Yes, I am totally obsessed with my dog. When I am done with today’s blog, I am going to go brush her teeth. Any questchunz?

I got a little bit lazy and started blogging yesterday’s post, which follows, and then I’ll get into my main blog for today. Excuse, excuse. It was a holiday. And I took PICTURES, ya’ll. And uploaded them. The same day I took them. And you know how rarely that happens. So, please enjoy a plus-sized Christmas-and-then-some post from me (in honor of my impending waistline if I don’t start back on my diet tomorrow. MOTIVATION, thy name be hip measurements.)

It’s a little after 11:30 on Christmas Day and I’m laying in bed watching episodes of Judge Judy on YouTube. Tomorrow morning, I have to go into work but I’m clinging to what’s left of today because it turned out to be the only thing I really wished for this Christmas–a good and happy day. I am so very, very thankful for that.

Poopsie got about eight billion presents from all of us (including Santa) and even the cat took the day off to be nice to all of us and play with her new toy. My mom proudly announced that she had made Christmas tree-shaped pancakes for breakfast which I enjoyed very much. As I scooped four of them onto my plate, I couldn’t help but realize that pancakes will always be something I will tie to fond memories–we used to do pancakes in the morning when I would go to Sonoma. It’s a big deal to eat Mickey Mouse pancakes when we go to Disneyland. Anyway, those pancakes were the best and would kick-off my full day of eating more carbs than I ever thought possible. Hey, it’s not my fault my family decided that Christmas Day was the day that we baked all our holiday cookies in one go. Russian teacakes and sugar cookies are my favorite and those were specifically what they baked. And, of course, I didn’t discriminate so…I’m going to be working these off for the rest of 2009. I somehow think that everything is free and good on Christmas. Case in point, three years ago, I went on eBay and paid over $100 for a sweatshirt given to the crew of A Series of Unfortunate Events because I was webmiss of one of its popular fansites. So, you know, let’s be thankful I didn’t hit up the internetz with my credit card in hand.

I went to work today and spent a greater part of the day cleaning it with a fine-toothed comb. I want to become a professional organizer and unleashed my talent for ordering, straightening, and sanitizing upon the poor unsuspected storefront and service counters. Anyone who has paid their humble dues in retail, especially at the holiday season, know what I’m talking about: the mountains of go-back merchandise, returns, odds-and-ends, and, for some reason, about three bags of organic nuts and a half-eaten box of chocolate (Fuel, man. FUEL. For all the biatchy customers who make you cry because you don’t know the exact inventory of a store down an alleged street you have never actually seen with your own two eyes. And that is a true story. I hate what the holidays do to some people.).

YEAH. So, anyway, the holidays are over and everything is back to normal (sort of). The radio played all that dentist-office-in-the-summertime music (I know you know what I’m talking about) and the only remnant of the holidays were the 60% off sale I set up and the fact that this Christmas, as weird as it was, turned out to be one of the best memories which I will carry with me for the rest of the year.

I think that everyone has scaled back this year. I know that in my house, there was very little shopping done and very little under the tree. However, we weren’t any less happy to have the 25th of December grace our doorway. I still got excited for Santa, deep down, as I rolled over at 3:30 and went to bed, remembering a time when I would agonize over it being the same time because when I was little, December 24th was a night I could never sleep through–I was just too excited.

The only sad part is, that I wish I could have gotten into that “spirit of the holidays” sooner than I did (around ten o’clock on Christmas Day when I woke up). I spent so much of the season stressed, rushed, guilty, depressed, angry, and bitter. I was worried about money, I was worried about having to see people I didn’t want to see. And what’s new? I was angry at my dad. I was upset that I couldn’t get my family things, physical presents that were good enough. I was competing with my sister who has a greater income than I do. I had lost the real meaning of Christmas.

My family and I have never had less than this holiday season but in a way, we were happier. My dad was home and he was in a good mood–he even gave us each a gift bag: an umbrella, some slippers, and a Target giftcard. Practical yet thoughtful gifts. My mom and my sister didn’t really do much with theirs but I wore my slippers all day long and exclaimed over my umbrella. I was so appreciative, not of the items or the fact that I had a present, my first ever, from him, but of the thought that went into our presents. I always thought he was nothing but selfish but he gave gifts that were of no use to him and no interest either–these things would make our lives more convenient, warmer, drier. I liked that a lot. I got a true gift this Christmas–a glimmer of hope that there is some good left in this person who has become such a dark spectre in my life. It’s priceless, it required nothing and yet everything, it will be something–for better or for worse–that I will hold throughout the coming year and that, I feel is the true meaning of Christmas.

Back to the grindstone, now, though. I have an 800-page fantasy novel to read by the 5th. I need to get that out of the way. It’s not going to be a fun read. The cover is bright purple, okay? And there’s a castle and a freaking wizard on it. Did I mention that I really don’t like fantasy? I know, it’s absurd for an avid Harry Potter reader-cum-scholar. But it’s true. Stupid, stupid Erin. Thought that Modern Epic Fantasy would be a fun course. LORD. Also, I have to write up more cover letters and resumes tomorrow. I’m applying for jobs in both the Bay Area and Southern California. Let’s hope something happens so that I can start a new chapter in my life and regale you all with more interesting blogs than what my dog had to eat and what she wore today (a Boots & Barkley distressed red striped polo shirt and her Fox & Hounds CoachDog collar in Pink from the Hunt Club Collection.)

