Feelin' The 99% Or
Being A "Have Not" In The Shitstorm Of "Gimme"
Take your pick.
I don't remember when I fell out of love with December. Was it when Santa stopped bringing the presents?
Did I always have a passive resentment because my birthday on the 29th was always ignored while my classmates had the whole day to be celebrated?
Perhaps because of countless parties and other events - just for me - were canceled because of extreme cold, snow or dangerous conditions, leaving me with inevitably soon forgotten promises to absolutely do it exactly the same way in the Spring?
Was it when I got knocked up (and she was born in January)?
The shocking realization suddenly I was Santa...and Christmas wasn't just magically going to be a brightly lit face under the tree Christmas morning...no. I had to get the gifts, wrap them, teach her about some fat twerp catapulting around the planet faster than the speed of light (skipping a whole lot of places...um, just because?) while, um, air horses with horns...huh? No, there are no wings, maybe they just fart hard...that could be the reason for the beard?
I had to literally maul fat, stinky truck stop ogres just to grab a handful of Barbie hair and a G.I. Joe boot in order to cobble a G.I. Barb....and then stab the SHIT out of them so I could get some reasonable damn gifts....MOVE! NONE OF YOU CAN READ, ANYWAY AND I WANT BOOKS, NO THEY ARE NOT CHEW TOYS FOR YOUR PUMA COYOTE HYBRID FEED YOUR PUYOTE SOMETHING VEGAN! NO, NOT *A* VEGAN, HAP LAWD JEZUS???
...oh, hell...a tree! Did you sugges...a plastic... BITE YOUR TONGUE, YOU SAVAGE BUMPKI....Oh, the closest place to get a real one is Pennsylvania? Um....so where's the Pine*Sol?
Wrapping. I'd rather attempt to make my living as a rapper than wrap gifts. One year, I was tempted to just wrap her head. I can barely wrap my head around a concept.
*TRIGGER WARNING*
December got a bit better when I met my girlfriend Jessie. She used to throw these awesome NYE key parties. After 10 PM, anyone entering tossed their keys in a bowl because you were not leaving, nope. Too many drunk drivers. Everyone came: aunts, uncles, parents, children, grandparents, boyfriends, neighbors. And slept over and in the morning, what a breakfast buffet!!!
She was killed on January 1st afternoon by a drunk driver. Herself. She used to collect glass angels and had several with her in the car. Not one of those damn things broke.
Fuck those creepy things.
*END TRIGGER*
And lights....and decorations....can we just move to the Middle East? I don't WANT to do all that! Meanwhile, my mom wraps up the cabinet doors in the kitchen so they look like presents. I want to eat glass and wash it down with bleach. I get anxiety spending money. It's frivolous bullshit but we have to do it - we can't tell our kids, *we* don't "do" Christmas because we're Pagan socialists. They're like, ya, ya 364 days of the year. 1 day, we're capitalist Christians and dear LORD GOD, I PRAY you bought me a bunch of useless garbage!!
My boy, sweet bunny, he said, "I don't care about stuff. I just like being with my family." And he means it. I've hidden his presents Grinch-like and he doesn't care. I think I gave birth to some otherworldly ethereal...well. Something.
I hate December because it makes me anxious looking back at all the things I didn't accomplish (and I know I have to let that dumb shit go) - the YEAR is ending, not my life. Yet, in a way...it is. A part of my life is irretrievably over.
A major part.
Halsten and I are divorcing.
Being A "Have Not" In The Shitstorm Of "Gimme"
Take your pick.
I don't remember when I fell out of love with December. Was it when Santa stopped bringing the presents?
Did I always have a passive resentment because my birthday on the 29th was always ignored while my classmates had the whole day to be celebrated?
Perhaps because of countless parties and other events - just for me - were canceled because of extreme cold, snow or dangerous conditions, leaving me with inevitably soon forgotten promises to absolutely do it exactly the same way in the Spring?
Was it when I got knocked up (and she was born in January)?
The shocking realization suddenly I was Santa...and Christmas wasn't just magically going to be a brightly lit face under the tree Christmas morning...no. I had to get the gifts, wrap them, teach her about some fat twerp catapulting around the planet faster than the speed of light (skipping a whole lot of places...um, just because?) while, um, air horses with horns...huh? No, there are no wings, maybe they just fart hard...that could be the reason for the beard?
I had to literally maul fat, stinky truck stop ogres just to grab a handful of Barbie hair and a G.I. Joe boot in order to cobble a G.I. Barb....and then stab the SHIT out of them so I could get some reasonable damn gifts....MOVE! NONE OF YOU CAN READ, ANYWAY AND I WANT BOOKS, NO THEY ARE NOT CHEW TOYS FOR YOUR PUMA COYOTE HYBRID FEED YOUR PUYOTE SOMETHING VEGAN! NO, NOT *A* VEGAN, HAP LAWD JEZUS???
...oh, hell...a tree! Did you sugges...a plastic... BITE YOUR TONGUE, YOU SAVAGE BUMPKI....Oh, the closest place to get a real one is Pennsylvania? Um....so where's the Pine*Sol?
Wrapping. I'd rather attempt to make my living as a rapper than wrap gifts. One year, I was tempted to just wrap her head. I can barely wrap my head around a concept.
*TRIGGER WARNING*
December got a bit better when I met my girlfriend Jessie. She used to throw these awesome NYE key parties. After 10 PM, anyone entering tossed their keys in a bowl because you were not leaving, nope. Too many drunk drivers. Everyone came: aunts, uncles, parents, children, grandparents, boyfriends, neighbors. And slept over and in the morning, what a breakfast buffet!!!
She was killed on January 1st afternoon by a drunk driver. Herself. She used to collect glass angels and had several with her in the car. Not one of those damn things broke.
Fuck those creepy things.
*END TRIGGER*
And lights....and decorations....can we just move to the Middle East? I don't WANT to do all that! Meanwhile, my mom wraps up the cabinet doors in the kitchen so they look like presents. I want to eat glass and wash it down with bleach. I get anxiety spending money. It's frivolous bullshit but we have to do it - we can't tell our kids, *we* don't "do" Christmas because we're Pagan socialists. They're like, ya, ya 364 days of the year. 1 day, we're capitalist Christians and dear LORD GOD, I PRAY you bought me a bunch of useless garbage!!
My boy, sweet bunny, he said, "I don't care about stuff. I just like being with my family." And he means it. I've hidden his presents Grinch-like and he doesn't care. I think I gave birth to some otherworldly ethereal...well. Something.
I hate December because it makes me anxious looking back at all the things I didn't accomplish (and I know I have to let that dumb shit go) - the YEAR is ending, not my life. Yet, in a way...it is. A part of my life is irretrievably over.
A major part.
Halsten and I are divorcing.
