Happy Christmas

Is it pretentious of me to say that? It's not that I am one of those obnoxious Americans who wants to be British and so says everything the Brit way. It's Canadian that I want to be. I guess I just like the way "Happy Christmas" sounds as opposed to "Merry Christmas"... a little less trashy $2.45 for a box of 20 greeting cards from Wal-Mart, a little more non-chalant and jovial. I've tried to wish you all a "Merry Christmas" because I didn't want to shock people with my clandestine desire for a change in the way I speak, but here on my dear old blog I feel somewhat liberated from all of that obligation to my public self.

It's the wee-hours of Christmas morning, and I'm 21 years-old, and I still can't sleep. It's not even that I'm all that excited about present-opening in the morning, but I've just slept a lot lately. I'm drinking some wine and beer in an effort to lull myself into a deep, intoxicated sleep, but so far no dice.

David and I went and saw The Polar Express last night with a very overeager Mike. There was pretty much no convincing him to see a different movie. David and I were underwhelmed (I'd give it a C, maybe B- if they left out the annoying, stupid musical numbers), but Mike loved it ("an A, A+") as he new he would before he even saw it, as his soon-to-be-fiance had already seen it and said it was the best movie she's ever seen (I think we know what that does to my opinion of her). Afterword, we went for drinks at the good Old Chicago, but had the unfortunate experience of bad service. Big surprise, right Logan?

Well, I suppose I'll let you all get to your families and presents now, since I know you all have to log on and read my blog first thing. Have a very HAPPY Christmas (or "Merry" Christmas, if you prefer to be archaic). I'll see you all after this bizarre technicolor shadow of a holiday has run its course. To all a G'night.