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(ring, ring)

Aunt Becky (clearly jumping out of her skin with excitement): “Hey Fuckwad, I had a great idea!”

The Daver: “Yeah?”

(typing sounds resume in background)

Aunt Becky: “I want to buy a new house now.”

The Daver (warily) “Yeah?”

Aunt Becky: “I found a new one.”

The Daver: “What?!?”

Aunt Becky (talking faster now): “I mean, I know the market sucks but I just realized my dream house!”

The Daver (tiredly): “Where is this place?

Aunt Becky: “Well, you know that forest preserve that I love that we always pass on the way home that I always say ‘God, I love that forest preserve?'”

The Daver (warily and wearily): “….yes…”

Aunt Becky (triumphantly): “I’ve decided that we’re going to buy the Cantigny Mansion. You know, the old McCormick house? I toured it once as a kid with my parents, and I LOVED it!”

The Daver: (feels the dull thump of a migraine coming on) “Becky, it’s not for sale. It’s property of the county”

Aunt Becky: I KNEW you were going to say that! THAT’S why we have to go in with guns blazing! Give them an offer they can’t refuse!”

The Daver (rests head on desk) “Ohno.”

Aunt Becky (dreamily):“Think about it, Dave. We can be Lord and Lady of the house. I mean, I already changed my name to Princess Grace of Monaco when we got married!”

The Daver: “You know she’s dead, right?”

Aunt Becky: “So she won’t mind that I’ve taken her name. Plus, I won’t have to explain to people, I’m the OTHER Princess Grace of Monaco. See, I think of EVERYTHING.”

The Daver: You got me out of a meeting for THIS?”

Aunt Becky: “DUH. This is IMPORTANT.”

The Daver: “Dude. You’d better get this freelancing shit going soon.”

Aunt Becky: “When I am Lady of the House, I won’t have time to write any more. I’ll be too busy trying on my vast tiara collection and ordering the staff to taste my food to make sure it’s not been poisoned.”

The Daver: “I’m going to call some people to see if they’ll hire you.”

Aunt Becky: “Good luck with that.”

The Daver: “I’ll make them an offer they can’t refuse.”

Aunt Becky: “Wait a minute…”


What a hell of a year.

I’ve certainly had better years (read: threesomes with prostitutes) but I’ve had worse years too (read: threesomes with DISEASED prostitutes), but to say that it’s been a busy year is a drastic understatement.

*The apex of my thus-far scholastic achievement was met when I graduated college. It somehow felt a little empty, spending so much valuable time and money to earn a piece of paper that I have yet to actually show anyone but the poor saps I have cornered at my house to admire said diploma. Job-type-giving people have just assumed that I am actually degreed SIMPLY BECAUSE I SAID I WAS! I mean, I could’ve fooled the system WITHOUT actually having to exert any real effort.

Kinda like this. “Of COURSE I graduated college Mrs. HR lady!”

*I changed my name, and I must admit, Princess Grace of Monaco is a MUCH cooler sounding name. And to be totally honest, I haven’t really missed my old name, although my new signature is kind of awkward looking. I suppose that in time, it will become second nature.

*In an attempt at frugality (me, yeah right) I opted to purchase some CVS-brand toilet paper. BIG MISTAKE. I have learned, via wiping my ass on what actually appears to be wax paper, that TP is something one should NEVER attempt to skimp on.

*Last January, we bought a condo in scenic Oak Park. And painted it. No longer did the walls look like “cat pee on plasterboard” they looked like brightly colored Easter eggs. Then, being annoyed at living in Oak Park, we bought ANOTHER house in St. Charles. No one said we were, uh, SMART.

*This year was a bad one for my cats. My 2 favorites died suddenly and unexpectedly, causing me an inordinate amount of grief and pain.

*I had an actual honest-to-God birthday party to celebrate my 25th year on the planet and the passing of my nursing boards. It was in the TRASHIEST nightclub in the area, but shit, 25 man!

*Any year without a new case of venereal disease is a year well spent.

*I worked in prison to channel my inner Johnny Cash.

*After channeling my inner Johnny Cash too often around my child, he began to pick up some phrasings that may not be suited to the under 4 set. Also, this may have led to my isolation from the mommy’s in the pick-up lane. WHOOPS.

*The kid fingerpainted in poo. Twice.

*I done got married.

*Being married is SO much better than GETTING married.

I’m hoping for a quieter 2006, but I don’t know who the hell *I’m* kidding.

As I previously stated, I am working on my New Years Resolution to Stop Being Such a Raging Bitch All of the Time, but I don’t think that I explained myself anymore than was necessary.

Because I was fat and drunk.

See, we’re moving. Without necessarily selling our old house. Money is about to be so tight as to possibly warrant shopping at Aldi and stealing food from my parents fridge without remorse. The remorse part, I mean. Not the stealing of food from my parents, because OBVIOUSLY. Wouldn’t you? Also, ketchup is SO a food group.

So when I was asked this year about what I wanted for Christmas, I was really vague about it, is always a bad idea when it comes to dealing with my spouse. Most of the men I’ve known need EXPLICIT instructions as to what items to buy from what store. It’s even better if you can cross reference it with some other files and use those colored tabs to make it look really official. My list (usually 278 million TIMES longer and better) went something like this:

1. Thin leather gloves. Black. From a department store. I think my glove size is about a 6.5. Ask at counter. Suede okay, too. I got some gloves from Dave pre-Christmas. They were red, fluffy, and waterproof. Purchased from Menards. Make hands look like stuffed sausages, but hell, they are warm. Do not fit and make hands sweat.

2. A ring for my right hand’s middle finger so you can have something to look at when I flip you the bird. Colorful and gaudy than wedding band. NO YELLOW GOLD, IT MAKES ME BARF. Ring size: 6.5, or maybe a 6.0. Big brightly colored stone but not from a gumball machine.

And then I ran out of things that I wanted, which is a scary phenomenon. I ALWAYS want something. I am a needy person who needs things.

The Friday before Christmas Eve, Dave began to hint that he’d gotten me something 1). Totally awesome, 2). that I wanted 3). that HE wanted, too, and I broke out into a cold sweat. Did I JUST get that NEW PRINTER THAT I HADN’T WANTED? Or was it a NEW video card for his computer THAT I HADN’T WANTED? OR could it be the yacht I’d be oogling?

Either way, I figured that the bathrobe that he had gotten from me wasn”t enough and that I had better re-hit the mall on Christmas Eve. I did, and happened to purchase him about 500 things that he’d mentioned that he wanted, none of them geek crap because I don’t buy that shit.

Christmas morning, in the form of a lanky 4 year old arrived, and we went downstairs to check out our stockings. Yes, we still get stockings. My mom is AWESOME. Dave was nearly swooning with excitement by the time actual presents were opened, and he eagerly thrust his gaily wrapped package (no, not THAT one, it was CHRISTMAS!) with gaudy oversized card (inscription: this was the last one at the store. I *guess* it’s sentiment is true) and I opened this magnificent gift!

A Nikon D50.

Made me feel bad because I had bought Dave half a dozen stars and stripes scarf sets with “World’s Greatest Mom” embroidered on the edge as a gag gift. He was shockingly touched and got all misty eyed and had to leave the room to compose himself.

Apparently, I was thoughtful.

What a freak.

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