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Jett Superior laid this on you on || December 27, 2006 || 12:00 am

Wish me luck!

Shit. I always, always, always forget to pull the party crackers out of the closet for Christmas brunch; we end up stumbling across them some random day in March when the weather is impossibly bad and the children are ‘bored’ (how can you be bored when you have a) your own head and b) all these crazy modern-day contrivances? I call foul.) and I cave to my impulsive side (can a ’side’ equal three-quarters of oneself?): “PARTY CRACKERS, Y’ALL, WHEEEEE!”

So, I forgot the crackers again this year. They are huge and shiny and gold. There must be all sorts of neatness in there. We’ll see in March, I guess.

It was a stocking-rich year. I got like four or five full-sized ones from various folk, packed to the brim with stuffs. In an extreme burst of synergystic something, everyone thought to get me almonds and I can’t keep my face out of the tins for even five seconds, it seems. I just free-range graze from one tin to another. I got honey roasted, spiced, blanched and salted varieties, so there is no getting bored with almondy goodness (as if one could, REALLY!).

One of the things that Santy Closs brot me was a Playstation Two of my very own that I can sex up in the privacy of my very own bedroom and not have to share with my kids.* This is delightful, because this means that they can have their system and I can have mine and I don’t have to kick them off of the unit in the living room so that I can set some Ringwraiths on fire or play the SEXIEST DAMN GAME EV. ARRRR. Which, by the way, the very astute Santy also thot to brot. Folks, I get to rassle critters, shoot people, trample things with my horse, knife anybody who gets in my way, and gamble. Plus, the word ‘fuck’ is programmed in there. I ask you, could there be a game more made for me? By no means am I anywhere remotely near anything that could be called a ‘gamer’, but I played that one for four solid hours yesterday without blinking. My contacts are very, very dry today.

The fireworks stands in honor of the impending New Year are in full swing. I have decided –and firmly, I might add– that I am going to spend a retardedly ridiculous and inflated amount of hard-earned cash on puffs of light and noise and smoke this year. I’m sick to death of nickel-and-diming all the time. I think this year’s resolution might just be to treat money like what it is: Funnily-decorated papers.

Also: I am in the midst of being broken in two. Again. But maybe you smarty-pantses already knew that?

*As of this writing, there is a fireplace, several hundred square feet, many books and notebooks, a mini fridge, a private patio entrance/exit and a small home entertainment setup in there. All I need are a toilet and a jacuzzi and I’ll never, ever have to see the rest of the house again. The kids are getting old enough to be left to their own devices, don’t you think?

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