Day two of 2004, and thus far, I feel pretty damned productive. Today, I have only spent the last TWO hours on the couch, and have only watched 2 episodes of Felicity that are being Tivo’d at least once a day, though I’m pretty damned sure I could watch some more if I had them. I’ve also only watched 1 1/2 episodes of “A Dating Story” and one episode of “A Wedding Story”, currently in progress. I’ve changed the sheets on my bed, (flannel monogrammed, no less), put some laundry in the washer, considered painting the upstairs hallway until I realized I didn’t yet have enough paint that wasn’t lime green, contemplated going to the Dr. b/c my throat still hurt and I coughed my (proverbial) balls off last night, and wondered just what the hell my very scary dreams meant, including the one where I lost all of my luggage and Christmas presents in a cab as well as being stabbed in my (pregnant?) belly by a very very scary bad man. Then I wondered why I dreamed that I had a pregnant belly, as unless my subconscious believes I’m having the next immaculate conception, it’s not very likely. I’ve gone through Tivo’s entire list of possible movies to record, and resisted the urge to Tivo any more “Celebrity Poker” as to avoid a forthcoming obsession. I’ve had more Halls cough drops than are recommended as a daily allowance. I’ve had my boobs squooshed by 21 lbs. of Sullivan cat-love, a veggie corn dog for lunch, and even changed the litter box. I’ve wished it was sunnier, wished it was laying-out weather, thought about making some Jello shots to celebrate the fact it’s Friday, and still haven’t yet showered.

2004, I think I’ll keep ya.

It’s one of those times when you feel like you should be doing something other than what you’re doing. When you find yourself disappointed over something that didn’t come out of the blue, that didn’t especially surprise you in its happening, yet find yourself a bit melancholy over the reality of it. When everything makes sense, and yet you wished, just for once, that it didn’t. That things didn’t happen the way you expected them.

Welcome to 2003, year of very few surprises.

I was optimistic nearly 365 days ago, thinking that THIS would be the year to [fill in blank.] THIS year I would do more, see more, be more. I’d be startled out of my pessimistic view of life by something completely unexpected that delighted me to the core. And with less than 36 hours to go, I’m sad to say that this wasn’t the case.

That’s not to say that this year wasn’t a good one – on the contrary. New, fabulous friends have come into my life, new cities were explored, new roommates acquired, and through it all, much fun was had. Despite the broken arm, despite the confusion over life and love and fate and folly, I would give this year a solid B+. Yet, like an undergrad surprised by acing his midterms, I secretly wished for the unexpected, the stuff that sappy romance movies are made of.

I sometimes wonder how others view me, how they view my life. Do they, do you, think I’m optimistic? Do you think I’m jaded? Do I complain, whine, over-analyze too much? Am I cynical, or am I just a typical twenty-something pondering the every-day occurrences that will somehow lead me to the future that we all are too afraid to hope for, but do anyway?

As my friends and family around me are moving on, making life-changing decisions in their lives, I find myself in an emotional quicksand of sorts, remaining stuck to one place & not going much of anywhere. Like a kid being picked last for kickball, I often feel that I’m standing on the sidelines, mentally wishing “pick me! pick me!” while my friends find boyfriends and girlfriends who become husbands and wives and are now beginning to have children while I scuff the asphalt in my Velcro-purple Kangaroo tennies and look to the ground, ashamed that I’m still not yet picked for a team.

Sarah Brown postulates that “that for almost every single person on the planet, there’s this one sentence, and that almost every single person on the planet believes that if this one sentence was said to them by the right person at the right place or at the right time or with the right words, everything the person longed for would come true, and their life would right itself, or start an entirely new and glorious path, and they’d finally be happy.” While this can lead you into dangerous territory (the quintessential “I’ll be happy when…” statements), I tend to agree that most of us have the secret romanticized notion that even the smallest sentence can right all the wrongs. It’s the “You Complete Me” theory of life, and while I hate to admit it, I, too, long for the unexpected.

I believe in Karma, as I mentioned before, and that every pot has its lid. Through trial and heartbreak, I’ve learned the folly of deeming someone “The Love of your Life” until you actually find that person, because next thing you know, the Love of your Life has found the Love of HIS life and is now married with children. I’ve learned to doubt the existence of “The One”, because often times, a result of death or divorce, you find someone equally as magical and wonderful as “The One”, thus disproving the theory that we only find true love once in our lives. I’m open to magic, open to mystery, open to delighting in everything that you thought would never really happen. I think that Good begets Good, that doing the right thing isn’t always fun but will lead to the best outcome most of the time, and that finding the perfect person is about acknowledging their imperfections.

And yet with 2004 just a day or so away, I can’t shake the thought that I’m watching everyone play on the playground while I swing on the swing-set, alone, head tilted back and just looking at the sky, looking for what will be around the next corner.

