Monday, December 24, 2007

Happy Birthday Jesus, take a half day!

Well here we are, Christmas Eve 2007. Much has changed, much has remained the same. Another year come, another year gone. Clearly I have nothing of interest to say hence the reason I'm rambling. Despite my previous post in regards to seeking out the best mall Santa we ended up making our decision based solely on proximity. Charlie can blame the car problems of last weekend for the fact that her first picture with Santa is taken with a St. Nick that could best be described as disinterested. I guess that's not the worst potential defining characteristic. It certainly beats intoxicated, half-naked or beardless. At least he was an actual Santa, not just a creepy bald guy signing "Santa". Be thankful as due to the fallout from subprime mortgages this is all the Santa many people can afford this Christmas.

Sign language for Santa...or your wingman warning you that your blind date has a neck fat issue

Gerrard Square Santa wasn't too bad, though he was clearly ready to punch the clock. Next year we'll definitely make an effort to show up at the beginning of Santa's shift when he's still able to manufacture a smile or a "ho ho ho".

This is probably as good a time as any for my best of 2007 list. Here goes:

Best of 2007: My Daughter

Worst of 2007 (tie): The New England Patriots and war (honorary mention to disease and droughts)

Hottest vegetable: Rapini. Blanch it quickly, pat dry and then set it aside. At that point you can do most anything with it. Sauteed with lemon and chili, finished with sea salt is my favourite.

Gayest thing written: see above

Best movie: Didn't see any (see posts re: new child)

Biggest surprise: Britney Spears and Marcus Vick turn out to be the "good kids" as both see their misdeeds trumped by their idiotic siblings.

Biggest surprise (sarcastic): Frank D'Angelo's Steelback brewery files for bankruptcy. Who would have thought that you couldn't build a successful business on shameless self-promotion and bottled piss? The sad thing is that a number of the cheques that his mouth wrote that had no chance of ever being cashed were written to charities and small community rinks. While we're at it, let's just go ahead and hand him the...

Biggest douche of the year: The aforementioned Frank D'Angelo.

Best play: Bryan Westbrook downing the ball at the Cowboys 1 yard line. In an era where all we hear about is the selfishness of professional athletes Westbrook's decision to forgo personal accomplishment to absolutely ensure his team's victory (in a meaningless game) ranks as the most commendable single sporting play of the year.

Best merger: Sporting goods giant Dick's Sporting Goods buys smaller California rival Chick's for $40 million. $40 million gets you Chicks with Dicks. That could draw some strange traffic.

Most disappointing Google search: 13 individuals from 8 different countries have ended up on The World Wide Net Web looking for "office decorum". They were all likely very disappointed when their search for tips on how to act at the Christmas party or which co-workers you should buy holiday gifts for brought them to my post on dropping a deuce. I guess there isn't much else written on the subject. This should also serve as notice that I know exactly what your keywords are when you google me (I'm talking to you, "World Wide Net Web or Plus-size and topless").

Best new television show: Dirty Sexy Money. I'm not sure if it's got the legs to go on for more than a season or two but it's been a pleasant surprise so far particularly given the fact that it looked like something I would hate.

Most intriguing unanswered question: Do gay guys have two separate stags before they get married/civilly united or do they just have a Jack and Jack party? If so, do you invite your future husband? How could you have a stag without your best mate? Who's going to pay the stripper and buy your beer? Then again the whole idea of a stag is one last night out without the future misses/mister. The whole subject is very thought provoking. This should be the basis for an entire column.

Clearest sign that popular culture has destroyed art: Dirty Dancing: The Musical. This is what passes for "going to the theatre" these days. Bill Shakespeare would be freakin' pissed. The predominance of contest winners, runners-up and Disney stars on the Billboard charts, in a year when The National, Editors and Pela all had new albums, sends the same message. Yes, that was another sad attempt by me to look cool. I've been in bed by 11 on three of the last four Saturday nights. Please don't tear down my facade.

Well that's it for 2007. A great year for me but only an average to mediocre year for the world as a whole. C'mon 2008, step it up!

Happy Holidays everyone.

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