So I’m off for the holiday season after a week of dealing with a very non-cooperative blog. Bad blog, BAD BLOG! I expect that I will celebrate Christmas much like I have in the past: drinking pinot from the bottle, eating my nephews’ and nieces’ chocolate santas while tears run down their faces, opening presents I bought for myself, spending hours in the sauna in my fleece pants, and wearing festive ornament earrings. That glow in the dark. Like cloned cats.

This Christmas, like every Christmas, I will still be searching for that special gift wrapped in green foil paper. When my sisters and I were little, and my parents took us to the same creepy molesting Santa Claus each year, we would receive an extra special present from Santa (don’t be crude, I’m already psychologically damaged enough as it is) once we learned to recite the alphabet.

Of course, my sisters learned the alphabet much earlier than I did, because I spent much of my childhood in speech therapy classes with all the other speech-impedimented outcasts. Eventually, I did it. The whole alphabet, from A to Z. And Santa told me that there would be a present wrapped in green paper in the laundry room, just for me, on Christmas morning.

I couldn’t sleep at all that night, and in the morning, I ran downstairs and…

Now I know what you’re thinking. That this is going to end badly, and I probably never got over it, and that’s why I grew up to become a bitter woman. Oh, ye of little faith.

I ran downstairs and… there it was. On top of the washing machine. My green present.

I don’t even remember what was inside. But I can remember the feeling and, at least for one last Christmas, I still believed.

To you and yours and ours and theirs, have a good one. See you in the new year.

So I’m out of the office today “working from home” (wink, wink, drink, drink), and all hell breaks loose at Texas Monthly. On Wednesday, Evan Smith broke the story on Speaker Craddick’s challenger Bill Dingus, which I promptly reprinted on my blog, claiming it as my own.

This morning, the Midland Reporter-Telegram (I’m a long-time subscriber) reported that Evan “encouraged” Dingus to run, and insinuated that Evan would be backing him financially. I know for a fact this isn’t true. If anyone is supporting Dingus, it’s me. I have already made up t-shirts saying, “Gavel-Off: Craddick’s too small to lead this big state.”

Evan wrote an email to the Midland editor, and now supposedly they are going to run a retraction. WELL IT’S A LITTLE LATE FOR THAT. The Republican Party of Texas has called on Evan to resign as editor of Texas Monthly (I have since submitted my resume to Mike Levy for the open position of editor of Texas Monthly).

From the statement:

“If Mr. Smith’s work hasn’t already made his antagonism toward Speaker Craddick clear enough, this revelation leaves no question,” said Tina Benkiser, a lonely woman who seeks comfort in putting out worthless press releases. “The conflict of interest is obvious. He needs to step down.”

Noting that Texas Monthly routinely raises the ire of Republicans, and specifically conservatives, Benkiser said, “Texas Monthly routinely lambastes conservatives while claiming to be non-partisan. Now the thin veneer of non-partisanship and impartiality has been shattered. For the magazine’s credibility, Mr. Smith needs to resign.”

Please. If anything has shattered this magazine’s credibility, it’s when they hired that ass*hole blogger.

Is it just me, or does anyone else feel like they’re stuck in February 2005?

Yesterday, my blog decided to go all Quantum Leap on me, rearranging my posts in reverse chronological order so that the posts I wrote when In the Pink was still in diapers were displaying on the homepage. Needless to say, it was a quite distressing day for me, as I was forced to read my humorless posts from when I was 33. I mean 30. I mean 29. Leave me alone.

I’m aware of what’s going on. The blog is acting out because it knows I’m leaving to go on holiday and will be abandoning it over Christmas. First, the domain kerfuffle. Now this. It’s the terrible twos, and ITPT will be punished accordingly.

Back to the holidays. What would the holidays be without…the traditional holiday sweater?! If you’ve never seen the Coldwater Creek catalog, I suggest picking it up after you’ve had a hard day. The clothes are made for 80+-year-old women or younger women with no sense of style, and they’re accompanied by little stories and poems that make you want to gauge your eyes out. You’ll no doubt say to yourself, “Sure, my husband left me for my best friend but at least I’m not wearing that tunic!”

“We always think of [our customers] while we come up with concepts,” said Kathy McConnell, the senior vice president of product development at Coldwater Creek. “We always want to give her some snow-inspired themes. We always do well with a cat, but we never want to repeat too much or too often. One year, we may have a snowflake, or one year a wintry tree.” That’s darling. A smart little vest depicting a snowflake-speckled cat on skis crashing into a wintry tree. Blood everywhere. Worn over a turtleneck.

