At last! Jesus is here!

A few weeks ago mrtl had a contest and the grand prize was a Jesus dress up magnet set. Overachiever that I am (re: busting my gut and inseam in order to win a Pizzahutenoff), I knew I must not only enter said contest, but I must win it.

And I did.

And then mrtl called me a “weiner”.

And because I’m a freak like that, I was totally flattered.

So my Messiah magnets came in the mail today and I must say I’m fairly excited. The Light of the World dressed in Fruit of the Looms will certainly provide endless hours of entertainment, but more importantly, these magnets serve to fill a gap in my life. You see, I’ve always felt it was unfair that I’ve had Jesus in my heart, but not on my Kenmore.

*ba dum bum ching*

O.k., now that I’ve possibly offended a good chunk of you, without further a do, here’s me and my magnets (Ignore my haus frau hairdo please. It’s cleaning day):

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A Hannihaus Exclusive
In an effort to be considerate to my more religious readers, I’ve refrained from being entirely blasphemous in this post. However, I did not hold back for mrtl. For those readers who are interested, I’m making available to you the actual winning entry for the Christmas Jesus dress up magnet set. Be forewarned the David Letterman-style top 10 countdown detailing why I should win the magnets is a bit irreverent, and worse than that, it’s riddled with inside jokes you may or may not get! (D’oh)

That being said, religious folk and those easily offended, do not click. Everyone else: satisfy your inner voyeur.

They say it’s my birthday. Doo doo doo doo doo doo. Happy birthday to me!

So, I’ve been gearing up to be 26 for – oh – about a year now, and let me tell you, so far it feels great! Granted, I’ve only been 26 for about 6 hours, and about 5.55 of those have been spent sleeping… but still.

Even though my morning breath could knock the fleas off a dog and my appearance this morning could only be described as “crusty”, I am so excited to be awake on this, the glorious day of my birth.

I just love the idea of having my own private holiday, which is essentially what having a birthday allows one to do. Let’s face it, until I win American Idol and get an honorary Hänni XXX day proclaimed by the mayor, well, birthdays will have to do. Yes, since I can’t sing to save my life, my vocal stylings having oft been likened to those of a howling coyote, birthdays will just have to do.

Poor Angel. My husband, ever the grumpasaurus rex when it comes to celebrating any sort of prescheduled event (birthdays, Christmas, Halloween, whatever) has endured weeks of playful reminders about this special day.

Me: “So, what are you doing this weekend?”

Angel: “I don’t know.”

Me: “Well, I think something is happening on Friday. What’s Friday, anyway?”

Angel: “December … uhm… first? No second.”

Me: “And…..”

Angel: “And what?”

Me: “Yeah ‘what’ is right? What is Friday, December 2nd?”

Angel: (sighing like he’s been through this before) “ It’s some dumbass’s birthday.”

Me: “And who is that dumbass?”

Angel: “It’s you baby.”

Me: “That’s right Angel, I’m the dumbass, and don’t you forget it. Huzzah!”

Angel complains that I celebrate having a birthday more than anyone else he’s ever known, but this assertion begs the question: if I don’t celebrate my birthday, who will?

Well, maybe the cats. A little more enthusiastic than normal, Sphynxy pounced on my toes and bit down pretty hard this morning. Bella, meanwhile, snuggled into my armpit and gave me a few birthday spankings … with her paws … on my face … when I tried to dislodge her.

And now I invite you, dear hannihaus readers, to share in the celebration of my birth. Please, feel free to say nice things about your beloved, dumbass mistress.