I have a cat named Jasper.  It seems like just a few short months ago that I had just gotten him.  He was a tiny little bundle of grey fur looking up at me with his mini-kitten eyes.

We definitely weren't best friends at first.  He spent the first couple of nights under my bed, refusing to look at me and making me feel a little inadequate. This was probably because I bought him a blue collar with a stripe of silver glitter around it that had a little blue bell attached.  It was FABULOUS.  But my little sassy man didn't think so.  In fact, he would find ways to tear it off and then hide it.  That is, until I bought him a great glittery mouse toy and kitten treats.
Eventually, we became BFF. Jasper and I understood each other!  I had no problem coming home from a long day at work and asking him how his day had gone.  Subsequently, my friends called me the cat lady.  But I couldn't help it. I realized we had a few things in common.
1.  We both love to eat people food.  If you leave a bowl of food around, you can be sure that it will be eaten  by Jasper.  Take for instance, a bowl of lima beams that I once left on the kitchen table.  I walked away for ten minutes, and when I came back, it was completely empty.  WHAT CAT EATS LIMA BEANS?
2.  We both have grown to love sparkly things.  Like Jasper, I started off as a tomboy.  I wore gross t-shirts, backwards baseball hats, and sneakers....oh and I had a bowl cut.  But as we grew older, we both learned to appreciate the beauty of a sparkle.
3.  We are both very social creatures.  This cat comes when you call his name.....he sleeps with his arms around your neck....and he responds in meows when you ask him questions.  Do cats really do that?
4.  We both love musical theater.  Seriously.  If ever there is a musical movie on TV, or Glee, Jasper cozies up next to me and fixes himself on the television.  He loves it.


Well.  This morning I found Jasper drinking out of the toilet.


And suddenly, I realized that time is flying by so quickly. He is not a little boy anymore.  He is becoming a man. I mean, it seems like just yesterday that he was just a small little sassy man with a glittery collar.  He is getting so old.  And I am too, for that matter.  I mean, I feel like just last week that I was posing with my sister in our bowl cuts and osh-gosh-bigosh music note jumpers....

...and now SHE has a baby.  My little niece of a nugget is two weeks old!  I have a big girl job.  I own a car. I pay taxes.  I have a cat.  It's cray cray.   I'm old.
So at this point, I have nothing profound to say.  Mainly I wanted to blog about the fact that my cat was drinking out of the toilet this morning.

But P.S.  Speaking of time flying by, Prince William is 30?! And he's getting married.  And he's balding.  Whatever.  At least his hot ginger brother is still single.

And for now, my friends, at least I'm not this kid.
 

A New Little Nugget

Well.....I'm an aunt!  On Tuesday, March 15th at 12:41 PM, Ava Wynne Castaneda was brought into the world...not by choice, may I add.  Oh no.  She would have stayed there until she was at least 15 years old, just in time to get her learner's permit.  They needed a vacuum to get her out.  But none the less, my little nugget was born and life instantly became better!

But of course, there are stories that go along with this great day.