Around the end of the year, all of the magazines, tv programs and even websites come out with their lists of “The Best & Worst of 2003”. There they review headline-making news events, award-winning photographs, and even scandals among the stars, a la the Bennifer non-wedding or the Ashton-Demi coupling. Taking their lead, I figured I’d embark on a venture of this nature myself, and so I give you: The First (but don’t let that dissuade you from continuing to read on) Annual AubreySabala.com Best & Worst of 2003 List, a.k.a, All You Wanted to know And More. (Today’s entry will just be “The Best” – if I think of “The Worst”, I’ll add ’em in a later post. See? Optimistic.)

• Best Christmas Present – Tivo & my All-Clad pans are currently neck & neck
• Best Day of the Year – DEFINITELY my 26th Birthday. When ELSE do you get to wear a coconut bra & grass skirt to a Braves game?
• Best New Friend I’ve Visited – Helen Jane (but never fear, will be visiting the rest of y’all soon)
• Best New Friend who Visited Me – Sarah Hatter
• Best Item of Clothing Purchased – My red dress, hands down.
• Best Food I’ve Made – My Ever-so-Decadent Chocolate Caramel Oreo Cake (aka, Orgasm in a CakePan)
• Best New Roommate – My Darling Roommate, of course (who also falls under the ‘Best Gift Giver as a Roommate’ category as well.)
• Best New Habit – Making my bed, or posting more often on my site
• Best Vacation – August Beach Trip
• Best Karaoke Song – “Don’t Go Breakin’ my Heart” (though they didn’t have it in NYC, I’ve managed to do a fabulous a capella version nevertheless
• Best New Line from a Song – “Shake it Like a Poloroid Picture” and “It’s the Freakin’ Weekend” are in a tie
• Best Live Show I Saw in 2003 – John Moye (accompanied by his darling cousin Jay)
• Best Work Decision I Made in 2003 – Working for Google
• Best Life Decision I Made in 2003 – Learning that third chances are never allowed
• Best Cure for a Hangover – Chaser with a McDonald’s Filet o’ Fish (note that I would formerly have said a Max & Erma’s Bacon Cheddar BBQ Burger, back in the days of non-vegetarianism, that is…)
• Best New Drink – Vanilla Cheesecake Martini (decadent…)
• Best Bar of 2003 – Moe’s & Joe’s (if only b/c I’m poor)
• Best Place to Spend a Saturday – In bed

So that’s me…what about you? What “Best of…” categories do you also want to add? What are YOUR best of 2003?

He knew better than this.

He was happy, after all. Wasn’t he? Yes, there were challenges – the distance, the way she wanted marriage but he wasn’t 100% sure, the times he found her self-centered and wondered just what the hell he was doing with her. That nagging feeling of doubt was something he tried to write off as a normal feeling in your mid-twenties, but it still plagued him on occasion, at times. At times like this.

He had been taken aback by the comfortability of it all. It had been over two years, and they had easily fallen back into old routines. Had she always been this funny? Had she always looked that good? Had they always had that spark, yet never acted upon it?

Perhaps. But it should be inconsequential – he was with someone else. And yet the evening carried on.

They rehashed old stories, caught up on each other’s lives since they had last parted on a cold, blustery evening that is expected in Chicago in January, the wind whipping through to your soul. With his scathing wit and sometimes overly obnoxious sarcasm, he knew he was oft to offend her, a tactic he wondered if he had been using to keep her at arm’s length. And the evening carried on.

The light from the rundown bar shone upon her as she unconsciously twisted her hair into a ponytail, a move so comfortable that he inherently knew she had done it a thousand times without ever giving it a second thought. She didn’t realize that something about that small move endeared him to her even more, a feeling both foreign and yet somehow second-nature. What was he getting himself into? And the evening carried on.

The night was late, and a few snowflakes had started to fall. He knew she was supposed to be going home, yet neither of them should be driving in their state, what with the Caffrey’s and Vodka gimlets they had been drinking all evening. Hailing a cab, he heard himself inviting her to stay at his place – on his couch, of course – and wondered how much control he had in this situation after all. She accepted. What had he gotten himself into?

All of that led to this moment, with her in his sweatpants and t-shirt, both watching some show on late-night television. She looked like she was paying attention to it, yet he hadn’t caught a word. The inexplicable dilemma he had gotten himself into was his own personal drama, better than any drabble shown on cable at this hour. Her legs were loosely curled around her, and when she would move her feet would graze his thigh.

This was the moment of truth. Sink or swim. He knew what he wanted – well, he thought he knew what he wanted. He knew that the liklihood of his girlfriend finding out was slim, yet HE would know, and that would change everything. And as his old friend sat on the couch, laughing at some corny joke on the television, tucking her hair behind her ear, he knew what he had to do.

