I'M IN FARMVILLE BUMBLEF*CK HELL! Where internet does not exist but for dial-up connections (where I play songs on the piano while I wait for pages to load). Where the nearest mall is 40 miles away. Where Sue Ellen leaves notes all over my room and refigerator: "Quit Eating". And where my father watches nothing but Law and Order and the Fox News Channel.

I'M GOING OUT OF MY MIND!! SOMEONE PLEASE SAVE ME OR SHOOT ME THEM NOW.

My favorite Irish Boy (formerly of Detroit) is no longer my favoite having abandoned me for the mountains of Colorado. He did however offer this astute observation: This is why we all come back for the holidays....to be reminded of why we left in the first place.

Frankly, someone hand me the Kool-aid I'm ready to drink.

MY 14^TH FLOOR APARTMENT IN DOWNTOWN DC!!

Where i have a queen sized canopy bed (instead of my beautiful but small day bed which was oh so cool at the age of 16), where I have museums and public transportation, where I have a rite aid on the corner and where I am awakend at 3 am to the blaring of a motorcade or firetruck instead of crickets. They say that home is where the heart is. In my case, home is where the insane and usually intoxicated family are.

My apologies for the silence although I suppose I get a free holiday pass? Yes? I’m sure the fact that I have been in the rural countrysidel, surrounded by family members, too much alcohol and the inevitable drama that follows, and a DIAL-UP INTERNET CONNECTION provides some explaination.

I honestly don’t know what to say about the holidays except they began, as all family retreats should, with 36 hours of no sleep and a hangover the size of Texas.

However, the day passed in a somewhat hazy but lovely fashion – last minute Christmas shopping with the Dad while the rest of the fam who is not currently in residence within 5 miles of our childhood home (which sadly enough is only two of us) were being picked up at the airport. Sue Ellen kept a low profile and didn’t even bat an eye when I said ‘I don’t want to go to church this Christtmas Eve’(thought I was going to get a verbal slapping for that one) but instead let me be a heathan and stay in to play poker with dad, mom and my little brother instead of singing Silent Night amidst screaming babies, a mediocre choir and hot wax dripping down the dime store candles we would be oblidged to hold; before going to my aunt’s for drinks accompanied by just the right amount of food to soak it all up.

Baby sis is huge. The baby is due in 3 weeks and she looks like she’s about ready to pop. She’s set the wedding date for August (eye roll). Please understand, I’m not NOT happy for her – definitely NOT jealous of her, but I find myself a tad disturbed. Normally I wouldn’t be this judgmental of friends and acquaintences for having an unplanned child out of wedlock and to be perfectly honest, respect them for having the courage to deal with the situation rather than 'avoiding it' which I inevitably would. And in that regard, I do respect her decision, but I suppose its because this is my own family – where things are supposed to be ‘normal’ (or at least any abnormal situations are quickly sweapt under the rug) –  where baby sis and I would act out our fantasies of marriage and children (in that order) with Barbie and Ken dolls - where we do things in an orderly manner: ‘first comes love, then comes marriage, THEN comes…” (sing it with me now).

Oh I know I’ll love my new baby niece to be sure…I’ll just be happy when the baby is born healthy ‘I do’s’ are said and they begin living their "happily ever after."

As for the rest of the brood: 24 first cousins, 12 aunts and uncles, 4 dogs ‘a barking, 5 nieces and nephews, 2 pregnant sisters – and a partridge in a pear tree. Insanity. Pure insanity. 

Additionally I find that sadly enough, I have almost nothing to talk to these people about. Outside of the initial catching up "oh how are you? still in dc? how's the new job? what is it you do again? Seeing anyone special?" We have zero in common and zero to talk about. Not only that but they don't understand me. They don't understand the appeal of living in a big city, the ambition of climbing a corporate ladder, or the trials and tribulations of dating in your mid twenties - because they never got to experience it!

They're chatting about morning sickness, day care and epidurals and what do I have to contribute to this conversation? 

'Speaking of children, my cat did the cutest thing yesterday?' ' I had amazing sex last night with a man I hardly knew?' 'My friends and I went to this black tie opening at the Corcoran?' 'Did you know they're raising metro fares!?'

None of these ideas, while favorite topics of conversation my cohorts, would be remotely appropriate or mildly interesting to this audience. And so I do what all middle children learn to do so well - disappear and blend into the scenery.