Let's begin the night before.  We all went to Fatz for one last hoorah, where we severely overate and discussed how upset Kelley was that she wouldn't be able to eat breakfast at Chick-Fil-A the next morning because she couldn't eat before her C-Section.
Going to sleep was impossible that night because all I could think of was how cool of an aunt I would be starting Tuesday.  Even Jasper was excited.  Tylenol PM helped that.
Waking up the next morning, I mean, I was freaking out.  I won't lie to anyone.  What would she look like?  Is she going to be able to sing?  Will she have hair?  Will her head be shaped weird when she comes out?  Will she look like an alien?  It was crazy.  Naturally, the only thing that could calm me down was a Chick-Fil-A biscuit.  Mom and I found our way to the hospital, equipped with a book and a liter of Diet Coke so mom "wouldn't have to buy Diet Cokes out of the machine".   Somehow, Mom and I ended up wandering onto a back alley elevator.  How? I don't know.  We see that the maternity ward is on the second floor, and as we step off, we're in a back hallway.  I'm pretty sure we were in a surgery wing.  "Mom I think we're lost."  And she says, "Well let's start walking...we'll figure it out." We literally weave around some back alley hallways of Greenwood Hospital that I haven't seen since.  And as we approached a doctor with complete surgery attire on, he said "Ladies can I help you find something?"  Somehow, we ended up pushing through double doors that I'm pretty sure you had to have a badge to go through and, again, ended up on a back alley hallway.  And again, we met a nurse in the hallway who, somehow, knew Mom and led us to Kelley and Patrick.  So random.
We got back into the hospital room, I got lightheaded, and I gave my well wishes and left to find the family waiting room.  My bad.  But all those buzzers and beepers and white walls and hospital gowns were just too much.  I had to peace out.  Meanwhile, my father, grandparents (Bug and Buzzy), my Aunt Lutie, and my grandmother Cathy were on there way.  After sitting in a waiting room filled with people who were speaking French, I think, I get a text from Dad. "Bug, Buzzy, and I are in the family waiting room.  See you soon."  Well, that's interesting because I was in the family waiting room too and all I saw was a group of French people.  And thus begins our quest of, once again, getting lost in the hospital.  After ten minutes of phone calls to Dad that were broken up because we had no service, we finally found each other.  But only three out of five family members were present and accounted for.  My Aunt Lutie called me and wasn't even sure if she was at the right hospital.....she was lost.  And as my grandfather went to look for her, she showed up in the family waiting room after finding the OTHER family waiting rooms.  I mean, dang.  How many waiting rooms does one maternity floor need?
So four out of five were present and accounted for.  But Grandmama Cathy was still wandering around the hospital somewhere.  We decided it was better to tag-team this time so that we could put together the two paths where we had already gotten lost and perhaps learn from our mistakes.  After retracing our steps and finding the ground floor lobby, expecting to see my Grandmother, we get a call that she is already upstairs. Soooo back up we go....only to get lost AGAIN. We asked her how she found her way up there...."I have no idea" was her reply.  This was a circus.  This was like a bad game of hide and seek and nobody really knew where home base was so everybody just ran around trying to find another person.
After all were finally present and accounted for, we all patiently waited for news...ANY news.  Finally mom came in and just said that we had to wait longer.  I was antsy.  I was nervous.  And at that point, I had already eating a 3 Musketeer bar and a bag of Combos from the vending machine.  What else was I supposed to do?  After a while, Mom got up and began pacing the hall because she couldn't sit still anymore.  And around 12:50, she came running in saying that we have a 9 lb 3 oz Little Nugget of a girl!
When they were in the recovery room, they let some of us in one at a time to meet Ava Wynne.  Now let's get one thing clear.  I'm not one of those people that thinks that babies are beautiful and perfect.  I think they're a little strange mostly.  But Ava Wynne was an exception because she's the prettiest baby that has ever been born.  I walked in and saw her, literally screaming her lungs out, and it made me feel so much better because I knew at that point that she would be a singer when she grows up.  Thank God she'll be talented.
I sat and talked to her, took pictures of her, checked on my sister, and was rubbing her little head.  Her hair was so long and curly already.  And as I sat and played with her beautiful brown hair, Patrick looked at me, snickered, and said "You know that's the only part that they haven't really cleaned off yet."  After gagging and almost passing out in my sister's recovery room, I realized that it was probably best for Ava Wynne and I to get acquainted better AFTER she had a bath.
We spent that day with our family, passing Little Nugget around, texting 99872 pictures to almost everyone in our phone books, and I obnoxiously video taped every second of it.
The next morning I returned to the hospital to spend the day with the new Little Nugget.  When I miraculously found their hospital room, Kelley still couldn't get out of bed and Patrick was dead asleep....and OF COURSE, Ava Wynne needed a diaper change.  I had no idea what to do.  I'm not afraid to admit that I had never really changed a diaper.  I don't do babies.  So Ava Wynne and I had our first moment of truth.  I looked at her and said "I reeeeeally need you to work with me here."  And after carefully opening the crypt, I found that she worked with me.  No poop here!  THANK YOU LITTLE NUGGET!
Since then, I still haven't changed a poop diaper.  I know that's coming, but I feel like waiting it out is the best option for both of us.  Even so, she's so cool.  I never thought I would think that a baby is cute.  I have become one of those people that used to really get on my nerves by constantly showing me pictures of their little ones.  Now, I force people to look at pictures of her and I don't feel bad about it!  She's just so cool. And the best part about it:  when she screams, I can just give her back! It's awesome. I look forward to getting to know this new Little Nugget.  And to putting her in my baby backpack.

