Work Is Totally Overrated

This is MUCH better.

Christmas Eve Went Something Like This

CAUTION: contains graphic content; not meant for weak stomachs.

4:00am: Knowing how much I had to do, my inner alarm clock wakes me up. We’re talking WIDE awake. Like, middle-of-the-day awake.

4:03am: Start wrapping presents.

4:47am: Still wrapping presents.

5:30am: Run out of scotch tape.

5:31am: Scream into a pillow.

5:32am: Frantically search house for more tape.

5:33am: Find another roll of scotch tape hiding in the bottom of the bow box.

5:34am: Resume wrapping.

6:07am: Wrap some more.

6:27am: Wrap. Wrap. Wrap.

6:44am: And still more wrapping.

7:00am: Finish wrapping. Take a 25 minute power nap.

8:00am: Head out to finish up shopping.

8:01am: Want to hide of embarrassment because this is the most behind I’ve ever been for Christmas.

10:30am: Take Vito to the vet for a long-overdue nail clipping.

10:32am: Listen to Vito cry and howl in fear, before they even take the clippers out.

Quote of the day:

Me: “Did he poop himself?”

Vet: “Nope.”

Phew!

Vet: “He just released his anal glands.”

11:00am: Give Vito bath.

11:20am: Throw anal-gland-juice-covered blanket and car seat cover in the wash.

11:30am: Wrap all the last-minute gifts.

1:00pm: Take much-needed two-and-a-half-hour nap.

4:00pm: Shower. Blow-dry hair. Get dressed.

5:00pm: Visit Aunt Mary in the convalescent home. Become completely depressed. Desperately need a drink.

6:00pm: Pack car with 5 shopping bags of presents plus one very clean dog.

6:30pm: FINALLY! Take first sip of a dirty martini.

Aaaahhh.

Dear Mother Nature,

What's up, Mom?

Listen, do you think you could turn your snow machine off for, like, 5 minutes?*

How the hell am I supposed to get ANY Christmas shopping done in this weather?

Have some pity, I'm not even halfway done with my shopping, and Christmas is 4 days away.

Let me repeat that: FOUR DAYS AWAY.

I hardly doubt my mother-in-law will show unbridled joy when she opens up a box of Moose Munch and NO OTHER GIFTS. And while I'm sure while my grandfather will smile when he unwraps his "Brainteasers" book, there's a good chance he'll pick up the bottom piece of tissue paper and LOOK FOR THE REST OF HIS GIFT.

If you could attend to this request now, that would be great.

Thanks, Mother.

And I promise recycle my wine bottles.

Hugs,

kk

*And that doesn't mean replacing it with your "wintry mix" machine either.

One Extra For Dinner

The other night I had a client dinner at Carmine's Restaurant in New York City.

We were a loud, boisterous crowd of 24.

We were sharing our family-style appetizers, when a fellow employee went to stab a forkful of salad, and saw THIS on his plate:



















Yes, it was alive.

(No, I'm NOT kidding.)

Dear Santa, I've Been A Very Baaaaad Blogger

And by "bad" I mean "nowhere to be found".

CHRISTMAS, which seems to have come out of NOWHERE (yeah, I know it's usually about the same time every year, but I SWEAR that it came about faster this year), is vying for my attention with WORK (and lots of it! not to mention client meetings and dinners. seriously, I forgot what the inside of my house looks like).

So please forgive me while I'm buried under copy requests, ass kissing and tinsel.

Ugh.

5:43am
Fantasy:

Getting up early to get a little online shopping done.

5:43am
Reality:

Getting up early to vacuum the water in the basement.

Getting The Tree, 2008 Edition

Saturday was the first day so far that put me in the Christmas spirit and made me feel like my favorite holiday really was right around the corner.

After spending the morning on a Holiday House Tour, seeing how the other half lives (it should have been called a Merry Mansion Tour), I switched my stilettos for my snow boots and we headed out for the tree.

I’m kind of annoying (who, me?) when it comes to Christmas. I LOVE Christmas, and everything associated with it. And because I don’t have kids and macaroni ornaments and toys everywhere, Christmas in my house is more Martha Stewart than Mother of the Year.

I’m a big “traditions” kind of girl, so we always get our tree from the Boy Scouts in our town. They set up shop right around the corner from our house, they have a bunch of trees, and I feel like I’m supporting a good cause.

Unfortunately for the Boy Scouts, I’m not like every other tree-buyer that walks through the plastic orange make-shift fence. I’m looking for the perfect tree. And finding it could take a little bit of time. And I don’t like to rushed.

But the Boy Scouts, god bless them, are persistent.

So there I am, walking around the tree lot like the pied piper with a trail of Boy Scouts following behind me.

We immediately see a tree we like, but we’ve only been tree-searching for 3 minutes. I can’t just get the first tree I admire. What kind of girl would I be?

So we continue on.

If I even paused at a tree, or motioned to Mr. KK in the vague direction of a tree, one of the Boy Scouts would run up and pull the tree out for us to see.

It was sweet, really.

The first 26 times.

BOY SCOUT: “This one?
ME: “Too tall.”
BS: “This one?”
ME: “Too short.”
BS: “THIS one?”
ME: “Too fat.”
BS: “How about this one?”
ME: “Too naked.”
BS: “This?”
ME: “Too…ugly.”

So there we are, being all indecisive and stuff, when we see these two guys walk off with our original tree. The perfect tree. The tree I couldn’t commit to so early.

Sigh.

And then, I’m totally creeped out. We’re looking at tree #57 when this strange guy with a camera comes up to us.