Most cat-adorned holiday sweaters are popular, especially when the cat is playfully batting around a ball of string or eating the face off of its owner to get back the Toxoplasma.

Speaker Tom Craddick is finally getting an opponent. My sources (Evan Smith) tell me that Bill Dingus of the Midland Dingus’s will file tomorrow. Dingus is a member of the Midland City Council, and will probably run as a Democrat, even though it’s a Republican district. I asked Evan if Dingus was already a House member and he looked at me and sighed. Like I said, it’s hard being the smartest person in the room.

It’s hard being the smartest girl in the room. I feel like no one really gets to know me. No one takes the time to talk to me, afraid that I will engage them in a battle of wits. What are the names of all the Supreme Court justices? How many versions of Law & Order are on TV? If a honeydew, why cantaloupe?

For Hillary Clinton, her smarts are starting to become an issue with voters in Iowa and New Hampshire, who admire her intelligence and experience but don’t really like her all that much. So Hillary’s campaign has rolled out a new slogan called “The Hillary I Know.” Her website now features close to 40 video testimonials from friends, constituents, and me. I did like 32 of them.

On the campaign trail Tuesday with Bill, Hillary told voters that the confidantes speaking on her behalf are “people who have known me, who can talk about what I do when the lights are off.”

To which Bill quipped, “Sometimes we’re just sleeping… because we’re so tired.” And other times, they’re getting crazy kinky and calling each other “Mr. President.”

There are glimpses here and there of Hillary’s personal life, such as when she was in junior high school and had “really thick glasses” but would take them off occasionally because “there was always some boy or another that I was hoping would notice me.” Thick glasses? Oh please. Try being 4’6″ and weighing 75 pounds. In order to get boys to notice me, I had to walk down the hallways on stilts.

I’m thinking of adding a video section called “The Eileen I Know” to the site — you will all be able to submit testimonials.

So it has come to this.

John Edwards, tired of playing third to the frontrunners, has decided to perform a striptease for the American public. Tappable.

Physicians undergoing treatment for drug and alcohol abuse are often still allowed to practice and keep their addictions hidden from patients. Like that’s fair. We have to fill out intrusive medical forms every time we come to your office, listing all our medications and the nature of our stools, while sitting for two hours in a waiting room reading Highlights, and, most likely, catching tuberculosis.

If one more nurse looks at me disapprovingly while reviewing my “how many alcoholic beverages do you drink per week” response, I’ll take my business elsewhere. And, there’s a LOT of money that can be made off of me.

Some estimates say that as many as 8,000 doctors nationwide may be in substance abuse treatment programs while continuing to practice. This reminds me of a brain surgeon I met a few times in Chicago. I used to like to interject “well, it’s not like it’s BRAIN SURGERY or anything” into any conversation I had with him. I thought this was quite witty of me. Imagine my surprise when I found out the brain surgeon was a cokehead.

It’s difficult to cite documented cases in which doctors who were confidentially undergoing treatment botched operations while drunk or high due to the secrecy of the programs. From now on, I will be bringing my portable breathalyzer to the doctor’s office.

Hey look! My site’s still up! Thank you, rogue blog elves!

Democrat Dan Barrett (who?) beat Republican Mark Shelton (who?) in a runoff election for District 97, a conservative Fort Worth-area district. Barrett, an attorney, will replace Rep. Anna Mowery, who retired after 128 years of service.

With all precincts reporting, Barrett won with 52 percent, and will serve through 2008 to finish out Mowery’s term. He’s like a substitute teacher. In summer school.

“They want change from the Speaker all the way down,” Barrett said. “That was the message from our campaign.” Barrett is referring to Tom Craddick. You may remember him as the guy last session with the incredible shrinking gavel.

Shelton, a Craddick supporter, said he has already filed to run in the March primary. “I still believe this is a conservative district,” he said. “We had a very low voter turnout today.” Yeah. You just keep telling yourself that.

Oh – and Burka owes me coffee.

My life is an open blog.

Apparently I find it FAR TOO DIFFICULT to remember to renew my domain registration. I was shocked it was still available, and was prepared to settle for the inthepinktexas.org domain, since this site qualifies as a non-profit. (OMG! LOL!)

In my defense, it has been a hectic few days trying to fit in all my Christmas shopping at the 5th & Lamar Starbucks. (Look! Chocolate advent calendars now on sale! Does The Kite Runner come with a free bag of fair-trade beans?) Last night, I made the mistake of venturing out to the Arboretum. I figured this was my best bet since everyone has deserted Arbor for The Domain. And, maybe I could stop at Cheesecake Factory afterwards!

