What I Learned on My Christmas Vacation

Don't wear a blue velvet track suit and leave the plastic sleeves on the handle of your purse. You look like a fool.

Bring something sharp with which to jab the asshole next to you, who kept his drink cup so he could spit tobacco juice into it every two seconds.

Deny yourself that chai from Starbucks, if only to spare yourself the humiliation and discomfort that come when you remove it from the seat pocket in front of you to give to the nice Southwest flight attendant for disposal and end up spilling your Coke onto your crotch. Or, if you must, wait until the second leg of the flight rather than the first.

Do your best not to hurl onto the happy, gibbering, smooching, cuddling couple that you wind up sitting next to. Ah, isn't it sweet, they fell asleep on each other. Where's my barf bag?

And these lessons were just in the airport and on the planes! What did you learn in Utah, Kati?

If you're going to wear your chartreuse muppet-skin hood to the grocery store, be prepared for people to stare at you and laugh. And by "people," I mean me and my mom.

Grand Marnier makes a damn fine Cosmopolitan.

My dad doesn't like risotto, because it's too "glutinous." Yeah, I don't get it either.

The second National Treasure was better than the first.

Toast racks kick ass.

Snow is fun, but only for short periods of time.

Two door cars suck.

Being 28 feels pretty much the same as being 27.

Happy New Year, all!