Xmas cards and morons talking

Once again my annual guilt-trip began in earnest yesterday with the arrival of five Christmas cards. Every year I tell myself that this will be the year that I finally put together a Christmas letter for the teeming masses of family and friends who are desperately seeking to know the significant events of my life. This year in particular would seem to be a good candidate - what with trips to Ecuador, graduation from B-School, and the GF still sticking around. Yet, every year I stall, and procrastinate and postpone until I get beyond the point of “it won’t be delivered before the actual holiday”. At which point I sigh, gnash my teeth and rend my garments in self-frustration because another year has gone by and I’ve still not joined the Christmas card club.

I always wonder why I end up going through this. Usually, I end up blaming my overly optimistic estimates of available free time once I get into December. Somehow between all the parties, Christmas shopping, and long-distance drives the rest of my life doesn’t easily make room for writing, printing, addressing and mailing dozens of cards. This is made doubly aggravating because I love handwritten notes/letters/etc. Emails I’ll delete in a heartbeat but letters I’ll hold onto for years. Just yesterday I was searching through a book of mine when I found an old postcard from a girl I went out with a couple times many years ago. Despite the fact that the dates never led to anything, I held onto the postcard through two moves. Because of this I’m beginning to believe I may be a slight packrat. Oh well, at least I’m not hoarding food scraps and surrounded by starving cats. If I did, the GF would certainly not stick around and then next year's Christmas letter would be significantly less interesting.

On a lighter note the quote of the week this week comes from “The OC” starlet and bulimia poster-girl Mischa Barton, who (when asked if she’d ever get plastic surgery to become curvier like her co-star Rachel Bilson) said the following:

“I’d be scared of having her boobs and voluptuousness,” Barton said, reports the London Sun. “I would never have a boob job. I like being understatedly sexy. Rachel’s curves make her more overtly sexual than I am.”

Now, I have never been one to say that Ms Barton is a candidate for Mensa, but isn’t this equivalent to her saying that “If you’re not anorexic like I am then you’re a whore”? Well…*obviously*. No wonder Sir Mix-A-Lot liked big butts! “My Hump” is obviously Fergie’s declaration to the world that she’ll sleep with anybody. And the padded-booty pants and chicken-cutlet boob enhancers are just a way for women to subtly broadcast their availability as prostitutes! Suddenly it all makes sense…but does this mean that Nicole Richie, Lindsay Lohan, and Jennifer Connelly are preparing for the convent? Ow…my head hurts just trying to imagine that.

I hope that this opinion doesn’t spread. I’d hate to live in a world of strapped-down boobs and girdles where all women looked like 12 year old boys. Eeeeewwww…