Hello again, mortals. It’s that time of year when we look forward to the next year even though it’s still this year and wonder what the coming year will bring us next year in the way of events, happenings, and perhaps chocolate in the new year.

She hates me for talking about my kids. Hmmm. Anyway, Gawker’s Richard recently wrote about the Duggar family and their 18 kids http://gawker.com/5115582/why-do-we-keep-congratulating-the-terrifying-duggar-family which made me think of this:

“You’re not old enough to be afraid of Virginia Woolf, Leo – and your face is still too small for your head”

That time of year is nearly upon us again. Yes, that special time when the clocks strike midnight and I start crying uncontrollably and start wishing that a rogue satellite would fall from the sky and hit me on the forehead and knock me unconscious until it was all over. Of course, I’m talking about the psychological dread that is New Year’s Eve.

“Rocky if it was written by Arthur Miller over a long weekend. Marisa Tomei is hot”.

Fuck-brained, relentless breeders the “Palin Family” got another little bundle of joy today as “Bristol” Palin squeezed out yet another mouth-breathing oxygen-stealer in the form of poor little “Tripp” Palin, who weighed in at seven pounds, four ounces, no chances. Yes. “Tripp”. Pity the child named after a walking accident. Feel sorrow for the jokes the poor little boy will endure throughout his long adolescence, his short adulthood, and his untimely death at the hands of a snowmobile with an erratic starter motor. Yes. I feel his pain.

Hello my little love-buttons. Another question for you (and it’s not “What can I stick on the blog in a panic even though no-one’s reading it right at this moment anyhow?”) Yes! It’s a question about buying stuff! In 2008! The last year you’ll be able to actually buy stuff for a long while!

Anyway – I’m not getting paid per word, so I’ll cut to the chase: –

What was the best and worst thing you bought in 2008?

This is what Chip Saltsman looks like, in case you’re travelling through DC and you see him on the sidewalk and you fancy driving head-first into him.

And this was what was said by -- of all people -- Newt Gingrich

So it’s Christmas Eve and I have to do that thing. You know what thing. That thing. That which is regarded as the most heinous, odious, sacrificial, Pagonistic ritual of all things on Christmas Eve. One that may leave you drained of corpuscle elasticity, depleted of mental dexterity, the bringer on of homicidal thoughts, a true act in self-mutilation, and ultimately the harbinger of lameness so acute it has no determined name to describe its loosening of bowel function sense of impending doom.

I mean, of course, going to the frickin mall.

in which Jenny tells us the details of her life…

Seattle, Washington

Wednesday, December 17

9:15 am:  I’m on the phone with my husband. He can’t find his passport. He says he’s looked all the places I’ve suggested. I tell him to look again in all those places. There it is. In the top drawer of his dresser, underneath his underwear. He says, “I did look there, twice.”

Happy Holidays, my little unprecognitive ones. I bring you good tidings from a great goy that shall see through all peep-holes.

As winter and recession loom large we look to haiku as our inspiration for power through economy.

No need to worry if your presents are sparse, as long as there’s a future, I know you’ll kick arse.

One of the earlier memories I have of Japan took place during an “orientation” seminar I attended as a part of the first exchange program I participated in, which was designed to brief us on general rules of behavior and the like so as to avoid at least the most obvious embarrassments. Scattered amongst the customary warnings about proper chopstick usage and the wisdom of bringing your own supply of tissue to public toilets came the puzzling warning, “Don’t ask someone what he or she is doing for Christmas. You’ll be misunderstood to be making a romantic proposition.”

Just over eight years ago I left my previous job with a 401K worth about $10,000, courtesy of a generous matching program by my former employer. Even back then, I realized that the company’s match – more than 50 cents for every dollar invested – was pretty damned good. I remember thinking, “Dayum, where’d they get all this CASH from?” Those days are long over, of course. In fact, many companies are doing away with 401k matches entirely.

(Our freshest and most sleepless of contributors, Mintygreen, takes us on what we hope to be a recurring journey through the medical wonders of PubMed – over to you, Minty… Ed)

My job entails frequent PubMed searches, and occasionally I stumble across the kind of article that makes it all worthwhile. Without further ado, let me present to you an excerpt from my PubMed Find of the Day:

And this is why: We are in a hotel room in Hawaii on the Big Island. It is February. We are escaping the incessant rain of the Pacific Northwest. Mia, four years old, comes to me, dressed and ready to go outside.

I say, “Let me fix this first.”