Ho, Ho and a Bottle of Rum

Read the most ridiculous story this week about a submission to the British Medical Journal -- which they should be ashamed for accepting -- about the negative influence of Santa, specifically how he promotes obesity and drunkeness.

Dr Grills declared: "Other dangerous activities that Santa could be accused of promoting include speeding, disregard for road rules, and extreme sports such as roof surfing and chimney jumping."

Now I am never going to claim that I have a great love of Christmas. I get myself in a tizzy about decorating, buying gifts, spending money, wrapping, you name it. I hate when the season starts and I count the days until it is over.

But, I do encouorage my son to believe in Santa.

Childhood is so fleeting and the magic inherently lies in those simple flights of fancy and the power of fairy dust. Hope, fantasy, imagination: children possess those in abundance, and they all slowly errode with experience and time.

There is no such thing as prince charming or love at first sight. But with perseverance, hard work, good decisions, love and lots of laughs, you can make a good life.

Until that time, he can have Santa.

Venegence is mine, sayeth the blogger

I have had a pretty good Christmas season. Whether it's the zoloft or my new outlook on life, it's been fairly smooth sailing. I had one major tantrum when my Dyson (the indestructible vacuum, my ass) stopped working, but even that I pulled myself through.

So imagine my surprise, shock and utter dismay when my so-called "friends" delivered an ugly Christmas sweater right to my front door.

You are freaking kidding me!! It's one of the worst ones I've ever seen. It's overflowing with gross glitter and beads and check out that zipper!!

Oh sure, there was a nice note about how I protested too much, and therefore they assumed I was secretly yearing for this sweater.

But little does she know that retribution is sweet and my love and admiration will be speeding to her door.

Making Christmas

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you know I'm not much of a Christmas cheermeister. In fact, I'm a raging bitch. But this year, I'm making an effort to find happiness where I can (thanks in part to the makers of Zoloft) and I'm starting with the Christmas sweater.

I hate Christmas sweaters. I mean, loathe and detest. They are ugly, gross and shapeless. So I created my own version of the Christmas sweater. I think it's rather nice, don't you?

Merry Christmas, and all that jazz

Fortunately, he got what he asked for ... as did I.

Nothing says Christmas

It's hard to hate Christmas when you have a kid. Don't get me wrong, I still hate it, but when I see his "decorations" on his tree, I smile.

Because nothing says Christmas like the Jolly Roger.