Christmas Carols

If the world was mine and everything was up to me, I'd head a special committee on Christmas carols. See, I actually like carols and songs. A lot. What I don't like is that every single no talent hack and off key slash insists on having a christmas album in which they butcher said songs to hell.

Classic carols I really can't do much about, as they're public domain (though I hold that the best execution of "Silent Night" was done by the Temptations). But there are several Christmas songs out that I feel really should only be played as sung by their original artists. For example, nobody, and I mean no one is allowed to sing "The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on my Open Ass) except for Nat King Cole. Doing so, or playing any other version, should be punishable by having said roasted chestnuts crushed and glued to sensitive bits of the offender's anatomy with honey and being left out naked as a holiday treat for the squirrels. Same for "Have yourself a merry little Christmas," "White Christmas" "Rocking around the Christmas Tree" "Do they Know it's Christmas?" and a few other classics that should never have been covered ONCE let alone by EVERYONE. There is nothing wrong with the Judy Garland, Bing Crosby and I don't remember who else sings the rest's versions, people! Damn.

In the same vein, "Sleigh Ride" should never have lyrics. Ever. And it should always be played by the Boston Pops, unless it's the Super Mario World remixed version, which admittedly is pretty fucking funny. And anything done by the South Park people is automatically permissible, though isn't going to get airplay in Marshall's.

That was all, really. I'm just tired of the endless parade of listening to horrible renditions of songs I actually really like every single year. I'm probably being more draconian than I really mean to be in this entry, but sheesh. Lite jazz minimalist versions of "Sleigh Ride?" *headcomputer* The apocalypse is coming and Santa's one of the horsemen.

goddamn.

Back in the days of the Casita Amarilla, one of us (most likely beatgoddess), after a particular ignominious bout of catbox cleaning, said something about taping the cats' anuses (anii?) shut to keep the nutrients in, something that has never failed to cross my mind every time I face the dreaded catbox. It makes me smile. Of course, after apparently losing my mind and doing two household's worth of dishes, I'm strongly considering finding some way of doing the same to the humans just so no more dishes get made. Sheesh! Stop eating so damn much people!

So I'm exhausted, but for a change it's the good kind of exhausted, the exhaustion of accomplishment. Not only are there a cubic shitload of dishes all cleaned (sydmor's in exchange for being able to use their boxes of clean, then ours, cause there's something weirdly off balance about looking to someone else's house and not your own), but two kitchens and one living room (theirs) have been tidied, two beds made (ours and theirs), and two loads of laundry (ours) are slowly making their way through various cycles of clothes cleaning appliances. Part of what got the job done, I'm pleased to say, was a recently unearthed mix tape darkling_dreams gave me an aeon ago after the first Vancouver game! I've since collected all of the tracks on it, but there is something about listening to the original mix tape that still makes me all nostalgic for the exclusive upstairs of World's End. It's still in really good condition too, considering it's about seven or eight years old and there was a period where I was playing it nonstop - only one warpy bit. I'm impressed. So, that certainly made the cubic fuckton of housework I just did bearable. :)

The earlier bits of my day were spent having some good breakfast with anzovin and sundart, napping a bit, running downstairs and getting the holiday cards that sundart designed printed and cut (they came out amazing! here's hoping we actually send them), and then heading out to the big boxes in Hadley for a little shopping. I was mostly going cause I wanted to page through the books of Dover clip art to find a small graphic that might serve as a logo for me... alas, despite looking at many very cool things, no luck. Still, glad I made the trip, especially since I got to stop by Cingular and surprise morlock with a couple of much appreciated Granny Smiths. I also got myself some of that weird vitamin water stuff - the kind with the dragonfruit and the taurine, which I think might have been partially responsible for the bout of random maniacal cleaning this evening. And now, considering, I think I've earned the right to lay in bed with one overly affectionate (and staticky! ow!) fluffball of a boycat and my laptop, rotting my brainmeats on the internet. ahhhhhhhh.