please pass me the spirit stick

I'm running low on the holiday spirit today, kids. Possibly a hangover from (choose one or all): too much rich food at holiday parties, truffle sampling during the process yesterday, two Coors Lights imbibed lastnight while watching "The Last Samurai," or my PMS-induced digital camera anxiety attack. (The only real physical problem was the power cord. It was congenitally disordered, and has been replaced free of charge by Tall's Camera. MSH interacted with the good people there, as I was in no state.) AS FOR THE MENTAL PROBLEMS, ALL MINE: Basically, I love my three-week-old digital camera, but the fall de rall of getting the fucking pictures OFF the camera and ONTO Mike's computer (note: not my computer because it doesn't have a "CD" "burner") and then ONTO a website so people can peep them. Well. I love the idea of sharing photos and instant gratification and blah blah blah shit shit shit but in actuality, I'm experiencing a bit of a transitional period to this new medium. I haven't backed up any of the photos yet, so I'm anxious that they will just disappear into nothingness. The photos don't exist in the traditional sense of the word. (In the Buddhist sense, no photos inherently exist, but let's take it one step at a time.) I've taken maybe sixty photos I'd consider keeping and none of them are on paper yet. (We don't have a printer and no, I don't want one.) Since I like to scrapbook, this presents a problem. I know it's just an adjustment period and a mental block, but sitting down to the computer, organizing them into folders, uploading to Snapfish; all this seems time-consuming...and finding time to do this during a time period when MSH doesn't need to use his computer... Of course, I feel like a Total Asshat because it's a REALLY NICE CAMERA and was purchased for me by MSH as an early Christmas gift--a really nice gift and by doing all this complaining, which I have done right to his face in full freakout asshat mode, I am looking the Really NIce Gift Horse right in the mouth and complaining about his halitosis. I thought I really wanted one, and I still do, but as you may know, I have a very low tolerance for anything less than TOTAL MASTERY AND CONTROL, ESPECIALLY as concerns photos. I'm very into my photos. So I'm not putting my film camera in the trash just yet. Please send me tips and tricks and valium if you have them. I'd really like to stop being a digital asshat as soon as possible.

Every email that pops into my inbox from a coworker pisses me off. No, I don't want to fuck around with QuickBooks to get the vacation balance to show up there. How hard is it to fucking email me if you want to know what it is? Or, oh my god, TRACK IT YOURSELF?! No, every company does not print your vacation balance on every paystub. No I don't want to track vacation based on anniversary date; HR director is not my only job and we let you take a week's vacation after working here for two and a half weeks! Quit asking me cryptic questions and tell me when you want to take a vacation--there are only fourteen work days left in 2004 and you have four vacation days left so what is the criping problem?! I understand that I am being a total bitch here.

The truffles turned out well, despite the fact that the center mixture was too soft. Probably a combination of the fact that I did a double batch and didn't let it chill long enough. SCratch that upon second thought I KNOW it didn't chill sufficiently before being apportioned out into balls because 2-3 hours of chilling was the estimate for a single batch. The magical candy shell still formed, though, and they taste great, so I guess I DIDN'T screw up, I just made EXTRA-SOFT truffles. Huzzah!

Tonight I must be wrapping gifts and tracking down addresses for Christmas cards. I wish I had dumped my wedding guest address list into my PDA before Mike's computer crashed last time. Some of those addresses would have come in handy. I might as well throw my paper address book out; I never update it. I looked in it lastnight and couldn't even REMEMBER one person having lived at that address...

And one more complaint, and then I hope the pity party will come to a close. SOmeone in my office (which is very, very, cozy and no cubicle walls) is farting, funky and fresh, this morning. I realize this is probably karma ALTHOUGH I do not fart in public areas of this office! It is some very ripe karma. I made a dharma joke.

UPDATE: Have concluded farty karma is INSTANT karma caused by self's b.o.