SG: “Wow, you guys move fast…”
Um, who are you?
SG: “I’ve been following you around..”
Excuse me?
SG: “I’m with the (INSERT NAME OF A REALLY, REALLY, REALLY SMALL COMMUNITY NEWSPAPER THAT NO ONE HAS HEARD OF) and I just wanted to get a photo for the paper of you guys getting a tree.”
ME: “Oh, I thought you were the paparazzi.”

So after looking at every tree, being stalked by the photojournalist and losing our favorite tree to someone else, we finally choose a tree.

We have our new BFF Boy Scout cut off the bottom (whose name is Angus we learn...don't meet many Anguses...), load it onto the truck and bring it home.

It’s in the living room in its stand in all its glory.

MR. KK: “I hate it.”
ME: “Me too.”

How To Guarantee You'll Be Late For An Appointment

1. Tell everyone at work that you MUST leave for an appointment at 5:30. FIVE THIRTY. 5-3-0.
2. Call and confirm said appointment.
3. Have completely insanely crazy day at work; stare incredulously at the clock that reads 5:25.
4. At 5:43, still be at your desk.
5. Finally leave. Forget computer cord and go back. Forget to shut light and go back.
   
6. Seek an alternate route because your usual highway is shut down.
7. Get caught behind the slowest driver in America as soon as you pull out of the parking lot.
8. Somehow manage to find slowest driver in America's cousin on the highway. Follow him. Closely. Applaud when he moves over.
9. Sit in ridiculous traffic due to accident re-route.
10. Remember while driving that you don’t have any change for a tip. (Because the salon no longer allows you to put a tip on your credit card. WTF?)
11. Scour the armrest for quarters.
12. Emerge with only $1.50. Go back in for dimes.
13. Debate calling and telling them you’re running late. Remember all the times they made YOU wait, and decide against it.
14. Take the turn into the parking lot on two wheels. Park like an idiot.
15. Smooth hair and walk in, head held high.
16. Dump $4.00 in quarters, dimes and nickels on the counter and smile.

Dear Devil Incarnate Otherwise Known As Facebook

You win.

Oh, My, Michael!

Dear Michael Bublé,

Your concert on Wednesday night? WOW.

You were AMAZING.

You are also lucky that I didn't kidnap your sexy ass and take you home with me.

Hugs,
kk

December's Top 10

The craziest/busiest/most expensive month of the year has just begun!

Here are 10 things I have to look forward to this month:

1. Celebrating my good health. Four years ago today I was lying in a hospital bed, recuperating from major surgery, congratulating myself for beating cancer. The best Christmas gift ever.
2. Gaining weight. It’s inevitable. And it’s not even from the cookies and desserts; it’s from the meals and martinis. I still haven’t lost the weight I gained LAST December. I'm pacing myself.
   
3. Annual Christmas cookie making with Mom. This is a tradition we started last year. Being Year 2, and knowing how my mother is once she gets something in her head, I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was when she started asking in September what cookies I wanted to make this year.
4. Client dinners. Last night was my first of the season, and I was a little nervous, as this same dinner had turned out disastrous last year. I suggest you click that link. It will make the fact that we had the SAME EXACT BUS DRIVER this year even more hilarious.
5. Buying a gift for my mother. Before I even BUY her a gift, I know she will return it. Even if it’s something she’s asked for, she will STILL return it. And then she will want it two months later.
6. Getting the tree! I LOVE getting the tree! Last year I thought it would be a good idea to bring Vito with us. Having him there made picking out a tree even easier, because we could rule out all the ones he peed on.
7. New Year’s Eve. In a word: over-rated. To quote myself (every year): “THIS year we’re staying home.”
8. Christmas Eve! My favorite eating holiday of the year! If I had to pick one reason why I love being Italian, December 24 is it! (Feasting on all those delicious fishes!)
9. Those leggy Rockettes! Yes, I’m braving the crowds and going to see the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City. It’s been years since I’ve been and I’m SO excited to be a total tourist: see the tree in Rock Center, eat a dirty water dog, get pushed around by mean New Yorkers.
   
10. Getting sick. How could it not happen? I will be running myself ragged over the next 3 weeks…all play and no rest makes for a very tired KK.

Hope everyone has something wonderful to look forward to this month!

What? The Hills Isn't Really Real?

GASP!

Admittedly, I am a late-comer to this party. I know just about everyone who watches The Hills knows that this "reality" show is scripted.

And I knew this. Deep down, I agreed. But there was always a little part of me – call it silly hope, naivete or too many martinis – that needed to see proof with my own eyes to totally be convinced.

Consider me there.

These are shots from a recent episode when Lauren, Lo and Holly are standing around the kitchen island talking about how malicious Speidi kicked Holly out of their apartment. (I mean, who would want to live with them anyway? Do they leave the house, EVER? Does he work? What does he do all day? Perfect his evil eye?)

Do you remember the movie Pretty Woman? In the restaurant scene when the cup of sorbet kept appearing and reappearing in front of Richard Gere and Julia Roberts?

Check out this similar scene – with a wine glass and our deer-in-headlights friend, Lo – proving that this poignant scene, and the entire dramatic show, was well crafted...in the editing room.













Here we see Lo (as we're reminded who she is!) sitting at the counter, without a glass of wine.














Next shot: Lo opens up to say something brilliant (such as "Yeah" or "Hey" or "Mmm-hmm") and miraculously there's a nice glass of red in front of her.













Wide shot: No glass in front of Little Lo. (Um, can we just take a moment to be jealous of that amazing kitchen that they never cook in???)













Lo and behold, the glass of vino is back!













Two points for consistency! Lo clutches her wine in suspense as Holly bad-mouths Spencer and his weird flesh-colored beard.











Shocked that Holly could be so mean-spirited, Lo completely forgets that she's supposed to be drinking a glass of wine. (She also forgets her name and where she is.)












Alas! We end the scene with a troubled Lo, who has found her wine glass but not her dignity.