Too bad everyone shuts down at 7PM. Do they not know it’s the holiday season? I tried to walk in to Gymboree at 6:55 but the doors were already locked. Does that old lady sitting behind the counter, staring at me, not realize that there is money to be made on those adorable baby socks?

I ran across the street to Janie and Jack and made it just in time. While I was picking up, unfolding, and putting back every little outfit I saw, the two women working there made it clear I wasn’t welcome. “Do you have children?” one of them sneered. “No, I eat children,” I replied. “But I like to dress them up first.” Then I held up an adorable velvet and plaid Christmas dress and asked if they had it in my size.

Anyway, my expired domain registration is the least of my worries, and yours. Tuberculosis is alive and well in Waco.

SPEEEEEAAAAAKKKKKEEEEERRRRR!

Health officials in Waco are urging the public to cooperate with efforts to contain an active case of tuberculosis after an employee at Providence Health Center was diagnosed. Close to 800 letters (signed “Santa”) were mailed to patients, notifying them that they may have been exposed. Tuberculosis is most commonly spread through sneezing and coughing. Well, don’t worry. You were in a hospital. I doubt many people were sick.

Children all across Canada are brokenhearted this Christmas because of one “rogue elf.” And because socialized medicine is destroying their country.

The post office and police are searching for an unidentified postal employee who has been replying to children’s letters to Santa with foul language, such as, “This letter is too long, you dumb shi*t” and “I’d stop asking for candy, fattie.”

Cindy Daoust, the spokesperson for The Canada Post, which sponsors the program, said: “We firmly believe there is just one rogue elf out there responsible for the letters. In our history, we’ve never had a problem of this nature.” Looks like going postal means something a little different to our neighbors to the north.

I can’t remember writing letters to Santa when I was little — detailed itemized lists, yes. Letters? Not to the Santa our family visited year after year — the creepiest Santa in the entire world. I do, however, remember writing a strongly-worded letter to the tooth fairy when she forgot to leave the money under my pillow in exchange for my dead, brown tooth. My parents kept the letter, written in magic marker, only to humiliate me later in life. I had misspelled tooth fairy. Tuth Fary.

Someone still owes me $1.00.

Mike Huckabee’s son, David Huckabee, is luckabee not to be in jail.

But, really, should the former Arkansas governor be held accountable for his son’s youthful indiscretions? A few drinks, a few late nights out, a stray dog hanging or two?

In 1998, David, then 17, was dismissed from his job as a counselor at a Boy Scout camp amid allegations that he was involved in the hanging of a stray dog. Oh come on, who didn’t hang stray animals at sleep-away camp? (I only went to day camp because I didn’t want anyone to see me sucking my thumb.)

That year, the local prosecuting attorney asked the Arkansas state police to investigate whether David and another boy had violated state animal-cruelty laws. The police, however, never granted the request, and no charges were filed. The director, John Bailey, claims that Governor Huckabee’s chief of staff and his personal lawyer pressured him to deny the request but Bailey refused. Then, he was fired. The former FBI chief in Little Rock corroborates Bailey’s story.

Huckabee has called Bailey’s allegations “totally untrue,” describing him as a “bitter” ex-employee who should be “hung from a tree.”

At the time, the Animal Legal Defense Fund had received an anonymous tip that David had been involved in the hanging of a stray dog. When they contacted the camp director, he claimed that the boys were simply putting the dog out of its misery. There’s an interesting take on assisted suicide.

What is it with Republicans and dogs? Mitt Romney straps them to the roof of his car, Judi Giuliani worked for a medical-supply company that killed dogs after testing products, and the only dog Tom Tancredo likes is a bounty hunter.

I was out at dinner Saturday night when I received an urgent text message: The Des Moines Register had just endorsed Hillary. My God, I thought, my goat cheese pasta dripping from my mouth. This is the happiest day of my life — even better than the day McLean High School cheerleaders won Regionals.

“Clinton takes Iowa!” I shouted triumphantly, as two-thirds of the tables glowered at me. “Garcon! A bottle of your finest champagne under $19.99! And for dessert, the flourless chocolate torte! Tonight, we are all Democrats!”

From the editorial:

From working for children’s rights as a young lawyer, to meeting with leaders around the world as first lady, to emerging as an effective legislator in her service as a senator, every stage of her life has prepared her for the presidency.

As first lady in Arkansas, she was both strategist and idealist, borne out by her commitment to children and families. As the nation’s first lady, she in essence spent eight years as a diplomat, traveling to more than 80 countries and advocating for human rights.

In the Senate, she has earned a reputation as a workhorse who does not seek the limelight. She honed knowledge of defense on the Senate Armed Services Committee. She has proactively served rural and urban New York and worked in the national interest, strengthening the Children’s Health Insurance Program.