You cannot tell me that isn't the cutest thing you have ever seen.  So friends, I admit it.  I've become a mush.  But at least I'm a cool aunt.  Right?  And until then, at least I know my niece isn't going to be like this lady.

When I was younger, I always looked forward to Valentines day because of the party at school where you passed out your Valentines (mine were usually Alladin themed, or Snow White themed), and you got a lot of candy.  As I got older, my mother used to always buy me a pretty significant Valentine's Day gift.  And although it wasn't my favorite day of the year, it was ok because I usually got a cool piece of jewelery, or a new item of  clothing, and the most important gift of the year:

I love these things.  There is nothing about a Reese's Peanut Butter Heart that isn't perfect.  So as annoying as Valentine's Day was to me, nothing could really make it a bad day if there was a Reese's heart in the gift bag.

Until Valentine's Day of my junior year of high school...

Like I said, my mother always gave me a gift on the day, so, per usual, I woke up to a little gift bag on the kitchen table.  In the bag was a little necklace, of course, a Reese's, and a package that said "Grow A Boyfriend".  No Joke.

                                  

Really?  Now I know my mother meant all the best and was doing it as a little joke, but really?  Although the packaged growable creature was a little bit creepy, I was going to play along, so I couldn't help but be curious as to what this thing would turn out like.  I pulled it out of the package and thought it looked a little weird, but proceeded with the project.  I put it in the bowl of water and let it sit for around ten minutes.  After eating two Reese's Peanut Butter Hearts, I returned back to the bowl to see how my growable companion turned out.  I pulled out the now bigger figure and examined it. And guess what.

IT WAS A GIRL.

That's right.  My growable frigging boyfriend had long hair, a dress, and boobs.  I don't understand how these things happen to me.  I mean, I guess it was packaged wrong, but really?   How does this happen to me?  Why was I the unlucky one in America that the packaging lady thought it would be funny to play a mean joke on?  I mean, dang.  Not only was I single on Valentine's Day, but the only companion that I had given to me turned out to be growable...... and a girl.  

I'd like to pretend that I'm mature enough to not be bitter and irritable on Valentine's Day, but I'm definitely not.  How could you not be after an experience like that?  Plus I'm always asked to sing for some kind of Valentine's Program every year.  Now don't get me wrong, I love singing any chance that I can get, and I am even happy to sing for a big group of couples, but Valentine's Day? Gross.  I really do try not to be unpleasant, and this year I even bought heart shaped BoBerry Biscuits (mainly because they were two for 99 cents).  But I'll be honest, I'm just not all about it.  I mean, why make one day of the year the day that you do great things for the ones you love?

Here's my deal.  I'm going to try show my love every day of the year....365 days of big ole loving from yours truly.  This does not include love for Josh Groban, Taylor Swift, or Justin Bieber.  They will never receive my love because they're terrible.  But, my friends, let's all show a lot of love to each other every day of the year instead of this one lame day, right?  Hug somebody really tight.  Or sing a little ditty to someone (even if it's off key, like Taylor Swift). I mean, you can't buy love on EBay right?  (Although I am really looking for a nice, new camera, so if you would like to be especially loved by me, you can buy me one).

And for now, friends, at least I'm not this guy.  Happy day.

So.  I know it's been a while since I've blogged.  I'm not sure how many of you read this thing.  But to those of you who do, I'm sorry I have been a negligent mother to my blog.  Since my last update, my cat Jasper has gotten huge.  My pregnant sister has gotten REALLY pregnant.  I experienced one of the quickest rehearsal processes that I've ever been in and ended up with a finished product--"MY WAY", which was a musical tribute to Frank Sinatra.  I woke up every morning with a new song in my head.....and if I sang "That's Life" one more time, I thought I was going to intentionally break a leg just to stop the showtunes JUST for a while.  But we pulled it off.  And I have temporarily moved in with some new roommates.  I fondly call them--"my parents".  It's safe to say I'm in a big transition period in my life. I'm looking forward to hopefully going to grad school...or possibly getting hired by a theater company....but right now....it's just hanging out with Mom and Pop....and my very pregnant sister (who looks fabulous, btw).  Some people think this may suck....but let's face it.  Things could be a lot worse, right?  I mean, dang.  I got food.  My family's really cool.  And I have a super cool cat.  So...things could definitely be worse.  In fact, I'll tell you a story to prove my point.

