jennifer love hewitt is standing up for size 2 women everywhere.

this is exactly what i'm talking about. this is exactly what the ex cast members of the real world are talking about. typecasting: hannah the nurturer, mamie the oppressor. i get it. granted, i do and say everything she says i do or say. only, you see what she's done, don't you? (this is the part of the movie where the framed murderer begins to look, well, just crazy enough to have done it.) don't be fooled by her evil gift basket posts. a little bit of fun (riddle), some f-ing winnie the pooh, a handful of seasonal photographs of the beautiful children...all of which give room for a nestled section of mean. hate her. and my knee-jerk reaction always is to blog immediately about whatever no matter what. it's the literary equivalent of streaking.

part II: (see? two can play at this game.) this is the part where i say something that makes me look stupid, knowing that you people can use it as collateral. i do this with g. singleton all the time. he has a poster tacked to the back of the office door; it's a list of all the dumbass things i say/do/mistake for valid stories.

i didn't get the riddle until this morning. what i mean is, i knew the answer (dwarf). but i somehow didn't take the trip from riddle to answer. as in, i thought it was just supposed to be nonsensical, surreal. like, you ask me what color the sky is and i say, "california roll." or, just as easily, "sweater." i'm walking from the office to my classroom this morning when i stop dead in my tracks: oh! he couldn't reach.

part III: (eric, i'm doing the roman numerals and colons together on purpose. like slash and /.) i called my mother from old navy last week, having just realized (as we all at some point do) that i had become her, that every item in the store (particularly the 40$ cashmere sweaters, the plush floor length robes in various pastel shades) spurred perfect gift item!!!! in my head.

me: jesus christ. it's happening. retell above story

her: all of the cashmere is on sale? what size robe do you think your sister would wear?

me: you don't get it. you ruin everything.

her: hhmmm? listen, mame, do you own a scarf?

(i'll use the awkward space of pause to say: when your mother is not only a mother but a best friend and someone you talk to five times a day, you see their train of thought for miles. you make immediate, seemingly unlikely connections.)

me: i'm not wearing a scarf in the f*cking christmas card.

(i'll use this awkward space of pause to say: we do the christmas card thing, but normally it's funny. none of this family-dressed-in-white-lounging-in-front-of-the-dunes-at-pawley's-island-bullshit. last year, gavin was the only one looking at the right camera, the sun was in our eyes, luke's hand was over his face. on the inside, my mom wrote something like, "we're exhausted. barely made it this year. but we did. merry merry and peace be with you all." at least she had a sense of humor about such things.)

her: oh, but mame! i just saw the cover of pendleton's (wool catalogue). there's this group of sheep in scarves....get it! wool! but they're already woolly?"

i sit down on the floor outside the dressing room.

her: joy to the wool! it says in the heading, JOY TO THE WOOL!

she's ecstatic at this point.

me: what do the sheep have to do with us?

her: that's what the card will be (clearly illegal, though she doesn't realize this). and on the inside will be a picture of us. dramatic pause. also in scarves.

me: i can't talk to you when you're like this.

her: we'll do it sunday. we'll get together for lunch after church and then do it. maybe carlyle could come and take the picture?

me: really, mom? seriously??? yeah, i'd like my BRAND NEW boyfriend to come over to my family's house on his only day off and take a picture of me in a scarf. jesus.

but here's the thing. she's just like me. all my complaining translates to her: we'll be there at noon. you dare tell my mother "no" and she just blinks back at you. like when chandler would break up with janice on friends, she simply didn't accept it. played deaf.

part IV: !!!!!!!GIFTS!!!!!!
okay, i need the guys in on this. in greenville, most of my friends are boys. the secret santa thing at work? a guy. brother-in-law. dad. 4 guy friends. nephew. carlyle. what do you people like for christmas? the only people i have to ask are them, and their only answer is "strippers and booze." which simply will not do.