I’ve not yet been here 24 hours, and already, this trip is fixing to be the best ever. So far, I have:

• Been called the “Third Hilton Sister”
• Nearly hit the guy who called me the “Third Hilton Sister”, but opted instead to take him up on his offer to buy me a drink and then ignore him
• Sang “Lady”, “In Da Club” and “Billie Jean” in Karaoke
• Got furious at the proprieters of said Karaoke bar for not having “I Touch Myself” or “Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart” as karaoke options
• Got over it when I realized that they DID have both “Islands in the Stream” and “More Than Words”
• Hijacked a Limo
• Got chastised by the Limo driver for attempting to drink the champagne located inside
• Got back at aforementioned Limo driver by stealing a rose
• Told everyone at the bar that I was on the next Bachelor and “Yes, I [have] accepted his rose!”
• Called no less than 10 people in my cell phone directory, and as the screen only holds 10, contemplated how high the actual number was
• Called my Mom
• Had the bouncer (at a coffee shop, no less!!) talk to my Mom while I tried to locate my ID
• Convinced myself and everyone else that I had lost both my ID and my beloved Burberry scarf
• Purchased not one, but TWO new Burberry scarves on Ebay within 5 hours of losing aforementioned scarf
• Ate a $17 Grilled Cheese at 2am dipped in ketchup & coagulated Cheese Whiz
• Mentally invisioned the coagulation in my veins causing an immediate and painful heart attack
• Found my ID in the hotel room where I had left it
• Drunk emailed my darling roommate
• Found out that I truly am the only one of my friends not engaged or married
• Realized that someone better pay up on that bet placing me as ‘last to get hitched’ as clearly, it’s coming true
• Realized I was far too lazy to locate a shirt to sleep in, so decided to go without
• Dreamed about drinking copious amounts of water
• Made it to work 30 minutes late
• Questioned whether my “Berry Relaxing” Fruit2O was actually very relaxing.
• Met the delightful, fantabulous, more-darling-in-person-than-even-you-know Sarah Brown for a scrumdillyumptious lunch at Cafe Europa
• Ate every morsal of my Caprece Panini
• Considered having a contest to see who could most accurately describe how far my stomach will be sticking out this evening in my fabulous red dress
• Decided against it
• Bought Prilosec OTC, Tums & Pepto at Duane Reede
• Wondered just how bad those esophagael erosions they talk about on TV are doing these days
• Realized that I really, really need a nap

I shudder to think what the rest of the trip will entail…

Please excuse me while I curse vehicles and their moronic drivers for a second…

We’ve discussed the Holiday season. We’ve discussed my Christmas Tree. We’ve discussed my Christmas Party dress. We’ve discussed Gift Lists and more. Now it’s time to discuss decorations.

I’m all for decorating your house, as long as you don’t go overboard. Pretty lights on the trees, candles in the windows, a wreath and even some nice red bows…classic. When you get all jacked up with your lawn ornaments, Santa and his 40 reindeer flying over Frosty, a multi-colored spectacle of lights and – God save us all – NEON CHRISTMAS GREETINGS, is when I get testy. There’s a fine line between pretty and gaudy, my friends, and you with the Santa dancing with a blinking Dredel on the roof just crossed it.

While we’re on decorations, I see NO need to have your holiday spirit spill over into car decorations. (Unless it’s some holiday SPIRITS, in which case, keep ’em to the backseat and carry Shout wipes. They work wonders on mulled cider.) Please, remove those “Happy Holidays” static cling decals next to the “Baby on Board” sign. We don’t need garland on your roof rack. And whatever you do, do NOT put a wreath or bow on the front of your car. Are you TRYING to let everyone know that you’re a complete and total idiot? Well, Bravo. Mission accomplished.

Yes, there’s holly and it’s jolly, but the only thing you should have over your doorways is mistletoe. That brown thing is nothing but an oak leaf, and if you think I’m smooching you under that, you’ve spent too much time putting up your neon lawn ornaments.

While we’re trying to remain festive, trying to remember that this is a time of giving, a time of sharing, when the only thing that stands in the way of us ramming into that jackass ahead of us who is going 12 mph. on the highway is not wanting to crack our Holiday candles (presents, no less), this time of the year brings out the most incompetent imbiciles around. Apparently these road-terrors have been festering in their house, watching QVC and Antiques Road Show, and they just now decided to venture out into civilization and test their driving non-skills. And somehow, I always get behind them.

Take today. I had to pop out for lunch – a rarity in Aubrey-land – and cash some checks, mail some presents (ok, BUY and THEN mail some presents), and grab a Falafel sandwich, and needed it to be a quick trip. Minus the traffic (damn you) and the road work (yes, this is a WONDERFUL time to fix the sidewalk next to the mall and block off two lanes), I was making good time. Until I hit the parking garage.

A word on our garage – it’s one of those multi-level doohickeys where you curve around and around until you think you’ve been playing with a Sit-n-Spin again. And as a driver of a much-beloved Saab 5-speed, I’m not much loving the stop & go action on the curves. Do NOT stop mid curve and consult an atlas. You’re in a goddamned garage. Do NOT back up on a hill when I’m mere feet behind you – there is NOT a spot that you missed and it’s a one-way lane. Do NOT sit there while Granny Slow-Backer-Outer takes 7 minutes to reverse her Caddy. Because if you do, I may just succomb to road rage after all.

Especially when you park and I see that you’ve got a giant-sized wreath (with a giant-sized red bow, no less) on the front of your car.

* Note that this is Holly F-Ing Jolly, Redux as the Holly F-Ing Jolly original masterpiece was written for Sarah’s site. In case you were wondering, or anything…