Gospel Brunch.

The House of Blues hosts a Gospel Brunch every Sunday. When I lived in Austin, going to gospel brunch at Stubb's was always a good time. What's not to like about all-you-can-eat barbeque with some live music in the background? My friend, K, invited me to join her, her grandparents, cousin and a friend to join them at the House of Blues version last Sunday. With Stubb's in mind, I accepted without hesitation.

The HOB version is an entirely different type of gospel brunch. First, they start by warming up the crowd with some Hallelujahs and Amen's scattered among HOB trivia questions. Honestly, I'm not sure that this is the best plan. The crowd was hungry and we could smell the food awaiting us. After giving us detailed instructions, we were allowed to enter.

I had been at the gym prior to meeting K at HOB. I was STARVING. Priorities: mimosa first, then omelet. I got in the omelet line and almost snapped from the hunger. The people in front of me were tourists who kept bringing more people into line once they got to the front and ordered three omelets per person. The people behind me were new teachers and kept talking about topics that I have heard from years from my mom and her teacher friends. At this point, I had to stop myself from correcting them on theories and just telling them to shut up. I had to put my hands over ears at one point. But, once I got my omelet everything was better. The food was good -- standard brunch offerings with a slightly southern flare (the lunch offerings were of the fried chicken, potato salad, and mac and cheese ilk).

Unlike the Stubb's version, there was no live music as we ate. Instead, it was delineated into eating, then music. The music was fun. As it started, K's grandfather leaned over to me to ask if I had ever been to black people's church (I have) and said that "this is how we do it." Sister Eileen started the show in fine form, giant sparkly hat, pink satin suit with huge lapel pin and glittery shoes. A drag queen could take a note from this woman. The choir put on a good show, although occasionally got showed up by the audience participants that they called to the stage. I enjoyed it, but as I told K, if it wasn't in Sister Act, I did not know the song. Or, in other words, the only song I knew was "Oh Happy Day."

Elevator Edition.

I was talking to my parents this morning about a change to my 401K investment mix. They explained to me that Portugal is currently suffering larger debt problems than Greece. News to me. I immediately blamed the WSJ-Elevator Edition for failing to keep me up to date.

I like to think of myself as fairly well-informed. I tend to know a little about a lot of topics. Almost all of my news sources are non-traditional. For example, Twitter gives me a lot of my news and keeps me the most current.

But, I can't remember the last time I bought a paper version of a newspaper. There are some people in my office who like to walk around with the WSJ tucked under their arm. I assume it is solely to let everyone know they read they subscribe to the WSJ. I have nothing against the WSJ. I actually really enjoy their Friday style section and have a standing request with a friend that he send it to me whenever he remembers. But, beyond the WSJ-Elevator Edition, I don't read it.

When I mentioned the Elevator Edition, my mom burst out laughing, assuming I was making a joke that I got my news from the elevator. My dad assumed that I was using the elevator as a stand-in for a water cooler. But, for the record, I am not making it up. In most newer buildings (or at least rehabbed buildings) in cities, the elevators tend to have screens that display the weather, time, and news. In my office, we get the WSJ-Elevator Edition. Which is, by far, their most inferior edition since it tends to be 15 words or less. Hence, why I didn't know about Portugal. It takes a few more than 15 words to explain that situation in full. Although I think I can nutshell it in three letters, if my parents are right about its current fiscal standing: S.O.L.

2012: Mutatis Mutandis.

I have retroactively decided that my New Year's resolution is: Mutatis Mutandis. What's that you say? It is Latin for "changing those things that need to be changed."

Obviously, the first thing that needs to be changed is for me not to be the kind of asshole who unnecessarily sprinkles Latin phrases about to prove that they speak Latin and you don't. Actually, the phrase was in a proposed order that M received and the judge, prudently, red-lined it right out. Since neither of us actually speak Latin, we both had to look it up when she told the story.

But, I think that Mutatis Mutandis is a good theme for your Jesus year. Termed by K, the year of your 33rd birthday is your Jesus year. A year to make some changes, re-invent yourself, turn a new chapter, hopefully all without that whole crucifixion thing. I think it is always helpful to have a theme, for attire, parties and now, birthdays.

Sisyphus Day.

For the record, this day -- not specifically January 3rd, but whatever day happens to be the first official work day of the new year -- is always my least favorite day of the year. I always feel like Sisyphus staring at that damn rock, once again at the bottom of the hill.

As Mary Poppins said, in every job that must be done, there is an element of fun. Of course, the trick is finding it, so that "poof! the job is a game." I'm not sure what Mary Poppins would have told old Sisyphus though.

Here's to hoping and finding the fun for 2012 at work.