I just received word that Allen Iverson has been traded to the Denver Nuggets. No first ballot hall of famer for the Celtics. Oh, well, I had a feeling my Christmas wish wouldn't come to fruition. I'll have to put all of my energy into my consolation wish, which is for all the fighting in Iraq to end and for fighting to begin in Norway. Because, you know, Norway always gets out of hosting these events and it's about time they showed an interest.
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A night hasn't gone by, since I've lived in my apartment, that hasn't included the mournful, repetitive cry of some animal outside my window. I suspect it's a cat, but I can't be sure. Whatever it is, it's creepy and disruptive. Fortunately, the animal, or whatever it is, keeps its vocalizations on the short side;they never last longer than a minute. But when you're quaking under the blankets, praying for God to exorcise this demon from your surroundings, a minute feels like an hour.
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My dad called me this morning and left a voice-mail about Christmas. The plan is to meet at my parents house in the morning for brunch and when that's done, head to my grandmother's house for dinner. As each year goes by, I enjoy Christmas less and less. This year finds me unemployed through the holidays, and it doesn't look like I'll be able to afford many presents for people. It's embarrassing, but I can't do much about it right now. I do, however, have understanding friends and family; they're always there for me no matter what my life situation is, and for that, I'm grateful. I haven't sunk to the Scrooge level yet, though it wouldn't be so bad--- that fucker was rich; I could use some of his bling right now---and I have been engaging in some festive activities, like decorating the tree and baking gingerbread cookies. I even bought some eggnog. It's not so bad. Don't worry, St. Nick, the Man hasn't yet drained me of everything I hold dear.
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