Here It Is, My Christmas List

I don't want anything for Christmas. Well, except a new waffle iron, and I'm pretty sure Precocious Daughter has bought me one (but if you ask, I know nothing about that).

I make awesome waffles. But unless you're in my kitchen
on a weekend morning, you're out of luck. Just saying.

But really, I don't want anything. I would be fine with not getting any gifts for Christmas. I love giving gifts. I'm vaguely embarassed about receiving them. Very grateful and appreciative but, you know, sort of unworthy.

The thing is, it's hard for me to communicate the things I truly want and need. It's a very intimate act, isn't it, to divulge the things that would make you happy? I'm sure there are many healthy, well-adjusted individuals who have no problem expressing their desires and feeling unvarnished joy when they are fulfilled by someone they love. I'm equally sure I'm not one of them.

Still...if you insist, here's my version of "The Twelve Days of Christmas," featuring the things that would make me happiest. No one is under any obligation to actually provide them. I like having dreams and wishes. You know, it's reality that's the biggest letdown. Right?

So. Here we go.

Sing.

*Ahem*

On the twelfth day of Christmas...

...which by the way is January 6th and not Christmas Day, because the twelve days start on Christmas not end, and if you think otherwise you're doing it wrong, so quit putting your tree in the trash on December 26th because you're missing the point...

And...breathe.

As I was saying.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:

Twelve shots of vodka

Eleven pills of Prozac

Ten flying monkeys

Nine Lolcats loling

Eight kinds of chocolate

Seven froggy photos

Six Zeppelin CDs

FIVE STAR THAI FOOD

Four more shots of vodka

Three long walks

Two best friends

And a great big fucking bottle of Lithuanian vodka.



Or what's left of it.

That's about it. Um, thank you. I'll leave cookies.