Okay. It's December 6. People might have tinsel and reindeers shooting out of their asses already (to replace the usual rainbows and unicorns? 'Tis the season, after all.) but I don't. I did, however, get out the majority of the Christmas decorations this afternoon and got things organized to wrap gifts. I say the majority of the decorations because I can't find the rest. They're somewhere. That's what happens when The Hubs "rearranges" the garage. I had all the stuff out to wrap, but then Captain Awesome decided that 45 minutes was acceptable for a nap. (He was wrong.)
December 6 is a little early, in my honest opinion (don't hate, I love Christmas, when it's Christmas, not September.), for Christmas specials. TV doesn't think so. And because The Preteen heard that Justin Bieber (OOOOOOOOOOOOOHJUSTINBIEBERISGONNABEONNNNNNNNNNNWEGOTTAWATCHITHEISSOOOOOOOOOOOOTALENTED!) was going to be on, and because The Hubs never turns down a moment to make fun of her for liking ol' JB (she claims not to, but she's a horrible liar - the minute he walked on stage, she sat up straighter and GLOWED), we watched. And I fell in LUV with Michael Buble. He is cute, he can sing, he sings about booze -what's not to love? Except he had stupid Kellie Pickler on. I'll forgive him. Because he's ADORABLE.
I'm 30 minutes into The Biggest Loser Homecoming, and I don't think I've stopped crying yet. I hate this show, yet I watch it pretty religiously, because my GOD, I want to see that change in myself. The pounds and the numbers aren't the most important thing, but to love who I am and to be as healthy as I can be for the rest of my days - that's what it's about. Oh, who am I kidding. Of course the pounds and the numbers are incredibly important to me. And I'm rambling. This show makes me bipolar. I find myself really cheering these folks on, yet being insanely jealous of their progress. Of course, if I was at the ranch with all these amazing healthy foods at my disposal, and Bob and Dolvett working my ass off (I am not a fan of Anna. Maybe its the whole dating Enrique "The Mole" Iglesias thing. Ew.) I'd have that success, too. Anyone want to come over and yell at me while I'm on the treadmill and force feed me vegetables?
Anyway, now that I'm the only one awake in the house, I should go get stuff done, but I really need to pee. And I can probably come up with 8,000 other things to get started and not finish. Like this bottle of wine sitting here. FINISH WHAT YOU START, KELLY! Let's start with the wine, shall we?