Tempted. (26)

Temptation sits beside me.
Resistance argues back.
I can't help but glance.
Gleaming in the moonlight.
Desire is unwise.
Attraction is obvious.
A violent opposition.

Damn this bowl of peanut butter m&m's.

Extract the happy. (25)

Couldn't have said it better myself.
Power to you.

The Drive. (24)

It's somewhere I wish I wouldn't remember tomorrow
If the better half is the journey itself
I would've never thought to beg or borrow
It's a Smiths album handily on the shelf

It's the thunderstorm I told myself to forget

A flowerless field I wouldn't want to walk

Like rolling down a hill in a white shirt you regret
Or a hand steadily stuck in the heart of the clock

A sticky situation. (23)

I cannot seem to wrap my head around the fact that Christmas (and my birthday) are in 5 days.
I did just however wrap a few presents which kinda put things into perspective.
And made me very excited.
What doesn't excite me are the following.
1: Bad scotch tape. THE worst! You can't rip it. The roll always flies off the spooly thing. You lose the end. You rip the tape in half trying to recover the lost end. Then once you've finally got that one little piece you've worked so hard at, it rips off your nail polish, which obviously gets stuck to the tape, and you start again...
2:  Why they make price stickers so damn sticky you can't take em off without leaving that black sticky residue behind (which is also torturous on your nail polish...) No one wants to leave the price tag on whether it's a gift or for yourself! We've nailed down wireless sensor networks, and mobile 3D, but price tags...Not so much.
Get it together friends!!

Big bad wolf steals ma song. (22)

Today was the perfect Sunday complete with lounging, coffee, semi burnt toast, more lounging, sushi, followed by, you guessed it, more lounging on the couch with an oldie but a goodie holiday movie starring the oh so passe JTT. (Man, I had such a crush on him as a kid! Really though, what girl born in the 80's didn't? Common now, don't you lie...)
So, me and the boy are watching I'll Be Home For Christmas, and it pauses for a commercial break.
Much to my surprise, I hear the lovely voice of Gregory Alan Isakov emerging from the TV.
It takes me but seconds to realize it's Big Black Car.
Quite possibly my favorite break up song, ever.
I am instantly intrigued.
Whatever they are selling, I probably need.
As the ad progresses, I find myself shouting "No! Noo! Nooo!" at the box.
I definitely do not want what they're selling.
My favorite Isakov song?
The soundtrack to the newest McDonald's commercial...
Ugh...
How disappointing.
You sold out to the big bad wolf?
Literally, the biggest and baddest.
My heart pines for the days when this song had no association to french fries.
I immediately blast text 3 friends whom I introduced to this charming vocalist alerting them of his sell out ways.
Kristie replies exactly what I need to hear...
"Maybe it's cause CD's and touring don't get ya much anymore."
I tout de suite feel a bit better.
I guess I can live with that...
He may want to change the lyrics to;
"Well you were a dancer, I was a rag,
The french fries in my hand, well was all that I had."

Whole lotta crazy. (21)

I can't seem to get out a single creative thought today.
These antibiotics are doing a number on my conscious clever levels.
(Yes, that is my excuse, and I'm sticking to it.)
And I say conscious clever levels because I have been having THE craziest dreams lately.
How is it that in a conscious state, I've got nothing, but in the suspension of consciousness my brain is an imaginative genius?
(I'll use the term genius lightly, as I'll let you be the judge after hearing this little number.)
My most recent and notably crazy dream involved;
Rushing to the airport and not finding anywhere to park the car so I leave it at the arrivals pick-up.
I fly to Jamaica with Kristie.
We rent a sweet Jeep and drive for what seems like forever.
We're about to arrive at the hotel, but as we're crossing a bridge, a ship rams itself into it causing a massive explosion. (The fact alone that I, me, Alissa, am dreaming of explosions? You know something is wrong...)
Pause...and we're back in Kristie's parents backyard in the hot tub.
Resume...back in Jamaica having dinner.
Suddenly my boy shows up driving a huge red truck, which to my recollection was for no apparent reason other than to include him in the dream. In a flash, he was gone. So was Kristie.
Next thing I know, I'm hiding from the hotel staff (???) and trying to find clean towels.
Finally, my cell phone was stolen by a catty Montreal tourist whilst (yes, I'm using the word whilst) trying to take a picture of the sunset...
How long was I dreaming?
That feels like a whole nights worth of crazy, no?
Lets see what tonight brings.

Like an old mirror. (20)

With the toughest confrontations
We are a little more unbreakable than before
Like an old mirror who has seen the likes of many faces
A gleaming frame of hope
A resilient reflector of daydreams
Like an old mirror
We are a little more armored
A little more shatterproof