The funky little blue one

I’ve gotta get my head out of my ass.

I was invited to go on a snow vacation, have snowball fights and drink cocoa, flirt with ski bums and wear pretty sweaters; all that good shit for *free* outside the cost of food. And I was seriously on the fence about it. Shouldn’t I stay home and make a little more money for next Friday’s last minute shopping? (and spend my evenings at home listening to mopey music, taking warm baths, and medicating my fucked up cat?)

When I gave this solid reasoning to my g.f. (who in all fairness was counting on me for her invitation) she lost all patience and called me a smurf.


Yep. A smurf.

“Oh my god! You’re a fucking smurf!”


“Hear me?”

“I’m a … smurf?”

“Yes. You’re all sad and blue and sad, give it a rest! You just shrink all up till you’re this little tragi-muffin smurf thing afraid to poke her head out and smile.”


“You’re a smurf!”

“Is this a pep talk? This is a weird pep talk.”

“It’s the truth! Let’s go play in the freakin’ snow, for fuck sakes, Alissa.”


“And buck up! Or I’ll squish you.”

“Don’t squish me. Im a tragi-muffin. We’re delicate.”


“Okay, Sunday then.”

“No more smurf.”

“Nope. Smurf all gone.”

And I meant it, at least for the week. At least until Christmas Eve, and if I have a little melancholy then, I’m entitled since a number of people find Christmas an excellent time to overdose on sleeping pills. All I’m intending is a few rounds of Tammy Wynette wailing ‘Blue Christmas’ on the turntable, which never hurt anyone except their ears.

So I’ll be back in a week. Making a last round today, and I post-dated a season’s greeting, in hopes that my cheering throng of blog readers won’t miss me and will feel appreciated. Both of them.

But if something goes technically fubar, I’ll say it now: Have a Merry Christmas you fabulous weeble-butts. I think you guys are the bomb diggity, and thanks for enduring my slumps and caterwauling.

(And just to cover my bases: Remember, ‘Be Kind to Smurfs’ day is coming up on the 19th. You can find my wishlist under barfignewton at

Ho Ho Ho

Love ya, Rache…


15 thoughts on “The funky little blue one

  1. Such effortless characterisation. The two friends come alive in the prose and the dialogue, The intimacy and support is relaxed and perfectly articulated. Funny and warm. Have fun and hurry back.

  2. I’ve been a smurf before myself. I laughed out loud when I read
    and if I have a little melancholy then, I’m entitled since a number of people find Christmas an excellent time to overdose on sleeping pills.
    Makes perfect sense to me!

    Have some fun for me okay????

  3. Yay for snow and friends that call ’em like they see ’em! Have a great time. :) And oh, yes, Merry Christmas! (And if this comment comes through as Py Korry, that’s my husband’s tag, but we’re having wonky computer issues today, and this is J, from :)

  4. There are worse things to be called than Smurf. I just can’t think of anything right now. I hope you have (had) a great time.

    p.s. Is that a real turntable you spin Tammy Wynette on or just a figure of speech?

  5. I get the blue part of the smurf comment, but aren’t they generally pretty cheerful little folk? Not that I ever watched the show on tv. No.

    Merry Christmas, Smurfette.

  6. I watched the show on TV – groan – with my wee ones, before we shut off the TV goblins for good. They weren’t anyone you’d want to have along for any length of time. Soooo Good bye, Smurfies and let the rest of us enjoy, ummm, whatever you want.

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