Мои твиты

( Hark hear the tweets, sweet concise tweets )

aiiich

Every time I want to make an extended post I either don't have time because I have to do something else, or I do have time and don't feel like it. Feh.

So insert extended rant about the Atlantic Terminal Target and how utterly horrible it is and how even if it isn't Christmas I never want to go there again.

While you're at it, insert another rant about how the Wedding Fussing has begun in earnest. *wibble*

And another one about how this house is nothing but full length mirrors and how I'm suddenly glad cell23 and I don't have one. When did I get ugly-skinny???? *wibbles* *puts on more layers* *pads bra* *weeps*

I will say this much about the last 24 hours... as I stood outside Atlantic Terminal to get some air after surviving the zombie apocalypse that was the interior, I was treated to the surreal sight of a sea of cars driven by Orthodox Jews with lit menorahs mounted on top. There was a moment or three of me watching with my mouth open thinking "what is this I don't even..." and then thinking rationally that really it's no weirder than people who insist on putting antlers and noses on their cars.* Or have horns that play "Feliz Navidad."

Anyway, gotta go run errands. Otherwise this would have been a uch longer entry.


* Unpopular opinion time: I really hate Rudolph cars. They give me road rage with their utter stupid tacky. If you don't obviously have kids in the backseat and you have antlers on your car, it makes me want to rear-end you until Santa tells me to stop.

And now good things

Just to balance the dour negativity of the last entry. I just got back from an errand and shopping trip to Flatbush Avenue with my spirits improved considerably. Some reasons why:

• Toto we are so back in Brooklyn. An entire aisle of the Flatbush Key Food is devoted to Goya and Jamaican Pride brand... stuff. Bottles of stuff that makes me smile, like jerk, oxtail and green seasoning. Jars of pepper sauce like my dad makes. A floor to ceiling chunk of aisle devoted entirely to hot sauce strong enough to eat through plastic. 2 pound jugs of spices for $2. No place like home, indeed.
  
  
• Calypso Christmas carols. Yup.
  
  
• For all the obnoxious nukkas that like to holla (sigh) there is one or two that catch themselves cussing in front of a passing woman and look all sheepish and go "excuse me, ma'am." Can't say I'd blame them, there some fierce West Indian grannies out here that'd still thwap you with their canes, be you their grandkid or no.
  
  
• Group of teenage boys with the giant gaudy framed painting (yes, PAINTING) of Nicki Minaj.... Yeah, I got nothin, you go 'head and keep doing your thing.
  
  
• ROTI SHACKS.
  
  
• Coming home to the smell of something HEAVENLY coming from the kitchen. Further investigation revealed Dad's part-time housekeeper/visiting nurse in the kitchen standing over a GIANT pot of collard greens. *covetous whine* I'ma have to get into Dad's wine tonight, because I'ma be having some of that. Clotting disorder be damned.
  
  Pretty much from here on in this house is gonna smell like delicious and love. I'm okay with that.
  
  
• You'd think Christmas was two days away or something. The flow of packages from various catalogues addressed to Dad has been so steady that the UPS guy wisecracked that he's been seeing our house more than his own.
  
  Unfortunately, someone's going to have to wrap all that. Resigning myself to tape burn and papercuts.
  
  
• Inexplicably this year, Dad took it into his head to order interesting holiday meat packages. The sausages I could understand, but he also ordered smoked duck, quail and pheasant. "Dad, what the European nobility hell is this??"
  
  Seriously. Not black people food.
  
  
• going through Mom's dresser drawers I found several jubo skeins of black yarn yesterday, so at some point today/this evening, that's going into my hair. Goodness knows I feel 1000% better about myself with my hair all did.

So things ain't all bad. :)