Monday, December 13, 2010

You bet against me bringing Pan back here, didn't ya?

I would like to address your lack of faith in the staying power of Holiday Torture '10. I am a busy man. (I accidentally typed "I am a busty man" HA!) I can't keep track of every song on my notable list in real time. If you can't accept that then I will throw you in the boo box.

Do not for a second, think that I have given up on my quest. I present to you the newly updated holiday torture list.

I have a short story to share with you in addition to my update, just so the readers don't think I've forgotten about the blog.

A couple weeks back I was in the self check-out at the grocery store buying eggs. After I tried unsuccessfully to get the scanner to read the bar code on the packaging, the cashier who oversees the self-checkout came over to assist me. The following is the reenacted conversation for your reading pleasure.

Cashier lady: Can I help you with something?

Dan: I'm having a rough time getting the bar code to read.

Cashier lady: Sometimes these cartons don't read very well.

Dan: Well I guess I just picked a bad egg. (<--PUN)

Cashier lady: (Stoically) Let me type in the code.

Dan: Egg-cellent (<-- PUN!)

Cashier lady: (Morosely) There you go, have a nice evening.

Really?! Not even an acknowledgement? Come on.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010


Does the melody for "Hey Santa, Hey Santa..." Sound familiar? YES, IT DOES! This song is truly torturous because it skews a cherished childhood memory and replaces it with Carnie & Wendy Wilson sitting on a polka dot couch. Wendy is getting hit on by elves and Carnie is fumbling with her Clarissa Explains It All hat. Santa is thrown from a second story balcony and crashes behind them, sustaining serious injuries. I can't stand for it any longer. I cannot allow that tune to be sullied in this manner. I must bring this vile plagiarism into the light of day.

Ahhh. That's better. I always wanted one of these. The tune has stuck with me since my early childhood, and I will let nobody, YES NOBODY, (THAT INCLUDES YOU CARNIE) to take this memory away from me.

As a small side note, can we all agree that the claymation Saturday morning shorts of yesteryear were the bees knees?

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Chat Snippet O' The Day #2

me: that would be awesome
i just totally forgot how to write the word mabye
oooh that's better

Lorraine: HAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

Chat Snippet O' The Day

me: i miss you

Lorraine: i miss yuo too please

me: Who's Yuo?! I'll KILL HIM!

Lorraine: hhahahhahah!! you jealous nut!!

me: You have an Asian lover on the side, eh? I see how it is!

Lorraine: you're so possessive.

me: :P

Lorraine: you're both deeply offending me AND making me laugh out loud at work!!!!

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

I would rather spend a hundred years as a background singer for Elvis' "Blue Christmas".

Truly Awful Christmas Song

Is this The Pretenders singing "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas," or did Phoebe Buffay from Friends just walk into the room and try to cleanse my aura? This is so bad. Here is a Christmas-themed list of things I'd rather do than listen to this song:

-I would rather spend Christmas in prison than listen to this song.

-I would rather have George Michael sing "Last Christmas" one inch away from my face than listen to this song.

-I would rather be force fed one thousand regular candy canes than listen to this song.

-I would rather go to the Black Friday Jammy Jam at the South Towne Center.

-I would rather be haunted by the ghost of Burl Ives.

-I would rather be transported back in time to the set of Santa Clause with Tim Allen.

Please feel free to submit your own "I would rathers" in the comments section below.

Friday, November 05, 2010

The Day of Reckoning: Holiday Torture '10

What exactly is Holiday Torture? Starting November 9th, 2009 I began listening to Christmas music non-stop on KSFI, a local soft hits radio station. I listened every time I drove in my car, every time I sat down at my desk, basically 6 hours every work day until Christmas day. Figuring about two hours of drive time every weekend, and using the unmatched power of maths, I have deduced that I listened an average of 5.29 hours of Christmas music every day for 47 days. Lets round down to five hours even. I listened to 235 hours of Christmas music.

Why did I subject myself to the same rotation of fifty or so songs, over and over for a month and a half? Why am I doing it again? Great question. Answer= Because I am possessed by a Christmas Demon! Plus last year I made a mistake. The Christmas rotation doesn't start on the ninth. This year it started on November 5th on KSFI, and the evening of November 4th on its softy counterpart KOSY. I must beat my old record.

Logs on the fire fill me with desire.

Monday, November 01, 2010

It's Coming...

