I used to like Christmas, I really did. I mean, I like sparkly things. And drinking, I like drinking. But somehow this year I just haven't gotten into it one single bit.
I think the main reason for my bad attitude is that I am a terrible, terrible gift-giver. No really, I am. I think about it both too much and too little (yes, it's possible), and I am never very happy with what I give people--especially the people I care about the most. And is there anything worse than watching someone be a good sport about the gift you have given them? No, there is not.
If we could just get back to the Reason for the Season--i.e., sparkles and drinking--I would enjoy all this Christmas shit a hell of a lot more.
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I'm at my parent's house in Alabama--I took the red eye here Monday night. Today we had our big celebration with my mother's family, for which I made a cheesecake.
My Aunt Jane said I was a good little helper.
She also said that I should have my portrait taken professionally as soon as I get back to Seattle, before my looks fade. She made it clear that she felt a crisis was at hand.
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