Happy Christmas

Happy Christmas Eve day. At the risk of seeming trite, I'd like to quote Mr. Lennon. (At the risk of seeming even more trite, I'd like to point out that triteness is sometimes true,)

"So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun

And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear ones
The old and the young

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Christmas
(War is over)
For weak and for strong
(If you want it)
For rich and the poor ones
(War is over)
The world is so wrong
(Now)

And so Happy Christmas
(War is over)
For black and for white
(If you want it)
For yellow and red ones
(War is over)
Let's stop all the fight
(Now)

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

(Repeat chorus)

War is over
If you want it
War is over
Now"

Happy Christmas (War Is Over)
By John Lennon and Yoko Ono

Present

Received an early Christmas present yesterday -- a 3-DVD set of Young Ones episodes.

The first two disks contain the 12 shows broadcast in the program's two (and only two) seasons. The third contains a smattering of bonus material, including excerpts from a couple of documentaries and two episodes of BBC sitcoms featuring Young Ones stars in somewhat older form.

It's a very cool collection, nicely packaged by BBC video. I miss a collectible booklet, but there are four glossy postcards with it. Neato.

Back from work

Ah, work. I took a break from 7 p.m. to 8 p.m., but once I returned, there wasn't anything to do. Thus, I sat in the darn chair for two hours, doing precious little but twiddling my thumbs and making intoxicating conversation.

Well, you'll have to ask my co-workers how intoxicating the conversation truly is. They might say violently otherwise, in profoundly colorful language. I did bring them Krispy Kreme doughnut holes to win favor, but that only put them off for a bit. Soon they'll be after my blood again.

(This is, of course, a great disservice to my fellow workers, most of whom are congenial to a fault. Only a minority eat babies.)

There is a small plastic gecko in front of my keyboard. I've been playing with it on and off, twirling it by its tail. Is this really what the next four decades hold for me? Plastic geckos as I bide my time? I would hope not. At some point I will obviously become a celebrity, ink million-dollar endorsement deals, and live the life of Riley.

Until then, though, it's still the fake lizard. And the studio apartment (now sparkling clean and decorated for the holiday season, I'll have you know). And a diary I've ignored for the past couple of days.

Enough of the rambling.

Hum

Whew. Another day at work gone by, and I continue to look for auto insurance. One might ask: Can life offer me anything more? And the answer would be: Yes, but not right away.

Cleanup

Things I found the most of while cleaning yesterday:

Old receipts. They were everywhere. Why we kept them, I don't know.

Beer bottle caps. To make it worse, they look shiny and round, like money. I am thus inevitably dissapointed when I pick them up.

CD booklets. I don't mind this so much. They entertain me as I clean.

Snacks, too

Ian McKellen's monologue was funny and quite personable. Different from the bland showbizzy intros so many people give. He actually seemed to want to be on the show -- and he wasn't forced into some "ohmigod these people are interrupting my monologue" skit-within-a-skit.

Max bought some snacks for the evening. He purchased:

Vanilla Coke
Diet Lemon Coke
Diet Pepsi
Chocolate chip granola bars
Famous Amos cookies
Baked tortilla chips
and some pasta bowls for himself.

Show start

The show's about to start. The S.O. is now turning on the TV, and it's high-pitched white noise is swirling around the room.

A few seconds pass.

Now, the inane banter of the TV news anchors burbles out. The four onscreen are attempting that kind of strained conversation that makes me want to claw out my eyes.

And the show begins.