Hey guys, you know that whole thing about Santa giving bad girls and boys coal? What does it say about me if all I got for Christmas this year was a nasty cold?
Probably nothing good. What can I say? All that stealing chocolate, punching in the teeth, lusting after pancakes and zebra cakes, making fun of ugly babies, and hating people really cemented my position on the naughty list this year.
Then again, my stuffy nose and achy body were nursed back to health on the top floor of here:
You win some, you lose some.
But yes, alas, my gangster immune system gave way. Let it be noted that ever since I started calling my immune system gangster, it's been considerably less gangster. This time though, I can't really blame it. Everyone has been sick. I don't know if this is like a universal thing, like a normal winter thing, or like a Florida is freezing and we're all breaking down thing, but it seems like everyone is sick.
(Isn't it so funny that we love to peg our sickness on people? We come in contact with so many germs and germy people daily, but the second you get sick. you peg it on someone and are convinced they are the one who gave it to you. Well, my dad got sick and Penny died for like a week, but I'm looking at Gailey-Bird, who sniffled through hours of Dora cuddled up to me.)
My immune system may be gangster(ish) but I am a pretty much a whiny baby when I get sick. I spent most of my Christmas weekend cuddled up in a blanket on an armchair that overlooked the balcony with a glass of wine and my headphones in, alternatively popping Advil and chugging Nyquil. Does that sound really boozey? AND AWESOME? 'Cause it pretty much was.
We celebrated on the 24th with a lard-ton of food, as we always do, and we waited for midnight to watch the kids open their presents. I remember waiting for midnight when I was a kid, and how that span of a few hours after dinner seemed to be a lifetime. We did everything to try and keep ourselves entertained, and when every board game, movie, Christmas carol and dessert was exhausted, it was only ever 10pm.
This year, it seemed only a matter of moments. We sat on the balcony, huddled together for warmth, watching the fireworks over Epcot and Magic Kingdom. I watched Vyelit challenge Pistene's Navy fiance to Wii duel after Wii duel (and lose them all.) And just like that, it was Christmas, and the present mayhem began.
I wasn't expecting much from Christmas this year. To be honest, there was a point when I feared that Christmas and the carols and the shoddily decorated houses would just come around to remind me of where I was Christmas time last year - aka ignoring red flags and jumping into a big mess. I feared the season would remind me of the cold hours I spent outside one shoddily decorated house in particular. It didn't. Unfortunately, it left me sort of holiday-apathetic. Not caring one way or another about this one more day.
In all, though, Christmas was better than I expected. Much, much better, icky cold and all. Perhaps, that was my one true Christmas miracle. Eat that Santa Claus.
I've been thinking a little about this guy, Santa. I've heard a lot about him this year, which must be the whole "working with lots of older people with kids" thing.
Let me tell you a story: In kindergarten, I had a best friend named Maria. One day, during art I think because I remember standing in front of an easel, she decided to share a secret with me: babies come from vaginas. I wasn't sure what my reaction was to this secret, because that's not really the important part of the story. See, I wanted to be a good friend and in turn tell her an awesome secret: Santa Claus wasn't real.
Maria had a fit - like a full out, wailing, tears and snot fit. That poop face ran and told the teacher what I had said. I mean, she'd just told me that whole entire babies where supposed to come out of my vagina, and was I crying? NO. No, I wasn't Maria. I wasn't fudgin' crying. Anyways, that's how I got my first time-out in school ever. Because Santa ISN'T real and I told the truth? Yeah. I call bullshizz but the traumas of childhood are for another post.
I just want to say that I don't get Santa Claus. Maybe it's because growing up, Christmas was never about him, and very much about the baby Jesus. And the gifts we did get might as well've been labeled "To: Lorraine, From: Your Parents Who Worked Really Freakin' Hard To Afford All of These Gifts. Enjoy The Cabage Patch Doll, Yo."
Anyways, I don't get it. I don't want to have the "hey mommy was lying to you about Santa Claus all along because I thought... it... would be cool? To tell you about a man who creepily stalks you all year long and then breaks into our house to leave gifts and eat mommy's cookies because all cookies belong to mommy. Um. Sorry?" conversation with my kids ever. I think I'll avoid it.
In other news, being sick has made me a tad crabby. I don't know if you can tell. (Probably.) Everything is sort of annoying me: people in express lines with more than 10 item? Kick to the shins. More cold weather in Florida? Poke in the eye. People who forget how to drive during the holiday season? Murder punch. I blame it on the not being able to breathe properly. And the recession. And Obama.
In related news, I can't tell you why specifically, but being asked, "are you mad?" when I'm absolutely not mad makes me SO MAD. Dammit, just looking at that question is making me mad at myself for typing it. It's really closely to related to "Hey, what's wrong with you?" "Nothing." "Are you sure?" "Well, nothing WAS wrong with me but now I'm kind of annoyed at you, thankssomuch."
Growl.
That might be the cold talking again.
After I got home yesterday, Rox and Penny scooped me up and we hung out for a few hours, since we hadn't seen each other's faces for like a week and that's stupid. We are all planning on taking the day off on Wednesday for epic loafage and planning of the new year.