There is a faint rumbling on the horizon. Is that the sound of a thousand jingle bells roaring out in pain? FM 100's website has already made the inevitable Christmas transition. Its two zeroes are now blood red Christmas ornaments, snowflakes fall gently across the home page like fallout in a war zone, and now it is a matter of time before the madness takes the airwaves. My coworkers and wife have all begged me to forget about the imminent holiday tide. But I cannot. I am as powerless against it as a menorah in an ice storm. It commands, and I obey.

Holiday Torture '10

Friday, October 29, 2010

Umm... Carlton Banks Anyone? Part II

Funny, I don't seem to remember Carlton having those dance moves.

Umm... Carlton Banks Anyone?

First off, Janeen Brady FTW. I was raised on her Mormon inspirational children's tunes. I still recall running around uncontrollably with my brother and sister to "See Me Run". The very thought of the song causes me to begin foaming at the mouth. This song is a Janeen Brady classic.

Second, CARLTON FREAKING BANKS! MORMON COMMERCIAL! This must have been when he was visiting cousin Will in West Philadelphia.

Friday, October 22, 2010

The People Have Spoken: LACEY'S BLOG

Ladies and gentlemen...
Today is a day of monumental importance. It is the day that one voice became many, and many rose up as one. It is a day when several individual souls rose up and stood together in a spirit of unity, demanding that their fundamental needs be met. MORE LACEY!

Today is the day...


Landscape Architect FAIL!

So, I'm working a bid for an apartment complex. After taking a closer look at the type of concrete curbing this job calls out for, I'm not sure we're interested in that type of work. Let me reiterate that this is in fact an estimate that I am actually working on.

How exactly does one install excreted concrete mowcurb? Sounds labor intensive.
(Note: It is supposed to read "EXTRUDED")

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Petition for a Lacey Blog!

Are you sick and tired of going through your day without access to the inner-most thoughts of everyone's favorite Lacey? Well then, let your voice be heard here in the comments section below. AMERICANS FOR A LACEY BLOG! Let's take back Lacey. This is a Lacey I can believe in.

Tuesday, October 05, 2010

Trumpet Fail.

Dear Blogosphere,

Trumpeting Thunder has ceased to be awesome, and has decided to format his "pink elephant" pink blog in such a fashion that a maniacal right wing REAL AMERICA politician is censoring our freedom of blog speech, and blocking the people's blog links to such an extent that blogstalking has become nearly impossible.

Will we STAND for this injustice? Will we let the trumpet of tyranny blaze in our pathetic pondscum plebian ears, or will we fight?? I say FIGHT! FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHT TO BLOGSTALK!!!!

From the great representative of the people,

Mrs. Thunder, aka, Thunder Hooves.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Just Another American Saturday (Friday) Night

Brad Paisley concert tonight!


Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Send The Message Tonight!

My hero... remixed.

I love this guy because he is a caricature of actual American politics. Is he really that different than the rest of our hyperbolic fear mongering politicians with their divisive politics and all of their doom and gloom? This guy is a breath of fresh air if only because he has dropped the facade. VOTE PHIL DAVISON!

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

The Dan Lance Beebe Answering Service

A sales person called my work. I answered the phone,
"This is Dan".
She replied "Is Lance Beebe there?"
I responded "this is Dan Lance Beebe, how may i help you?"
"Are you the owner, sir?"
"Yes I am."
"Do you take credit cards?"
"Are you interested.... blah blah blah?"
"I don't trust credit card companies. I think they're trying to steal my house."
"We also offer websites..."
"What's a website?"
"A website is something your customers can access..."
"Oh, you mean those pictures you see on those... those... computer things?"
"I don't believe in computers, so I'm not interested. Thanks."

Thursday, September 02, 2010

The Great Salt.... Wait

It's hard to skip rocks when the actual lake is miles from the high water mark. Even so, our Great Salt Lake adventure was a success. First, we took pictures of the sunset as seen from an abandoned building.

Afterwords we started trekking towards an optical illusion which we believed to be the shoreline. After a fifteen minute hike we realized how far away we really were. We decided we were close enough.

After we hiked back to the car we tried to drive towards Magna, but instead ended up at a landfill. During adventures more often than not, the destination is the least important part of the night. The most important part: being stranded at a landfill with a killer on our tails. Either that or the massive banana split I ate once we got back to Sugarhouse.

All in all, as I've made abundantly clear, today's adventure was more fun than anything you people did. So there.

