Can I just say that Liz Phair had SOLD OUT? I was listening to this new garbage of hers on the radio. It goes, "Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you...?" Something like that. It's such a travesty. Not that the song is so terrible, but her first album "Exile in Guyville" is such a masterpiece. The ultimate angry female chick music album. Now she sounds like Michelle Branch or somebody. First Jewel sold me out, now Liz. I swear, if PJ Harvey comes out with a christmas song, there's no hope.

Christmas shopping. Done. Yes, except for my mother and mother-in-law, I am finished. Hooray! I braved the malls today and did the hard core shopping. Go me.

Went to the Christmas banquet last night. Every year I swear that it's the last year and the next year, I'm back. For the food and free door prizes. Well, the food wasn't that great and I didn't win a door prize. We had an improv group and I HATED it. Maybe I'm just not much for improv. It was really painful for me to sit there. Painful, because I looked around and everyone else, including my husband, thought it was hysterical. But, I'm sorry, it was SO DUMB... and I truly think that I am right. At my inner core, I really believe that I am correct on this one: it was dumb and everyone else is wrong. I saw half of those skits at camp seven years ago. The ole' guy behind you pretends his arms are yours. The ole' backwards skit. The ole' answer the audience's questions one word at a time between the performers.

Jason challenged me to be positive about the banquet on Monday. "It's your first step on the recovery from your critical nature." Fine. I will smile when everyone is reperforming the dumb skits at work on Monday. But I'm going to complain about it here first.