From my archives of notes posted about this and about that. Most assuredly about all things wtf. I can change this one up a little each year, too…which is nice. Multi-purpose posting. Time saver. Sweet. 😮
Bring it, Martha…
This year’s been a bit rough ’round the edges at times, I know…but I found a few moments to write you my wish list in between cracking my knee on the baby gate and wiping off the dining room table previously plastered with half day old Kraft Dinner noodles that miraculously stuck to its underside.
So here goes.
My problem is this….it’s the way she rolls the napkins. Truly….those must be 300 count fabrics she uses, eh? Probably grew the fibres herself while making the truly perfect iced tea whose leaves she probably ALSO grew on a plantation she bought with the interest made on that cookie tool thingy that only she alone knows how to operate properly……
Anyhoooooo….have you seen the way she rolls them up, puts a handmade thingy around it to hold it perfectly in place which seems to be made of glass beads she probably hand-blew herself and dyed with vegetable colouring from the garden within which she grows only the most unheard of creations that MUST be cultivated at the proper alignment of the outer rings of Saturn and Jupiter’s moons….
…whilst she sets it neatly beside the 3-plate stack of perfectness upon which she displays her hand-crafted meal of braised chicken with some cream sauce she must have milked the cow herself to make and having spiced it just right with tumeric and/or saffron which only costs her pennies in the big picture of her financial independence???
Who on this friggin’ earth even knows how to PRONOUNCE tumeric?!?!?!?!?
Santa, let me tell you how it works….if I have any time to roll ANYTHING in this house….it’ll be my eyes!!! And what on earth makes you think a mom of 5 would have a 300 count of anything??? Oh wait….bruises….from cracking my knee on the baby gate, getting a head butt into my nose or walking into the corner of the cupboard because I haven’t chugged my morning coffee fast enough….
My iced tea comes from a can or a bottle. The only leaves I deal with come trucked in with the 16 feet that occupy my house each day between my own and the daycare kids….and any cool kitchen gadgets I might even consider purchasing would only be used as possible weapons for Thing 1 to clock Thing 2 with across the back of the head…anything more technical than a sandwich baggie is just not going to happen.
My kids must be suffering because the only handmade thing they get is their lunches….if only by some good grace I’ve remembered to make it. And if there’s anything grown myself in this house it’s either on some unrecognizable piece of SOMEthing at the back of my fridge, or in the corner of the baseboard on the kitchen floor because I’ve forgotten for the 100th time to sweep.
And, Santa, have you seen the fancy schmancy place settings she uses?!?!? Clearly a woman without 4 boys in her household. Corelle all the way, baby. You can run that shit over with your CAR and put nary a dent it!! And settings of beautifully stacked, multi-coloured, multi-shaped plates?? Hold on, let me swipe my bank card out the back of my arse to pay for all those beauties…. seriously?? Notwithstanding this would also imply that I would have the ROOM to store all those dishes!!!
But doesn’t braised chicken sound delicious? Sure does….wouldn’t know what the hell it is, though, given the sad fact that the only recipies I can even remember to look at are printed on the Campbell’s soup label…which I’ve excitedly purchased on sale at Food Basics for 2/$1.00.
Tumeric? What the hell?? Sounds like the name of some Klingon warship’s captain.
Trust me, Santa, if it can’t be pronounced, it is not to be used….sorta like that propylfenythiopidal whatchamacallit stuff in that Twinkie I just ate because I don’t have to worry about remembering what the expiry date is on things like that….did you see Wall-E, Santa??? That Twinkie was 700 years old. NOT supposed to be used, I tell you…but oh-so-very bloody convenient to someone who lives in increments of 2.2…seconds…minutes, mostly…
Anyhow, Santa, this is my only wish for the entire year….please, please PLEASE take this woman O-U-T!!! If you forsee any legal issues that may arise for yourself, perhaps you can just drop her off down the chimney as you fly over…I figure if anything the residual hair products in her perfectly kept ‘do that weren’t blown away by the wind rushing past your sleigh might just be enough to ignite the residue on the inside of the flue because I’ve been so busy nursing my bruises I’ve forgotten to call the chimney cleaning company….I’ll make sure I’m stocked up on chestnuts….