Things I Don’t Know.

1. I am not sure whether I think Heidi’s new haircut is fresh and girl-next-door or boring and Mom. I cannot decide. BUT either way, I am super happy Project Runway is back in New York! I just couldn’t buy Mood in… Culver City. And I live here! (Although I never go to Culver City. Or anywhere west of Fairfax for that matter. Um, except for tomorrow night when I am heading to Culver City to see E.’s friend play. Anyway.)

2. At a party, one person I can talk to about what death means, relationship dealbreakers and his relationship with his niece. Other people I can only talk to about Project Runway and/or the weather (my weather conversations/thoughts are not as awesome and entertaining as Laurie‘s). I will never know if it is because (a) the tv/rain-talk-partner is just incredibly boring, (b) we have personalities that would never get along if we weren’t forced by social convention and physical proximity to speak, or (c) I am socially awkward but a select few other weirdos don’t mind.

3. No idea still when I will get that Christmas tree down. Haven’t made it home before 9 one night this week, most nights later than that. Have not seen E. and B. since Sunday. LAME.

4. This may be too large of a question for a Thursday evening, but when will my life ever be SETTLED? I know nothing is ever settled, really, it’s not over til, well, I don’t know, something other than that phrase I REALLY don’t like that references a woman exercising her vocal chords happens, but I would like SOMETHING to be settled. My career, my relationship future, where I’ll be living next month. Right now the only thing that is settled is the cats on my lap, who are in fact making it difficult to type. Enh, maybe that’s enough for now. They’re pretty cuddly and warm, and it’s cold outside. What with all this weather we’ve been having. I know, can you believe it, this rain? And hey, have you seen the new Project Runway? Can I get you another beer?

If Things Keep Up Like This I’ll Be Taking My Christmas Tree Down Valentine’s Day

My mother told me this Christmas that she had always thought it was bad luck to take down your Christmas tree after New Year’s Eve because that had been what her mother told her for years — which, as Grandma Crystal later admitted, was a bold-faced lie primarily designed to incite her daughter to help take the tree down.

I think my mother forgot that she has been telling us kids this same bold-faced lie for years, and I am now ON JANUARY 11th staring at a Christmas tree that is (in my mind) mocking me for my oncoming bad luck in 2010.

Anyway. I’ll get it down this weekend, late Friday night (maybe — work is sucky busy right now), and maybe I’ll even finish cleaning my apartment, which is awash in a sea of still-to-be-framed, still-to-be-SENT (ack!), and still-to-be-put-away Christmas gifts and still to-be-wrapped birthday gifts for E.

And yeah, having a clean apartment was one of the six New Year’s resolutions I have for this year, to wit:

1. [REDACTED] (kisses, Dooce);
2. Pilates the heck out of burgeoning bum bump* that emerged this year (not so many kisses, work);
3. Restart my craft club, Yurps! (kisses, crafty ladyfriends!);
4. Be a better friend and girlfriend (kisses for everyone!);
5. Save money (no kisses for anyone; they are expensive); and
6. KEEP YO APARTMENT CLEAN, MUTHAFLIPPA.

But it’s not looking good so far.

But actually, let’s not talk about that! Complaining is lame (although, as Laurie says, it does burn calories).

and….

That leaves me not much to talk about.

Except that I came home tonight late, and Baby Boom was on, yay! I seriously love that movie. It’s on the same par as Steel Magnolias or When Harry Met Sally for me. And I would SO love to be J.C. Wyatt, all badass in my shoulder-padded glory but giving up the corporate life to you know, have a beautiful farmhouse in Vermont (read: tiny apartment in Eagle Rock) and run a successful business from home and regularly bed an earnest veterinarian (read: earnest anything, really).

Maybe THAT should be my New Year’s resolution. Minus the shoulder pads. Probably. I hear they’re hot this year.

*Have you noticed how every single pregnant celebrity’s belly is called a “burgeoning belly bump??” It’s like gossip writers who graduated from Columbia’s journalism school are SO FREAKING EXCITED that they get to use a 10-letter word AND alliterate that they just can’t help themselves. So that is what I am calling it. I like like that better than “excess butt fat” or “saddlebags.”