I wish my problem was that I simply hated sending them, but no, god hates me (maybe it has something to do with stealing the Baby Jesus out of the manger, if so all I have to say is god, don't you have more important things to do than hold grudges, and hey, he must get his good looks from you), so of course it's more complex than that.
The problem is, for reasons completely beyond me (my therapist and Gigi my psychic friend), I feel the need to send a Christmas card to everyone I know, and by know I mean people I actually know, plus people I pretend to know, and people I wish I knew, and this doesn't exclude FICTIONAL CHARACTERS from books or television. You think I'm joking, but I swear on The Devil's Dictionary, which is about as close to a bible as it gets for me, last year I sent a Christmas card to George Clooney in which I told him I had always wanted to squeeze him out like a full tube of toothpaste, but never had the courage, and I hoped he would have a wonderful holiday. Yeah. Do you see now what I'm talking about? I need help.
It gets worse, too. I don't know if it's the bottle of wine I drink while making out the cards, or the glow of the lights on the tree, or the second bottle of wine, or the stockings hung by the chimney with care, or the third bottle of wine, or the chestnuts roasting on an open fire, but I tend to get a bit sentimental (translation: drunk). Not only do I send cards to everyone I've ever met in my life, but I use this time to be "open and honest" with everyone I've ever met in my life. I couldn't be one of those people who just writes "Happy Holidays, Love, Me", oh no. It's more like this :
Dear So-and-So (This could be you this year, who the hell knows, it's out of my hands),
'Tis the season! The season of love and warmth and pine cones or pine something anyway because boy it smells piney in here and mistletoe and the truth is I have always been in love with you and I cant stop thinking about you. You, your jingle bells and your huge xmas tree. .. (well, this is usually the point where I turn nasty so I guess I'll just leave it at that)
Best Wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Love, The Girl From 4G.
Only I don't live in 4G. You didn't really think I would give you my address, did you? You would be on my doorstep by the time I woke up tomorrow with a suitcase, an angry monkey (monkeys are not big on traveling), and a bag of Reese's peanut butter cups to win me over and then I would feel compelled to have sex with you invite you in and then you would hack me into little pieces just so you'd have something to write about in your next novel. I'm so on to you guys. But back to me. Me, me, me. The only solution I see to this card thing is one of you writing them out for me. (Woo! My Common Sense is back! First though, I must buy a book on the Practice of Wooing, as I don't know a thing about Wooing, or even if Wooing is a real word. Then Woo with all my might so that I may one day again be able to make a single decision that I won't live to regret and will be able to tell that trying to put a Baby Pit Bull on a payment plan is another Bad Idea, no matter how cute it is when it nibbles my toes.)
Anyway, thanks, you're a peach. Hope you don't get any paper cuts from licking the envelopes and bleed to death, because I hear most of your blood is stored in your tongue. Yay, Holidays! Yay, You for writing my cards! I feel the love tonight, I am totally Elton John or maybe I'm Simba from The Lion King, but either way, I feel the love!
1 comment:
Okay, Simba. First of all, I am not going to do your cards for you because last year, I DID manage to cut my tongue open and even though I still talk a bit funny, it is almost healed.
My suggestion would be to have a fourth bottle of wine. You seem to stop at three and maybe that forth would make the cards so incomprehensible that it won't matter if you go psycho in them. Just a thought. =)
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