the plague settles in.

We here at Camp Pixiemartin would like to assure you that despite the fact that I have the plague, courtesy of my momma, I am otherwise rockin' the free world. (Is it too late to put that lump of coal in your stocking, dude? Maybe I can get you a strip mining tour for your birthday! Or even a tour of the nearest and most conveniently located strip mine!)

("Oh no, but I sold my foot to get you the lump of coal for your stocking!" and "Oh no, but I sold my furnace to get you a stocking, so you could have one too!" Woe is us. Woe are us?)

I am hopped up and dopey on some arcane combination of dextromethorphan, guaifenesin, loratadine, opemrazole, ethinyl estradiol, norgestrel, bupropion, citalopram, and pseudoephedrine.

Yes, that pseudoephedrine.

The ever-lovin' precursor to methamphetamines. (You know, when I was a kid and relied on OTC allergy relief, I probably took enough pseudoephedrine pills to keep a mid-sized meth lab in operation for at least a week. Provided that someone else supplied the other ingredients needed. I don't even know where to begin to look for the fertilizer.)

I had to give the pharmacist my driver's license and sign some paperwork to even get my hands on the stuff.

To be honest, I was pretty much off my rocker pre-pseudoephedrine, so here's to looking forward to the show in the next few hours, to which I happen to have the best seat in the house.

I also have tangerines, water, juice, juicy gels (pre-fab gelatin in cups), tissue, an array of remote controls, a pile of pillows, and a stack of movies, none of which I can recall the titles to at this point in time. Gravedancers, maybe? I think Ratatouille for sure.

Yay cooking rats!

Yay Patton Oswald!

Yay not having to work today or tomorrow!

Oh oh oh... I'm forgetting.

If the doctor I saw today is cool enough, I should be able to get my prescription for Augmentin filled for like $10. Instead of $150 or so. Of course, I have to wait to get it, but still. (And if he isn't cool, I have a sharp shovel and a drop cloth in my trunk.)

And dude, Juno got 3 Golden Globe awards! I don't even know the chick, but I sorta feel like I do because of her web omnipresence and the fact that I've read her book. Boo-yah! Go Diablo Cody, go!

Thank you for reading our rambling missive, and rest assured that Pixie will soon be down for the day, and totally staying away from sharp objects. With gelatin. And remotes. And possibly even guest appearances by none other than Cricket Martin and her kitty, Posey Martin!

Bye now.

Holiday Wishlist Revisited.

1. Amazon or Borders gift certificates/cards.
   
   
2. cash.
   
   
3. I need new shearling slippers, Mom.
   

   And the lady delivers.
   

4. mini-muffin silicone baking pan.
   

   The wrong size, mind you, but still.
   

5. a massage &/or facial.
   
   
6. Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End.
   

   Now I've seen it twice!
   

7. The Goonies.
   
   
8. Target gift cards.
   
   
9. A new black, size small Liz Claiborne Women's Leather Scuba Jacket.
   
   Not one that looks like it.
   
   Just this exact jacket.
   
   Yes, the very same one I already wear and have beaten to near-death.
   
   I don't care where you get it, or for how much or little money it costs.
   
   And I don't mean that in a demandingly snotty princess way, just in a "$5 on eBay? Great! Your BFF has a brand new one in the hall closet and wants to give it to you for free? Great! $500 from France? Great!" kind of way.
   
   Carson Pirie Scott and Bonton have it for sure, but they probably also have it at Younkers or any CPS sister store. And don't forget to ask your BFF.
   

   My mom rocks like 50-times harder than your mom. Serious-like, yo.
   
   Love you momma!
   

10. Robert Sabuda's The Chronicles of Narnia Pop-Up, based on the works of C.S. Lewis.
    
    
11. Robert Sabuda's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz: A Commemorative Pop-Up, story by Frank L. Baum.
    
    
12. A Littermaid. Or a CatGenie.
    
    I mean, really, should I ever actually need to touch stinky-ass cat litter?
    
    Especially when I've been working all day, only to come home to find a nasty pile of presents in the litter box?
    
    It isn't like the act of poop scooping makes me humble or more aware of the world around me.
    
    If anything, it makes me have unkind thoughts and words for and about certain small, relatively innocent fuzzy denizens of this here residence.

I also received:

• The Pocket Paper Engineer, Volume I: Basic Forms: How to Make Pop-Ups Step-by-Step (Spiral-bound), from tif 'n wil.

  now I need to get the second book in the series.
  

• victoria's secret jammies from one of my stylists,
  

  cute, but too big and exchanged for something my size. damn v.s. is expensive!
  

• a bling-encrusted velvet BCBG track suit from another one of my stylists,
  

  comfy and pimp-tastic!
  

• a grow-your-own santa, magic towel, gelato lipgloss, and fruit roll-ups, from Secret Santa K,
  

  they said the santa would grow up to 600 x his original size, which I think they exaggerated slightly.

