Last week, Thanksgiving. This week, Christmas. Are they trying to kill me? It's the middle of the wretched, hot summer. How can they tease me with lovely, lovely snow and huge tinsel trees?
Even with the dysfunctional families, the spitting out sweet potatoes at the dinner table, the depressing effects of divorce on the holidays, the tacky trysts, the disturbing children, and the creepy cigarette mogul forcing Roger to don a Santa suit and let Pete sit on his lap, I am still overwhelmed by vicious envy that they are existing in December and I'm stuck in August. Not fair.
Even with the dysfunctional families, the spitting out sweet potatoes at the dinner table, the depressing effects of divorce on the holidays, the tacky trysts, the disturbing children, and the creepy cigarette mogul forcing Roger to don a Santa suit and let Pete sit on his lap, I am still overwhelmed by vicious envy that they are existing in December and I'm stuck in August. Not fair.
Go ahead, flaunt your mirth.
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