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As is the point with most things, you do it even though there's really not a good reason to.

My excuse for writing is that I need some sort of record of my days for when I am hobbling around my house/nursing home, forgetting the names of the things in the refrigerator and arguing with my personal domestic droid assistant (R2D2/Threepio will totally be a real thing, #makeithappen) that pants belong on my head, not my ass. I'm sure seventy something year old Rae will delight in hearing about what she did after coming home from work on a super boring Tuesday. Or, maybe thirty four year old Rae just forgot the password to her other journal, you know, the one that has potential life ruining stuff in it.

So until I get in one of my moods and decide to swear off this thing again, here I am, back with more mind numbing banality.

I officially hate Christmas. Maybe not hate, because I like some aspects of it. Like, free shit, getting off early, and good food (lamb & meatballs and peanut butter whiskey). But the rest of it, especially when I'm on my own, is almost too stressful for words. I'm starting to get that awful feeling like I'm going to lose my apartment again, but I'm getting better at tuning that stuff out. It doesn't help that Comic Con falls on a non-payweek, so I have to figure out parking and deposit, not to mention food and liquor. I'd like to slap the total shitheel who decided to hold Comic Con almost directly after Christmas with a dead trout. Of course, they probably think people are going to blow their holiday money on merch. Newsflash, shitheads, we live in the age of Amazon and instant gratification. Your average con go-er spent their would-be con money the second they got in their Uber, drunk off of cocktails and Walmart ham. I am so grateful that con marks the last of the big things before Disney, because I'm taking my credit card and letting my Dad hold it.

Somehow, I managed to swing everything. Comic con ticket, hotel room, all Xmas presents. Making it through con, however, is another story. It feels like I'm looking at a hole the size of a dime and trying to squeeze through it without breaking my back. I'm looking forward to it, but fuck I can't wait for it to be over. Laudano is coming this year, which should be interesting. It doesn't look like we'll have a huge huge turnout for the afterparty, which is okay with me because I don't feel like getting thrown out this year. We weren't able to get the room at the Olde 77, but at this point I don't give a shit. I usually don't want much at con except those moonshine chocolates, but if that glitter girl comes back I'm going to have to make Lacey drag me away.

I got some $$ for Xmas, so on Thursday I'm going to go to the bank and deposit it so I can buy my Universal ticket, and at that point everything at Disney will have been paid for.

I bought a very cool book called 199 Cemeteries to Visit Before You Die and it is extremely interesting. I also want this other book called Rest In Pieces: The Curious Fates of Famous Corpses, but I am putting myself on a strict Disney/bills/food only regimen.

I am at Mom's and sleeping over here so I can go by Monica and Garrett's tomorrow with the fam. I want a drink and a bath. I do want to write more but will wait till later when I feel more verbose.

-Rae