no one can ever be like me

I feel like it should be 11pm Sunday night and I should be in my flannel pajama pants watching High School Musical 2. (Quiet.)

Man. In the past 48 hours, I’ve done more than I’ve done in the two months I’ve been unemployed. I can’t really believe it’s actually been two months.

Friday night, we convened for the second annual Awesome Christmas, which involves getting everyone gifts, with the catch being the gifts can’t cost more than $3/person. It’s awesome, hence the name Awesome Christmas. For instance, I got Matt a Brewtus-esque glass that had been engraved for someone named Dhi Patel, who was supposed to be a best man at someone’s wedding and Jenni was the lucky recipient of a foam do-it-yourself-style journal geared towards a 1st grade girl that loves princesses. I received such gems at a 2-pack of recorders, a slide whistle, and an airplane bottle of Hpnotiq. My friends, they’re fantastic.

Prior to unwrapping presents, six of us hit up Azia for dinner. We seemed like completely different people all the sitting in a nice restaurant and having (mostly) adult conversation, as opposed to sitting in a booth of a dive bar, ordering 2-for-1 shots, and (mostly) quietly making fun of everybody we don’t know. The food was spectacular, but then again, I’ve never had pad thai that didn’t make me want to marry it. The drinks were fantastic, but I’m sure it’s impossible to go wrong when you drink things called Hello Punch and La Femme Nikita.

Post gift exchange, we had drinks aplenty. So much aplenty, in fact, that Cindi and had some couch time until close to sunrise at Jenni’s apartment. There were shots taken out of a (unused and partially clean) syringe, shots out of tiny chocolate cups, the standard Hpnotiq and Grey Goose shots that make us say HOLLA, and so many more that I’ve forgotten. I know there was some Spin the Bottle action (I made out with the Diet Coke box twice and the recycling box once), a dance floor in the kitchen, and a couple of close calls on leaving for tattoos except all of the tattoo places we knew were closed.

Saturday was baking day for Cindi and I, but I didn’t even get to her apartment (mine was a no go, because Riley likes cookies a lot) until three. We tried one cookie press and didn’t have any luck with it, then went to get a second and it proved to be something we needed to practice, which required time we weren’t willing to spend. We mixed, smashed, baked, iced, and sprinkled cookies until right about 1:30 a.m. But, I have to agree with Cindi – if I’m going to be stuck baking cookies into the middle of the night, I’m glad it was with her.

This morning, I picked Cin up and we convened at her work, where we were a well-oiled machine in packaging the cookies together and divvying them out for delivery. TomTom and I made two deliveries in Minneapolis, which was instrumental in figuring out which neighborhoods I wanted crossed off of my Where To Live list. I went to the post office to mail two packages and 40 billion Christmas cards. Now I’m home playing Scrabble, when I really want to be napping. (When did I start enjoying Scrabble more than napping?)

The jury’s still out on when I’m heading home for Christmas. I was originally going to drive down tomorrow, but I still have one more cookie order to deliver. It has to go to my former employer. HI, NO THANKS. I’m waiting for my former Work BFF™ to call me back; I’m going to try to talk her into doing it for me. Plus, I still have to pack. Putting two weeks worth of t-shirts in a suitcase is hard work.

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