It rhymes with DVD

Today I got the glorious idea of buying my freind a dvd box set containging a trilogy of Ringu.
(Not to self - check to see if these exist) Naturally, I called him as soon as the idea was hatched. He knew why I was calling. I could already hear a tired ring to his voice at his first "Hello?". This was my fifth try in just as many days to think of a surprise that would stay a surprise despite number of guesses.

"It's something you can use...."
"Please. No."
"Don't wanna make one single guess?"
"Not particularly."
"Aw, c'mon!"
"A dvd?"
"Nevermind."
*click*

I'm thinking that they're probably never gonna call me and ask me to be the new host for Jeopardy.

"A term associated with the Stone- hey, let's just cut to the chase. You guys! IT'S PALEOLITHIC!"
"What is Paleolithic?"
"Now how did you do that. However did you do that?"

Besides, the creepy little Swedish guy who hosts Sweden's version of Jeopardy is not likely to keel over anytime soon. It's the good ones that always are the first to go; you could roll this man in cheap Dutch cheese and he wouldn't be no gouder. (I'm trying, I really am.) I'm sure he's a very nice person when he's all alone but put him on tv, and he laughs like a little schoolgirl. "Oh? You're from Sundsvall? I been there! Aaaaaahaha." I would hate it if my foot was being eaten by gangrene or something equally disturbing and he or something equally disturbing was my only freind. "Oh, lemme have a look at that foot. That does not look good! AAAHAHAHAHA!"

if gangrene doesn't get me, the long wait till Christmas will. But I kinda enjoy it. The festive lights, the decorations, hell, even the dwarves come out now that it's socially accepted. The more the merrier, I say. My only gripe is tha tit's a bit unholier than thou to decorate shop windows and homes in wee November -says the girl who Christmas shops in October -but in a way, it sets you up for a giant anti-climax. You get worked up over the little Santas that are put out in the snow and keep hoping, against the better judgement you think you've gathered during your 24 years of life, that if Santa is ever going to visit you, then by jove, it will be this year. Christmas comes, Christmas goes. The oreos you've put out the night before are still there, though a little softer now. There is no sign whatsoever of a big fat white guy having squeezed himself through your kitchen fan. (Stranger things have happened!)

I wouldn't mind a big fat white guy squeezing himself through my stove fan on any given day. Any little thing for a laugh, you know? Told M that I was working extra hours so that I could afford Christmas presents this year. He said that there was something seriously wrong with slaving away (I sit in a booth. On my ass. Occasionally, I press a button) - just to buy material things. But it's not that, it's not that. It's that if you give someone a gift at any other time of the year, they think that you want something. Like "Oh, you give me a Lady Bic now, but you want sex later. Don't you? Bi-atch!" Can't say the thought doesn't cross my mind or that it disappears during Christmas - but the most important thing to remember about Christmas is that this is the sharing, caring part of the year when no-one will suspect a thing.

Allright, enough. Christmas is about celebrating the little miracles. Like Love, Tinsel and Gretel. Be as cynical as you like, but don't tell me there's not something special about this season. Please. I think the reason why this time of year brings out all the jumpers is because it's the time of year when everybody seems to have somebody. And some people are not that lucky. the time of year when you wish you had at least one near, or one dear, someone just to wish merry Christmas, while meaning it. Someone. And i figure it's also the time of year when you expect a little miracle of your own, even though your cold twisted callous adult heart has rationalised that probability away years ago. maybe there's still a tiny part of you who holds on to the hope you know? Be it a GI Joe, a fat man in a red suit and his entourage of vertically-challenged people, a prince on a shining horse, hell, world peace if you will. I don't know.

I know I keep wishing for barbies after a childhood fillled with various versions of 'I-can't-beleive-it's not-barbie! ' - which in some cases, was very easy seeing as how barbie is NOT furry with beady eyes. (You're not completely daft just because you're six and still haven't been house broken.) That and the fact that one of these- a Cindy, no less - was used as a bargaining chip in this sordid ordeal with playground maffia when I was in infants. Pretty Cindy. Told me mom this some half a year ago and she got that funny look she gets on her face when she does this spawn-of-Papa Smurf-and-Freud thing.

"Creep? Are You....depressed?"
"Ma," I says. "I still quiver when I see fat girls with pig tails and Catholic school girl uniforms."
You might as well have queued the violin right there. She smiled bravely and threw her arms around me, a week later I got the Rapunzel Barbie. 2002, a good year indeed.

But I digress. My point was that I kind of beleive that there's a spark of hope in everyone, no matter age. Maybe a DVD box-set doesn't cut it as a miracle, but since I'm not good at sticking around for the wishy-washy feelings part of Christmas morning, I'm hoping that maybe a lady Bic, a DVD box set, what have you, will maybe like- keep that spark going, you know?

Enough Soggy for one evening!
Peace out.