you only talk to once a year" day. Call me cynical, but I think that defeats the whole concept of celebrating baby Jesus's birthday. Granted, I'm not a religious individual, but I personally think any holiday, especially Christmas, should be spent eating good food and spending time with people you actually like.

I feel like I've used the word 'Christmas' entirely too many times already.

The first year I celebrated "Christmas Alone with a Dog" I was rocking in the fetal position, crying on the couch, while watching Marley and Me and clutching my puppy. I wanted to make the best of the evening since I spent the entire day acting like a character from Girl, Interrupted, so I devised a plan to go get drunk and make some bad decisions... only to get side swiped on the highway... on Christmas day... in the rain. My car has never been quite the same since. I have since given up on trying to keep my car ascetically presentable. He never gets washed, unless the cloud gods have opened the skies and poured water down upon him. The inside of my car looks even worse; I haven't seen the passenger side floor in months. 

And yes, my car is a 'he', because if I have to sit down and ride something all day... wait, I'm not even finishing this sentence. 

The second annual "Christmas Alone with a Dog" wasn't planned to happen, but life just seems to know when to keep a good thing going. I was recently unemployed, broke and full of self wallowing woe. A friend of a friend asked me to stay in her giant house and dog sit for two weeks while she frolicked around South America with her diamonds and rubies. Had I not been so desperate for money, I would have realized just how far she bent me over with how much she actually paid me. As it turns out, I would have made more in 4 days at my current dog sitting job than what she paid me. Nature then decided to slap me in the face by snowing. Not once, but twice. It wouldn't have been so terrible had I not owned a car with low profile tires that did nothing but maliciously cackle and flip me off during snowy conditions. I had no choice but to shovel the entire front of her property, including the quarter mile long driveway. Not that I could really go anywhere, because she lived in the woods; full of hills, twists and turns. So, I spent Christmas drinking rum and watching hours of Intervention, which is a contradicting statement in and of itself. I'd like to point out that watching hours of Intervention makes you want to shrivel up and die, which isn't the outcome you want to go for when you're already bathing in misery.

The third annual "Christmas Alone with a Dog" has crept up on us and this year I'm going all out. Not only do I have my dog to spend this holiday season with, but I have my roommate's dog and I have a giant golden retriever to walk all weekend long. I figured since this is what the universe has bestowed upon me every year I might as well embrace it at this point. While I haven't quite worked out all the details yet, I'm thinking my celebration should include things like:

• Take a stab at lasting more than 20 minutes doing my Xbox Zumba - so far, I've felt like imploding every time I've tried
• Give myself a pedicure. I may not be able to reach my feet that well, but I'm sure I can improvise by attaching a Ped-Egg to a yard stick
• Have an invite only wine tasting party - Even if I'm the only one invited, it sounds a lot fancier than "drink the pain away alone" 
• Watch Bad Santa and take a shot every time Billy Bob Thorton says "fuck"
• Take a shot every time my roommate's dog cries from separation anxiety
• Take a shot every time my anti-social dog leaves me alone in the living room
• Take another shot just for the hell of it

So far, my celebration includes a lot of drinking, but it's still a work in progress. Happy Fesitvus!

Driving is Overrated

For my 27th birthday this past July, I made a few resolutions; just a few things I wanted to accomplish during the descent into my 28th year of fabulousness. With almost 6 months behind us, I thought it might be a good time to check in on my progress.   

• Start tanning - I got suckered into a monthly subscription at a tanning salon, that I only used once, and didn't cancel for at least 3 months. I also bought $100 worth of tanning lotions. Money well spent if you ask me. 
• Keep a hair color for more than a month - that didn't work out so well. I'm already on color change #17
• Lose some weight... again - finally, something I accomplished! 13 pounds down, 4780 to go. 
• Stop trying to kill myself in the middle of the night - I decided that I was going to cure my sleep apnea all on my own and not waste money on one of those fancy face vacuums. I'm still working out the kinks.
• Date more non gay men - I just gave up on dating all together - problem solved. 
• Stop playing bumper cars in real life - so far, I have yet to add more dents and scratches to my once pristine vehicle. I'm still plotting on having someone steal it, and burn it in the woods so I can collect insurance money. Oh wait... that's illegal isn't it? Forget everything you just read. 
• Maintain my sanity while working 7 days a week - this was a lost cause; I don't even know why I added this to my list in July. Maybe the voices made me do it. 
• Escape the shanty townhouse - DONE! 
• Become a world renowned writer - yeah, about that...
• Stop donating money to the richest county in America - *sigh*

Earlier this year I seemed to have developed a fetish for donating my funds to Fairfax County for a variety of different traffic violations. First off, I would like to say that this county is far from needing assistance from me. In fact, I shouldn't even be living in such a classy county. With the money I make, and the insane amount of debt I have (which is having a tailgating party at the foot of my bed right now, if you're interested), I should be living somewhere like Newark, NJ. Who cares if Newark has the highest crime rate in the country? Minor details. 

I made a vow that I would stop finding ways to hand over hundreds of dollars to the courts, but on the day I escaped the shanty house for good, I got pulled over for speeding... again. Can I just point out that I have been driving for over 10 years and was never pulled over for anything until this year? I'm convinced that I'm being racially profiled. I graciously accepted my ticket and went on my way. Earlier this week I received two letters from the DMV. Letter number one stated that I currently have 11 points on my license and could be suspended if I hit 12 points during a one year span. Letter number two stated that my license has actually been suspended for two weeks already due to failure to pay my speeding ticket. 

I did what any rational adult would do: texted a friend with an abundance of obscenities, wished for a vat of alcohol, and reluctantly reached for my wallet. There were three steps necessary to get this situation taken care of: pay the court the amount of the ticket, pay the DMV a reinstatement fee and take a trip to the DMV with proof of payment. After paying nearly $400, I illegally drove myself there the next morning ready to take action. Apparently, the receipt on my cell phone wasn't proof enough because the court website still reflected an outstanding balance. I was told to come back at a later time. It seems that I'm expected to ride my bike around the construction zone that is my entire neighborhood. I got in my car, suspended license in hand, and drove to work. Later that day, I received an email from my bank my checking account was weeping. I'm still wishing for that vat of alcohol.