First Post - Christmas Madness

This is the first blog I have ever written. I used to have a Xanga, but I mainly used it to rehash my day and to stalk my classmates. MySpace was never used as a blog for me -- that was definitely to stalk people and to keep in contact with my friends. (Because cell phones, AIM, e-mail, school, Friday/Saturday nights, etc. were not enough.) Facebook is most certainly not a blog. Come to think of it, I don't really know what Facebook is other than a very addictive "social networking site" used to, yes, stalk people and catch up on the latest gossip concerning those I know. (It sounds creepy, but it really isn't.) (Well, maybe a little.) Anyway, bear with me as I try to get this thing up and running.


Considering that today is the day after Christmas (or as I like to call it, the Sad Day), I will dedicate my first post to the madness that was Christmas Day. After waking up from 5 hours of interrupted sleep, opening presents (score), Mass, lunch, the calm before the storm, traveling 8 minutes to my grandparents house, opening presents there, and sitting around while enduring Grandma's severe moodswings, it was time for dinner. Mom was in the kitchen attempting to prevent Grandma from burning everything (failed) and from having a total meltdown (failed). One thing about my grandma: when eating, she always gets food on herself. ALWAYS. She hadn't said anything about stains throughout the entire meal, so I figured that nothing happened. Wrong. She looked down at herself and noticed a hunk of cranberry sauce on her shirt, 2 fairly good-sized spaghetti stains, and one huge smackdown brought by her spaghetti. It was like she had taken a bath in her dinner. Her shirt seemed to be ruined. Being Grandma, she starts yelling/cursing/freaking out (as if this never happens) and complaining about how her shirt is gone forever and she has to throw it away and now she has to buy a new one and no shirt can ever replace that shirt and blah blah blah. Lo and behold, Grandma has a Tide To Go Instant Stain Remover stick. She all but bathed in that Tide stick. She literally rubbed the Tide stick all over her shirt (still swearing, of course) while the family and I looked on in fear. Amazingly, the Tide stick erased all markings from the cranberry sauce and all evidence of the bitch-slap from Grandma's spaghetti. After witnessing this awesome feat, Grandma stopped talking.

Thank you, Tide. Thank you.