Ugh.

Happy time is over. I hate this time of year. Absolutely hate it. I'm on such a high starting in about October what with the pretty leaves on the trees, and Halloween, then it's Thanksgiving, then Christmas and finally New Years Eve. It all happens too fast. And when it's all over the only thing I am left with is about ten extra pounds and a very bleak checking account. It just sucks. And to make matters worse it's colder than shit and the snow keeps coming down. I don't think it's ever going to stop snowing here. Winter clothes just aren't flattering enough for this. In an attempt to escape the post Christmas blues Chris and I went skiing in Vail last week. But it doesn't seem quite right to call what I was doing "skiing." It was more like sliding, I slid back and fourth as slowly as possible down the mountain. Knees bent, skis as far apart as possible, toes pointed together- my form is impecable. My dad suggested I should ask the ski shop to rent me a sled, instead. I can't tell you how many times people blew by me and rudely kicked up a cloud of powder behind them directly into my face. Nothing hurts the self esteem more than having a ski school of five year olds, I'm not kidding these babies could barely walk I bet,would zoom by me on the mountain. I think they were doing it on purpuse too. They were taunting me, I could tell. But it was all worth it at the end of the day when I would get to sit and drink as many warm drinks as I pleased. So really, it was a nice trip, everything was great- well everything except when Chris and I took the wrong path in an attempt to ski right to our hotel and ended up skiing right onto a road, a road in a completely different town than where we were actually staying. What can you do.
2009 is done, no more, in the past. 2010 will be an exciting year, I can tell. I do regret to say we have already lost a good one in this year thus far, RIP Casey Johnson, heiress of Johnson & Johnson. I am sure you will be greatly missed, especially by your lover Tila Tequila, and maybe even by your adopted black child that you saw on the rare occassion you were sober. Tell Brittany Murphy hello for me.