uncleal's Diaryland Diary
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Holiday warmth
I hope you all had a very merry Christmas. Or Hanukkah. But not Kawanza, because it was made up in the seventies, and I don't think a "tradition" counts until it's been around longer than all the people I know. Besides, it's not even religious.
Anyway, I'm sorry I haven't been around in a while. Originally, I had intended to leave that last post up for a while in case anybody missed it. Then I had four days off of work. Then when I came back to work, I was so nauseous, I could barely sit up, much less type. This morning, I'm still nauseous, but well - life must go on, I suppose.
I have been such an emotional wreck lately. I cry at the stupidest things. You want an example, don't you? Everybody always wants to know what exactly I mean when I say stuff like that. Well, fine. I will give you one. But don't say I didn't warn you that it was stupid.
Last week, I was in my car, driving to work listening to my favorite radio station, and they were doing this segment they do every year just before Christmas. They were helping their listeners find the hard to find presents. You know, the "hot items" that professional Christmas shoppers bought off most of the shelves somewhere between Halloween and Dec 1. So they have listeners call in and complain that all the procrastinating they did this year has caused them to miss out on said item. A digital camera for kids, or Barbie's Dream House, or whatever. And then other listeners call in and say, "Oh, I saw that object at such and such store on route 1 yesterday at 6pm. Go there and be happy." At some point during the show, a guy calls in to say he saw a particular item. I started crying and didn't stop for 6 blocks. I was so touched that a man was a)out shopping for the holidays in the toy isle, and b)called in to help some idiot mom out.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "What a rediculous thing to cry over! Men shop! Men can be thoughtful, too! How dare you imply that men are nothing but lazy assholes, who leave all the kind giving sappy stuff to the women!" Well, let me tell you. I know all of this. However, for some reason, on that particular morning, this was cause for sobbing behind the wheel. Which, by the way, strikes me as more dangerous than applying make-up while driving. (An activity I avoid completely by not wearing make-up at all.)
The movie ELF with what's-his-tall-face - Will Farrell - that's it, makes me cry like a, I was going to say like a newborn baby, but I don't think newborns really cry quietly to themselves letting the tears roll down their cheeks while hoping that their loved ones are laughing too hard to notice. I have problems. These problems are emotions that go totally unchecked most of the time, and then come lashing out at me at the most inappropriate times.
I will try to post again later today, but for now, I must go eat my breakfast, lest I have nothing to throw up later.
8:26 A.M. - Thursday, Dec. 28, 2006
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