Clinton is tough. Tested by rough politics and personal trials, she’s demonstrated strength, resolve and resilience.

The editorial board also endorsed John McCain. Honestly, I didn’t even know he was still running. But if I was forced to name someone from the Republican field, I would have done the same thing. Giuliani? Romney? Huckabee? I’d rather give up pinot noir for the rest of my natural life (I could learn to love merlot again).

Last night I dreamed that Hillary won the general and I was toasting to the first woman president. My dreams are seldom wrong. Except for that time I dreamed I was a famous author and was going on a book tour around the world. Then I woke up and realized I was a blogger who will never get a book deal because publishers can’t appreciate the delicate nuances behind patriotic glow-in-the-dark kittens and the orphan babies who love them.

The Statesman is reporting that Travis County DA Ronnie Earle will not seek re-election, prompting Andy Brown to immediately announce his candidacy. Earle has been in office since 1977, exactly one year before I was born.

People are speculating that Earle could run for governor in 2010, and have a total age-off with Kay Bailey Hutchison.

The Democrats Thursday afternoon participated in their final debate before the Iowa caucuses. I tried to watch at work but Evan Smith kicked me out of his office, after he found me hiding under his chair, rolled up into a tiny ball, eating Crispy Cheddars. I KNEW the crumbs would give me away but they are so DELICIOUS.

He then told me that the column I was writing for the magazine had been scrapped, but I preempted this by saying, “Writer’s Strike! Unionize!” and marching around the office in a sandwich board.

Needless to say, I was unable to live-blog the debate, and was instead forced to amuse myself at my desk by using the mini-cam on my laptop to record myself making faces.

Hillary and Obama remain tied for first in Iowa, despite Clinton aide Bill Shaheen’s comments that Obama would have a tough time taking on Republicans due to his past drug use. In his memoir, Obama had written that during his difficult late teens, “pot had helped, and booze; maybe a little blow when you could afford it. Not smack, though.”

Oh, come on. Who hasn’t done a little blow in their day? How could this possibly be used against him by the three Republican frontrunners — a notorious philanderer who’s certifiable, a Mormon who believes that Jesus and Satan are brothers, and a crazy home-schoolers-backed Christian who wants to sequester HIV patients?

Snort.

Let’s face it. If Hillary wins Iowa, it’s over. Who’s in for a caucus night party?

A Dutch couple has decided to give back a seven-year-old South Korean girl that they adopted as a baby, claiming she didn’t fit in with their lifestyle, which apparently did not include Koreans.

The diplomat and his wife adopted the baby after being unable to have children of their own own but then, miracle of miracles, they had two biological children. So they handed the Korean daughter off to social workers in Hong Kong, where she is currently in foster care. I wonder if she’s friends with the little Korean daughter I adopted then returned? (She was a dreadful sommelier.)

The parents said that, despite their best efforts, the girl was not adapting to their culture — she couldn’t dance in wooden clogs and she couldn’t make a good Zuurkoolstamppot to save her life.

The diplomat said that his (biological) family is struggling to cope with their decision, and his wife is even in therapy. Luckily, there are a number of fine support groups in the Netherlands for parents who grow tired of their adopted South Korean babies and return them to Hong Kong.

I guess their daughter should’ve taken their threats seriously. “If you don’t clean your room, young lady, it’s a one-way ticket back to Wan Chai for you, sweetheart!”

On Wednesday, scientists in South Korea announced that they have successfully cloned three cats, which now glow in the dark. Good news for single women who lose their only companions at night.

The research team manipulated a fluorescent protein gene that makes the cats glow when exposed to ultraviolet beams. Yeah. That’s normal. The scientists are hoping that the manipulated gene will help develop much-needed medical treatments, like for those suffering from glow-in-the-dark syndrome.

In other cat news, the CDC estimates that more than 60 million Americans are infected with a parasite that can migrate into their brains, and alter their behavior in such a way that makes them more likely to be eaten by…cats. This fairly common parasite could offer clues into the bizarre phenomenon known as “crazy cat lady” syndrome.

YOU THINK I’M KIDDING.

Here’s how it goes. The parasite, Toxoplasma gondii (duh), can only reproduce in cat digestive tracts. The cat can then pass it in its feces. The next host picks it up by digesting it. (Here’s a hint. Don’t eat your cat’s poop.) But the parasite must find its way back to a cat’s stomach in order to survive.

In the end, the parasite takes over your brain so you start acting crazy so your cats will eat you and the parasite can safely return home. Even without the parasite, your cats will probably eventually eat you. Just for fun.

