Post Holiday Traumatic Stress Disorder

I hope everyone had a great holiday!

How was my holiday, you ask? Well I’m just happy it’s over and done with. My bank statement is covered in so much red it looks like a crime scene, and I’ve put on about five pounds of pure ass fat from those amazing chocolate-covered peanut butter and crack cocaine filled cookie balls that my boyfriend’s mom always makes around the holidays. I seriously want to roll into the harsh ghetto in my six fo', blast some NWA and smoke those fuckers out of a glass pipe. I’m twitching now just thinking about them.

On a positive note, I somehow made it through the season without hurling a stapler off the face of my Jingle Bell Rock-humming coworker. (Ba dum dum dum... AHHHH!)

Does anybody else feel like the 2009 Holiday Season was... I don’t know… a bit, blah? I just never quite got into the spirit. It’s almost as if a tornado of Yuletide Cheer ripped through my town, and when the carnage was over my trailer was the only one still standing. Everything holiday related just seemed like such a friggen hassle this year, and it all started when I stopped by my local Hallmark store to get Christmas cards for my family and couldn’t find the Dysfunctional Family section. All I wanted was a card that said “Hey mom and dad, even though you chose a Christmas Morning of my youth to break the news of your impending divorce, thanks to years of therapy I have almost no residual scarring or feelings of abandonment! Happy Holidays!”

Yay for progress.

Further adding to my Grinch Mood, I didn’t even get the gifts I asked for this year. May I ask what is so friggen hard about buying about a beautiful piece of jewelry and a nice piece of art to hang over my fireplace?

Clearly Santa has been hittin' the Schlitz, because here's what I got:

It's the thought that counts right? RIGHT?

On the bright side, this wollen vagina necklace is going to go perfectly with my labia keychain though.

I guess everyone's interpretation of art is different. Although I have to admit, I've taken quite a liking to this piece. I don't know, it just "says something" to me.

Something like SHIT.


Check out Regretsy.com for even more awesomely awesome art.)

Christmas Eve was pretty kick-ass. I had dinner and exchanged presents with the family and my brother's new fiance at my mother’s house and then moved on to celebrate with my boyfriend’s family. Odd thing is... I clearly remember everything that happened! Yet another friendly reminder that I’m getting old, I guess. In my early 20’s, holiday eve’s meant drinking to excess. I can’t remember a Thanksgiving Day that I didn’t run heaving to the toilet at the sight of cranberry sauce because it reminded me of the jello shots I’d done the night before. This Christmas Eve I had a few drinks, but I didn’t quite get nascar-drunk like I used to.

Christmas morning I stayed in bed until about 1:30 p.m. watching A Christmas Story on TBS repeatedly. If not for the haggling of my mother to come over to have Christmas dinner – spiral ham with a side of guilt i.e. WHEN ARE YOU GONNA GIVE ME GRANDBABIES! - I probably would have stayed there all day. To me, nothing says Christmas like lying in bed wearing just the tights and bra from the previous nights ensemble, day old makeup smeared across my face, and booze seeping out of my pores. It paints quite the picture doesn't it? Maybe I’ll make that next year's Christmas card.

So that’s my holiday sob story. It makes me long for the holidays of the past, when we’d all open gifts as a family and Santa would come knocking on the door to deliver gifts. Here’s a picture of Christmas of years past. (This is real, mind you) I think it’s a beautiful memory of my brother and Santa Claus. I just wish Santa had remembered to put his beer bottle on the table before the picture was taken. Or at the very least, removed the cigarette from his hand.

This is totally the kind of Santa that would bring you a woolen vagina necklace, no?
 
My family seems to think that maybe I’ll get more into the holiday spirit when I finally settle down and have my own family. I admit this is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, and I'm not ashamed to admit that Matt's inbox is probably overflowing from all the Blue Nile links I've been emailing him. I just wish he would stop sending them back to me as "undeliverable". (It wasn't funny the first time, asshole!). I’m really starting to think that Matt will make an excellent father, and I honestly can’t think of a better man to have my kids spend every other weekend and designated holidays with. We’re leaving for a vacation in California in three weeks as our Christmas present to one another. I figure whereas we don’t have kids or custody agreements yet, we should probably try and travel as much as possible while we still can. Of course this means I need to kick my New Year's "Get Healthy And Lose The Five Pounds of Chocolate Covered Ass Fat" Resolution into overdrive. I honestly fear that if I put on a pair of shorts out there, I'm going to get mistaken for an extra auditioning for a rap video.

So that's all folks! Work's a little slow today, so I think I'm going to google “I hate the holidays” and find others to commiserate with there. Misery loves company.

Happy New Year all!