When I was 16 years old, I had heart surgery. Don't freak out.  This isn't a sob story.  The surgery was scheduled to be down in Charleston....gooooood ole Chucktown.  So, Kelley, Mom, Pop, and I packed up the car and headed down the interstate.  When we hit Columbia, I'm pretty positive that the leftovers of friggin  Hurricane Hugo hit us.  I mean, you couldn't see anything.  Randy tried to stay calm and collected, but you could tell he was starting to sweat...and naturally Kelley and I were semi-hyperventilating whilst covering our faces with pillows.  We finally get to Chucktown and park in the parking garage from MUSC.  Well good news.  It's flooded.  And I'm not talking a little water in the gutter.  I mean the entire Randall clan rolled up our pants, took off our shoes, and waded across the red freaking sea into the hospital where we were greeted by a man who said "Do yall folks need an umbrella?"  Thank you sir.  Thank you.
We head up to the pre-op consultation room where we wait for an hour.  During this hour, we literally heard nothing but a child screaming bloody murder. I think we all know how I feel about screaming children. The anesthesiologist asked if I thought I would need a little medicine to relax me before the surgery the following day.  My response was that if the kid who was still screaming was in the hospital the next day, absolutely.
The next morning was the big day. This wasn't open heart surgery, but it involved scary things like lasers and stuff.  So let's be honest.  I was terrified.  And all I wanted was a chicken biscuit from Chick-Fil-A....but you can't eat the day of your surgery.  I walked into the pediatric cardiology unit and suited up with Kim and Rands standing beside me.  On the ceiling was a painted light house that was by the beach with a big sunshine.  The anesthesiologist and nurses came in and gave me my "calming medicine".  Just when I thought the medicine wasn't working, the waves around the painted lighthouse started moving and the light in the top of it started flashing.  I felt fine.  Aaaaaand that's all I remember.  Apparently the nurse said to my parents that often times the medicine they gave me made most teenage girls cry.  I, however, began hysterically laughing and starting making a beeping noise as they began to back me up.  Reeeeeeally cool, Taylor.
The next thing I knew, it was 8 hours later and I was laying flat on my back in my hospital room.  Two nurses who weighed about 2 pounds each came in to my room to transfer me from the rolling bed to my actual hospital bed.  Now let's remember this was the pediatric cardiology unit.  This girls were used to moving around babies.  So when they got ready to move big girl to her bed, you could see the worry in their eyes.  They counted to three and literally heaved me onto the bed.  You could hear them strain.  Awesome.  My nurse's name was Cari.  She was from Indiana.  She also weighed 2 pounds.
The night crept on and I was slowly making progress, but I was ordered to stay flat on my back for at least 5 hours in order for my incisions to heal.  Kelley and Mom were both in room with me all night, but since I was doing a lot better, Mom decided to go downstairs to make a couple of phone calls.  So there we were, just Kelley and I.  Kelley had stayed in the same spot all night because she was terrified of all the germs in the hospital.  Well.... I sat there laying still on my back....and suddenly I started feeling a little queezy.  I turned to Kelley who was, again, in the corner.  "Kelley, I'm not feeling so good."  Kelley turned white.  I mean, WHITE.  She jumped out of her chair and starting fanning me with her Sudoku book that she had been working on all day, saying "No you don't, you feel great.  You feel awesome! See how good this feels?"  She was panicking.  And sweating.  I looked at her again, and calmly said,  "Kelley, really.  I don't feel so good."  "NO TAYLOR YOU FEEL FINE! YOU FEEL PERFECT!"  One last time, I said "Listen Kelley.  This is it.  I'm gonna hurl.  You either help me or you don't."  So Kelley hands me a bedpan.  I was still supposed to be lying flat on my back, but according to Kelley, she was scared I was going to choke.  So she quickly raised my hospital bed up, but then panicked and quickly lowered it down. She repeated this up and down and up and down and up and down process several times while I continued to hurl into my bedpan.  It was like a bad episode of "I Love Lucy".  Kelley then darts down the hallway crying and screaming "NUUUUUURSE NUUUUURSE MY SISTER IS DYING!" Cari, the 2 pound nurse whom I later fainted on, rushed into the room and saw the situation. She helped me out, took care of me, and then looked at Kelley saying "Miss, next time there's an emergency, you can just push the red button on her bed.  No running is necessary."

