Christmas Tiiiiiimmeee is Heeeeeeerrreeee!

Happiness and cheer.
Fun for all
that children call
their favorite time of year.
-A Charlie Brown Christmas

This most wonderful season of Christmas brings about some of my favorite things in the world to experience, and it all begins when the decorations first come out and the tree goes up. The process of pulling everything out of the boxes in the basement and making the entire house sparkle with all of my favorite decorations from my childhood makes my heart burst with so much happiness that I hardly know how to express it. It is at times like these when I do the Snoopy dance.

Let us all take a moment to remember Snoopy. The little spotted dog who never said a word (in the animated show at least) but still said so much, particularly with his characteristic dance:



This dance is nothing less than the most simple and joyful expression of pure elation that can possibly be portrayed by a mortal creature. Nobody can say that their world doesn't become a little brighter for just a minute at the sight of Snoopy dancing gleefully on Schroeder's piano during the Christmas special. The pose in the center of the bottom row is my particular favorite; THAT, my friends, is pure, unadulterated joy. Just try it: Stick your hands up in the air, tilt your head back, smile, and skip rhythmically, and just try to tell me that it doesn't make you feel good. Or, if you're already feeling good and don't know how to express it, this is the perfect dance.

In any case, during this amazing season, we should all take a few minutes to pay tribute to Snoopy: Turn on the Peanuts Christmas Album, take a few minutes, and
Do the Snoopy Dance!

Book by its cover...

I haven't seen New Moon yet, and frankly, I don't intend to for a while -- I really don't feel inspired to shell out 7 bucks for a movie that is pretty much guaranteed to blow-- but I have seen the pictures. Now, I hated the book with a fiery passion. I hated it so hard that it shook me right out of my squealing teenage obsession with the series, and I never went back, but film is a different medium, so I figured I should at least give it something of a chance; at least the Twilight movie didn't blow as hard a the book did in my opinion, but I digress. From what I can gather from pictures, trailers, and reports from my fellow Internet-ites (most significantly the SpoonyOne,) the movie is pretty much about rippling, shirtless Native Americans, with the occasional subplot about codependency, and Cedric Diggory, who Voldemort must have REALLY done a number on after he was killed, because he is now pasty and unlikable. Sounds pretty much like the book, except for at least in the book, Diggory was spared the blow to his dignity by NOT appearing in it. Anyway, I don't know that much about it, so I'm not going to rant, but I did notice one thing as I briefly glanced over movie stills on Google Images. I may be the only one who thought this, but something about the Volturi (the bad evil Italian vampires) seems a bit familiar:

I don't think the dude off to the right side is one of the main ones, but still, you got it yet?
Let me see if I can make it a little easier:


HOLY SNAP! The evil league of vampires is led by the Jonas Brothers!! I knew they were up to something! I mean, they're exactly the same, right down to them being dead-eyed, bland, and sparkly. Not to mention the hoards of screaming fangirls they have at their mercy, not unlike a certain brooding, emotionally abusive shell of Cedric Diggory we all know...
Be afraid, folks, be very afraid... And if you get offered a free trip to Italy, DON'T TAKE IT! The Jonas Brothers just want to devour your soul and drain any of the essence that their music hasn't already sucked out of your body.

Anyway, while we're making comparisons, I thought I'd just throw this one out there too:



Blue Steel much, Jasper?
My theory is that Jas is the son that Derek and Matilda had at the end of Zoolander, and even though he LOOKS like he's in pain, he's really just trying to be like his old man. Keep trying, kid, it takes a lot of work to be really really ridiculously good-looking.

And now I have to write a Psychology paper. Pity I can't write THAT about shirtless Native Americans, but just because I'm so freaking generous, I'll leave you with some:



You're welcome. Now get out, and don't get nosebleed on the carpet.

A Potentially Amusing Anecdote

I found out today that more people actually read my blog than I thought, so I have to start updating more regularly... which means that I have to start having interesting things to say more regularly. Hmm.

L'anyhoodle, today I remembered an episode from my middle school years that, quite frankly, I am shocked at myself for forgetting, especially since it made me laugh out loud when it suddenly sprang back to my memory after all these years:
So, it seems that in my 6th or 7th grade math class there was a particularly grating youth that I often engaged in battles of wits with (though he was ill equipped.) He sat behind me and frequently put his feet on the back of my desk (something that wouldn't bother me if he didn't MOVE HIS FEET constantly and shake my desk.) I was a quiet thing in those days, and I had asked him kindly a couple times to stop, but not very often, because I was not inclined to speak very much. So one day I decided to teach him a lesson: making sure he wasn't watching, i stealthily leaned over and tied his shoelaces to the back leg of my desk (double-knotted just to be sure) and waited. When the bell rang, he went to heave himself out of his desk but, unaware that his feet weren't about to move, performed a spectacular fall, dragging my desk at least a foot across the floor as he lunged. After a moment of bewilderment, he realized that he was stuck and became very upset. "TEACHER! She tied my laces to the chair!" he nearly shrieked, face a brilliant shade of red. The teacher, already doubled over in fits of laughter, managed to gasp out an inquiry as to why I had done such a thing. I responded in my quiet, sensible tone "He wouldn't get his feet off my chair." The teacher nodded in approval and turned back to the kid, who was now furiously demanding that I be punished. Teacher raised his eyebrows and told the kid it served him right, then gestured that I should run along, and went back to his activities, leaving the kid to struggle with his tightly knotted shoes, still red-faced and irate at being bested by a girl. I felt a strange twitch in the corner of my mouth as it twisted up into what would eventually become my characteristic smirk, and I walked away, feeling quite smug. I think that, to this day, that was the most satisfying thing that I have ever gotten away with, and I'm quite sure that it set a course for the rest of my life. I'm still furious at myself for forgetting about such a monumental day in my life; my crowning moment of awesome, marking the start of the development of my current wry, smirking demeanor and sense of grim humor that is so crucial to my being. In the very least, I'm pleased to know that I was so twisted even in my late larval stage; it gives me hope for the future.