Please expect updates soon.
I hope you all had wonderful Christmases, if you're into that sort of thing. I especially hope that this year found you all on the nice list.
Probably nothing good. What can I say? All that stealing chocolate, punching in the teeth, lusting after pancakes and zebra cakes, making fun of ugly babies, and hating people really cemented my position on the naughty list this year.
Then again, my stuffy nose and achy body were nursed back to health on the top floor of here:
You win some, you lose some.
But yes, alas, my gangster immune system gave way. Let it be noted that ever since I started calling my immune system gangster, it's been considerably less gangster. This time though, I can't really blame it. Everyone has been sick. I don't know if this is like a universal thing, like a normal winter thing, or like a Florida is freezing and we're all breaking down thing, but it seems like everyone is sick.
(Isn't it so funny that we love to peg our sickness on people? We come in contact with so many germs and germy people daily, but the second you get sick. you peg it on someone and are convinced they are the one who gave it to you. Well, my dad got sick and Penny died for like a week, but I'm looking at Gailey-Bird, who sniffled through hours of Dora cuddled up to me.)
My immune system may be gangster(ish) but I am a pretty much a whiny baby when I get sick. I spent most of my Christmas weekend cuddled up in a blanket on an armchair that overlooked the balcony with a glass of wine and my headphones in, alternatively popping Advil and chugging Nyquil. Does that sound really boozey? AND AWESOME? 'Cause it pretty much was.
We celebrated on the 24th with a lard-ton of food, as we always do, and we waited for midnight to watch the kids open their presents. I remember waiting for midnight when I was a kid, and how that span of a few hours after dinner seemed to be a lifetime. We did everything to try and keep ourselves entertained, and when every board game, movie, Christmas carol and dessert was exhausted, it was only ever 10pm.
This year, it seemed only a matter of moments. We sat on the balcony, huddled together for warmth, watching the fireworks over Epcot and Magic Kingdom. I watched Vyelit challenge Pistene's Navy fiance to Wii duel after Wii duel (and lose them all.) And just like that, it was Christmas, and the present mayhem began.
I wasn't expecting much from Christmas this year. To be honest, there was a point when I feared that Christmas and the carols and the shoddily decorated houses would just come around to remind me of where I was Christmas time last year - aka ignoring red flags and jumping into a big mess. I feared the season would remind me of the cold hours I spent outside one shoddily decorated house in particular. It didn't. Unfortunately, it left me sort of holiday-apathetic. Not caring one way or another about this one more day.
In all, though, Christmas was better than I expected. Much, much better, icky cold and all. Perhaps, that was my one true Christmas miracle. Eat that Santa Claus.
I've been thinking a little about this guy, Santa. I've heard a lot about him this year, which must be the whole "working with lots of older people with kids" thing.
Let me tell you a story: In kindergarten, I had a best friend named Maria. One day, during art I think because I remember standing in front of an easel, she decided to share a secret with me: babies come from vaginas. I wasn't sure what my reaction was to this secret, because that's not really the important part of the story. See, I wanted to be a good friend and in turn tell her an awesome secret: Santa Claus wasn't real.
Maria had a fit - like a full out, wailing, tears and snot fit. That poop face ran and told the teacher what I had said. I mean, she'd just told me that whole entire babies where supposed to come out of my vagina, and was I crying? NO. No, I wasn't Maria. I wasn't fudgin' crying. Anyways, that's how I got my first time-out in school ever. Because Santa ISN'T real and I told the truth? Yeah. I call bullshizz but the traumas of childhood are for another post.
I just want to say that I don't get Santa Claus. Maybe it's because growing up, Christmas was never about him, and very much about the baby Jesus. And the gifts we did get might as well've been labeled "To: Lorraine, From: Your Parents Who Worked Really Freakin' Hard To Afford All of These Gifts. Enjoy The Cabage Patch Doll, Yo."
Anyways, I don't get it. I don't want to have the "hey mommy was lying to you about Santa Claus all along because I thought... it... would be cool? To tell you about a man who creepily stalks you all year long and then breaks into our house to leave gifts and eat mommy's cookies because all cookies belong to mommy. Um. Sorry?" conversation with my kids ever. I think I'll avoid it.
In other news, being sick has made me a tad crabby. I don't know if you can tell. (Probably.) Everything is sort of annoying me: people in express lines with more than 10 item? Kick to the shins. More cold weather in Florida? Poke in the eye. People who forget how to drive during the holiday season? Murder punch. I blame it on the not being able to breathe properly. And the recession. And Obama.
In related news, I can't tell you why specifically, but being asked, "are you mad?" when I'm absolutely not mad makes me SO MAD. Dammit, just looking at that question is making me mad at myself for typing it. It's really closely to related to "Hey, what's wrong with you?" "Nothing." "Are you sure?" "Well, nothing WAS wrong with me but now I'm kind of annoyed at you, thankssomuch."
Growl.
That might be the cold talking again.