See.  Things could ALWAYS be worse.  You could be yakking in a bed pan....or you could have a bowl cut......or you could be Josh Groban. Just saying.

And for now, at least I'm not this guy.

Last year, I rang in 2010 at the Philadelphia airport. I was supposed to be in Athens, Georgia with three of my best friends, lighting up the town, wearing something incredibly sparkly, and drinking champagne. Instead, I was sitting beside a lady reading a Paula Dean cookbook, wearing a dirty PC t-shirt, and drinking Diet Dr. Pepper with a side of Dramamine, hoping my plane would decide to finally take off after a 12 hour delay.
Well folks, this year we had some making up to do.  And making up we did.   "The 15 Best Friends That Anybody Could Have" gathered once again to A. Celebrate the 973 engagements that have happened this year (I mean, damn.) and B.  To Celebrate the best year of our lives, aka 2010.  Thus, this blog is going to be a celebration of 2010.  Here's to "The 15 Best Friends That Anybody Could Have".  We did it, my friends.

2010 began with an incredible evening of dance at ADPi Christmas party.   Everyone always knew where I was because the sequins on my dress all fell off by the end of the night.  I was like Hansel and Gretl, sequin style.

One night, and appropriately, during the 2010 Winter Olympics, it snowed....a lot.  Smurch, B, and I decided it would be a great idea to "body sled" down a hill beside the gym and to eat the fresh snow.                 

February 2010:  RIDICULOUS production of "Vagina Monologues".  My ladies were balling.  

And then a little thing called "Hall Crawl" happened.  This night will be forever immortalized as the night the senior apartments went to Ireland, Canada, New Zealand, Cuba, Mexico, France, and America in 2 hours.  Many of us will count this as the best and worse night of our lives!  But it will forever be remembered.

"Throw Down for your hometown" was a night of representing our people back home:  a country mom, Miss Granite City, a pregnant devil, Greenwood--the widest street in the world, and a Hose, respectfully.

This evening was also filled with big hair, lots of rap music, and a variety of dance moves that most aren't blessed with.  It's ok to be jealous.

And then we had our first big kid wedding shower with "The 15 Best Friends That Anybody Could Have", filled with greasy finger foods, sitting around in a circle awkwardly like grown ups, and presents!  No  big deal.  


And what would a year at PC be like without me and Brice in party shades, a band party, and me stealing the microphone?


Or a Thursday night T-Shirt night at Theta Chi?


Near the end of the semester, we had a senior night. This particular evening was filled with magic marker and lot of dragon love.

And then a little thing called Beach Week happened.  If you needed a fried egg, you could have easily cooked it anywhere on my body. 



But even I'll admit that it was very much worth it.

And then we graduated.  What a terrible idea.  Don't ever graduate.  EVER.  But we did get some cool pictures--
like this:

And this:

And we bedazzled our graduation caps.  We thought tons of people would do it....they didn't.  We were the only ones.  Score.  

And then BEN AND LIZ GOT MARRIED!!!!! 

Not only did this night include dancing and a major love fest, it included our first fight over a bouquet.

First post-grad reunion in July.  Which included:

Singing,

Dancing,

and prom poses, naturally.

In August, we found out that Kelley was PREGGLES!  And I realized I have never technically held a baby....oh God.

And one time, PC played Clemson.  I mean....at least we had good tailgate food.  Right?

The fall was spent reuniting with a lot of people....and trying to pretend like we were still in college.  Most of these attempts were unsuccessful....but A for effort.

The month of October was spent freaking out at the fact that ANOTHER one was engaged!  Laurie and Craig added the total numbers of weddings that I am singing at in 2011 to six.  I mean, dang.  

I also spent 5 months in CharTown with roomies Patricia and Schaeffer.....and JASPER!

Before I knew it....I had become the cat lady and it was Christmas.....

....and Erin had added the number of weddings I'm singing at in 2011 to seven.  Whoa.

