OHAI.

Right. I've decided to get back in the saddle before the New Year so that it can't be chalked up as a resolution that I have no intention of keeping up with.

Hope you all had a lovely holiday/blizzard. I have a bit of holiday cheer left over, so I thought I might share.

Yeah. It's that kind of post.

Anyway, it's now time for

Follower Love-Fest #15: Susan

I actually love this girl and her blog, Bit Cat. She hasn't updated since August, I know, and that makes me sad all day. Still, her posts are like sunshine. They are upbeat and tend to be picture-heavy, making them just my speed. Did you click through yet? If you did you will have noticed and remarked upon the glory of Susan's hair and the adorability of her pets to your imaginary friend Saul. Oh, Saul, you so crazy.

Come, all ye faithful

I hope you all had a lovely Christmas.

Y'know, the kind with hot chocolate, fuzzy blankets, and minimal family awkwardness.

Even if you don't celebrate, I hope it was good anyway.

Rather than post about the presents I got or just how full of peppermint bark I am, I wanted to try something a little different.

After celebrating the birth of of the world's most famous mensch, I thought we might celebrate a commodity which, due to my time in Ireland, has been missing from my life.

I mean, of course, sexy Jewish men.

Eli Roth

Let's get the giant cock in the room right out of the way. Yes, he is a skeazeball who spends most of his time getting drunk and demanding a personal viewing of girls' boobs. Yes, his most notable roles include violence. Yes, he is remarkably hairy.

I am okay with all of this. Because he is sexual and looks damn good when killing Nazis.

Liev Schreiber

Also falls under the category of "big and abusive" that I will be teased for enjoying. In our most primal and basic moments, ladies, we want this. You Tarzan. Me Jane. We bone.

You know this one is a teddy bear anyway.

A sexy, sexy teddy bear.

Jeremy Piven

I would do terrible things to this man and his v-necks.

End of story.

Jeff Goldblum

Let's try to keep our minds out of the gutter.

Nobody ever listens to Jeff Goldblum. From dinosaurs to aliens, people just don't take him seriously.

Keeping his shirt open for most of Jurassic Park was a good way to deal with what could otherwise have resulted in an inferiority complex.

Not to worry, Jeff.

Nature, uh, finds a way. (Into your pants.)

Coen Brothers

Two for one deal. That is, the two of them for the one me.

Guys want blonde twins who split their hours Hooters and the Dallas Cowboys.

I want these two.

Yes. Please.

Perhaps I'm projecting the wrong image here.

Raw sexuality and unbridled genius are not the only admirable qualities in a fella'.

I'd be happy to light the menorah with any of these gentlemen.

Because funny is sexy.

Seth Rogen in particular, though.

Even with the weight loss, he is my schlubbly, curly-haired dreamboat.

I could take him home to mother and we could smoke up to make said meeting bearable.

Perfect combination of adorable, funny, with the possibility of being an asshole from time to time.

To finish us off...

Only half Jewish, but only half-dressed as well.

Thank you, Lenny.

Oh, and you too, Baby Jesus.

"Imagine, if you will, a one-eyed mouse...weeping."

This time tomorrow, blizzard permitting, I will be back on the other side of the Atlantic, taking a walk on the beach with my family. The current weather may paint this in a bleak light, but I am more excited than I can say.

Not surprising, considering that this past week our house and lives were invaded by a horrifying being. Think the Slender Man, but French. She shook my core belief that all people are fundamentally good.

That was, of course, until my friends intervened. Or, rather, one friend.

I know that this will make two out of my meager seven entries about Secret Santas, but I don't give a fuuuuuuck.

I think I might have freaked her out with all my rantings and ravings about how amazing my package was. All the time. Plus, I never took the scarf off. But, my God.

Tom Waits collected interviews and Tommy Tiernan's first DVD? You've got to be shitting me. No. No shit indeed.

This also makes me think that Thomas is a good name. Keep that in mind, folks.

And, while we're at it, let's have Mr. Snuggles pose with the Karma soap. Because he wears a bathrobe and I have no shame.

Everything came with little notes attached that deepened their tenderness a million-fold. Wild ejaculations and animated hand gestures were not even enough to convey my joy. There was hugging, too.

Then, after we'd spent twenty-four hours in the library to finish our essays, there was lunch. We split a pizza. I was not nearly coherent enough to make any food decisions, so she ordered. I noticed later that she was picking off the pineapple (we got Hawaiian).

"Why did you order Hawaiian pizza if you don't like pineapple?"

"Because you like pineapple."

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I almost cried.

I cannot list the ways in which I am happy or thankful to be so blessed.

Fuck yes, Christmastime.

My only problem now is that I'm still writing my second essay and Mr. Waits' wisdom is far more appealing than Tennyson's sorrow.

"So young, and so untender?"

"So young, my lord, and true."

If we're being honest, Cordelia, I'm not giving you or your family the attention you deserve right now. I'm trying, but I cannot focus for the life of me. All day.

I woke up horrendously early, armed with good intentions. I made a proper breakfast (that is, not just toast), did my thang, got dressed, packed my bags, took some very intense notes on criticism of The Alchemist for about ten minutes, then went in to drop off writing samples and post a few letters.

Going to see Where the Wild Things Are with a group of friends was, perhaps, not my greatest decision of the week. Don't get me wrong--I loved every minute of it and spent the entire film trying not to openly weep. I left trapped in a glass case of emotion, but my soul was definitely better for it. Except for almost crying when I dropped the cup of tea I'd bought to keep myself going in the library. I'm a woman. I'm allowed.

Never made it to the library. Instead, went to a lovely choral concert of Christmas songs that made my heart sing. Not as well as those performing, of course, but whatever.

Friends were right in telling me to come home. I'm totally wrecked for no apparent reason. What is this nonsense? I'm reading lines from Lear and tearing up like a little bitch. I think that I just have a lot of feelings.

My soul, though a bit wobbly, is in a good place. Plus, my wonderful new scarf kept me warm and happy all day.

Since it is the holiday season, I've decided to be a selfish skank and imagine the things I would buy myself if Daddy Warbucks ever returns my calls.

I'm looking at you, bro!

My lack of funds prevented me from ordering this myself in time to get the t-shirt bundle. This is actually the first Christmas I've ever wanted to be asked by my parents what I'd like. Possibly because it's the first I've had an exact answer.

I've been dying to get this for the past couple of years, but I always put it off.

I have a lot of first seasons. It's a problem.

No more box sets now, or we'll never be done.

Cogito Ergo Sum Silhouette Ring

This illustrates exactly how lame I am.

Tentacle Ring

Creepy? Perhaps. Gorgeous? Fo' sho'.

Wine Country Dress

A custom-made dress? Yes, puhleez, Warbucks.

Silk Taffeta

Technically it's a wedding dress, but I technically don't give a fuck.

Wenezday Boots

I would learn to walk in heels for/make sweet love to these boots.

+ everything in Lush, a new lens for my camera, a typewriter, a record player for the house here, tights that don't ladder, fabulous handwriting, world peace and a puppy.

_____

What I will actually get:

-to see my family and dog

-to hang out with my friends

-to play with my goddaughter and meet my new baby cousin

-to trim the tree

-to walk on the beach with my mama

-to watch NCIS marathons with my dad

-underwear, socks, hugs, home-cooked meals, and some kind of board game (YES)

Not going to lie, this second list is a far better motivator for me to get my ass in gear. It sounds lame, I know, but thinking about hugs from my lovelies is making me do this.