Dooce got a dog for Christmas. A DOG! Jon got her a dog. Hockey God did not get me a dog, even though I requested a dog, like, seventy-five or ninety times.

I need a dog, doggone it. I already have a bed for it.

Dear Thirteeners and Usual Suspects,

There is nothing that screams HAPPY NEW YEAR’S to me like going shopping. Do you have a special, intimate relationship with Costco? Sam’s Club? Whatever you have, wherever you are? (more…)

My pie would be called The-Why-Doesn’t-BlogHerAds-ever-ever-ever-
include-me-in-links-anymore-do-I-say-the-word-
fuck-too-much Pie

Alternately:

Love-Love-Love-No-Arguing-With-Assclowns-on-the-
Internet-Day-Only-Full-of-Love Pie

I would like to remind everyone, especially me, myself and I, that today is NAWACOTID. Woot!

(No, the site still isn’t up and running; we’re building it, though.)

love,

WM

We are doing an amazing amount of nothing around here. All we have planned for the day is watching the Sabres play the Penguins (edited to say: Penguins lost. Sorry, Gaustad) and we will make Hoppin’ John and devour it. We stayed up late with the kids last night, banged pots and pans, then crashed, crashed, crashed. I slept until 11:30 this morning. What??? It’s true.

How ’bout you?

love,

WM