And then I rang in the New Year with my best friends:  an evening filled with  BL Lime, lots of sequins, lots of loving, hot dog stands, and deflated air mattresses.  

Most people try to make New Years Resolutions.  I used to try to say that every year I would start working out at the YMCA more....but when I would go at the beginning of the year, I found the whole town in the workout room as well because they had all made the same resolution.    So bump it.  This year, my resolution is to stay happy. I couldn't have had a better 2010.  I'm going to value my family and my friends and my cat as much as I can!  And who knows....maybe there will be a lot less high wasted pants-wearing women, more sushi, less debt, and more reunions in 2011.  So, my friends, enjoy this year.  Heyohhhhhh.

And until 2012, at least I'm not this guy.

  

When Kelley was young (and when I say young, I mean 11 or 12), every time she looked at one of her new presents from Santa Claus on Christmas morning, she'd say "Thank you, Santa Claus, thank you, Santa Claus, thank you wherever you are."  It doesn't get much better than that folks.  I love Christmas. I really do.  I'm all about a tacky Christmas sweater (that Kim still wears, btw).  I love Christmas music.  I love Bug's Christmas cookies.  I love Christmas food.  I love singing on Christmas Eve.  I mean, I'm like the friggin ghost of Christmas present here! I love it.  And I also have a LOT of Christmas stories. So I will share some of my favorites with you.  So sit back, relax, get a cup of hot chocolate, put on "Bells Will Be Ringing" by The Eagles, and enjoy.  I'll start at the beginning.

December 1989:  Kelley was almost 7 years old.  I was approximately 18 months old, decked out with thick blondish hair (in a bowl naturally), and a Santa Claus romper.  Kelley was wearing a Christmas vest decked out with Christmas lights and black straight leg jeans that she donned EVERY Christmas.  And Dad had the video camera.  Let's make this clear:  Kelley did not appreciate the fact that I was the new one in the house, and therefore everyone was always taking videos of me.  So to gain the camera time that she truly deserved, Kelley decided to perform what was, in her mind, several different versions of Jingle Bells.  There was a jazzy version, a country version, a salsa version, etc.  Yet somehow, each version sounded exactly the same.  And each time Dad would try to sneakily cut the camera to my smiling face banging on an inanimate object, Kelley would promptly remind him that it was her performance.  After her "Variations on Jingle Bells", she then performed a selection from "The Little Drummer Boy".  We all know that one.  And as she sang with such emotion, the words "Parumpumpumpum" came up, and Kelley added a genuine and almost provocative 7 year old body roll.  This is still the best Christmas video we have to date.


December 1993:  Dad and Mom were putting out the presents while we were sleeping on Christmas eve.  All I wanted that year were black boots, Snow White underdrawers, and a doll that looked at you and talked.  And because my parents are wonderful, they got me all three.  Dad put out the boots and the drawers, and then he unpackaged the doll that talked.  It was a really cute doll with blonde pigtails and a pink dress on.  And as he set the doll down in its proper place, its eyes opened and said "TALK TO ME DADDY".  Dad threw it across the room and screamed that it was a "devil doll".  Needless to say, that doll didn't get played with very much.  It spent a lot of time in the closet.

December 1995:  I was cast as "Little Bell" in the First Presbyterian Church's elementary Christmas program.  This was the main part, may I add.  The show was about bells....in a church I guess....I'm not really sure.  The point is, I was the "ugly" bell....but little did they know that I was the bell around the sheep's neck...the sheep that was right next to the BABY JESUS when he was born! BOOYAH!  This role came with four solos....and I'd like to say that I nailed it.  I also nailed the part of the show where I had to constantly ring a bell under my costume....which was a trashbag.