After I got home yesterday, Rox and Penny scooped me up and we hung out for a few hours, since we hadn't seen each other's faces for like a week and that's stupid. We are all planning on taking the day off on Wednesday for epic loafage and planning of the new year.
Please expect updates soon.
I hope you all had wonderful Christmases, if you're into that sort of thing. I especially hope that this year found you all on the nice list.
18 comments:
Oh. My. Gosh. People asking me if I'm mad makes me SO MAD!
And on Sunday our pastor said something about Santa not being real and then was like "OHNOIHOPETHEREAREN'TANYKIDSINHERE!" but then quickly retracted and stated that that the Santa lie is fine for a few years but you need to make sure that you're focusing more on Jesus and not a big, fat creeper. (My words, not his.) And I totally agree with him. Plus, with my luck, I'd pull off the lie so well that my kid would be that one weirdo in 9th grade who still believes. (I've seen it happen.)
I'm not a religious type but I think I like your parent's approach to Santa. I don't think I'll lie to my kids that way because though I love magic I would prefer them to appreciate where their gifts are coming from. I also don't want to get them a bunch of crap. (I'm going to need to fight the urge to get them every little thing they want because I like seeing them happy.)...or I will.
You might like my santa clause story
http://randomistathoughts.blogspot.com/2010/12/ho-ho-humbug.html
It was a guest post over at the randomista. Great stuff!
Hope yer feeling better. Take more vitamins to straight keep it gangsta. YUP.
Dude, you totally stayed at the Floridays, didn't you??
If so, it's a freaking awesome hotel. I stayed there when I went to Orlando for my birthday!
If not, it's still a freaking awesome hotel.
Ps: I love your long posts.
Wait...so you're saying that Santa isn't real? Really Lor?
My fiance is so guilty of asking questions like that. They drive me absolutely CRAZY.
Get better soon!
I just love saying "Baby Jesus." It sounds hilarious. No matter how many times you say it, "Baby Jesus" is just damn funny.
Especially when said with a wacky southern accent.
My response to "are you mad?" is always, "I am now", because it's unnecessary. I have a temper, so if I'm mad, you'll definitely know it and there's no need to ask. But has Hubs learned this yet? NO. He asks me all the time. So, I feel ya on those questions. They drive me nuts.
I've never heard the phrase "murder punch" before, but now I'm going to use it excessively.
I'm sorry you're sick. *hug* Feel better super soon!
And thank you, thank you for introducing me to chocolate wine. When I'm in AA, it'll be all your fault.
Murder punch!
Is making fun of ugly babies really out of bounds?..oh dang!
It's Wednesday...are you loafing? I wish I was loafing.
When I was younger and would come into the kitchen for breakfast, my mother would say good morning, and I would reply with good morning and then she'd be all "Well somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed *giggle*" and then I would immediately be in a pissed off mood for the rest of the day.
So yes, I totally understand what you mean about the "are you mad" thing.
Dude, I am so with you on Santa. My parents didn't even pretend. There was no way my mom was going to allow us to believe that some fat white man was coming to our house to leave us presents. We knew that mom and dad were Santa from the jump. I also don't intend on telling my kids that Santa bull crap either.
Clinger! Noooooo. There is nothing worse. Hope you feel better in time for an epic NYE :).
You do have very long posts. :/
But I'm sorry you've been sick over the holiday. I really hope you get to feeling better soon.
Also, I have to comment on this comment:
"I just love saying "Baby Jesus." It sounds hilarious. No matter how many times you say it, "Baby Jesus" is just damn funny.
Especially when said with a wacky southern accent."--- Why does everyone think everything sounds funnier with a wacky 'Southern accent'? :( Although I do admit, when I say "Baby Jesus" I tend to tack on my Georgia twang in the process. It does have a certain charm to it...
I love Santa. I love the idea of Santa. I love everything about Santa.
Luckily in my house not only did I get Santa dropping by with presents on Christmas night but also the Three Wise Kings (the Spanish version of Santa) hauling ass from Bethlehem on the 6th of January for more present giving.
If I ever have them, I'm going to keep the magic alive for my ankle-biters as long as possible.
First off, I know that you said "coal" in the beginning, but I totally saw that as "oral" in my first glance. The only possible conclusion is that I will inevitably go to hell.
Now, to the point:
"I mean, she'd just told me that whole entire babies where supposed to come out of my vagina, and was I crying? NO. No, I wasn't Maria."
Um. Can I put that on a t-shirt and wear it?
At least it isn't as bad as what the Whipping Father used to give out. Beatings for the bad little boys and girls. I guess they phased him out, though...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_P%C3%A8re_Fouettard
Okay, so i just found this site, but your long post here made me laugh so loudly that I had to look around so I'm commenting several weeks after everyone else has been over and done with it. Deal.
I agree on the Santa business. I think I always treated it like a game in my head anyway.
My mom does the "Are you okay?" all the time---"yes, fine." just cuz i'm not smiling like a doofus at all moments of life?? "are you sure" ---nope. now i'm annoyed.
Thanks for the crazy long post. I enjoyed it thoroughly.
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