Thursday, December 17, 2009

Dear Mr. & Mrs. Gross...

Well it's that time of year again, where your mailbox is overflowing with catalogues you've never heard of and Christmas cards. As I eagerly opened all of the sparkly envelopes, bedazzled with special yule tide stamps and stickers, I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of letters this year. By letters I mean those sagas printed on gingerbread and Christmas tree adorned stationary, recapitulating the years events. I appreciate a well written update of loved ones lives, detailing big changes in careers, living situations, family, etc. What I don't understand are the holiday authors who feel compelled to elaborate on disgusting health issues, macabre accounts of the demise of family, friends or pets, or an overtly gasconade tone to unimpressive accomplishments. To be fair, I'm not really impressed with much. This includes not losing your job, not contracting a flesh eating virus, or not murdering your children to name a few. See my face? Not impressed.

Anyway, my favorite letter came from one of my best friends from high school. She epitomizes everything good in this world and has such a cookie cutter dreamy life, that I often wonder where the hell I went wrong? I mean we were best friends. Dressed alike, same friends, same interests. At what point did she veer off to Candy Land while I strayed toward the enchantment of a Ouija board? Her Christmas letter detailed the birth of her daughter and I swear on the wooden planchette of my dusty spirit board that I almost shed a tear.

After that heart warming missive I opened another holiday tale from a couple whom I have not seen nor spoken to in years and am slightly concerned as to why they have my address friend we shall simply refer to as Mr. & Mrs. Gross. At first glance everything was in order. Holiday vestiges upon the margins, standard formatting and font, let's begin... I didn't get halfway through the page before my stomach began churning and my expression was a combo of repulsion and consternation. Mr. & Mrs. Gross graphically described the symptoms, treatment and recovery of a malady I did not know previously existed, nor ever wanted to know. I won't go into detail because the bile begins to rise when I think of the whole yuck fest contained on one page. I almost feel abused. Mr. & Mrs. Gross took advantage of this festive time of year, coercing their victims with all the accoutrement's of a typical Christmas epistle, all the while injecting clandestine medical jargon. For the record, a Christmas card should NEVER include the following words: infection, drainage, contagious, or pustule.

Not one to dwell on the inappropriateness of other's (ha!) I decided I'm going to write my own Christmas letter...right here...

Dear Everyone,

The past year has brought many exciting new disasters changes. Maverick, Rebel and I welcomed a new addition to our family, thus solidifying my prestigious title of Crazy Dog Lady. My dream dog Judge, born August 20-something, 8 pounds and 2 hand lengths of pure Doberman exuberance. We are still adjusting to our new family dynamic as kibble and toys litter the floor, knit pants, socks and slippers have new ventilation holes, garbage cans reside on bathroom sinks and band aids are my new favorite accessory. Our new little bundle of joy is growing so quickly and eager to show how he can now reach kitchen counters and climb the spiral staircase to the loft, gaining a more advantageous post to bark and destroy play with things.

I look forward to the new year as I begin packing for the big move to the bustling metropolis of Oak Creek into my failed investment brand new house! Yard work, maintenance, 3000+ square feet of space to clean, barely scratch the surface of this exciting new change. I also anticipate a speedy sale of my condo in the dead of winter, that often resembles a warm and inviting doggy daycare. Though I will miss my fussy elderly neighbors, the middle aged lesbian enchantress directly beneath my condo will be the hardest to leave. Without love letters taped to my door, phone calls applauding my "heavy gait," or the sounds of Celine Dion or showtunes blaring into my windows until midnight, I know how much my heart will ache. The ninja stealth that I've developed in order to sneak the dogs down the stairs while in my most attractive pj's in the middle of the night will be an adventure sorely missed. Rounding up the troops pulling Maverick out of a neighbor's open vehicle while Rebel barks at children and Judge pees on the garage floor for an adventure will never be the same.

I have been blessed with another barrage of vacations. Most notably my family trip to Prague and Germany where I discovered the flow of beer rivals that only of Milwaukee and gay men in assless chaps are a thing of beauty. My upcoming travels include Riviera Maya, the Olympics in Vancouver, Oktoberfest in Munich and possibly a Caribbean cruise. Time permitting, I wouldn't hate another European adventure or backpacking excursion either.

Finally, this past year has brought many new faces into my life. Some made me smile, some made me cringe and some made me wish I had asked for plastic surgery for Christmas before entering the witness protection program. I have made wonderful new friends through a completely normal and not at all loserish venue of internet dating. After all, isn't that why one joins such sites? To make new friends with the false hope of finding true love and subsequently having the "just friends" discussion? Such a joy.

Happy holidays to one and all. God bless!

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