I can't stop eating pie.

There's a third of a key lime pie in my fridge.

Yesterday, it was half of a key lime pie.

The day before? Three quarters of a key lime pie.

Where is it all going?

Apparently my ass. Because every spare second I have, I run to the fridge and steal a small sliver. And I know Cooter isn't eating it (or is he?). Because he has far more self control than I do (and he's been working on that bar of bacon chocolate next to our fruit basket).

Yes, you read that right. Bacon chocolate. That's chocolate with chunks of bacon in it. I, a vegetarian, am marrying the most carnivorous man ever to dine on earth.

And I'm okay with that. Because male vegetarians are pussies (except for Paul McCartney and a few others).

Contradictory? Perhaps. Blame it on the sugar crash. Perhaps it's time for more pie.

I'm so glad Christmas is over.

I'm not sure what it is about the holidays that makes people feel entitled.

That makes them sure their actions, no matter how rude and dangerous, are justified.

All of this "Jesus is the reason for the season" spewage as they cut you off in a parking lot shooting the almighty finger--not really church-endorsed, is it?

Last time I checked, there was no mention of Jesus being cool with profanities towards your fellow man in order to save 30% on some sweaters at Target during the month of December.

There's been a rash of people blatantly shirking political correctness, too. Which--okay, I get it. You celebrate a specific religious holiday. And that's great. Many many many people share the same holiday and there's no harm in wishing your holiday upon others--even if they don't celebrate yours.

But for Jesus' sake, don't be a dick about it.

Don't be pissed when the kid working at Dillards--who happens to be Jewish--wishes you a warm holiday. Your snapping back, "It's Christmas," might (and does) come off as hostile.

And would Jesus dig that? I'm pretty sure he wouldn't.

So I hope everyone had a happy holiday, no matter which one(s) you celebrated. And if you don't celebrate a holiday, I hope you had a lovely and safe December.

I already said goodbye.

When I was a little girl, my Daddy Lou had Alzheimer’s. Being five, I misunderstood what my mother and father had told me.

I thought Daddy Lou had Old Timers.

As the years went by and I slowly started to better understand the surrounding world, I realized that it wasn’t normal for someone’s grandfather to forget who she was. And then Daddy Lou died of Old Timers, and I remember being very sad but more so confused.

After all, old people forget stuff. But not like that. A grandpa was supposed to greet you at the door with hugs and candy. Not quietly observe as your father explains that he’s bringing new socks.

So, yeah, Daddy Lou left us. But as far as I could tell, he had left long ago.

In the last handful of years, my step grandpa came down with Old Timers. And it’s been a steady decline through the months. He’d slowly go back through the years, forgetting our faces and relationships. He’d get angry and fussy (which he never was). And finally this weekend, he was freed from the torture of strangers and IVs and immobility and ignorance.

And like I was at the age of ten with Daddy Lou, I am sad. But I am even more relieved. Because I said goodbye to him a long time ago. As soon as I heard he had been diagnosed with Old Timers, I made my peace and watched the man who teased me for so many years (“You know there’s meat in that iced tea!”), who made me laugh and accepted my sister and me as his blood grandchildren, slowly leave us.

I miss Marvin. But I missed him years ago. I am glad he’s finally at peace and no longer afflicted with Old Timers.

That's a crappy offer, AT&T.

I've had a cell phone for 11 years now (almost 12). And I've never once left my provider.

Granted, Southwestern Bell became Cingular which was purchased by AT&T, so I've just traveled along that river to see where it went.

It went to a fancy iPhone two years ago. And today, I'm still talking into the same pre-3G brick and loving every second.

I'm even free from a contract now (ha!) and am grandfathered into a monthly bill that's delightfully $20 or $30 below what everyone else is paying. So I won't be buying the fancy 3GS anytime soon.

The bots over at AT&T  have realized that I'm no longer shackled to their service, and have decided to send me a generic form letter and offer via snail mail.

The offer? "Sign up for another two years and get a free phone."

Okay. I'm slightly intrigued. I keep reading.

"The free phone is valued at $200."

Pretty sure that phone won't be an iPhone (which is also $200 and, in my opinion, the greatest device to ever talk into), but I turn the page.

And I see some horrific blast-from-the-past LG piece of shit without a QUERTY keyboard (imagine) and a dinky little screen (how am I to check Facebook?). It looks like some plastic thing that Marty McFly would have Velcro-ed to his high-top.

And I just stopped looking right there. Then I ripped up the solicitation and ran it down the hall to the garbage chute. I didn't even want it in my trash bin.

Bitch, I'm on an iPhone. And I'm free of a contract! I'm paying less, getting more, and my phone is working better today than it did when I bought it (thanks, apps). How DARE you try to tempt me with some jerkass LG piece of stink bait.

I think AT&T isn't a) aware of how fiercely loyal iPhone users are or b) doesn't have the brains to send iPhone users something in lieu of a shitty downgrade. Having an advertising background and being forced to deal with idiot marketers and their even stupider superiors, I'd bet b.

So here's some advice to AT&T. Don't send shit to your iPhone users. Instead, offer us even a slight discount on a new phone (you can afford it, trust me, I've seen both my fiance and my bills) or send nothing.

Because when you have an iPhone, you don't have to go replacing your phone often. Because they don't crap out like other phones. I should know--I've done my fair share of destroying cell phones over the last decade. The iPhone is the only thing to survive me (yes, it has stayed intact being dropped from great heights).

If you weren't the only provider of this glorious little computer, I'd leave in a heartbeat (but not for Verizon, they're cockeaters, too)

You’re not going to guilt me, stupid frownie hand.

Ever since replacing my Sonicare electric toothbrush (which is a fantastic toothbrush, I must say), I’ve been getting spammed to death by its maker, Philips.

As a consumer, the best thing I can do for the company is to tell the world about my teeth-brushing experience and get my friends to try the product for themselves.

But Philips, like most companies, has decided to torture me with weekly emails about new and impressive products. I'm not buying electronics every sing week--I don’t give a shit.

I get it, though. After all, I’m one of the people who unfortunately has to write asshole emails telling people about sales and new things, etc. (and from the other end, they’re just as annoying). Because no matter how much you like a brand, you don't want to hear from them every day (and any brand who thinks people love them that much is painfully wrong).

So I don’t blame people one second for unsubscribing.

Anyway, my point. I decided to unsubscribe from this email list. Why do I need to know about other products? They’ve already got me for life. Their stuff is good and it works. Every time my toothbrush dies, I will replace it. Guaranteed. And if I'm buying some other hygienic items, I'll consider a Philips based on the awesomeness of my toothbrush.

So I click unsubscribe. And I fill out the reason why (because I’m somewhat sympathetic to the makers of these messages).

And then the screen turns to this.

A frownie hand? Really? What in the fuck is this shit? Philips, a very serious company, is going to guilt me with a frownie hand? A BAD frownie hand?

Fuck that. Now I’m pissed. I'm offended, actually.

Philips, you might have lost yourself a lifetime customer because your client-side marketing manager is a dickhead. Next time my Sonicare’s battery goes, I’m going with a Crest Spinbrush.