A glitter bomb in my living room.
Perhaps a little explanation is in order. I used to love Christmas. And hell, deep down, I’m sure I still do. It was always my favorite holiday. But the older I get, the more I notice Christmas gets significantly much less fun and much more…hmm…how to put this…much more “I’m gonna stab Santa when I finally get my hands on his jolly ass.”
But a more in-depth analysis of this change will have to wait for another post in the near future. For this post is reserved for kicking off my “25 Days of Christmas” countdown list. It’s just like the song “The 12 Days of Christmas,” only minus all the creepy birds and with a bunch of sarcasm and snark added in. Every day leading up to Christmas, I’ll be sharing just what this behemoth of a holiday gave me that day.
For instance, since it’s already December 5 and I’m a bit behind, let me just sum up the first four wonderful things Christmas gave me this year:
On the first day of December, Christmas gave to me a tearful nervous breakdown when I tried to figure out how the hell my husband and I were going to afford Christmas this year.
On the second day of December, Christmas gave to me the idea that I should quit smoking so that we actually can afford Christmas this year.
On the third day of December, Christmas gave to me a giant glass of wine and a cigarette because I’m pretty sure it was afraid I might start punching babies in the face if I didn’t get both inside me IMMEDIATELY.
On the fourth day of December, Christmas gave to me Coinstar, where I stood there for roughly 23 minutes as the machine (LOUDLY) counted out $193 in change, which is coincidentally now our Christmas budget.
And, as I said before, on the fifth day of December, Christmas gave to me a glitter bomb in my living room in the form of a half-priced, pre-lit, artificial white Christmas tree, which when finally unpacked from the all the bubble wrap and industrial-strength packing tape (Who the hell are they trying to keep out of these things? Godzilla?) left approximately 50 million individual glitter particles on me, the floor, the couch and my dog, who now looks like a canine stripper.
So, just what will tomorrow bring? Well, be sure to check back.*
*Fingers crossed it involves whiskey-loaded eggnog. Lots of it.
Chick Writes Stuff 
Oh, thank you, Aprill, for, once again, reminding me that I am not alone in feeling that creeping anxiety of how I should feel. What a relief! I know I will build up the charge again and look to you for comic relief! We love Aprill. You are our Christmas present (past and future, too!)
Does this mean I can wear a big, red bow!?! 🙂
(P.S. Love you guys too!)
Canine stripper. Priceless.
“Canine stripper. Priceless.”
Actually it’s not. I’m pretty sure you can get one for ’bout 50$/hr, just google it. If you want one that is. And I sincerely hope that you don’t.
Al
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