Following the Republican debate in Iowa Wednesday (What?), Mike Huckabee personally apologized to Mitt Romney for questioning whether or not Mormons believe Jesus and the devil are, in fact, brothers.

Huckabee explained that it was simply something he had heard. From his home-schooled campaign volunteers. The candidate said his comments were completely taken out of context by The New York Times and, if he had the chance to do it over, he would’ve asked if Jesus and Beelzebub were brothers.

If I recall correctly from my days at Catholic school, Satan is a fallen angel who was once the model of perfection before his wickedness and pride took over. So, really, it sounds like Huckabee and Satan are brothers.

Plus, Huckabee eats babies.

Researchers have finally made the link between regular sex and better physical health. Not necessarily “regular sex,” but “sex on a regular basis.” You could be having crazy kinky Duncanvillian blogtastic sex for all I care. And you probably are. Perverts.

Engaging in intercourse with your significant other at least once a week provides a number of physiological benefits, such as longevity, pain relief, and, OOPS!, babies! Engaging in weekly intercourse while you’re single, however, can only lead to heartbreak and despair.

Weekly sex? According to my calculations, that’s 52 times a year. You must be joking. Between crossword puzzles, pinot, Lifetime Movie Network, and napping in the gym sauna while I sweat my kneecaps off, who has the time?

So here are the supposed perks of regular sexual activity.

1. Sex Fights Colds and Flu. Sex can raise the body’s level of the immune-boosting antibody immunoglobin A. If anyone in your office is sneezing, they’re probably frigid.
2. Sex is a Beauty Treatment. Studies have shown that people who are having sex like rabbits (four times a week! The SAME WEEK!) look seven to 12 years younger than they really are. Lots of sex raises a woman’s estrogen level, which helps make hair shiny and skin supple. Don’t look at me. I’m hideous.
3. Sex Burns Calories. A whopping four calories a minute, or the equivalent of four Hershey’s kisses in a half hour. Yeah. That’s helpful. So basically, depending on the guy, you’ll burn a maximum of…12 calories.
4. Honey, I Have a Headache. Sex cures headaches. Cancer too.
5. Sex Promotes Regular Menstrual Cycles. Yeah, but can it get rid of the menstrual cycle? Oh. Wait.
6. Sex Can Prevent Accidents. PEEING accidents. Gross. As women age, the muscles of the pelvic floor are weakened, and these are the same muscles exercised during intercourse. So if you see a woman peeing on herself, she’s not having sex. Surprise, surprise.

Mike Huckabee’s campaign staff in Iowa has been buoyed by an extensive volunteer network of Christian home-schooling families, known as “Huck’s Army.” Really? Those home-schoolers actually have time in between making spoon bread, memorizing Genesis and churning butter?

John and Diane Desaulniers plan to spend Christmas distributing yard signs and baking Christmas cookies for staff with their four children — two in college and two being home-schooled through high school. HIGH SCHOOL?!

“It’s a full family affair,” Desaulniers said. Yes, I’m sure God would rather have you working on a political campaign than feeding the homeless and stripping the lead off of toys this Christmas.

It’s rumored that a quarter of Huckabee’s Iowa volunteers are home-schoolers. This puts Democrats at a definite disadvantage since public school students are actually in school. Learning.

Roughly 9,000 of Iowa’s students are home-schooled, and the majority of families are evangelical Christians who think that their children aren’t learning enough about God in public schools.

Home-schooled “students” are invaluable volunteers because their “class” schedules are so flexible. The home-schooling families have free time to canvas door-to-door, where the children silently mouth “Please help me” to whoever/whomever answers.

I can’t think of anything more humiliating than being forced to wear a pink shirt. Except, maybe, being found dead in a sauna. In Phoenix, one sheriff has organized a chain gang consisting of inmates convicted of drunk driving. The inmates must wear pink tees and PINK UNDERWEAR while performing their community service—grave digging. Which is worse: burying those sad sacks who died of alcohol abuse, or wearing pink panties while doing so? Toss-up.

Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio said he hopes this will be a deterrent to potential drunk drivers. “Maybe this will warn people—knock it off, don’t drink and drive,” Arpaio said. “You’ll end up in pink underwear on the chain gang.” The men’s shirts read “Clean(ing) and Sober” on the front, and “These Are Not Talking Points” on the back.

Arizona has one of the toughest DUI laws in the country. Aside from increased fines and jail time, it mandates ignition-interlock devices for first-time offenders. Imagine having to blow into a breathalyzer on your dashboard before starting your car. It’s almost as pathetic as having to do that before turning your laptop on.