Our Balls are 12 Inches In Diameter!

Well, becuase you all failed me in determining what, exactly the infamous Christmas Kissing Balls were (as I did figure that they do not sell sex acts at Home Depot), I was able finally to Google them myself and figure it out.

Apparently, the Kissing Balls work like mistletoe, and you're supposed to kiss under them. You know, the whole tradition of mistletoe is truly brilliant. This reminds me of the time my friends and I went out to the bars wearing Santa hats with mistletoe tied to them. It was a brilliant tactical maneuver that worked wonderfully, if you don't take into consideration that the boy I ended up making out with that night later turned out to be engaged (d'oh).

I'm just glad, for all of us, that the kissing balls mystery has finally been solved. But since the website advertising these balls proudly states that they are 12 inches in diameter, I don't recommend tying them to your Santa hat in a pathetic effort to get a piece (hey, come on, we were 22! Like you never did anything retarded when you were 22?).




I'm off for a 5 day visit to my old stomping grounds in DC, and will most likely not blog while I'm gone. I'm planning a two-tiered attack of wine and benedryl (which I actually need, I seem to have developed some sort of skin condition between last night and this morning...just what I need for the three dozen parties I am attending in the next week!) to combat my flying anxiety, here's hoping it works.

If it doesn't, perhaps I should just hang out in my office's bathroom for a while first to give myself hypothermia. I hear when you're dying of hypothermia you actually acheive this sort of mellow euphoric state after the backbreaking shivering and teeth breaking chattering.

(Seriously, it's so cold in there I thought my butt was going to get stuck to the toilet like in "A Christmas Story.")