Thank goodness things are much quieter today, I’m on vacation and plan on taking full advantage of being out in the middle of nowhere, sitting on my couch (the scene of many an virginal sexual exploit whilst my parents were asleep or out of town), in a much lived in farm house, on a dirt road, where my nearest neighbor is my uncle, looking out on cornfields the stretch out until they touch the sky. Not a bad view but I feel it will become old sometime around tomorrow afternoon.

I hope you all had the Merriest of holidays and are looking forward to the New Year. I’ll be solidifying the proverbial resolutions that will inevitably be broken within 48 hours of the rining in of the new year and will of course be sharing them with you (like it or not).

Frankly, I can't wait to get out of here.

Italy finally got it right! This is not only a triumph for self-esteem and a cry to stop the madness but also a validation for those of us who actually have the fabled 'Tits & Ass'. Frankly, It's about damn time!

ITALY ISSUES NEW CODE TO STOP ULTRA SKINNY MODELS

Tue Dec 19, 2006 7:48 AM ETROME, Dec 16 (Reuters Life!) - Italy's government and its fashion chiefs issued a manifesto on Saturday to crack down on the use of ultra-thin teenagers on the catwalk, requiring models to show proof of their good health or be barred from fashion shows.

The charter also bans the use of models who are under the age of 16, saying they risk "sending the wrong message to girls of the same age in the delicate pre-puberty stage."

The manifesto, which will be officially signed next week, was drawn up as pressure grows on the fashion world to promote healthier looks.

Spain barred models below a certain weight from Madrid fashion shows in September. Earlier this month Brazil also launched a campaign to ban underage, underweight models from its catwalks in response to the death of a Brazilian model from complications due to anorexia.

"The government and fashion associations have sealed a strategic partnership to launch a common fight against anorexia," said Youth and Sports Minister Giovanna Melandri.

Powerful Milan fashion houses at first resisted calls to follow the Spanish example, with Italian National Fashion Chamber head Mario Boselli saying in September that only "maybe one girl in a hundred" could be defined as too skinny.

But Boselli, whose lobby represents big names like Armani, Versace and Prada, later agreed to work with Melandri on a self regulatory code of good practice.

The manifesto requires models to produce a health certificate and says those with "apparent eating disorders" will be barred from fashion shows.

The criteria used will include the body mass index -- a ratio of weight to height squared. The World Health Organization classifies women with an index of less than 18.5 as underweight.

Well to make a very loooong night’s story short – Saturday evening I went out with VT, her brother and Argyle (so called because of the argyle sweater he was sporting – it was actually kind of cute…but just too easy to make fun of and me being, well, me …I did!) to Adams Morgan.

I had met argle and VT’s brother (VTB) on Halloween. They came over to my apartment for a pregaming party I was throwing for Barbie #1 as she was moving the next day. Because Barbie #1 has been my best friend my first year as a DC resident – I went all out: bought bottles of Champaign, cooked. Ok, I didn’t technically ‘cook’ – I chopped up vegetables, mixed up some low fat dip, put some salsa in a bowl and cut up cheese. Anytime the food preparatory process is more complicated than open, microwave and eat - I consider it cooking.

And so I opened the door in my oh so cute costume – took a deep breath and assumed the role of hostess with the mostest J I served, refilled, shuffled and smiled and since I did not end up going out with the bigger party – I hope I did my part to give Barbie a proper sendoff (this IS relavent information...keep reading). Apparently it made quite an impression on these young gentlemen (you'd think they'd never seen cubed cheese before) and they though I was the most charming, calm, sedated and accomidating gal they'd ever met. (snicker).

So imagine VTB and Argyle’s surprise when they saw me out in true Saturday Scarlett form – buying rounds of Jell-O shots, going drink for drink with the boys, cracking jokes, making the bitchiest of observations and dancing like Fergie’s London Bridge was a comin’ down.

Half way through the evening, they expressed their surprise – their very pleasant surprise that I was not, in fact Martha-F*cking-Stewart which VT and I thought was the most hilarious thing we’d ever heard (and I’ll bet it will give many of you a chuckle as well).

Anyhoo… we started out the evening at the ever popular Reef, followed by the afore mentioned Jell-O shots at Millie & Al’s, a trip to the ever div-y and fabulous Dan’s Café and ending the evening at Nola's.

I was a Nola’s virgin at the start of the evening, now I feel like ….well….like I’ve been around the twist and back.

As I walked in…a cute guy started staring and smiling – being a bottle of wine, 2 jellow shooters and lord knows how many miller lites in, I smiled back and a few minutes later he came over and full on GRABBED MY CHEST. I’m sorry, is there a culture in which people say hello in this fashion? I was so shocked, my involuntary, knee-jerk reaction was, in fact just that: an involuntary knee-jerk reaction.

