Wow Internets. I have been really sucking at life lately, and "too busy" to pay any attention to you. I never update you, or tell you your pretty, or take you out to dinner. My bad.

So anyway, with the holidays being in full swing, among other things I will mention shortly, my time has been swallowed up by unfun things, such as working and more working, and fun things, such as celebrating and baby making.

Thanksgiving and the surrounding days were uneventful. I ate too much, helped move my fiesty Grandma, and had several "food coma" instances. It was bliss, for the most part. My family gathered around to watch Jay and I's wedding DVD (We blew out the Unity Candle and the 30 seconds after we did it could probably win us $10,000 on America's Funniest Videos) and we mainly spent time with our families.

I was stupid enough to venture out on Black Friday, which I have no idea why. I am a person who very much appreciated PERSONAL SPACE. I like, nay, I love my personal space. I NEED it. People on Black Friday, aside from being completely crazed because they can buy a pair of slippers for two! whole! dollars! DO NOT respect personal space. And of course at every store I would have a "skirmish" or two with some idiot in public.

My point: Our first stop was, of course, WalMart. It was a WalMart in a large city, so it was packed. I am driving my mothers SUV. Parking spaces are only open in Scotland. I kindly drive to the front doors and tell my passengers to "Tuck and Roll! Bail Out! Go! Go! Go!" And I will meet them inside when I park this land yacht of an SUV (It is an Escalade. You should probably have a CDL to drive it.) I park in Scotland, grab my purse, and begin the long trek to the store. As I near the entrance, I see a prime parking spot. Front row! And there is a single buggy sitting in the middle of it. Now, as impossible as it may seem, I? Am not completely heartless. I grab the buggy, and do my good deed of the day, I start to wheel it to the buggy return. So now some little old lady can have a close parking spot....or some dumb bitch who slept in will get a prime spot. Whatev. As I am wheeling the buggy, this woman approaches me. My "Danger! Danger!" warning bell signals "Idiot on the loose!" She comes up to me and shoves her cart at me. I kindly say to her "Um, can I HELP you?" And she says, in her flannel pajama pants, slippers and greasy hair, with a cigarette hanging out the side of her mouth, "Yeah, take this one. Don't you work here or something?" I turn and walk away as she yells things at my back. I am wearing jeans, and a red hoodie. And CARRYING A PURSE. Take your own cart back you moron.

Other than that, it has been a pretty laid back kind of month. We are getting our tree tomorrow. My brother-in-law "Brother Chris" allegedly graduates from college on Saturday. My fabulous neighbor has gotten engaged and ask me to be her matron of honor. And I? Think the reason is because she saw how controlling I was during the planning of my wedding and decided to just give me the title to go along with it! We are half-assed timing our "baby-making" and figure whatever happens, happens. Perhaps we will be more anal about getting knocked up in the new year. My good friend from college, who is a fab blogger, has her baby shower coming up in January, and I am almost more excited about that than Christmas. Almost. (Sorry Jen!!!)

And now, I must go. The cats are yelling at each other, and my sweet 8 month old German Shepard puppy is probably eating something she shouldn't. My washer and dryer are buzzing, and I must get ready for work. When did we grow up? How did this happen?