Holidays are made by decorations.  No, no, they are made by our beliefs and those that we love.  The ones we spend time with!  Okkkkkk, but if you went home to Boise, sat on your parent’s couch, ate box pizza and said Happy Birthday Baby Jesus!  Would you drop your crutches and sing God Bless Everyone?

Exactly why do we say Happy Birthday Baby Jesus?  The man lived into his 30s.  Do we take Jim out for his 32nd birthday day, buy him a meal and sing Happy Birthday Baby Jim!?

None the less, Christmas is a religious holiday taken over by an empire of Made in China Red and Green.  Well, Ba HumBug!  No, No, No.  I love Christmas.  My house looks like Mr. Macy and Tammy Faye Bakker got together to puke cheer everywhere. I even have a hand carved nativity scene with my own little baby Jesus.  Holidays are magic!  It’s the one time of the year when we buy shit we can’t afford, spend money on decorating those items into beautiful packages that will be destroyed, eat crap that will take us until June to work off, and of course…enjoy….3/4th of every moment.

My mother knew how to do Christmas.  Mr. Macy didn’t just get tipsy with the egg nog in her house, an entire empire of ribbons on roids went completely elfish on decor.  The tinsel had toes, the bells had balls, the wreaths chirped, the tree had real  light them up candles on it…..the cars never wore antlers, but that’s only because the deer ran out of the way.  We never had an Elf on a Shelf, but you didn’t need that back then.  We had Jack Daniels….on a shelf… and he didn’t just tell Santa if you were a little turd.

Speaking of….as if cinnamon scented blankets and monogramed stockings and air brushed holiday cards and matching pet pajamas (I want those!) wasn’t enough, now you can shit gold…on Christmas, or really any time you want to.  Just Swallow the Magic Pill.

Glitter poop!  Now we’ve decorated just about everything.  I don’t know why Skittles didn’t think of adding this to their bag of Taste The Rainbow.  THAT would have been a shit hit.  Why stop at glitter?  Brown is so blah.  I want pink crap.  Pink is the new Brown.  Dear Santa….

And if Santa is coming, you had better bake cookies.  Even good Christians don’t leave cookies out for baby Jesus.  He really isn’t coming until Easter and then we just boil some baby chickens and slaughter a pig.  Christmas baking is a BIG DEAL….and it’s for SANTA!  Growing up in the South, if your Christmas dinner didn’t have twelve to twenty dishes it might as well have come from a can.  If an Elf has four food groups: Candy, Candy Corn, Candy Canes, and Syrup… a Southerner has ten: Meat, Potatoes, Gravy, Sides, Bread, Cookies, Pie, Cake, Coffee & Alcohol.  Meat of course can be broken down into many subdivisions and classifications ranging from fresh to jerkey, which in the south is of course still fresh.

If your pants still fit December 26th, you were WRONGED!  Perhaps that is why there are so many late summer babies.  Because the pants don’t fit?  No.  Once upon a time, Our Lady Oprah…..

Side Story  Foolishly I left a We Have Everything Catholic For A $1 store without buying the plastic last supper picnic dinnerware.  DOH!  However, I didn’t leave before asking, “Excuse me, I see a lot of Jesus and Mary, but where exactly do you keep the Oprahs?”

Oprah did a study on penile blood flow and scents.  Channel No 5?  Might as well use sparkly toilet water, because topping the charts was pumpkin pie.  COOKING.  The way to a man’s heart  um huh uh, is through his stomach?  Apparently yes.  To really spice the sheets in the household, maybe instead of glitter poop they should make you crap apple pie.  Martha’s new homemaker’s best seller, Pie Hole.  (The W is both invisible and silent.)

If you’ve made it this far, carols are most likely following you to the bathroom for your midnight pee.  I cannot see a hot dog without mouthing Oscar, I won’t sip Alka Seltzer void of plop plop fizz fizz, Snap and Crackle will always be stalked by Pop, and Christmas Carols won’t leave my m$%#f&#@*ing brain until cupid stuffs it full of Godiva.  I drive around looking at palm trees whistling Let It Snow and that darn cute red nose reindeer…I love his silly games.  It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

It really is.  Merry Christmas.   Happy Holidays.  Happy Hanukkah.  Fa La La La La.



From Helen, With Love.

If you are wondering the answer to the question Does the waitress spit in my food if I’m a rude jerk in need of a muzzle?  The answer is always YES.

My girlfriend and I sat at a local brewery having a pint and a pizza.  A lovely evening found us outside in hats and light sweaters in communal seating.  Only a few other parties were around us.  Dogs are allowed on the patio and Buffy tangled herself around table legs tethered to my wrist.  Delightful.

Eventually, as will happen in dog approved beer patios, another dog emerged on the scene.  Buffy sounded the alarm or perhaps became the pom pom of a welcoming committee for the blue eyed husky’s arrival.  Just as the cock crows three times, Buffalo Speedway thou hast barketh thrice.

Two gentlemen who had been enjoying their beer suddenly turned their attention on me.

“Shut your dog up.”

The words sprung at me the way a flying squirrel might jump from a tree and land on my face.  In other words, WTF.

“Oh,” I stuttered, “I’m trying to.”

“Well try little harderrrr Honey.

My eyes went black and the words, “You’re an asshole,” leaked out of my mouth.

His buddy snapped back with venomous flare, “Well you started it Sweetheart.”  He followed with a I am holding in a fart face and two air kisses.  KISS KISS.

I wanted to Bruce Leah their Allison asses who float like a fairy, but sting like herpes; however, orange is not going to be my new black.  Sooooo…..

I scooped Buffy up and tucked my face into my hat.  Hot tears welded up in my eyes and I choked down a mouth full of pizza.  I’m a New Yorker!  Why are sassy bitches getting under my skin like the A Train?  Aren’t we all just four chicks on a patio sipping hops?  Five, if you count Buffy.

I looked down into Buffy’s big brown cherry eyes while she batted her snowdrift eyelashes up at me.  What is it Buffy?  What are you saying girl?  Are you saying Kick Their Ass Sea Bass, Nobody Puts Buffy in the Corner?

Good girl.  I abandoned the table and sought out the waitress.  I ordered the lot a round of what they were drinking and hacked two huge spit balls into each frothy head.

“Enjoy your beers.”

“What’s that?”

“Trojan Horse.”

I took my dog and my Greek salad….. to go.

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Spring Lab Clinic Sign Ups!

Starting January 5, 2015 we will run another 8 week session of Mat Pilates ab focus at The Lab from 5:45am-6:30am with a 45 min run post class. Early? Child please! TGIM (Thank God It’s Monday). Core with a Shore run? Coffee to grind the day into action? Does it get better?


Sign ups coming soon through The Lab under CLINICS.

SPRING 1 Clinic Dates:

1/5, 1/12, 1/26, 2/2, 2/9, 2/23, 3/2, 3/9

Please email Drea with intent: drea@twomotivate.com