Ack, I can’t do this.

I’ve been running on too little sleep for the past four nights. Maybe longer, I don’t remember. This gave me the bright idea of writing a Thursday Thirteen on insomnia cures, but there’s one problem: it takes energy to write a Thirteen. Lots of energy. And I don’t have it right now. Irony’s a bitch.

Here, let’s see how far I can get with Idea B.

Thirteen Things I Hate About Ted

Yup, I hate “Ted,” or as my son calls them, UniTED Hitler; and I’m not the only one. Here are thirteen reasons why.

1. Lost luggage. We returned from Vegas on Dec. 31. Ten days later, Jake’s luggage has finally arrived.

2. The local monopoly. If Walmart pisses me off, I can take my business elsewhere. Same goes for Exxon gas, Safeway market, or the pet store down the road. But dammit if I don’t have to take United for at least the first leg of my journey. Bastards have a lock on the market.

3. Delayed flights. We were supposed to fly out of Medford on the 27th. Fine, fly out tonight, they told us, but you’ll be stuck in Salt Lake City.

Maybe forever.

Me: We’ll fly out tomorrow, thanks much.

4. No leg room. We only realized this when we flew back on Alaskan. What a difference.

5. No smoking in the airplane’s bathroom. Which is fine, really; but when some drunk dimwit started smoking in the bathroom, why did it take them about 40 minutes to throw him off the plane?

6. Gremlins.

Putting up with William Shatner’s acting ain’t much fun, either.

7. Snakes.

8. Singing nuns.

9. Zombies. Sorry, that movie is still under development.

10. Lack of full body massages.

11. Ratio of contributions, Republicans to Democrats: 2:1. A ticket on United means dollars to Mitt!

12. In-air snacks are deep-fried locusts. And they don’t even have a vegetarian option.

And the worst problem of all . . .

13. United’s jet engines are lubricated with baby harp seal blubber.

Told you I didn’t have much tonight. It took me three hours to do this! Of course, I spent 2/3 of that trying to write a post on insomnia . . .

Leave a comment, and, well, you know what happens next.

Tam caucuses, quilts, and grumbles!

Hey, Dan, is that a universe in your pocket, or are you just glad to see us?

Don’t ask Lyvvie if she can spare a smoke

Need a book rec? Ask Darla.

Dean gives us curves and wetness.

D.

Thirteen Resolutions for 2008

Amazing: I have never done a Thirteen for New Year’s resolutions. Back in ’05, I managed to think up six resolutions. How did I do?

1. Lose five pounds. I gained five. On the other hand, I think I converted about twenty pounds of fat into muscle.

2. Sign up at another gym (my favorite one closed) and, um, like, actually use the place. Success! See #1.

3. Lose my temper with my son 25% less. You’ll have to ask Jake about this, but I suspect I’ve been successful here, too.

4. Finish editing TBC and send out queries. Well, I never said how many queries I would send out . . .

5. Write my congressmen (yeah, they’re all guys) every time I think my head might explode. Ah, the joys of email.

And because I really really hate living in a warehouse . . .

6. Get flooring and counter tops! Counter tops: check. Flooring: I resolve never to make resolutions which depend upon the cooperation of contractors.

Below the cut: Thirteen New Year’s Resolutions.

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Festivus Thirteen

Far be it from me to promote anything from Seinfeld (sorry, Jerry-lovers, I’m in the “I don’t get it” camp), but you gotta love Festivus:

At the Festivus dinner, you gather your family around and tell them all the ways they have disappointed you over the last year.

So, for this Thirteen, it’s up to you. Tell me what we’re eating for dinner and then tell me how I’ve disappointed you this year. Just think of how much better this blog will be for your criticisms.

(Sneaky way of getting out of a Thirteen, eh? But I’m in modem hell at home, and I’m getting slammed here at work, and WHINE WHINE WHINE!!!)

Participants get all the linky lurve their hypercritical hearts could crave.

Yay! We’re back in High Speed Land. Here’s your lurve, folks:

Dan: the Master of Distraction’s Thirteen

Kate Rothwell, Professional Scold

Microsoar’s story contest is still open (but, sadly, the only story idea I have is about a trailer trash teenage girl who gets kidnapped for the extraterrestrial sex trade)

Dean’s Friday Flickr babes (looks safe-for-work to me, Dean, although in MY place of work, vibrators and rough sex are regular topics of conversation)

But Joolz, the beans are the best part!

D.

Thirteen things I hate about TV

Admit it. Hatred is more interesting than love, snark trumps warmth, evil beats good hands down. Would you really want to read “Thirteen things I love about TV”? I didn’t think so.

Thirteen detestable things from the box . . . below the cut.

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Thirteen things I love about the Bay Area

Negative thirteens sorely tempted me this morning:

• thirteen things I hate about Thanksgiving (forced gaiety, turkey, overeating, turkey leftovers, dishes, the mess, memories of getting the short end of the wishbone EVERY single time, soggy stuffing, eating at the wrong time of day, wasting food, Thanksgiving Day Parades on TV, canned cranberry sauce, spending a day of vacation cooking/cleaning/eating turkey when we could be having fun in Berkeley),

for example, or

• thirteen things I hate about our hotel (down comforter, down pillows, ten dollar a day internet access, five dollar coffee, eighteen dollar LOUSY breakfast brunch, I mean for eighteen dollars they ought to have a chef preparing omelets stuffed with foie gras, don’t you think?, ten dollar creme brulee that looks good on the outside but has the texture of scrambled eggs on the inside, over-chlorinated pool that makes my eyes burn and gives my son a stomach ache, double beds and not queen-sized beds, no MSNBC on their basic cable, watered-down drinks at the bar, teensy weensy ice bucket I mean would it kill you guys to give us a normal-sized ice bucket?, nothing but anime on Adult Swim not that it’s the hotel’s fault but I have to listen to my son bitch about it, don’t I?, and no affordable suites)

but I’d rather not subject my readers to such a barrage of anger on a feast day. Instead, I give you thirteen things I love about the San Francisco Bay Area: below the cut.

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