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2005-12-18 @ 4:23 p.m.
you have to have a life, in order to write a christmas newsletter. who knew??

This whole Christmas thing is really starting to get to me, and what's funny is that I'm only peripherally involved with anything even remotely Christmasy. The total extent of my involvement has been carrying those dang Christmas envelopes up from the mailbox and opening them and having to read all those people wishing me a Happy Holiday. Phew! How tiring. I did get my first Family Newsletter yesterday from my cousin. And I know how much Andria loves those. And it was pretty much on par with the Official Christmas Newsletter Guidelines.

  • You must make your family sound like the most successful family ever since the beginning of time. Check!

  • At least one of your children must be attending medical school and is about to become a doctor. Check!

  • If a child in the family is under 5, you must integrate a story about how cute they were in their Halloween costume or something funny they said about the family priest and his pickle. Check!

  • And if you're my family, which is a little top heavy on Born Again Christians, you must also include a lengthy quote from the Bible. Check!

    My poor cousin. I do love her a lot. In fact, when we were kids, she was my favorite cousin. She was a couple of years older than me, and very pretty, so when she gave me attention, I always thought I was pretty cool. But nowadays, its all about getting witty to convert to Christianity. And she's relentless. And lawdy, how she dislikes my wiccan necklace. Everytime we get together she always asks me about it and then asks me WHY I feel the need to wear it and why don't I come to one of her meetings (I guess to get saved or something). But I'm always polite and shake my head no, and then overtly play with the wiccan charm like I'm casting a spell or something. heh.

    Yeah, I know, I'm going to hell. Although can you imagine spending eternal damnation with a bunch of Republicans?? Yeeks. I guess I better turn over a new leaf pretty soon, huh?

    I actually used to be one of those people who used to put together a yearly newsletter at Christmas. When I first became a graphic artist it was one of the first thing I did on my new computer. And of course coming up with text was no problem, because if you read my diary, you pretty much know that I'm rather verbose and choose not to acknowledge the fact that editing might be beneficial, especially when I'm going on and on about useless crap, such as Married Guy or being lonely. I mean, suck it up witty. Just highlight the damn text and hit DELETE! Don't you wish real life was that easy?

    So I did do a yearly newsletter for a few years, but even with all my prolific bullshitting writing ability, I noticed that 1). I never once had a spectacular year to brag about, like no new houses, no new cars, no new boyfriends, no new jobs. 2). I wasn't on the verge of becoming a doctor. 3). I didn't just adopt a child from Sudan. 4). I didn't just catch a baby being tossed out of a burning building. 5) I still hadn't cured cancer yet. ...Damn slacker!

    The truth was, I was just barely holding on. My mental health was failing. I was severely depressed. I was working at a job, which I had grown to hate. I mean, how do you put a Christmassy, newslettery spin on that? I couldn't! So I just put a lot of clip art on the newsletter and talked about how the raccoons used to come into our yard on a nightly basis and eat the cat food we left out. And in direct violation of Christmas newsletter protocal, not one of them was persuing their Masters degree in Nuclear Physics. Damn raccoons.

    Needless to say, I stopped doing the newsletter. Of course, I could have probably done the Anti-Christmas Newsletter. Like talk about all the crappy things that actually happened or then made up a few things like I kicked kittens or sent Oprah some anthrax laced cookies.

    ...Yeah right, like I would really spend money on anthrax for Oprah, when I can barely afford to buy gifts for the 4 people in my life.

    So, right now, sans the yearly newsletter, I'm just sort of sleepwalking through the season. I did go out amongst the shopping throngs once again today. My mom wanted to go to Target which is about a 1/2 mile from my house and I wanted her to, since that is where she gets my yearly gift....the ever lovely Target Gift card. Despite how I'm sure I'm coming off in print, I'm truly not as hateful and snarly as I usually am at Christmas. I feel a little stressed about the money situation, but I'm really trying to get into the positive spirit of things.

    And I did get to see the archetypal wittykitty dream man while shopping today. And was he ever cute. I split up from my mom while shopping because she'll stand and look at all 300 Christmas cards they have at Target, which I find kind of boring, so I set off around the store.

    This last Wednesday in my art class, I had met this woman, through "L" the Hippie Chick, and I had pleaded my case. I'm asking everyone I know what to do to be more attractive and desirable to men. Why do I need to learn this at age 47? Because my mom never taught me growing up. As soon as I started getting cute when I was kid, she immediately hacked off all my hair until I looked like a butch Mia Farrow in "Rosemary's Baby" and then dressed me in the most god-awful clothes. She really loved large, bright polka dots and stripes, so from age 5-10, I walked around looking like a Time Square electronic billboard. To this day, I will not wear anything with stripes or dots....EVER!! Because instead of people saying, "Oh, what a cute little girl, which I got a lot when I was little, I just started getting embarrassed stares. My one young cousin, even asked my aunt once, if I was a boy. I was devastated.

    So I've been asking people advice on how to present myself a little better. One person about 2 weeks ago, told me that eye contact was extremely important, because it was "the window to your soul". Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatevah. I have trouble with eye contact, but I'll work on it.

    And then this woman at my art class, who I had never met before, said her secret was posture. You have to stand up, and act like you're Miss America, with your back straight, your shoulders level and your head held high. I was a little apprehensive about that one since I have really bad posture. I take after my Dad. But then as I was standing there, she commented on what good posture I had, and to myself, I was going, "huh?" And then of course, when somebody compliments me I immediately launched into my anxiety powered comedy act. I told them that if I go see my therapist on Tuesday, with all this straight posture and direct eye contact, he'll probably think I got kidnapped by alien pod people and that the person on the couch is really an artificial replica of the real, neurotic wittykitty (hopefully with bigger boobs). They were laughing of course, because I am the female Woody Allen, but I did thank her for the advice and I did attempt the good posture thing today when I was at Target.

    Because there he was. Mr. L.L. Beane guy. He was so dreamy. I don't usually actively salivate over men, because I don't have the confidence that they would ever even look at me, unless they're like Jeffrey Daumer trying to pass themselves off as straight. He was tall, slender, dark curly hair, light dockers, navy blue jacket and, lets face, just totally out of my league, but that didn't deter me from walking along, with my uber-straight posture down the Christmas card aisle, and then picking up a box of Christmas cards and tossing my head back ever so slightly in merry (cough) fake delight over some cute cards. We did pass several times as I was heading towards the front of the store. He finally just passed me and was sudddenly gone.

    And I was: "Hey wait! You just forgot the most important thing you'll ever find at Target....MEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!"

    But unfortunately, he couldn't hear my ESP thoughts. Because nobody can, except for maybe Patricia Arquette on "The Medium". Of course, usually those are only dead people or people who is about to die.

    But anyhoo, just think, if I HAD caught up with Mr. L.L. Beane, the things I would have had to write about in my 2005 Christmas Newsletter...Things that were great! Things that were fun! Things that were thrilling! Things that wouldn't make people want to come up to me and say, "There, there'll get better soon."

    Oh well, I guess there's always next year, right?

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  • Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty