Dangit.

Our Christmas tree lost to psych again this year. Of course, if I had a gaggle of crazy people to make ornaments for me, and fucking sing christmas carols when the judges came by, I'd probably win too. I bet they even got one of the really insane ones to play fuckin' Tiny Tim.

I came home last night to find that my idiot upstairs neighbor was home. Mercifully, he got the memo re: stomping around like a bariatric clog dancer. I wish he had an upstairs neighbor that he could listen to. Then he could enjoy the sweet sounds of someone else's home theater system, listen to them pee (from his living room!) and hear them running like a clydesdale in a hamster wheel at all hours. THAT is my Christmas wish for him...

On a brighter note, I came home to a sack of "Baptist Cookies" last night. Sure, they're totally an effort to recruit the neighborhood to come to church, but I'll enjoy their homemade goodness, and still probably gripe at them if they park in my space on Sunday mornings when I go out for groceries. But hey. Cookies!