Destiny Accomplished... Sort of.

My hunger is deeply satisfied, and I am happy to see that Lorraine has posted our honeymoon pics on facebook. New Orleans was incredible. More to come on that later.

In continuation of my attempt to embrace my destiny, tonight Lorraine and I are going to skip rocks in the Great Salt Lake. A true adventure.

Del Destino

It's time for lunch my friends. It's time to envelop myself in the warm embrace of cheap faux-mexican food. It's time for Del Taco.

Wednesday, September 01, 2010

Bubble Tape-Colored Blog

It's that time of year. Time for the pink blog and its accompanying renaissance of blogging thought.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

28. Looks like I won't be joining the club.

Birthdays for me have never been a big deal. For the past several years, I have requested the gift of waiting to celebrate for a few weeks until my dad's birthday and having a joint party so as to avoid the full brunt of birthday attention. As much as I appreciated the affection of my family and friends, I preferred to have my birthday be as unnoticed as possible. Well understandably, Lorraine wasn't going to let me get away with that this year, as my birthday doubled as our one month anniversary. Let me just say, that the past month has been unbelievable, and I've never been so happy and excited for the future.

My 28th birthday has to go down as one of my all-time favorites. First, Lorraine made me pancakes that said words. She also allowed me to put them on a plate that says "You are special today". I like to think that I am special on other days as well, but I'll take whatever recognition I can get.

Garit took me out to eat at our favorite lunch haunt Wallaby's and we discussed infusing my camera with science.

After work Lorraine took me to a Middle Eastern restaurant called Mazza Cafe and I lost my mind, the food was so good. I highly recommend it for anyone looking for something a little different up in the Salt Lake area. I was like Bob Wiley eating hand-shucked corn.

When we got home Lorraine had made me an amazing cake with jam in the middle and homemade whipped cream topping. I ate seconds even though I was full and I also ate some more for breakfast this morning.

Thanks for everything, my friends and family! It's good to be loved.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Hair Salon Waiting Room: The Tension Builds

Recently Lorraine and I have both become exasperated with our respective hair situations. Lorraine finally broke down and decided to get her hair cut, and I came along. So here I sit, stealing wireless from the Starbucks next door. Hair cuts are always really complicated for me. First, I never know what I want to do. For example, right now, I oscillate between wanting a slight trim, a long hair style, a short hair style, and a self-buzz cut on an almost daily basis. This always seems to be a problem because when I show up to a stylist, I have little to no input, and inevitably, I get an ugly haircut. This leads to complication #2. I work under the assumption that these people are experts on what hair styles look good on me. Therefore, when they finish cutting, and I look at the damage, I am either too unsure, or too nervous to call them out. So the haircut looks stupid, and I'm stuck with it until my next haircut or until I shave it all off. So despite the fact that my hair is driving me crazy, and my hair is broken and split and pretty much awful, I just can't bring myself to do anything about it. Sitting here, in the salon waiting room, I feel the tension build. The inevitable day of reckoning is on the horizon. It is just a matter of time.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Close Call.

Every morning I pry myself away from Lorraine and commute from our Sugarhouse apartment to Pleasant Grove. It is a forty minute commute, but it is against commuter traffic, and therefore is generally uneventful.

This morning I was running about ten minutes late and so I made my way over to the fast lane and hit cruise control going just under 75 MPH, with the flow of traffic. As I neared 90th South, about fifteen minutes into my drive, I saw a man on a motorcycle directly in front of me. He was on one of those glorified freeway scooters and was wearing both a full helmet, and a leather jacket. Thinking nothing of it, I continued on my way, driving directly behind him.

All of a sudden I visualized the man laying his bike down and bouncing under the carriage of my car. I envisioned the whole thing happening before my eyes, and even felt the thumping beneath my feet. I have never imagined an accident like that before, especially not so vividly. It made me so nervous, I immediately slowed down to give myself a generous following distance. As is typical in these parts, someone filled the spot I had just vacated directly behind the motorcyclist. I was very wary, although I couldn't explain why.

Within thirty seconds, traffic ahead stopped abruptly, causing us all to brake hard. The car in front of the biker slammed on the brakes, causing him to do the same. He couldnt stay upright and laid his bike down on the freeway, totaling it instantly. I watched in awe as he bounced and rolled violently, with pieces of his bike tumbling around him, just as I had seen it moments before. The pregnant woman in the car in front of me slammed on her brakes and missed hitting the man by about five feet. Despite my generous following distance due to my premonition, I missed her by even less. I have no doubt that had I not slowed down, I would have been directly behind that bike, and I would have crushed him.

