I'm peeved. Someone stole my Christmas spirit and I can't find it anywhere! December 1st started out great...Christmas music, a little shopping, decorating the house--all things that usually put some bounce in my step and a flutter of excitement in my tummy. I felt a little slip away when the washer died, a bit more when the large garage door decided not to go up anymore (thank heavens Mini Coopers can basically turn inside out and after some creative turns, I was able to escape out the smaller garage), and don't get me started on family drama! I could write a whole saga on this past weekend alone titled: "As The Stomach Turns..."
An inkling of "cheer" returned when I perused the Ralph Lauren site for boxer briefs my son requested (yes...he asked for designer underwear) and the page opened to several images, now locked in my brain to be relished later. Far cry from the old JC Penny catalog ads from years back. Ladies, if you ever need a visual to describe a hunky hero, might I suggest starting with "cotton basics." Very impressive...abs. I'm like "for real?" blotting the drop of drool from the corner of my mouth.
But the ultimate "kill joy" came in the form of an email message, "Christmas is coming." Big newsflash. I've been on an antacid diet for weeks anticipating the joyous occasion. Of course the simple message could by no means be offensive, right? Wrong.
I opened the festive looking email thinking I'd received a "e-gram" of sorts and low and behold, an urgent message alerting me to this "uh-hum" event, told me that I needed to rush to a certain website and stock up for the holidays with...Viagra or Cialis. Oh yes. That's exactly what my pantry shelf is missing. I stood there just the other day, scratching my chin, notepad in hand thinking...hey, what do I need to stock up on? What items need replenishing.
I'm a mess in my office (which by the way, is the sign of a creative mind), but my pantry is fairly well organized. I have my canned fruit in one spot, vegetables in the other, baking staples, paper products, cereal, meals-in-a-box for those "write-in" days, and oh, that's right...my "enhancement" drugs --a spot reserved right between the jars of spaghetti sauce and cans of tuna fish.
What concerns me is I didn't notice the spot was "bare" (no pun intended...honest). Hmm. Now my memory short-circuits frequently, especially this time of year, but I think I'd remember if my significant other was popping little blue pills. Yep, quite sure after 36 years of marriage, I'd notice. Of course in the midst of hanging holly, decorating the tree, standing in long lines to purchase gifts, oh...and trying to write an award winning novel, I might have missed something or unknowingly hung a bell in a precarious spot. However, nothing has "chimed" lately.
And yet, some stranger out in the great cyber beyond, seems to be concerned that my holiday will not be complete without purchasing this item. Granted I'm always looking for last minute gift ideas...you know, "stocking stuffers" (I'm just getting started), but this? Never came close to making the wish list.
Of all the things I've expressed a desire (really, no pun) to have wrapped under the tree...a new iPod, tickets to a favorite concert, a new washer so I can decorate the curb with the piece of crap I have now, or even a new toothbrush in my Christmas stocking--one with bristles that will hold a bead of toothpaste, I don't remember sitting on Santa's lap (seriously, absolutely no pun) and asking for these little "pills of joy." I'm pretty sure such a request would cause a reaction (no, no...think screaming...no wait...not screaming).
In other words (and yes, this is a test of how many cliches I can squeeze in here), I do believe the little elf who was kind enough to inform me I should jump (okay, intentional choice of words) on the chance to acquire some of "Santa's helpers" for a seasonably good rate (I'm having fun now...) apparently, has been mistaken.
I only wish there was some way to let those at "the Pole" (stay with me) know how annoying it is when they clog my inbox (......) with such messages. Therefore, I'm forced to send a message of my own.
In the hustle and bustle of this joyous season
I honestly can't think of a reason,
Why I'd spend my last cent
On penile enchancement
When I haven't got one in the first place.
I know there's a list of "Naughty and nice"
My name should appear on the first at least twice,
But the gift I'm expecting
Simply takes no erecting
Nor can it be bought off some cyber website.
So stop sending me nonsense I find such a bore
Messages, pictures--send me no more,
Your pharmaceutical hash
Is now in the trash
You address permanently logged under "spam."
For those of you feeling slightly overwhelmed, exhausted, and huffing "bah humbug" under your breath, I hope I've put a little smile on your face, caused an eyebrow to raise, or at the very least, taken your mind off the long list of things still left to do, even if only for a moment. Find the humor in life--the knot in the rope you're swinging from, and hold on.
As always, friends, thanks for stopping by and sharing in the wackiness of my Wednesday!