Holly Jolly

Crap. Why do I get so cranky sometimes?

Getting to work should not be the ordeal it seems to be sometimes. But WHY can't they invent a coffee cup that doesn't burp up little blips of coffee all over my hand as I try to walk and drink? Is that really too much to ask for? I always end up about ten feet away from the Firehook dumping half my coffee out in a burst of frustration.

And here I am at one of my day jobs gritting my teeth through customer questions that are at times, reasonable but still annoying:

"What are the seats like for January's concert? I mean, how comfortable are they? Because I have crutches and I need to know that"

And other times, absurd:

"Are you playing the film Memories of a Gisha [sic] there?"

What?

Anyway, I end up getting short and condescending with everyone, whether their questions are reasonable or not. I am sure there is a bigger lesson at hand here, like the changes I should be making in my life so I don't have to have a "day job" anymore, but I know that, and you know that, and let's just not talk about that.

Anyhow, I should be more grateful and observant of all the things I have to be thankful for and I should not be making jokes about ending my life over socks with jingle bells or christmas trees or whatever.

'Tis the season, you know?

I just finished reading through my friend arctic actor's guest stint at his friend Dan's blog which is a great account of someone living life to the fullest and dealing really well with some pretty major shit. Read that while I whine about meaningless shit.

So, yes, the holidays. Part of my coffee frustration this morning stemmed from the fact that in addition to my computer bag, which is always heavy, because heaven forbid I ever actually clean out my bag of the stuff I don't need, I was carrying a CVS bag full of dry cleaning. Nothing I do requires me to wear clothes that are dry clean only. I could pretty much live in jeans 88% of the time I spend on this planet. Which I like! I appreciate! I am GRATEFUL for.

And yet, somehow, I have ended up with a closet full of clothes that are dry clean only. Does not compute.

And most of these clothes have been in the dry clean only bag since the holidays last year. And then it rolls around to this time of year and things like "come to a holiday party!" come up and I suddenly can't find the skirt with the embroidered flowers or the one with the pink plaid and shit there's that bag of dry cleaning that has been getting tossed around my room for months and maybe it is in there and sure enough it is and totally unwearable at this point since it's more wrinkled than a sharpei and suddenly I have seventy dollars worth of dry cleaning that I am lugging around Capitol Hill.

I know. Grace and ease. Grace and ease.

One such "holiday party" is at the other day job at the law office. Both "day job" "holiday parties" (can you picture that sentence performed with air quotes?) fell on the same day. I elected to go to the law office one, because the email that was sent around by VB, our office manager who doesn't use any punctuation (or very little) stated:

"as usual we will be having out holiday party this friday. we will do the gift exchange at lunch at the thai restaurant across the street. please let me know when you will be in so we can schedule the massages."

Ummm, massages?

I pictured one of the associates transforming their Silver Spring office into a massage parlor, shading the windows that peek out on Georgia Avenue, lighting candles and incense, rolling in a massage bed, and a masseuse coming in with fluffy robes and slippers...

Yeah, not quite.

I emailed VB. "Massages?"

"yeah" she responded "we bring in a masseuse to do twenty minute chair massages as a company gift."

Okay, so no candles and incense, but I am not complaining.

Then we do the name exchange for the "ten dollar gift exchange" to be had at the strip mall thai restaurant (Silver Spring has Sprung!) and I get A, our sweet little part time high school helper who does a lot of the filing and other thankless tasks.

I think she's a senior. I think she will graduate soon. She is tiny and wears a jacket that proclaims "Instrumental Music" on the back, much like the "Select Choir" letter that I earned in twelfth grade (which, in my defense, I never actually wore.)

Yes. Me. Big. Highschool. Dork.

So, suddenly it feels like a huge responsibility. What do I get the seventeen year old to send her on her way out into the big wide world? And for $10?

I thought about a Salinger book or two. Is that too heavy handed?

I could just do like a set of bath cubes or something fun from lush. Although what can you actually get there in the $10 range? And how will I ever make it over to Georgetown?

So - help - if you were an seventeen-year-old sort of urban, sort of suburban young person, what would YOU want to get in a gift exchange that won't make you think "Geez, that City Mouse is so dorky, and so thirty years old and totally out of touch with the kids these days!" (And no, I can't and won't give her pot.)

Suggestions?