The man lay motionless on the interstate, his leather jacket scraped and torn, his leg positioned awkwardly, but his head completely intact, minus some major gashes in his helmet. He was conscious, and thankfully one of the witnesses to the accident was a nurse. I stood by as he told her, in what I'm sure was a state of shock, how bummed he was that he'd ruined his new helmet. Anyway, I think he's fine. The ambulance arrived about fifteen minutes later and took him away on a stretcher.

As I stood on the freeway, emergency lights flashing, I watched the traffic merge into the three right lanes, rubbernecking as they passed. I watched two bikes drive by, two riders on one, one on the other. All three without helmets.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Want To Trade Your Peanut Butter Sandwich For My Caviar?

Sunday before last, Swell Season came to Salt Lake and we really wanted to see them. Unfortunately, tickets were a little out of our price range. The day before, Lorraine excitedly told me about a promotional contest that Whole Foods Salt Lake was doing on their Facebook page. The request was seemingly simple: "...Post your favorite brown bag lunch. We'll pick our fav!" Simple right?

Lorraine eagerly entered her selection:

This, Lorraine informed me, was in fact what she had eaten for lunch the day before. She explained, "Sure, it's pretentious, but I really want to see Swell Season!" I congratulated her on her solid plug of several Whole Foods products.

For those who have never shopped at Whole Foods, let me break it down for you. Their produce is all organic. Their chickens have never seen cages. Their beef has a better quality of life than you do... Minus the whole slaughtering thing. Ethnic foods abound. Health nut moms walk hand in hand with dreadlocked vegans. Tattoos and piercings are considered favorably when applying for positions there. In a nutshell, this place is way cooler than me.

Slowly, other entries trickled in. Each one more outlandish than the next: "Roasted eggplant" ..."nappa cabbage" ..."a thermos full of pho" ..."Ezekiel sprouted grain tortilla". I couldn't take it anymore! The indignation rose within me as this farce was paraded before my eyes. All pretenses of a "brown bag lunch" had been abandoned as the contest quickly spiraled out of control. I had to bring it back on course. I had to compile the perfect brown bag lunch.

Lorraine typed as I dictated each item after painstaking consideration.

"a pizza lunchables..." Plural or singular, it mattered not. I had to bring these people back to the lunchrooms of America.

"a capri sun..." I've never seen soccer moms break out thermoses of pho at halftime.

"flaming hot cheetos..." As I recall, elementary school kids in South Texas weren't suffering from ulcers as a result of too much roasted eggplant.

"and a go-gurt." What's lunch without a healthy dose of probiotics ...and high fructose corn syrup?

As we clicked on the comment button, immortalizing my entry, a monument to real American brown bag lunches, we knew what was at stake. A connection between myself and Lorraine would quickly be made. Their sensibilities would be offended at my brazen entry and all that it implied. We were sacrificing our shot at a great concert. It was a small price to pay.

I Am The Lizard King. I Can Do Anything.

The other day Lorraine and I watched a special about monitor lizards on Nova. It was really good. Jim Morrison, eat your heart out.

Watch the full episode. See more NOVA.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

First Order of Business

...Okay now that my mortal enemy Be has been vanquished, and his blog-spam-bomb has been banished to the dark abyss of deletion from whence there is no return, I can now post the happy news that you all probably know.

Lorraine and I are married! WOOOOOOOO! WOOOOOOOO!

Our adventures have been legendary. Highlights to follow...



This is a little message for my spammer-friend Be. I finally got around to deleting his spam comments, and I decided to write him a little note. Feel free to plug it into Google translator. Make sure it says Chinese. Enjoy :)

Now that my blog is cleaned up, I am feeling revived. Many more posts to come!

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Chinese Comment Spam ATTACK!

