Take This Julie Andrews!

Every year- this being the last- Oprah thinks she's effing Julie Andrews and talks about her "favorite things" followed by her modest display of giving her audience a slew of items they go bonkers over. I, however, never really find these gifts of her magi to be very interesting or exciting. If Oprah gave me, as an audience member, a cruise package I'd roll my eyes, ask her if she was also planning on paying me for the time I now have to take off work, as I don't get paid vacation working in a custard shop, and then ask her if she has read any sort of recent headlines about that fated cruise ship recently. Blah, blah, blah. As Ralphy got to play Santa on A Christmas Story, let me play Oprah and make a list of things I'd like to give away, if I could:

1. The Gift of Youth

Seriously, I'd give everyone a pack of Shriky-Dinks™ if I could.

2. The Gift of Remembrance

Various multi-disk sets of specials that ran on the Discover Heath so we can remember what life was like before Oprah took over our broadcasting system.

3. The Gift of Intentionality

Messenger Pigeons- Real communication is a dying art form. I think, by bringing back messenger pigeons, there may be some fun or at least romanticism reinstated into our lives- and we could talk outside of fakesbook and our text messages. Should this not be feasible, I'd like to give you all some postage stamps, so we can send letters back and forth.

4. The Gift of Culture

A number of Rancho Bravo tamales. I don't know how many- as many as you could handle before swearing them off forever, I suppose. I had one for dinner. This is my version of "If I could buy the world a Coke™".

5. The Gift of Literature

Scary Stories. I miss this book, as it was one of my childhood favorites, and it's yet to make Oprah's book club.

6. The Gift of Practicality

A Hatchet. Say the end of the world really is approaching us just over two years from now, or a zombie out break develops from the former swine flu, or your land lord tells you he/she will evict you should you not chop down that overgrown tree from your front yard that is tripping the little school children both to and from their educational pursuits OR Snowpocolypse™ 2010 part duex happens and you need said tree for firewood- yeah, you bet your cold ass you'd be thanking me.

7. The Gift of Hope

The bingo scratch ticket. It's a gift that may or may not keep on giving. Plus, I know one of my grandmothers would go bananas over it, as she loves to scratch and win.

8. The Gift of Joy

All red Starbursts™. I'm so nice, I'd give you a gift that takes all of the shitty flavors out of the candy we all love, or would love better with out the yellow and orange flavors.

9. A Timeless Gift

An Alarm Clock. This is specifically for my co-workers so they are never late for work again. I liked this model.

10. The Gift of Scott

And finally, a framed picture of Scott. Granted, I may be sending out Christmas cards with Scott's picture, they aren't framed. I wish I could frame them all for you. With metal, not plastic frames.

Abstentee Ballot

I haven't written a blog in a long time. Do you know why? Boys. Duh. And you knew that, so there was no point in reiterating it. Also Scott- but seeing as he is a male cat, he falls into the category (not to burden you with that pun), of a boy. For this, I apologize. Let's put our hands in and make a pack to never let a boy come between us again- giggle-ty giggle-ty giggle. This, of course, will not last, as we all know- I can go boyless for, oh, about an hour-and-a-half, give or take 75 minutes.

But, on the bright side, I have been writing more about these temporary male companions, and considered re-opening the "today's date" blog, but it may be too "steamy" for the likes of, oh, say, my mother, who snoops and reads and subscribes to my blog. However, should this compilation I'm working on ever get published, I'll send you a copy- provided that you send me cash in return.

And if I've "dated" or "made-out with you" for a pro-longed period of time in the past three years, I've probably written about you. In fact, I've probably told you that I've written about you, but like always, you've probably forgot. Also, I've probably given you a dumb effing nick name, like, "boy with the dragon tattoo", only shorter, less of a knock-off of Steig Larson(?) , and more applicable to my life. And yes, I actually plan on publishing these stories some day- and yes, I come off just as bad as you do, as I'm a selfish, overly analytical little prat and it shows. And no, you can't change your dumb nick name, for whatever reason, you deserved it.

I'd like to also take a minute to make this plea: I don't hate all of the boys I've dated, in fact, I still very much like many of them and am friends with a few, or at least try to maintain some sort of friendship. The rest... I hate.

And yes, some of the Christmas cards I'm sending out have the caption "This is why I'm single".