i prefer my stuffers in fishnets, thank you
buying presents.
the thing with buying presents is that you like to buy them. well, if you're me or many of the people i know. or if you're santa. or if you're mother teresa. or if you're a parent. or if you're a grandparent. or if you a big brother. or if you're a little sister. or if you're a girlfriend. or if you're a mentor. or if you're poor. or if you'recently weathly. or if you have lots of wrapping paper. or if you want lots of wrapping paper. or if you're a greeting-card writer. or if you're a greeting-card publisher. or a greeting-card marketer. or if you're me.
the thing with buying presents is that you put the extra effort sometimes that will, quite frankly, go unknown, unseen, and unheard. but who the heckums cares, anyway (let's not cuss with the holidays right around the corner. right there, on the corner. hiding behind the lamppost. pipe in mouth, gloves and hat and smile on face).
proper present buying is an art, obviously. but subtle and without the extensive training requisite of the classical arts. instead, it is an air mixed of observation, creativity, timing, preparation, intuition, and plain luck. true of the others, yes, but distinctive all the same.
the art has been good. i like.
plans are in the works. dealing with the film, dealing with the production company, dealing with UPS (see the previous posts, reader. it's something, to be sure). dealing dealing dealing, the lady's got a pair of queens, the gentleman with the fedora just scored pocket aces.
more stuff and stuff. the equipment is all here now, now we have to prep auditions for the killer and interview crew. but that's all in january, folks...for right now it's buying presents.
the thing with buying presents is that you have to have a tree under which to place them. but the thing with christmas trees is that, not only do they cost money, they also cost space. meaning the apartment is a little less than little. meaning that there just isn't room for a twenty footer if you know what i mean.
wink wink. nudge. nudge.
so a trip to ace hardware on a whim (next to the subway that my father used to own. the ace hardware that kept me entertained for hours and hours and days and days, during all those times being babysat by a 13 inch television and maps of manhattan on the walls of the franchise. the ace hardware where i dreamt of owning swiss army knives and wire cutters, voltmeters and all sorts of funny lookin' tools) threw me into the world of faux trees and far too many decorative lights.
but a little searching and i found them; little lawn trees, fake little ones with a minimum of built-in lighting and a central trunk of wire that is meant to jut down into the ground and keep the little guy planted in the dirt. they come in two to a box. the perfect size and two of them, to boot.
but meanwhile at the office a crisis has been averted. what crisis? the coffee crisis.
the thing with the coffee crisis is that it's not a full-fledged crisis. it's more of a problematic problem. an itch. a scabby scab. a loose thread that just needs to be picked. etcetera.
this scab revolved around having to leave the building to get any decent coffee. this loose thread is wrapped within the sweater that is francise coffeehouses. no coffee at work is worth a second glance, simple as that. as un-elitist as i am when it comes to the stuff (shut up) i nevertheless like to drink coffee that hasn't been burnt or sitting in a vending machine, thank you very much.
so what do i do? i buy a bag, bring it back, and make my own. any time, at any point. there are coffeemakers in the lounge, there is plenty of space to do my whole lets-make-coffee dance, there's even a sink and junk. crisis? averted.
but the coffee escapades coupled with presents, joined with movie plans, epoxied with production problems, superglued with house buying, nailed to dry cleaning problems, paperclipped with car problems, all hanging from a mop of ever-longer hair and tongue-on-flag-pole stuck on my continual scruffiness...see now i forgot what the point of the paragraph was.
see the thing with blogging is, you gotta keep it short. yeah.
the thing with buying presents is that you like to buy them. well, if you're me or many of the people i know. or if you're santa. or if you're mother teresa. or if you're a parent. or if you're a grandparent. or if you a big brother. or if you're a little sister. or if you're a girlfriend. or if you're a mentor. or if you're poor. or if you'recently weathly. or if you have lots of wrapping paper. or if you want lots of wrapping paper. or if you're a greeting-card writer. or if you're a greeting-card publisher. or a greeting-card marketer. or if you're me.
the thing with buying presents is that you put the extra effort sometimes that will, quite frankly, go unknown, unseen, and unheard. but who the heckums cares, anyway (let's not cuss with the holidays right around the corner. right there, on the corner. hiding behind the lamppost. pipe in mouth, gloves and hat and smile on face).
proper present buying is an art, obviously. but subtle and without the extensive training requisite of the classical arts. instead, it is an air mixed of observation, creativity, timing, preparation, intuition, and plain luck. true of the others, yes, but distinctive all the same.
the art has been good. i like.
plans are in the works. dealing with the film, dealing with the production company, dealing with UPS (see the previous posts, reader. it's something, to be sure). dealing dealing dealing, the lady's got a pair of queens, the gentleman with the fedora just scored pocket aces.
more stuff and stuff. the equipment is all here now, now we have to prep auditions for the killer and interview crew. but that's all in january, folks...for right now it's buying presents.
the thing with buying presents is that you have to have a tree under which to place them. but the thing with christmas trees is that, not only do they cost money, they also cost space. meaning the apartment is a little less than little. meaning that there just isn't room for a twenty footer if you know what i mean.
wink wink. nudge. nudge.
so a trip to ace hardware on a whim (next to the subway that my father used to own. the ace hardware that kept me entertained for hours and hours and days and days, during all those times being babysat by a 13 inch television and maps of manhattan on the walls of the franchise. the ace hardware where i dreamt of owning swiss army knives and wire cutters, voltmeters and all sorts of funny lookin' tools) threw me into the world of faux trees and far too many decorative lights.
but a little searching and i found them; little lawn trees, fake little ones with a minimum of built-in lighting and a central trunk of wire that is meant to jut down into the ground and keep the little guy planted in the dirt. they come in two to a box. the perfect size and two of them, to boot.
but meanwhile at the office a crisis has been averted. what crisis? the coffee crisis.
the thing with the coffee crisis is that it's not a full-fledged crisis. it's more of a problematic problem. an itch. a scabby scab. a loose thread that just needs to be picked. etcetera.
this scab revolved around having to leave the building to get any decent coffee. this loose thread is wrapped within the sweater that is francise coffeehouses. no coffee at work is worth a second glance, simple as that. as un-elitist as i am when it comes to the stuff (shut up) i nevertheless like to drink coffee that hasn't been burnt or sitting in a vending machine, thank you very much.
so what do i do? i buy a bag, bring it back, and make my own. any time, at any point. there are coffeemakers in the lounge, there is plenty of space to do my whole lets-make-coffee dance, there's even a sink and junk. crisis? averted.
but the coffee escapades coupled with presents, joined with movie plans, epoxied with production problems, superglued with house buying, nailed to dry cleaning problems, paperclipped with car problems, all hanging from a mop of ever-longer hair and tongue-on-flag-pole stuck on my continual scruffiness...see now i forgot what the point of the paragraph was.
see the thing with blogging is, you gotta keep it short. yeah.
posted by Mister Vikas at 7:24 PM
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