Dear Future Me,
Sorry I haven’t written in a while, I’ve been too busy living the life of a balla’ and making the benjamins, dolla dolla bills yo. Did that make any sense to you? I’m using these catchy phrases and I barely understand their meaning. Language has a fascinating way of evolving us right out of the “in” crowd.
Anyway, my point is that it’s winter and cold outside and I hate it. I hate the cold and I hate the goddamn “holiday” spirit and I hate Christmas music so much that I do all my Christmas shopping in a three-hour “power shop” with my headphones blaring Disturbed.
Firstly, the cold. I live in Canada. You live in Madrid, probably. It’s awful cold here, in fact it’s snowing outside my window as I write these very words. Some people can handle the cold, but I am not one of those people. I don’t produce my own body heat, and because of this I am basically a shivering, miserable pile of pneumonia once the temperature drops below 15. From mid September to early April I hate everything forever because goddamnit I am cold all. the. time. UNPLEASANT.
Actually, it occurs to me that there are three situations over the next several months where I will be comfortably warm for a short period of time. They are: immediately after a shower, immediately after imbibing large amounts of alcohol, and immediately after sex. So if you’re wondering why I’m a drunken slut, it’s not my loose morals as a loose woman, it’s the temperature. FYI.
Secondly, Christmas music. I’m actually all about the holiday season because I like buying presents for people and I like free food and I am all into being spoiled rotten by my wonderful Momasaurus and the always sweet Mancandy. But the music…goddess help us, the music.
There is ONE Christmas song I like – Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, as sung by Bing Crosby. Okay, yes, the dude used to beat his kids with sacks of oranges but I could fall into his voice and drown in pleasure. That song is sad and mournful and a little bit depressing and I am probably not going to hear it eight hundred times over the season, and thus I love it. Last year I heard it once in my entire shopping jaunt, and I appreciated it.
Unfortunately, nearly all other Christmas/holiday songs are basically garbage, over-produced, over-played sugary-sweet ballads designed to make you want to coat yourself in candy canes and fucking over-dose on HOLIDAY JOY. Having worked in retail for nearly seven years, I can tell you that the music of the season makes me want to go on a killing spree, and I’m sure I’m not alone.
So anyway, I hate this time of year. I hate wearing several pairs of pants and worrying about whether or not my socks will be thick enough to keep me from losing some toes if the bus just doesn’t show up for three hours. I hate how people lose their ability to drive when there is an inch of snow on the ground. I’m basically a giant amoeba of rage for the next three months, and everybody better just steer clear.
Honestly, Future Me, I don’t know where I was going with this, except to say that I hope you are in a bikini right now lounging on some sandy beach and laughing maliciously at my current situation.
Love and Pina Coladas,