Billy Morrison's diary entry about the Cult show in DeKalb is posted on The Cult's website after a scant week. No mention of Like Hell, alas...no mention either of me. That's low, guys. After all those late-night phone calls:

Billy Duffy: I'm just not sure how to open this particular song, mate. Should I do the solo first? Or should I wait until the crowd is good and drunk before dazzling them with my incredibly talented fingerplay?
Me: Oh, don't worry about that. In DeKalb, the tough job is finding someone sober.
Billy: Ah. Good point.

Got a call from the temp agency yesterday while scouring the stores of DeKalb--looks like I'll have work by Wednesday (with John, no less). Means I'll have to squeeze in some more vacation time. I spent a good couple of hours e-mailing schools abroad and making a list of the materials I need to get together. Dr. Bag has sent his letter of rec--I don't know about the others.

All presents are finally wrapped for today. This is the part of the season where I actually get into the spirit a little. I figure, at this point, the credit card maxed and the car's gas tank empty, all the damage has been done. Time to bask in the glow of my relatives' grattitude upon receiving their carefully-chosen gifts:

Dad:Oh, uh, thank you, Gregg. An electric nosehair trimmer...three feet long. You shouldn't have.
Me: It was nothing.
Dad: I know. That's what I mean. You really shouldn't have.
Me: Look, it comes with its own ripcord. They have a way of tearing apart, you know.
Bryan: (Opens present) Gosh, I was just saying to myself the other day that it was about time for another snow globe to put in my bedroom.
Me: This one has a miniature of Ru Paul singing "Little Drummer Boy."
Bryan: How do you turn it off?
Me: I think that switch is broken. But it's still a great present, right? It'll drown out the noise from the city streets outside.
Bryan: Yeah, it's much better than the one you bought last year. The neon "Live Nude Girls Here" light kept burning out in the globe's water.
Dad: Why do you always wrap your presents in old Dollar Store plastic bags?
Me: No reason.
Bryan: And why do you leave the receipts taped to the gifts? That's kind of rude, don't you think?
Me: Oh, how did those get there? My mistake.
Bryan: Mistake? The price is circled in red!
Dad: And you've totalled the prices up and compared them with our gifts to you. Isn't that a bit rude?
Me: No, rude is the belch I'm about to emit, on account of the several gallons of alcohol I've managed to squirrel from your liquor cabinet in the last half hour.

The cat, unfortunately, will not be joining us this year, but since Kim and I have Christmas Eve together, maybe we can give him some presents to rip apart with his teeth or something...what's left of them, anyway. (The presents, that is--not the teeth)

Had a strange dream that a reindeer with a weak kidney found my Christmas stocking. Woke in a cold sweat, screaming and raving...until I remembered I don't have a Christmas stocking. My dumb cat (who was himself once a Christmas present, albeit a reluctant one) found my closet with his weak kidney some time ago, so I guess it all balances out.