The Best of the Worst of 2008 Year in Review, at a Glance

As 2008 draws to a close, I know we are all inundated with “Year in Review” articles, “Best of” lists, and other such retrospective marketing gimmicks. As this blog is purely for entertainment purposes and my fiercely loyal but (no offense) sparse reader base truly limits any marketing potential it might have, I would never dream of burdening you with such a ploy. Also, as luck and astute editorial planning would have it, I did not write a single new post in 2008 so the year in review reads something like this:

[refresh page]

[check email]

[refresh page]

[still nothing]

[refresh]

[refresh]

[email from Mom “When are you going to write something new? It’s June. I hate Snow Village.”]

[refresh]

[play Snood]

[refresh]

Which brings us to today and the exciting prospect of a brand new year! But before we can forge ahead, my anal-retentive nature requires me to at least attempt to punctuate the end of the 2008 sentence. I thought and I thought about what topic would be a fitting close to such a year – an Olympic year, an election year, a year in which I became both an aunt and a sister-in-law (again), and a year that saw some startling and fully precedented developments in the Jennifer vs. Angelina struggle. In the end, I couldn’t narrow it down to just one topic and so I shall hope that you were only skimming as I break my promise of a few paragraphs ago to give you:

The Best of the Worst of WheresMyRumball 2008 Year in Review, at a Glance

OR

The Top 5 Posts That Might Have Been

So without further ado...

5. Beijing 2008: Phelpsapalooza

There is one person whom I think we can all agree made the 2008 Olympics the epic and unforgettable event that they were, and that is Bob Costas. The tireless and come to think of it entirely ageless NBC anchor is synonymous with the Olympics for me. What would the games be without his heartfelt montage narration, tender interviews with local artisans, and subtly damning portraits of any foreign athletes who threaten U.S. dominance?

Bobby C. didn’t need to work too hard this time around, however, as Michael Phelps gave Americans enough fuel to maintain our superiority complex over the rest of the world until at least the next World Cup. And with Shawn Johnson & Nastia Liukin going above and beyond the call of duty to provide us with an American sweetheart (Shawn), a come-from-behind victory (Nastia), and some good old-fashioned intra-team drama (the Karolyis), we should be good to go until 2010.

Vancouver, may your people be charming and your panoramas sweeping.

4. Where the Wild Things Aren’t

2008 was not a year of great travel for me; however the few trips I did take were memorable to say the least. Perhaps the most noteworthy was a jaunt to Zuni, NM to visit my sister, brother-in-law, and then 7-month old nephew. It would take far too long to detail here why my sister and her family have chosen to live on an American Indian reservation in New Mexico (for money and fame) but the important thing is that they have actually managed to create a pretty delightful life for themselves there, complete with ceremonial native dances, semi-wild dogs, and a rooster. A real one.

Yet despite all claims that they are truly “roughing it” with their wood-burning furnace system, complete dearth of grocery stores, and proximity to a mountain trail that is in all seriousness referred to as Coronado’s Curse, after seeing Zuni for myself I have become a firm believer in the creed that Americans can live quite happily anywhere that Netflicks services.

That extra paper sleeve even doubles as kindling in the winter.

3. Not Your Grandma’s Tropical Depression

It would be impossible to say too much about Tropical Storm Fay, which not only made history by landing in the state of Florida a total of four times during its brief life but also demonstrated to the general public that there without a doubt IS such a place as Hispaniola.

2. Election 2008: Tinapalooza

I could have written a post every day documenting the course of this historic election, and I am confident that less than 75% of them would have been dedicated to Sarah Palin. And, as if the events leading up to Election Night didn’t provide enough material for even the most uninspired of journalists, I was even lucky enough to be present in Grant Park to witness Obama’s acceptance speech, thanks to the busy-and-important-ness of my former roommate turned campaign trailblazer Lyndsey Toeppen.

On that great night, as I listened to our next president speak about his amazing journey and the exciting changes we as Americans can look forward to over the next four years, I found myself reflecting on the most compelling and timely of questions: How on earth did Connie’s Pizza score an exclusive vendor contract for this event?

