The incessant playing of "merry" Christmas commercials has started already--hell, what am I talking about? They started before Thanksgiving. I'll be sick of every single one by December 1, yet I guarantee they'll be stuck in my brain for several weeks. Hmmm, just long enough to influence my Christmas shopping. How fiendishly clever!
The one that's driving me crazy the fastest is for G@rmin department stores or malls or some damn thing. The jingle is that Christmas carol about bells, I think? But it's just the chorus repeated several times, as far as I can tell, so it's incredibly monotonous yet oddly hypnotic. Yesterday in the shower, I found myself singing a bit from it over and over: Call the salon, need a waxing now, got a UNIBROW. And the woman sporting said unibrow looks damn frightening; she's become a major player in my nightmare landscape. I hear that song all the time in my head now. Curse you, G@rmin Stores! I am unfortunately prone to getting what the kids are calling "earworms" these days, or maybe I have a touch of the OCD. I hate retailers for causing bad song loops in my head.
One of my favorite lines from Seinfeld is Jerry describing Kramer: "He falls ass backward into money." Well, Kevin seems to fall ass backward into creative opportunities. I mentioned a few weeks ago that he's going to be teaching some classes on collage for the Sugar Creek Arts Center, but another opportunity fell in his lap. His cousin Sam moved back to Indiana recently and got a grant to start an arts organization/learning center, which also involves overseeing an archive of materials related to arts and literature. The grant includes a stipend for an artist-in-residence, who will be Kevin. I don't know what-all this position entails, but it will include running workshops, teaching art classes, organizing art exhibitions, and so on. He'll also be working with the mayor of the town where Sam lives, about an hour north of here, who's interested in boosting the arts in that community, particularly for school kids. Kevin's so excited he can barely contain himself. I'm afraid he's actually developing a BUBBLY personality (the horror!). It's wonderful to see him happy, of course, but I barely recognize him these days. He was babbling away about his plans yesterday, and I was compelled to ask him "Who ARE you, and what have you done with Kevin?" Maybe I should check him tonight for the placement of a hidden mole that few people besides me would know about.
I'd better scoot and go work out. I have to run to the grocery to pick up a few things for a chicken pot pie I'm making tomorrow. Daniel will no doubt refuse to eat it because all the ingredients are mixed up together under the crust; if he DOES eat it, by some miracle, he'll inspect every bite for evidence of lurking onions. He loathes onions but suspects me of putting them in everything. Too bad, though. I make a delicious homemade chicken pot pie, and I haven't made it in ages in deference to His Pickiness's delicate tastes. The weather is supposed to turn wintry and nasty tomorrow, which calls for a warm, comforting dinner, in my opinion. If I'm feeling magnanimous, I just might hold the onions.