I kneed him ('where it counts') so hard that…well…he doubled over and I thought he was going to cry. Did I mention that my therapist says I have anger management issues? Well, I walked away without apologizing and felt…very un-sorry. And kind of good.

The evening perked up when the cutest guy I had seen in a very long time walked into the bar. He wasn’t good looking ala Brad Pitt or Clive Owen…but more along the lines of adorable ala Chris O’Donnell and looked just like Michael Ball (for those who are theatrically non in-the-know, please see the attached picture). The cute, teddy bear type you just want to curl up with forever. *Sigh*

He smiled. I smiled. He came over – there was no uninvited gropage, and he said, “I’m sorry, but you are so cute”

(blush…big, Scarlett smile)

“Thanks, I was just thinking the same thing about you”

Friendly banter,blah blah blah, I live here, I live there, I do this, I do that

And then he kissed me – soft, sweet…weak in the knees kind of kiss.

“What was that for?”

“Just felt right”

“Yes it did”

Blah blah blah – and he asked for my number. And I gave it to him and kissed him good bye.

I doubt he’ll call. Boys never call. Right? It's been 24 hours already and I suppose if he were going to call...he would have by now.

Ugh – this is why the giving out of numbers is never good – because they never call and you wonder why and then you’re disappointed, and it all culminates in one big therapy bill and a year's supply of anti-depressents. No. No. Much better to just cut and run.

So to recap: There was drinking, shattered images of domestic goddess status, physical assult, romance and a jumbo slice. Frankly, it was just the recipe for a wonderful Saturday evening.

My favorite wino brought this to my attention!

And so here it is. My chance to come clean - my chance to admit my undying affections and admit that I do, indeed have a crush on....

Texpundit: Yes, I have a thing for Texans, and this one in particular :) His hysterical, yet somewhat misguided theories on women are usually guaranteed to illicit a hot-tempered response from yours truly

Hipster Dork: What can I say? His musical tastes get me weak in the knees. And he is even more charming in person :)

DC Viking: Hasn't posted since...well...a LONG F*ING Time! Oh, how I miss you.

Chronicles of a Bachelor:Dustin, you're sometimes silly, sometimes crude, mostly cute and always hilarious and your love of cats will endear you to me forever!

K Street: This is a love/hate relationship - you've developed a singular knack for pissing me off. I hate your politics, but I must admit, the blog is a guilty pleasure.

Disturbingly enough it would seem that I am a crushing slut! Oh well - there you have it! The blogger boys the I luv! I encourage all those who have yet to participate - come out of the closet and reveal your love to the world! (coming from me...this is quite hysterical)

Blush....Swoon...(somebody catch me please!)

Please know that I also have a crush on my favorite irish boy...formerly of Detroit :) A crush since the 8th grade....is there really any other kind? But sadly,...he does not blog :-(

There's an elf in my office - and not the kind sent from Santa. He's a scary little man that roams the halls of my work building. He is about 5’1, has an odd looking, pointy gotee, and speaks with unnerving, low-volume formality such as ‘greetings’ and ‘have a stupendous day.’ and this strange little person has developed a fixation on me.

He's asked me out three times. The last time, after trying to be nice to the previous two offers, ‘sorry, I’m busy that day.’ ‘I really don’t think I can’ to no avail. And so, I finally had to lie:

‘I have a boyfriend, I really can’t’ .

To which he replied: ‘ahhh…I see. Is it a deep relationship?’

‘oh ya. The deepest.’

But now he’s resorted to full-on stalking and it’s wierding me out.

He works in the suite next to mine and as I was walking to the ladies room this morning I spotted him down the hall, walking into his suite. Then coming out of the ladies' room...he was waiting for me!

And he smiled and said ‘hello, Scarlett'.

‘hi’ (still walking...trying to get away)

‘you’re looking particularly luscious I must say’

(I kid you not – those words came out of his mouth). Keep in mind that I woke up 20 minutes before I had to leave the house. My hair air-dried all curly, I have on NO makeup, jeans, and a big, bulky sweater. ‘Luscious’ is NOT an appropriate term for me at this present moment.

He then inquired as to my holiday plans.

‘I’m going home....far far away...to dallas ’.

‘oh. I thought you were from the south’

‘um…texas IS the south’

I'm not scared of this man - i could drop kick this little midget from here to Philly - it's just creepy and now I am a prisoner in my suite scared to roam the halls for fear of encountering this elf.

