ANOTHER New Year? Enough already!

Really, haven't we all had enough of all this forced festivity?

It is I, the Countess Ludovica, of the infamous Weird Sisters, posing this question as an opening salvo in what promises to be a very long war indeed....the one between me and reality, of course.

Why bother, you ask? Why take up arms (or legs, for that matter) against such a devilish and changeable foe? Because I'm feeling stubborn, that's why. And I'm all jacked up on Christmas cookies and peppermint schnappes and have no other outlet for my sugar-induced rage. And I feel my enemy needs a good slapping around...or maybe I just need to do some slapping, and it's a convenient target. Because let's face it: what we all call reality is a figment of both our own often lacking imaginations, and the constraints of whatever nation/family/guru/self-help book/diet/talk show/philosophy/religion/drug of choice/poorly assembled circle of acquaintances we've decided to allow access to our psyches this week.

Which makes for a very limited view, all things considered.

And so, on this New Year's Day, 2008, (at least by SOME calendars....and why the hell does YOUR calendar win, anyway? What about MY personal calendar??? What about CARPATHIA, land of my birth, where New Year's Day falls on whichever day you personally feel in need of a change. Take 1989, when my New Year began on March 1st, the day I noticed my left eye was looking a little crazy and wandering skyward, which I failed to connect to the intensity of my blow-dryer. Not making that connection, I took up hot air balloon racing, which of course ended badly because of the mountains....it was a very short year. But a lesson was learned: no New Year resolutions should be made while operating a blow dryer. How would I have come to this useful knowledge without the ability to change course so immediately (and, as it turned out, ill-advisedly) due to the flexible nature of my reality of what constituted the New Year?.....but I digress...no, actually, I think I'm right on target!...) I am urging you all to DEFY REALITY! Slap its insolent little face around a little...you'll feel better for it. And reality can take it, I assure you. That bitch has cheeks that are harder than Barbie's plastic jointed ass.

Speaking of Barbie, I applaud her makers for being shining examples of what you can accomplish when you practice non-reality based thinking. Barbie was patented in 1958. That makes her 50 years old this year.
Despite this "reality," we have yet to see "Middle-aged Paunch Barbie" or "Barbie with Real Chin Hairs that grow!" or "Tired as Hell Working Mom Barbie" complete with aging alcoholic friends. And if it's glamour that the folks at Mattel are striving for, why not "Saggy-Breasted Barbie who goes to Jamaica on Holiday to get Laid," or "Barbie with Real Earned Money who can buy Anything She Wants except Relief from the Agony of 50 years in those Fucking High Heels," or "Botox Barbie with 3 New Faces, and still no Pubic Hair!"
I'm not buying another thing from Mattel until I see one of the above available for sale, and begin receiving my royalty checks for the ideas.

Speaking of royalty, many have asked how I obtained my royal title.
It was simple. I married someone who was a royal pain in the ass.
He left me the title, I left him some gay porn and a nose hair trimmer.
I don't know why gay men insist on marrying me, unless it's a case of mistaken identity...they always seem puzzled when I don't have a penis.
Of course in "reality" I actually have MORE than one......just not on me.

And we're back to reality, aren't we?
Yes.....yes, we are.
Forced festivity, I say.
That's what the holidays are, and I've had enough.
I'd rather be festive when I FEEL festive, not when festivity is thrust upon me.
I'd rather give gifts as a surprise, not an expectation.
I do like countdowns, however.....I think we should have them more often.

Especially when they end in kissing.

So that is my recommendation for today.
Tell somebody (anybody....don't be so damn picky!) that you're going to kiss them, and then count it down:
10...(they're still processing the declaration)
9....(bravado sets in...they look cocky and laugh a lot)
8....(fear replaces bravado when they realize you're still counting)
7....(hopefully by now the suspense is unbearable, and they simply kiss YOU to get it over with!)
6....(for those still unkissed after #7)
5....(the excitement mounts)
4.....(by now, acceptance takes the place of fear, and they are ready for you)
3....(the eyes lock)
2....(the lips part)
1....(you close in...)
And then you kiss.
And for better or worse, you made it happen.

You DID SOMETHING.

Was it real?

That's up to you to decide....and you can always change your mind later.
Because that's the thing about reality......it shifts. Constantly.
But we'll talk more about this soon.
I have some kissing to attend to.
Really.

Yours,
The Countess