363 total blog posts, 363 total new comments, all in Chinese. Each one reads as follows:


Using Google Translator, I generated the following translation:

Beautiful dream
Dream world
Hotel brokers,
Hotel work
Hotel work
Hotel employees,
Dress hotel
Dress public relations,
Hotels took over Taiwan,
Beautiful dream
Dream world
Hotel brokers,
Hotel work
Hotel work
Hotel employees,
Dress hotel
Dress public relations,
Hotels took over Taiwan,
Beautiful dream
Dream world
Hotel brokers,
Hotel work
Hotel work
Hotel employees,
Dress hotel
Dress public relations,
Hotels took over Taiwan,
Beautiful dream
Dream world

I was angry at first, and I still am going to erase every single comment and change my moderation settings, but lets be honest: I couldn't ask for a more random string of hotel jargon for my random blog. So Be, wherever you find yourself in the Orient, whatever random blog you are currently spamming into oblivion, I will be the first person in history to say: Thank you for your comments. My blog has been infinitely improved by your Chinese hotel spam flair. May your paltry sweat shop wages continue to support you and your loved ones in a foreign land that I have never seen, where the sun sets. I will never forget you. I love you Be. I love you.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010


This morning I am procrastinating a paper I have to write for my Advanced Spanish class. As I sit in the computer lab, trying to work myself up to putting satisfactory effort into the final class I will take as an undergraduate, I can't help but reflect on the several other times over the years when I sat in this same lab.

The last time I was in here it was December of 07 and I was supposed to be writing a paper on the Communist Manifesto. At the time I had decided to move back down to Cedar City. I had grown disenchanted with my circumstances up here, and in true Dan fashion, decided that the solution was to pull up stakes. As history has shown, I made the move, and lived in Southern Utah for the entire year of 2008. While there I learned a lot about myself through good experiences and bad. From the manic lows and highs of working in a residential treatment center, to an isolated summer as a tour guide in the ancestral home I had spent my whole life idealizing, to several months of unemployment, I experienced so much in that year, and emerged a better person. I have since returned home, all but completed my degree, and met Lorraine. Much has changed, with a lot more change on the horizon. Yet here I sit, procrastinating in the writing lab. I'm glad some things never change.

Saturday, May 01, 2010

Two Weeks. Happiest Ever.

My blog has long been a strange collection of adventures. For several years now I've shared silly, sarcastic, and random posts with a smattering of editorials about things that bother me. My blog has been largely devoid of the seriousness and sentimentality that I am feeling right now, because frankly, I didn't have a whole lot to be sentimental about, and I'm not one to go public with my more serious moments.

It has been two weeks since Lorraine and I were engaged, and we've sort of been run over by the logistics train that is wedding preparation. More she than I, admittedly, but I feel her pain, anyway. I feel compelled however to publicly, or at least semi-publicly declare that I am supremely happy. Large segments of my life path have been shrouded in the confusion and darkness that come with a serious lack of much-needed perspective. From this relationship I have gained clarity that I never dreamed possible, and what seemed to be an unexplainable quagmire is now revealed to be a carefully formed path. One that I wouldn't change now for the world, as it has led me to who I am, and who I'm with today.

Lorraine is beautiful, intelligent, loving, and strong. She loves me for who I am, not in spite of it, something I had given up hoping for. I couldn't ask for a more supportive and loyal friend. I am so blessed to have her in my life. So yeah... she's pretty cool.

I am very happy. Even though I just got a phone call from the Wells Fargo fraud department. Somebody spent 50 dollars on Itunes using my credit card, and I have never been happier... okay... I was happier yesterday.

"Why, you slimy, double-crossing, no-good swindler."

There are a couple of Mexican guys that work in the nursery as laborers and machine operators. They are nice guys and hard workers, and I talk to them quite a bit. One guy in particular, named Juan, has always struck me as extremely familiar, though I've never been able to put my finger on why. On this drizzly Saturday morning, as I drove in for my four hour shift, I saw him operating a Bobcat, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. The guy is the spitting image of Lando Calrissian. The only thing he was missing was Han Solo's clothes. I am thinking about asking him if he is from Ciudad de los Nubes (Cloud City), but that would just be too much.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Its Official, I'm Clairvoyant

me: what was the ultimate blasphemy?

Garit: im posting the rest of it right now
you will freak out

me: did you accept the nuclear model of the sun?
did you accept the existence of trumpet thunder?
did you drink a cup of mustard?
did you listen to a mash-up of Norah Jones and One Headlight?

Garit: haha! might as well have
its pretty bad dude

me: Did you swear off speedos forever?

Garit: worse than that

me: Did you decide you like wearing clothes?

Garit: not that bad

me: Did you shrug your indifference at a pile of meteorite stones?