Frankly, I think this officially makes me a freak magnet.

I was reading the ways in which hey pretty is fabulous - or rather fabulously quirky and got to the bottom of her post and pouted and thought: HEY! why didn't she tag me!? I all of a suddent felt 7 years old again, in the public school gymnasium and standing there waiting to be the last selected in a game of kickball.

And so I drug my pouty, rejected self off to read Candy Sandwich, who always cheers me up - and there I was! Tagged for the quirky quiz! Silly me - HP didn't tag me because I had already been tagged. Silly, Scarlett.

So I apologize, HP, my dear dear friend, for about to pen a desperate email something along the lines of: ‘I thuoght we were FRIENDS (sniffle sniffle)’. WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME ANYMORE!?!?

OK since I’m officially tagged as a ‘cool kid’ (insert sigh of releif) I will indulge Candy Sandwich and innumerate the ways in which, yours truly, needs to be put forth whit, into the loony bin (and truth be told, it was hard to narrow it down to 6)

1)   Please see the above statements - these are not the thoughts of a 'normal person' - its a stupid email tag for cryin out loud! But I often think that people are mad at me when they've no reason to be - the result of too man wacko's in my life? Or maybe I'm just paranoid. But you know what they say...'Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean that no one's after you!' (Cicero)

2)  I have a set morning ritual that really doesn’t begin until I leave my house. And it goes something like this: push the elevator button, put on headphones. Wait in elevator, put on headphones, walk across the street to the metro, put $1.00 in change on the hotdog vendor’s tray, say ‘good morning’ to the vendor and a diet dr. pepper. Take an Examiner from the lady at the top of the escalators, say ‘thank you and have a nice day’ run down the escalator, through the turnstile, park myself at the third bench in and wait for the train. I then sit backwards (two seats in if I can) ride the train to work and time myself on how long it takes me to finish the Sodoku puzzle. Don't worry - I'll shake things up sometimes – I’ll buy a Diet Mountain Dew instead.

3)     I enjoy sleeping on couches. While in a sorority I would routinely fall asleep on the quad couch and sleep there for the night. For no particular reason, just preferred it to my own bed. Today, when my roommate is gone for the weekend, I still sleep on the couch with the tv softly going in the background through the night. I think it has something to do with I sleep less soundly on the couch and therefore its easier to get up in the morning??

4)     I always have music playing either through my headphones as I walk down the street, in the radio in my shower, or in my office throughout the day. My tastes are ecclectic – everything from the beatles, to folk artists, indie rock, punk rock, opera, jazz, britney, Snoop, you name it – its in there. But especially when I’m walking around, riding the subway, in CVS I find myself thinking – if my life were a movie this song would play after such and such would happen. Or coming up an escalator to ‘Blower’s Daughter’ thinking: this could be a scene/sountrack to the beginning of a hugh grant movie…although this daydream is shattered when instead of a tall dark and handsome brit waiting for me with a dozen red and yellow roses at the top of the escalator as scripted in my head, I’m greeted by the homeless men sleeping in the subway station. Ah – eternal disappointment.

5)     My closet is in color order beginning with all white garments on the left, blending into cream, then tan, followed by pink, red, orange, yellow, blue, indigo, violet, brown, and then black on the far right. My hangers all match as well. No, I am not hyper organized and most of the time my clothes are strewn about on the floor rather than hanging neatly in a spectral order. However, this is the on part of my life that I am extremely particular about. Nowhere else. I just think it looks nice in …color order.

6)     I need crave my alone time. Whether its sitting myself in front of a marble statue in the National Gallery’s east wing, with the dulcet tones of Sara Brightman in my ears and sketch, sitting at a dark, corner booth in my favorite pub ordering a grilled cheese sandwitch with chedder cheese and tomato while writing nonsense in a journal, or just relaxing in a hot bubble bath with a book and a glass of wine -  I need a considerable amount of time for reflection and quality time with …well…me.  

7)  I KNOW I was only supposed to write 6 BUT….I can recite both Gone with the Wind and The Wizard of Oz verbatum songs and musical cues from start to finish. 

And there you have it. Now that you know that truth about my deep seated wierdness...I will be accepting friendship resignations directly. And I do apologize if I leave anyone out - it doesn't mean I DON'T LOVE YOU but I feel compelled to tag My Blog Twin, Crazy Redhead, DCVita, and the termanilly cool Hipster Dork. Have fun, kids.

Frankly, its scary to think just how wierd we all are. If we weren't though, I suppose we'd have nothing to write about.