After days of intoxicating holiday cheer, I finally found a moment to quietly reflect on the aftermath of this holiday season – or what I could remember of it. Here are some of my most profound revelations:
1. Disappointment continues to linger as my dreams of robots and chimpanzees fade into the decades. Santa couldn’t even hook a sista up - what an asshole.
2. White elephant gifts are the gifts that keep on giving.
For example, after holding on to a shitty ass dollar store panty organizer and yard of beer glass for approximately nine years, I decided it was time for them to join forces and find a new home through this festive recycled gift program. I was not going to pack this shit up again.
Wonder Twin Powers ACTIVATE!
Before I continue, I must rant. First off, WHO gives someone a panty organizer? WHY? I may have OCD, but you won’t find me blowing heavily into my fist because my drawers aren’t organized. Secondly, the yard of beer glass with accompanying wooden stand is pretty rad — if you’re eighteen and your voice hasn’t changed yet. :O)
Yard’o beer + panty organizer = TROUBLE!
So anyways, at the gift exchange party the magical beer drinking panty organizer fairy ensured this shitty shit shit and I would never part. Seriously – how’d I end up with this crap again? Never one to give up though, I once again wrapped them up all pretty like, took them to work, and happily delivered them to my boss who had laughed hysterically over my predicament just days earlier. I will be seeing these two again next year.
3. Never go to a gay club wearing last season’s nail polish. And, NEVER let your drunk friend try to do a cover up polish job for you.
FAIL #1: Soooo last season.
FAIL #2: I’m too pale for fluorescent pink polish.
FAIL #3: I don’t reside at the Jersey Shore.
4. It is possible to sustain life by consuming vast amounts of pumpkin pie covered in whip cream with a dash of candied yams. I am totally a vegetarian.
5. I am still traumatized from learning, some 24 years ago, that Santa was a FAKE! I was the only fool still believing in that fat bastard and yet I still held out hope. It was tough, you know. Once Santa’s cover was blown, so was the tooth fairy, the Easter Bunny, and unicorns. That cost my parents years of therapy . . . and I’m still fucked up.
6. There can never be too much wine. And, in desperate times, I am not opposed to drinking a glass of Chardonnay with a splash of ice cube.
7. Potty training is a sonofabitch. After nine intensive days of training, toddler still failed to plop a yule log in the toilet. Bah humbug!
My favorite potty training book!
8. Mr. Doodleface is actually an extra hairy monchichi with a mustache and nose piercing.
9. ALWAYS, take the batteries out of those annoying noise maker toys. And, make sure the relatives that continue to put them back in, drink the wine spiked with Benadryl. Come to think of it, that would work equally as well if I drank the wine spiked with Benadryl – even better, actually.
10. Make certain little things are not overlooked due to the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. For example, that one rogue nose hair that needed to be “off’ed” before attending five days of holiday festivities. I named him Fred and we’re quite attached. Get it? HA! HA! HA! Sorry about that one.
As you can see, I’m super fuckin deep. Now time to ponder new years resolutions . . .