I have a surprise for this site and this blog for 2009. My elves Wookiees are working on it.

“They say when you hate something you should slam the door in its face.”
“I love it when you talk dirty, Blair.”

And I love Gossip Girl. Who know who else does, too? My cousin. He’s 31. And straight. We had Christmas at my grandparents’ house today and my cousin came home from where he lives in New York City which was awesome.

“Where do you live in New York now?”
“Brooklyn.”
“Ooh. Like Dan Humphrey.”
“Yeah. Actually, Central Perk, the coffee shop where they film a lot, is near my old building.”
“NO WAY.”
“Yeah, I hate to admit it, but that show is really addicting.”

Yes it is. So we sat around and watched “House Bunny” which, I feel, is an awesome family Christmas movie, while my uncle gave us all “apple cider” which was actually champagne and I got a little woozy while chasing my dog around the house. And then it wore off and we played “White Elephant” and I got my cousin’s gift which was a collection of lightning crystals like in “Sweet Home Alabama” and he got my Ghost Hunter book. The big winner was this claw thing my mom got at Target and then promptly picked my purse in the parking lot. We are classy, classy people.

In related news, Penny danced for pieces of turkey and my grandpa called her a “Starpet”. He’s obviously been watching a lot of Animal Planet. There was this one show on called “It’s Me Or The Dog” and I loved it–a definite improvement from the TV I’m currently watching, namely, The Bachelorette. Don’t. Ask.

So, this blog entry is dedicated to Sam who noticed that a while ago I promised a blog entry on Why Chuck Bass Can’t Exist In Real Life Because If You Dated Him In Real Life You Would Shoot Yourself In The Face. And now, without further ado, is this such highly informative post.

Chuck Bass. He’s cocky, he’s totally jaded, and he’s got absolutely no morals. In fact, his complete and utter lack of a) moral fiber and b) any semblance of a heart is the reason why I hated him for about five episodes. Like, I couldn’t possibly believe they could write a character that superficially despicable. And then, he revealed that The Boy With The Ridiculous Scarf Fetish actually has a heart and bears it and, well, loses it to Blair Waldorf, second in command for the title of Royal Biatch on the series.

The fact is, though, as Chuck shows that he has an earnest and wholeheartedly “good” side, and in fact is arguably one of the “best” characters on the show, that shiz would never fly in real life. One act of utter selflessness and consideration is not enough to free a man of a lifetime of crime. Trust me. Because I know a Chuck Bass in real life.

Yes, he’s charming and he’s downright funny but I could never, ever fall in love with him. (Again. LOL. We won’t go there, though.) Why? He’s selfish. That will never change. Chuck breaks Blair’s heart and betrays her time and time again not because he doesn’t love her with every ounce of his being, but because he’s self-centered. He broke her heart in the last episode before the hiatus not because he didn’t care about her but because he cared too much about himself. And that, ladies, is a dealbreaker. That completely negates the point of a healthy relationship. Never, ever fall in love with a selfish man, it will always end in tears. You can’t reform that, you can’t change that, and I can’t tell you how many ways that will negatively affect you in your lifetime if you choose to stay by that. That is the kind of quality that makes men cheat, makes them desert their partners, and create broken, messed up, and distant families. TRUST ME.

I generally think men are selfish creatures by nature, they can’t help it, it’s in the genes, but Chuck Bass In Real Life is not nearly as sympathetic as the deserted, orphaned, tortured billion-heir from the Upper East Side we all secretly wish were ours. This is the guy who will date you because it feels good to him for the moment, cause you to betray your friends, forgo your morals, end things with any pre-existing boyfriend only to have him leave you with nothing but a pillow indent and the hefty room service tab the next morning because he lost interest. He really will tell you that you “presented a certain fascination when you were pure” but now you are like one of his father’s Arabians, “rode hard and put away wet.” This Real-Life Chuck I know? He broke my heart because he felt like it and then promptly started dating another girl who quickly slept with him and then he promptly ended things and to this day, talks about how bad of a lay she was. No matter which way you pack it, in the wrappings of an anti-hero prep school prince or a bona-fide jackass twenty-one year old waiter, it’s derogatory and disrespectful. Would you ever want to date that? Or worse–marry that? I hope not.

They both share unflinching loyalty to their family (and that One Special Girl whom, notably, you are not, just BTW)–they’d go to hell and back for them which is noble and attractive and the reason why I have Chuck Bass plastered all over my MySpace but it’s when I remember his real-life counterpart when I breathe a huge sigh of relief that there are some things that will stay within the confines of my television set.

Now, if only the compulsion to audition for The Bachelorette could be so easily suppressed. I kid. Maybe. Merry Christmas, everybody. Love to you and yours from me and Penny (who is currently Nor-Ad-ing Santa).