Skip ahead a few years


December 2003:  I was 15 years old.  I had gotten my permit in August and was going to get my license the following February.  So naturally, all I wanted for Christmas was a Red automatic Volkswagen beetle.  I talked about nothing else.  I told my parents probably four times a day every day for around five months.  (All Kelley wanted was a light up tiara and a baton for Christmas.  This will come in handy later in the story).  Christmas eve came and I was tingling with excitement.  I just KNEW I was going to get my bug.  We began opening a few presents that evening like we always do, and one of my presents was a toy Volkswagen beetle painted with red fingernail polish.  I looked at Kelley and said "What is this?"  And my Dad looked at me with a disappointed face and said, "Taylor I'm sorry, but we just couldn't do the whole car thing this year.  We're going to try next year, but for now, this will have to do."  I was crushed.  I mean, I put on a smile and tried to pretend like I was having fun, but let's face it, I was pissed.  I went to sleep that night and dreaded the next morning when I had to wake up and find out there would be no car outside.  But I did it.  I woke up and quietly opened up my presents.  Kelley got her light up tiara and baton.  And then they handed me a few gifts.  One was a piece of paper with the VW logo.  One was a car sticker.  And one was a bouquet of fake flowers.  I was livid.  What a cruel joke.  Why would they just rub it in my face that I wouldn't get my car.  It was awful.  And then my brother in law looked and said "Taylor, there's one more present".....and he threw me a set of keys.  Well, Kelley immediately stood up and started singing "Stars and Stripes forever" with her light up tiara and was twirling her baton.  As I pushed people out of the way and started running to the door, Kelley went out in front of me to lead the parade with her baton, but ended up falling on the sidewalk.  Without any regard to her, I jumped over her and jumped on my beautiful new red automatic Volkswagen beetle.  We both got what we wanted.  It was an AWESOME Christmas.

December 2005:  Dad's birthday is December 17th!  I was a senior in high school, and I wanted to do something "special" for his big day.  It just so happened that the evening of his birthday fell on the night of the City of Clinton Christmas party.  So I knew that he and Mom would be gone all night.  So....I decided to become Clark Griswold and give him the Christmas decorations that our house deserved.  Reinforcements (the Heffas) were called in and Operation Nightbright ensued.  We were all black, smeared war paint on our faces, and got down to business.  It was absurd.  There were lights ALL over the house, the cars, the trees, the lawn.  And not ONLY did we have a blow up Santa Claus, we had a light up manger scene, complete with Mary, Joseph, the baby Jesus, and the three wisemen (eventhough the three wise men were all spread out over the yard, including up in a tree, because we didn't have enough electrical outlets).  When Mom and Dad came home, we had it perfectly timed out.  It was completely dark when they pulled up, and then as they got out of the car, we turned on the switch....and literally the house buzzed.  I mean....it's probably not what Dad had wanted for his birthday....but oh well!  MERRY CHRISTMAS DAD!

December 2005:  Christmas Eve.  Every year since 6th grade, I had taken part in the youth group's nativity scene.  I had played virtually every part. May times, I played a shepherd which I loved because you got to stand by the fire and basically do nothing.  I was a wise man (Ms. Jean called it a wise"person") a couple of times, which was fun because the costumes has glitter on them, but was tough because we had to walk to Mary with a spotlight directly in our eyes.  One year, I was the Angel of the Lord so I got to stand on top of the scaffolding above all the other angels.  I was pumped, but when I realized how high up I was, I froze.  I know I wasn't as heavenly as I  should have looked, but I was terrified.  But my senior year, I got my big break.  I was going to get to play Mary, the mother of Jesus, in the Christmas Eve nativity scene.  I was ecstatic.  I walked out to our makeshift stable holding my baby doll with one eye missing and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger.  What was REALLY cool about our nativity scene was the we had live animals: two sheep and a donkey.  This donkey is always notorious for making loud noises and bucking at people, and one time the sheep tried to hang itself, but I knew this year wasn't the year.  As I sat in the stable looking out into the crowd angelically, the donkey starting making its noises.  I looked at it, furious that it was stealing my limelight.  After a few seconds, it stopped.  But then, as the choir began singing "The First Noel", a nightmare at the manger occurred.  The donkey started pooping everywhere.  I mean, everywhere.  I felt mortified, but I was trying my best to stay in character.  I looked over, and my Joseph was doubled over laughing.  You could hear the crowd start giggling and murmuring, and there I was, holding the baby Jesus, giving death glances to Joseph, and watching the ass poop all over the manger scene.

This is why I love Christmas.  You can't make stuff like this up.  You simply can't beat Christmas stories.  And that's why I love Christmas.
So friends, God only knows what will happen this Christmas.  So be sure to stay tuned for more Christmas stories in January.  I'm sure there will be plenty.  Until then, have a Merry Christmas and enjoy being with your family (eventhough most families are a little cray cray).

