Hella Stella

I guess I never told you about how we enjoyed our Day At The Spa. Probably because, hello, it's a DAY AT THE SPA and there's very little that can be unpleasant in a day like that.

Sure enough, we both floated out of there. My skin is glowing and my BH smells like peaches (as evidenced by Morty trying to eat his feet whenever possible). And the massages were professional with no S&M involved. It will be a very long time before we can afford to do that again, but it was well worth saving up our gift certificates. Okay, I didn't so much "save up" as I did "lose" my gift certificate, but I found it right on time. DON'T JUDGE.

I'm nearing the end of Christmas shopping, which is great because I have yet to go into an actual store. I'm surprisingly good with Christmas crowds and I am usually patient in lines. But the music? I can't stomach the music. It's usually the worst Christmas shit imaginable and I would much rather be home with my own wee collection of tasteful Christmas tunes. I'm that girl who is cool as a cucumber until someone throws on Mariah Carey wearing a Santa hat and suddenly I start looking for blunt objects.

For the locals: Did you happen to notice the temperature? It's killing me, this cold. I do not pretend to enjoy these winters, but I will say that I am grateful that my rent includes the cost of heat. Even poor Morty has changed his mind about the snow - when the temperature started to plummet, he cut his own walk short and dragged me back home.

Still, while the weather outside is frightful (bwahaha, I am such a cheeseball), I am happy to report that we already have our Christmas tree set up. It's a real tree, and I'm not sure if we'll do it again this way, because it stresses me out a bit knowing that my BH doesn't like having a live (soon to be dead) tree in the house. I think I'll have to invest in a hot pink fake tree and just use fresh wreathes instead. But anyways, the tree is up and it's delightful. The smell alone makes me happy. Morty is scared of it, which shocks no one.

In other news, I am attending a bulldog party this week, featuring bulldogs of all shapes and sizes (mostly of the round and squat variety, though). It's going to be epic.

The bad news is that I did NOT wake up an hour early this morning, even though I set my alarm to go off twice and had the volume turned way up.

The good news is that my morning bus ride was just fine, and I got to work at my regular time despite sleeping in.

The moral of the story is: I really want some apple pie.

A muscle under my right eye has been twitching for the past two or three weeks. I didn't want to mention it because my mouth trauma had hijacked the site. And frankly, even though I may look like a twitchy serial killer, I am too burnt out to go find out why my eye continues to spasm. Perhaps I am twitchy because I am burnt out. Or perhaps I am a serial killer.

More likely to be the burnt out thing.

Do you know what I like? I like it when someone accidentally says "The House has been pierogied" as though our Parliament was just turned into a giant doughy potato dumpling. It sounds so much more delicious than the reality. And the reality just makes me twitchy.

It seems like all the local bloggers are going to Not Your Grandma's Craft Sale. I love craft sales, and I love Ladyfest Ottawa, but I cannot go. This is because I WILL BE AT THE SPA WITH MY BH. Oops, sorry. Didn't mean to yell. I'm just a little bit excited.

My BH's Top Secret Christmas Gift came in the mail last night and I am so incredibly pleased with it. We also get our tree tonight! Jesus, I am the worst Jew ever. I've got Christmas cheer coming out my ass.

Have fun at the craft sale everyone. Hopefully my BH and I will have nice relaxing massages that have nothing to do with Indian S&M parlours.