• glow-in-the-dark skull key-toppers, called "skeleton keys" from Secret Santa K,
  

  dude, you only wished you were cool enough to have one of these.
  
  they were even so cool that I had to spread out the coolness so it wasn't at toxic levels. so I gave 1 to Tif, 1 to Fe, 1 to Jo, 1 to K, and kept 2 for me.
  

• a blingy skull teapot and mug from Secret Santa K,
  
  
• hershey's kisses from one of my stylists,
  
  
• body butter, bubble bath, and bath tools (loofah, slippers, etc.) from even yet still another one of my stylists,
  
  
• a very goth-y chrome skull candle holder,
  

  when I finally get down to decorating the ol' dungeon, I will apparently have one less candle holder to buy. wooooo. spooky.
  

• a white iowa sweatshirt and a pink hawkeyes t-shirt duo,
  

  which magically turned into 2 new brassieres upon entering the intimates department at Younkers!

• 2 pairs hello kitty fuzzy jammie pants, one each pink and green,
  

  yay fuzzy warm and cute!
  
  just like l'il ol' me!

• a $50 gc to walmart,
  

  which promptly turned into a tank of gas (at $2.81/gal, I might add), 16-pounds of cat food, contact solution, and 10 pairs of socks,

• a new alox swiss army knife from matty,
  

  sadly, it has no tweezers or a toothpick. I picked it out though, so it's my own loss.
  

• a box of holiday junior mints from one of my stylists, Fe,
  
  
• a box of delicious chocolates from the Colorado cousins,
  
  
• a pewter fairy card-holder for my station, from a lovely one of my stylists,
  
  
• and the plague from my mom.
  

  thanks mom, being sick rules. or maybe i am hallucinating that part.

If I missed anything, suck on it.

I reeeeeeally do.

I really want to like London Ink.

I've watched it for several hours now, in fact. (Thank you DVR!)

And it's sooooooo bloody boring.

I really think I can't stand any more.

Which shocks me a little.

Sorry, luvs.

and they make a fashion statement, too...

watching eMpTVy right now...

I'm stuck by three things in particular:

1. I am watching music videos - like a constant stream of them.
   
   
2. They no longer discretely put the video information in the bottom left corner - it is now proudly emblazoned across the entire screen at the beginnings and endings in huge text.
   
   
3. Good Charlotte are wearing suits - and the lead singer isn't wearing make-up.
   
   No smudgy eyeliner, no half-chewed-off nail polish. Nothing.
   
   They could be BSB in those outfits.
   
   Of course, the hair is sort of a giveaway, and I totally can't see Kevin or Howie with two full sleeves of ink. Maybe Nick, but definitely no one else.
   

Oh, Jason Lee. Where did it all go wrong?

The Incredibles?

Completely acceptable, if only slightly unexpected, when you really think about it.

I mean, it's super heroes, for criminy's sake.

Monster House?

Ugh.

But okay-ish.

Underdog?

Egads.

Why why why?

And don't you care cite nostalgia as a reason.

Certainly, I remember a fondness for Holly Hobby during my childhood, but that doesn't mean I'd want to play her in a live-action movie.

Dreamcatcher?

Disgusting.

Ab-so-freaking-lute-ly grotesque.

Unless that is the reason you did it, and then I can sort of live with that.

Alvin & the Chipmunks?

Dave? Dave? Dave? You should be ashamed of your self.

For Christ's sake, that's even worse than Breckin Meyer playing Jon.

Holiday Wishlist

1. Amazon or Borders gift certificates/cards.
   
   
2. cash.
   
   
3. I need new shearling slippers, Mom.
   
   
4. mini-muffin silicone baking pan.
   
   
5. a massage &/or facial.
   
   
6. Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End.
   
   
7. The Goonies.
   
   
8. Target gift cards.
   
   
9. A new black, size small Liz Claiborne Women's Leather Scuba Jacket.
   
   Not one that looks like it.
   
   Just this exact jacket.
   
   Yes, the very same one I already wear and have beaten to near-death.
   
   I don't care where you get it, or for how much or little money it costs.
   
   And I don't mean that in a demandingly snotty princess way, just in a "$5 on eBay? Great! Your BFF has a brand new one in the hall closet and wants to give it to you for free? Great! $500 from France? Great!" kind of way.
   
   Carson Pirie Scott and Bonton have it for sure, but they probably also have it at Younkers or any CPS sister store. And don't forget to ask your BFF.
   
   
10. Robert Sabuda's The Chronicles of Narnia Pop-Up, based on the works of C.S. Lewis.
    
    
11. Robert Sabuda's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz: A Commemorative Pop-Up, story by Frank L. Baum.
    
    
12. A Littermaid. Or a CatGenie.
    
    I mean, really, should I ever actually need to touch stinky-ass cat litter?
    
    Especially when I've been working all day, only to come home to find a nasty pile of presents in the litter box?
    
    It isn't like the act of poop scooping makes me humble or more aware of the world around me.
    
    If anything, it makes me have unkind thoughts and words for and about certain small, relatively innocent fuzzy denizens of this here residence.