Garit: oh heavens no

me: After all of these questions and your answers, I know what it is that you have done.
You have embraced the world of Steve Jobs

Garit: im so ashamed

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Concentration Vs. Internment: A Pet Peeve

I say "concentration camp," you say "Auschwitz."
Concentration camp... Auschwitz.
Concentration camp... Death camp.
Concenctration camp... 10 to 20 million people slaughtered.
Concentration camp... Unspeakable horror.

Now maybe in the strictest sense of the word, the United States relocated over 100,000 people of Japanese ethnicity into "concentration camps," but really? REALLY? I can't think of a more loaded word.

I have a professor, who I really like, so I won't name him here. I've taken several classes from him over the past couple of years, and I've enjoyed them all. However, on more than one occasion, he has taken the opportunity to chide the United States on their WWII concentration camps. Seriously, just stop.

Firstly, as historians, we shouldn't be in the business of moral judgement. It is the epitome of monday morning quarterback-ing. In my opinion the morality of historical actions was for their perpetrators and contemporaries to determine. It is my goal as a student of history to try and understand what happened and why. Its morality by modern standards is largely irrelevant. Our moral judgements are biased by our own time, culture, and individual circumstances, and therefore are inherently flawed. As were theirs. I can't help but make an exception for the holocaust and actual CONCENTRATION CAMPS. Immoral. Despicable. Horrifying.

Secondly, there is no comparison between American and Nazi "concentration camps"!!! That is why we call them internment camps. Stop trying to implicate the United States by underhandedly tossing in words that we all know come with horrifying connotations.

Internment camp...

Concentration camp...

I decided not to post holocaust pictures of mass graves on my blog, but you all get the point, I'm sure. Next time you throw around the term concentration camp, remember what you're implying, especially if you're a college professor.

Monday, January 11, 2010

It's My Bloggy and I'll Post If I Want To

Dearest blogging friends and comrades, I have a band. I've made this claim before, but never with concrete video evidence to back it up. So here it is.

...And here are the lyrics for anyone who is remotely curious.

Please tell my love I lie beneath the algae blooms
A hapless sailor lying in a watery tomb
And I will ride to port to make my great escape
For I tire of all the hurting and there's no use in her searching anyway

For I have run away
With all that I could take
Yes, I'm a runaway

Please tell my son I died before he took first breath
His name the last word uttered just before my death
In truth I seek my fortune without bride or babe
Though it pains me all this lying, I am going into hiding anyway

For I have sailed away
With all that I could take
Yes I'm a runaway

Please tell the captain I've a fear we've run aground
The hull against the reef it makes a scraping sound
And all about I hear my crewmates cry in vain
Though its not for lack of trying, the truth has a way of rising anyway

As I am washed away
With all that I could take
Yes I'm a runaway

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Holiday Torture Recap

I am far enough removed from the holiday season to report on my holiday torture experiment. I am glad to report that there are no lingering side effects, no lasting pain or nausea, no tingling or numbness, no loss of memory or thoughts of suicide. In short, I'm no worse for the wear.

To recap, on November 9th I decided to listen to nothing at work but Christmas music streaming from FM 100's website, until Christmas day. As it turns out, their Christmas rotation consists of something around 50 songs. At some points it was extremely painful. At others, I totally blocked it out of my consciousness. I drove my coworkers crazy. In the end, it turned out to be entirely uneventful. No, my heart didn't grow three sizes. Although I have a sneaking suspicion that my brain size may have shrunk by 15%.

Without further delay, here are the results of the Holiday torture '09 Notable Song Count:

Holiday Torture '09: Notable Song Count
25- Linus and Lucy (Charlie Brown Christmas song?)
24- Paul McCartney, Wonderful Christmastime
23- Feliz Navidad
22- John Lennon, Happy Xmas
21- Feed The World
21- Beach Boys, Little Saint Nick
19- Wham!, Last Christmas (I'm also going to include covers of this song)
18- Burl Ives, Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer
8- Manheim Steamroller, Deck The Halls
5- Dan Fogelberg, Same Old Lang Syne (I actually really like this song.)
2- Power Source, Dear Mr. Jesus (Freaking bizarre)

I still don't get why Linus and Lucy get so much Christmas play, but it beats freaking Feliz Navidad. Although I could have used a few more plays of Dan Fogelberg and that creepy-ass Power Source song.

In closing, may we all keep the spirit of Christmas in our hearts throughout this new year. Until next Christmas.