december misc, procrastination issue

I need to watch the DVD before tomorrow's meeting of the Everybody Must Get Stoned committee, plus I need to make up some Merry Xmas arnica for M2 and G, but whilst I screw around on the internet instead, let me tell you a few things.

1.) I am getting callouses on both hands right where my middle finger meets the palm. This is not good for performing massage therapy. My hands are supposed to be as soft as the proverbial baby's bottom, yo. You know what this means, don't you? It means I have to get weightlifting gloves and then look like a douchebag wearing them at the gym lifting my weeny little weights. The affronts to my dignity never end. Sigh.

2.) I am reading Keith Richard's autobiography (on the Kindle--no tendinitis, baby!) and quite enjoying it. Keef says when he became a songwriter, something changed in him. He became more detached, more of an observer, always watching people and listening to what they said, because any little action, any little snatch of conversation could be the genesis of a song. See? Me n' Keef are kindred spirits. If only he rode the Prison Bus, just imagine how much career success the boy coulda had.

3.) I know I promised pictures of Kitschmas at Andrea's (which is like Breakfast at Tiffany's, only with less Audrey Hepburn) but I'm not *quite* done.

4.) But speaking of Christmas decorating abominations--I've got a lot to say. Remember how when people used to go bananas and over-decorate, it made people drive by their houses to gawk and maybe netted a puff piece in the local newspaper? To judge from my neighborhood, those days are gone. Now the house covered in 200,000 lights with 43 different glowing statues in the front yard seems to be the norm, not the exception. I could walk around here for a mere five minutes with the video camera on my new iPod and document ten of them. And if I wasn't so damn lazy, plus technically unsure of how to use that video function, I just might! Really, somehow over the past ten years, the concepts of "restraint" and "good taste" seem to have vanished. (Though, honestly? This *is* the lower North Shore. Our major highway landmarks are a giant orange dinosaur, a field of fake cows, and a humongous tiki hut. Good taste and restraint are relative here.)

5.) My tongue hurts.

xoxo