Play dead…

Haanta and wolf fake it till they make it...
Haanta and wolf fake it till they make it…

Oh yes, December.


When every impulse I have is to pour kerosene over everything, toss a match, just to make it bright and warm. I went to my book club the other night, and forgot I was supposed to bring an ornament for an ornament exchange, and one other mom has managed to keep her pre-adolescent children believing in Santa Claus–in this age of Internet and non-believers. I was flummoxed. Not only did the ladies “win” at suburban mom-ming, but I didn’t even finish the damn book, and IT WAS MY CHOICE. I love it though, and will finish it, of course (The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell.) The next one is not one I would ever choose, and am trying to keep an open mind, but think I’ll have to do the Cliff Notes again. Don’t know what Cliff Notes are? Think Spark Notes. Think cheating. Think the end-run around your sophomore English teacher. You get the idea. Life’s too short to read books you don’t want to.

I’m thinking the Romans got it right with that whole Saturnalia thing. I’ve got colleagues acting like emperors, and emperors acting like gods. Knock it off, people. Just trying to be cool and keep some modest amount of sanity. But I am realizing the older I get how uncool most people are. Like the warlock who had his void walker out, the tank kept dying, but I was the “bad healer.” I know I’ve lost it when I cuss out 12-year-old mindset players and rage quit an instance. The rage increases when I realize that I am now “locked out” of a specific instance though I didn’t even finish it, and can’t move forward with an achievement. Why isn’t there a special line for instances for working mothers whose eyes are twitching and they just need a chieve fix?

I also have realized how much I categorize people not by their Meyers-Briggs score, but what kind of character they would be in WoW: are they a sneaky rogue, an undermining warlock, or a kindly but shallow priest? Hmmm…think I need to write more about this later.

Tomorrow I have a class, and Sunday I have to work, and I have “break down and sob” from 6-9 Monday night, and then do a shot of Silver Patron tequila and see if Santa wants one, too. F*ck cookies.

This has been on my mind: What in Jove’s name did Nicholas due to deserve this purgatory? If you believe in Santa, please don’t watch. You’ll be sad.

<p><a href=”″>39 Degrees North: Nicholas Was</a> from <a href=””>39 degrees north</a> on <a href=””>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>


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