Later tonight I’ll be hitting my first Christmas party of the season, and as I sit here making merry edits to my hockey podcast page, I suddenly got the urge to wish you all some holiday cheer. More specifically, Tom and Emily began molesting my poor, aging cat on film, and they ended up with a really yuletastic photo.

Boss doesn’t really care about Jesus, in fact he doesn’t care about anything that doesn’t sound exactly like an electric can opener. So I suppose I have to take the mic for this greeting. Be safe, love your family and friends and don’t start fights at the office ‘Holiday’ party. Sorry again, Emily. Anyhew, season’s greetings and remember – Jesus is still cool.

Yesterday I spent enough on a plane ticket to Toronto to pay my rent, and then some. So I am a little disgruntled with the holidays as a result, and I have an evil plot for my christmas gifts this year. That’s right, one quick stop at HMV in Toronto. Mom is getting something about Elvis or the Beatles. Dad is getting The African Queen. The little cousins get the new Pirates of the Carribbean flick. Janet reads this blog, so I’ll keep hers a secret for the time being. It almost brings a tear to the eye, right?

The other great parts of this selfless strategy is that DVDs are usually very well received, popular at Yankee swaps and easy to wrap. My Grandmother thinks DVDs are used to keep coffee stains off the kitchen table, so I may have to get a little more creative with her. Perhaps a Rita McNeil CD will hit the spot. Personally, I love getting DVDs, so I’m not really going to lose any sleep over this operation. Just a little respect and a few friends.

There’s a scene at the beginning of Arthur, where he’s absolutely shitfaced and talking to a woman in a restaurant. A waiter drops off another glass of scotch, and Arthur says to his companion: “Aren’t waiters wonderful? You ask them for things, and they bring them.” This is how I feel right now, sans scotch. Although I did get a nice bottle as my leaving present from some former co-workers, and believe me I’ll get to it.

So why the hell didn’t someone tell me about PeaPod sooner? I had several conversations today with people who were anti-Pod. “Why would I pay $7 for delivery when the supermarket is right down the street?” That makes perfect sense if you live in Somerville. But when you’re part of the captive audience in the North End, with no market within walking distance, the Pod could be God. The few stores we do have here sees the groceries marked up aggressively, and I think the margin difference on the PP pricelist more than makes up for any fee.

They said they would deliver my stuff between 4 and 6pm, and appeared around 4:30. So they’ve got Comcast beat in that respect. “Yeah, we’ll be there sometime before the next full moon. Read a book.” The delivery guy was cool and explained the billing etc. as he knew it was my first Podtastic experience. He hauled in heavy stuff like a case of water and had all my minute deli orders cut to specifications. The website was really intuitive and the whole experience just makes me feel stupid that I’ve been paying $6 for small boxes of pasta these last 7 years.

Take my money, PeaPod. Bring me bushels of American cheese and cajun turkey. Roll up with tubs of hummus and sprinkle me with white vinegar and mayonnaise. Ring my buzzer and stroll in with several tubs of feta cheese and perhaps a bag of mixed nuts. If they had a CoinStar machine outside on the truck, I’d be in heaven.