And for now, at least we can be thankful that we're not this guy:

I know.  It's been a while.  My bad.
But I felt like I should wait to write a blog and let some of the things that have happened recently accumulate so they could all go into one blog.

As we all know, I work in retail.  This year, I experienced my first Black Friday as a sales associate.  Let me just say that people are nuts.  The women that came in that day were the hottest of hot messes.  Most of them had been up since 4AM waiting outside of Walmart for a new TV or a new computer for "the grandbaby"....in most cases, my store was the last stop of the day.....and after 12 hours of shopping and way too much triptophan in their systems, these ladies were irritable and looking for sympathy.  And I refused to give it to them.  I mean, dang.  It's not my fault that they were cray cray enough to wake up when even God himself wasn't awake, to buy a new TV.  No thank you, ladies.

Since that day, I've had some strange conversations/occurances with my customers.  Most of the time, I'm in the women's department:  this is for the big mamas.  And God bless them, they're all so nice.....most of the time.  But these women have no filters....or modesty.  The following things have happened to me in the last three weeks:
1.  I bought a BOSS headband....and I actually bought it from the store.  It's really funky and is something that you would typically see me wear.  So....I'm wearing my cool headband at work.  I'm ringing up a lady at the checkout counter, and answering her questions she had for me.  "Yes ma'am, I just graduated from Presbyterian College.  I graduated with a degree in music and theater."  And she looked at me like she had just made a bewildering discovery and replied, "Ohhhhhhh.  That's why  you have that THING on your head."    Thank you, ma'am.  Enjoy your high waisted pants.
2.  I had been helping a very nice lady who was very honest.  If she didn't like a top, she let you know.  If she didn't like the song on the radio, she let you know.  But she WAS funny....so I'll give her that.  So once again, I'm ringing up her clothes and ask "ma'am did you find everything ok?"  The honest lady stares at me for a moment, thinking hard and begins to speak.  She stops herself.  And then looks at me again....and then she says "You know I went to Belk today and found some great rosatia cream.  You should really think about buying some for your face."  Thank you, ma'am.  Enjoy your button up blouse with matching turtleneck.
3.  Our store is split into three big sections:  petite, misses, and women's.  A lady came over to me looking for the women's section.  And with exquisite charm, I said "Well you're here! Welcome!"  The lady looks at me and replies:  "Oh Great!  I'm glad I found it!  Us big girls have to stay over here where we can fit into the bigger sizes, don't we?"  I didn't respond.
4.  A lady came in wanting a new cardigan.  I showed her tons of them.......after she hated every single one, I decided to show her one that I had bought.  It was a gray cardigan with sequins on the front...nothing too extravagant by any means.  She looks at the cardigan....and back at me.....and back at the cardigan....and back at me once again....and replied with a disgusted look on her face, "well........aren't you just.........artsy."
5.  A lady came in looking for a new wardrobe.  She was in her late 70's.  Sweet.  I could do it.  So we set her up in a fitting room and I just brought her items to try on since I'm such a talented wardrobe stylist.....whatever.  So each time I would bring her a new outfit I would knock on her door and hand her items to her.  Well I found a great item and didn't think this time would be any different when I handed her the clothes.  I knocked and she replied "Come on in"..............and there she was........in all her glory........butt naked.  I mean, really?  Does this really have to happen to me?  I stood there, stuttering and trying to leave, but she was just carrying on a conversation like nothing was happening.....like she wasn't standing there BUTT NAKED.  Sadly, I don't know if I'll ever forget that day of my life.

Sometimes I really don't believe my life.  Most of the time, actually. But if it wasn't this way, I would have nothing to blog about....touche.
In other news, this weekend I got to see my best friends (Minus B and Will).....we tried to pretend like we were still in college....and we STILL GOT IT.  And I also went and saw the PC Choir Christmas Show.  I won't lie.....I was a hot mess...but it was good to see my children.  And although this week I will miss going to study break at 11 PM and eating my d#*k off, I must see that it sucks to suck for those of you who have exams.  But don't worry.  Enjoy it.  Because one day you'll be in the real world and having to help naked old women......yeah.....that's my life.

But for now, at least I'm not this kid.