Oh Tannenbaum, part the second

Thanks all for the many, many British names. Some of those have been names in years past. Nigel is the first one that comes to mind every year, followed by Jeeves.

I ended up decorating the tree, but it kind of looks like I wadded up the lights and ornaments and tossed them on the tree, hoping some would stick...or hoping it would detract from the fact that more and more needles continue to fall out. At least it doesn't smell like socks and vomit, like the Madoogan tree.

But that would be a good sort-if british name: Saxonvaughmitte. Of course, to be a truly British name, you have to add a bunch of consonants that don't get pronounced, and a nice little "shire" at the end, like Gloucstershire or something.

In other news, I'm mourning the loss of a tv show. Why do the networks cancel all the good ones? First, Arrested Development. Now, Journeyman. I contemplated writing a whole blog entry about it, but the world has heard enough about my feelings on time-travel.

But back to the topic on hand. A new name. I think I'm skipping tradition and going with something non-British. Well, British inspired, but only if you follow the leaps of logic that my brain does. I shall call the tree: Puddin'. It's in honor of how British people make things that are called pudding -- like Blood Pudding -- but that are not at all pudding-like or even remotely delicious.

Plus, it means I can do a Bill Cosby impersonation every time I say Puddin'.

O Christmas Tree

I got my tree last week, so it's beginning to look like Christmas in my apartment...instead of a moving box graveyard.

It was a minor ordeal to get the tree. Ostensibly, picking up a tree is easy, and I just went to the local Home Depot for a bargain $25 tree. The problem, however, is getting a tree when you are just one person. It can sometimes feel a bit lonely to get a tree -- as depicted in When Harry Met Sally -- but more than anything else, it's just awkward and bulky for one person to carry.

Of course, after all the work getting it here, I haven't decorated it yet. Just some randomly strung lights. Decorating the tree really isn't that interesting, and it requires a lot of effort. And, you get nearly the same effect if you put the tree in the corner and throw some lights on.

I may break down and decorate it today, if only to hide the fact that the branches are already drying up and losing their needles like a junkie in rehab (or a pregnant nicole richie). I'm hoping this baby lasts until Saturday, when I'm having some people over for a holiday dinner. I fear by then it will look like all the trees that get tossed out on the curb -- brown and dry and naked.

Speaking of which, I need a name for my tree. A british name. The tradition of naming the tree something british started in college, for reasons I no longer know. I'm not sure what's stranger -- the fact that we named our tree at all, or the fact that the name had to be british. In any case, I need a name. Maybe Beatrix.

Christmas Rapping

I spent the day fighting the gale winds rushing across the outlet mall tundra to try and buy some Christmas gifts for friends and family. I didn't end up buying much, but I did stumble across two inalienable holiday truths today:

1 - Contrary to what the 24-hour holiday radio stations will lead you to believe, there really are only so many Christmas songs. That number dwindles even further when you're dealing with shops catering to a so-called hip crowd. So today I found myself hearing the same loungy x-mas songs that used to play on a loop in the Georgetown J Crew circa 1999, and I was immediately taken back to the trials and tribulations of folding dozens and dozens of roll-neck sweaters after store closing.

Suffice it to say that I'm over the loungy x-mas music. I'd be happy if all the stores would give up trying to be hip, and just play a loop of the classics: Run DMC's Christmas in Hollis, Band-Aid Do They Know It's Christmas, and of course, Wham's Last Christmas.

2 - While browsing on-line for a gift for my near teenage nephew, I decided to check out a sporting goods store website. Bottom Line: Remember to type in the whole name www.dickssportinggoods.com. I don't want to tell you what happens if you accidentally leave off the sporting goods part, but I'm sure the FBI has a file on me now.

To Madhu: Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

I stopped blogging once I arrived back. Nothing exciting was going on. And, the few amusing things I had to say were being said in person. I couldn't possibly share the same bits on my blog, especially considering my audience was hearing it in person.

But, I hear I still have an audience of at least one. At least one faithful reader. So, I'm going to try and blog more. But, don't be mad if I'm kind of boring when you see me these days. It's because I'm saving my best stuff for my blog.

In the meantime...

I went out tonight. It feels like the first real time that I have gone out since I moved back. That's not technically true because I've been out in DC since I moved in mid-November. But for some reason this felt like the first time back. It was nice, although a little strange -- I'm home and maybe a little tipsy by midnight.

Upstairs, my neighbors are throwing a party. Ten years ago, that was me. I can hear the music and what I think is dancing. It sounds a little like Stomp! and a little like the Rockettes. Lots of rhythmic stomping that I'm assuming is dancing. Well, not this second because a slow song is on. Were we this loud ten years ago?

Speaking of ten years ago and my lost youth, I was driving home this morning and I heard a song on the radio that reminded me of my senior year in high school -- Jesus Jones' Right Here, Right Now. Totally saccharin song, but it still reminds me of my senior year. Fortuitous timing on our part that it came out right before we graduated, and not some other year. Anyway, as I was listening to the song -- and actually listening to the lyrics for the first time -- it reminded me of how much time has passed. When we were getting ready to graduate, the Berlin Wall had just fallen and the whole Cold War ended. We were so optimistic -- geez how things have changed. I can't imagine today's high school seniors feel so care free and hopeful. I hope they are oblivious to the world's current ailments.

Not to change topics, but the theme song from Dirty Dancing is playing at the party upstairs. and the feet stomping has started again -- I can't wait for the lift! No wonder we were so optimistic.