Now, I like Connie’s as much as or at least only slightly less than the next pie, and I understand the temptation to serve something so truly Chicago as deep dish pizza, but really? Connie’s? As if the branding alone wasn’t enough to make it worth their while, every single person within Grant Park who got hungry at any point during the 6-some odd hours of waiting and cheering and waiting some more was forking over $6 a slice. Or in the case of some, purchasing an entire pie and carrying it through the crowds where they probably re-sold it piece by piece at a 50% markup.

To me, it is clear who really won Election 2008. With Tina Fey as a close runner-up.

1. The Dogmatically Frugal Gourmet

This particular subject truly merits an entire installment of its own; however as with so many others I never wrote that installment so let me at least dedicate a few paragraphs to a certain item that I feel needs to be addressed. I can no longer put this topic off or sweep it under the rug as if it doesn’t exist. And I think you all know what I’m talking about here.

That’s right.

I’m talking about Amish Friendship Bread.

As I learned in late March of this year, Amish Friendship Bread is essentially the equivalent of a leavened chain letter which arrived in our home via my unassuming roommate and courtesy of a dear, rule-abiding friend of ours. The package included a Ziploc bag of “starter” batter that “only the Amish know how to make” and instructions that began with the following disclaimer:

*It is normal for batter to rise, bubble, and ferment. Burp the bag as needed to eliminate air.

Needless to say, my unease at the entrance of Amish Friendship Bread into my life only grew at the implication that the dough has needs not unlike those of a small child. Or at least a very demanding Chia Pet. My suspicions that this bread would negatively impact my life were confirmed as I scanned the rest of the instructions, which read a little something like this:

Day 1: Do nothing.

Day 2: Mush the bag.

Day 3: Mush the bag.

Day 4: Mush the bag.

Day 5: Burp the bag.

Day 6: Add 1 cup flour, 1 cup sugar, and 1 cup milk. Mush the bag.

Day 7: Mush the bag.

Day 8: Mush the bag.

Day 9: Do nothing. Reflect on sins.

Day 10: Mush the bag.

Day 11: Burp the bag.

Day 12: Mush the bag.

Day 47: Turns off lights. Mush the bag.

Day 82: Mush the bag.

Day 163: Throw cell phone down well. Cancel Netflicks. Mush the bag.

Day 194: Burp the bag. Feel badly about self.

Day 212: Trade in Hyundai for buggy. Mush the bag.

Day 239: Add 2 eggs, 1 tsp baking soda, ½ tsp salt, 2 tsp cinnamon, 1 large package vanilla instant pudding, 1 cup oil, 2 cups flour, ½ cup milk, and 2 ounces penitence. Stir vigorously. Add ¼ starter bag contents, stir, and pour into loaf pan. Bake for 50-55 minutes. Share remaining starter bag contents with 3 friends currently leading lives of ignorance and waste. Bread is done once brown on top.

Suffice it to say, there were a few “red flags” I noted about this gift, namely 1) It contains raw dough that has been passed from neighbor to neighbor and friend to friend over god knows how many years and generations and 2) It calls for more ingredients than I generally put into bread made from scratch, bringing to mind a book I used to love as a child titled Stone Soup. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend picking it up. And skip the Amish Friendship Bread.

***

And with that, dear readers, I leave you until next year. I know that many of you have been experiencing severe rumball-deprivation (similar to how one experiences, say, a lack of indigestion, as evidenced by the scores of people who frequently take a pause after meals to exclaim “I feel great! I must not have indigestion!”), and to that I can only say that 2009 promises to be a verbose time for wheresmyrumball.com, a year limited only by hours in the day and letters on the keyboard. And maybe not even those, as I have started waking up regularly at 4am for no good reason other than the fact that Santa did not bring me a Sleep Number bed and I am sometimes seized by an impulsive desire to insært syΩbols ju§t b∑caÜse I cañ.

[email from Mom "You didn't ask for a Sleep Number bed! And stop picking on Michael Phelps."]

[sign off]

[play Free Cell]