Because, if Santa and the Holiday Armadillo stay in the same room for too long . . . the universe will . . . implode!

Sometimes I have a hard time keeping my Inner Bitch quiet. I find that the naughty thoughts are the first to pop into my head and then my Inner Angel has to beat the crap out of my Inner Bitch until she shuts up and that makes my Inner Angel kind of naughty, you know? It's a vicious cycle.

In an effort to be a gentler, kinder, less sarcastic Jennie, I helped Heidi decorate the apartment for Christmas. I say "helped Heidi," because all of the decorations were hers and left to my own devices I don't decorate at all. Last year, I hung up one ornament that I got as a present, and I didn't hang THAT up until after Christmas Day and also the only reason I hung it up at all was because it looked like a tiny bottle of wine and actually wasn't very Christmasy at all which is probably why I liked it so much. Whew. True story. I have to admit, though, our nicely decorated apartment has made me much less Grinchy because once we were done and the lights were all plugged in I couldn't stop exclaiming, "Ooh, look how pretty!" but again . . . that could just be because of the shiny lights. See:

I feel like I should explain the chair. It's quite obviously broken. Heidi's boyfriend broke it and then her dad fixed it but told us we couldn't recline it anymore or it would get stuck again. Well, some asshole named Jennie forgot and reclined it and now it is permanently semi-erect. My bad.

Phoebe seems to be happy with the new developments in our apartment, except she keeps trying to eat the (fake) tree so I had to introduce her to Mr. Spray Bottle. She's not a fan. I don't care.

Totally off topic now. I decided a while ago that I was going to try and let my hair get long again, since it's been fairly short since sophomore year of college and I needed a project. Also, a reformed crack addict told me I looked like Dora the Explorer. I'm happy to report that, except for a few stubborn strands, I can now get all of my hair into a ponytail. A very short, stubby ponytail, but a ponytail nonetheless.

Earlier, trying some more to shove my Grinch more firmly in the closet, I decided to turn on some Christmas music (I feel I should take this opportunity to tell you I have the day off and I'm at home, not at work). After reading Heather Anne today, I especially wanted to hear a certain Christmas song. And, obviously, Santa or the Baby Jesus or SOMEONE doesn't want me to be a Grinch this year because that song was the first one I heard, allowing me to dance vigorously around the apartment faux-singing into my microphone (lint brush) and hoping the neighbors downstairs were both at work.

And in case you're wondering? My phony-tail does not hold up to vigorous dancing. Good to know.