I've been thinking about it, and after I become bored with all of your problems, I'm going to retire and open up a bookstore. Everyone says Christmas is about giving, and one of the greatest joys I've recieved is the gift of a delighted customer when you find their book. I'm giving to them the gift of a book, and they give me joy.

Then again, I hate bookstores because it attracts the dirty men who buy "Karma Sutra for Dummies," and the guy today buying a Playgirl, while swearing it wasn't for him, (when you are so stubborn about something that you repeat your plea more than a few times, something is amiss.) I laughed at him after he left. The Playgirl wasn't for him, and neither was the Victoria's Secret purchase he held in his hand.

HA.

Talked to Chris tonight. I think he knows of the blog... we had a conversation about the purpleness. I don't know if he is one of the random Shouters... oh well. I was being a girl and asked him if he missed me. He said, "I miss our conversations." My sister, the seventh grader who thinks she knows all about relationships, told me that he must hate me and think I'm a superzoid freak.

Not sure if I want to be one of those.

Chris, if you read this, am I a superzoid freak?

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My parents are recieving their presents tommorow. I am soo excited. This is the first year Kelly and I have been able to spend for my parents, and I am so proud of our purchases. They deserve a merry Christmas this year, and some relaxation.... Kelly bought Mom a day at the spa, and Dad floor seats to a Cavs game. I got both of them champane and glasses, plus dinner at the restaurant where they had their wedding reception, and for Mom, a gift certificate to have her hair done, (professionally for once.) It will be such a surprise, especially since they think they are getting lousy old Xavier tee's from me.

Wasn't I just rambling about the joy of giving? Yay.

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I am taking Kel to get her nails done tommorow. I'm a bit nervous. She has to wear a mask if she goes out in public, so not to become ill. It's going to be hard. Seeing her wear that. Sometimes you forget she is sick... she's just Kelly.

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You know, being a superzoid freak would be great. I think I would hate him if he told me that he missed our wild romps in the hay or something equally as dirty that perhaps a dirty man buying a dirty magazine would say. So, I hope he goes on missing our conversations, even if there ever becomes a time where there is something else to miss.

I really need to stop analyzing and just quit psychology and open up that damned bookstore already.

The End.

(Merry, merry!)