Boys and Their Toys

Yesterday morning proved to be a frenzy of present wrapping (yes, I'm a procrastinator) and feverish unwrapping. My dad's dog went nuts, pummeling its full weight through the towers of discarded red and green metallic paper as me and the fam exchanged gifts. However, even with all the yuletide stimuli one thing stuck out amongst the layers of trash and piles of Christmas delights and that was a statement by my youngest nephew who I believe (and don't hold me to this as I have a black hole in my brain where ages and birthdays should be) is four years old. This is a direct quote from his mouth as he waited not so patiently for his turn at gift opening: "I don't like to wait. I just like to rip into them and get them open." My completely inappropriate response was something along the lines of boys both young and old pretty much having the same line of thinking. Delay gratification? Hell no. That's for suckers with too much time on their hands. What's refreshing was that a young boy was able to put it so eloquently out on the table without fear of judgment or female backlash. Finally, someone speaks the truth that us women have always known to exist. That no matter how pretty your packaging or how painstakingly you put it together with scotch tape, all the boys really want to do is rip it off and enjoy the gift inside.

I'll Be Home For Christmas

I know, I know, LA misses me. It's roasting chestnuts and hanging stockings, wistfully thinking of my sweet embrace, a nostalgic tear making a streak of white down its Mystic-tanned face. But here I am biding my time in Northern California, hoping we can be together again for the holidays. In fact, it's the only thing I asked Santa for for Christmas (sha right, I'm a greedy bastard). Actually, up North things are a bit more, shall we say, "christmasy" with the cold weather bestowing upon everyone a red nose to make Rudolph jealous (where as if you have a red nose in LA you probably just got done doing blow in the bathroom at Sky Bar.) All we have in LA as far as Season's tidings is that the girls in mini skirts exchange their flip-flops for Uggs, and Starbuck's starts selling their peppermint mochas by the thousands to anxiety ridden, prescription pill-popping, holiday shoppers. But now that's Christmas to me, and I can't wait to return home, some well-earned money in hand, to buy myself that peppermint mocha (with soy, of course) and enjoy it with a bag of roasted chestnuts from the West Hollywood Whole Foods. Does anyone make a soy egg nog?