Fave Five

 

Every Christmas, Stef and I attempt to craft something up for each other. I'm not sure when it started, and I'm not sure we're better at it now than we were before, but I'm all for being economical and personal. I enjoy struggling with different materials, screwing up, stressing out, and super-gluing teeny bits of scraps to an already-fucked present seconds before I have to race out the door to meet her. Yeah. Fun. Stuff.

 

The depiction of this image is scarily distorted. First of all, the Christmas tree at our apartment is probably 2 feet tall, so there was no tippy-toeing involved in hanging the ornaments. Secondly, I only bought 10 candy canes to hang on it - there are clearly 11 here. Everything else is about right...oh, except for my smile. That wasn't there either. I don't like my small Christmas tree.

 

Ohhhmyyygoodness do I ever want a pet. Bawww, LOOK AT THOSE SNOUTS. It gets really quiet at the apartment, since we're both on different shifts, and things are settling down in the renovation aspect, so I'm starting to feel the emptiness now. I'm ridiculously allergic to dogs and cats, and under no circumstances will Adam accept a bird into our home after the babysitting nightmare that we call Gir. So, naturally, the next logical option is a pig. I already don't eat bacon, so I feel I have the right to ruin 2 pigs' lives since I saved at least 100 with my vegetarian breakfasts.

If you call dressing them up in hand-made frog suits 'ruining'.

 

 

Right. So. I think we can all agree that the best thing to owning a car is getting to sing out loud. Technically, you're in public, but technically, it's the only place you can really belt out tunes without anybody hearing you. And if you've heard me sing, you're probably all "what a shame!", but I'm humble about my talents and prefer to keep them under wraps. 

I'm pretty picky with my selection, but Bruno Mars always gets the go ahead.

 

 

I really, really want a pig.