Tag Archives: christmas eve

Happy New Year! And while I’m on my letter writing campaign …

(1) Dear Body Shop Boutique ... Please reconfigure your store’s holiday displays into a much roomier, customer-friendly arrangement. Sorry I took out your entire Cranberry Joy Collection with my purse, but let’s consider the fact that I’m a 5’4″, 115-lb. (well, before Christmas anyway) small woman. The average male customer perusing your wares would’ve taken out a whole aisle.

(2) Dear Ice Cream Counter at the Mall ... Do you really think having a cake display on your counter called “Better than Sex” directly behind Santa’s village where every freakin’ kid stops for eggnog ice cream is a good idea? Because I don’t. And I promise I’m snagging the sign from your business next year.

(3) Dear Photo Processing Supplies Company … Can you please change whatever chemical you use on the surface of all photographic prints (specifically from Walgreen’s) to something less delicious to my cat? Every year, I spend entirely too much time strategizing my Christmas card display to ensure that all the low-hanging cards are free of photographs, so that they are not licked and bitten beyond recognition.

(4) Dear Tinsel Manufacturing Company … I am also suggesting that you, like the photo processing supplies company, change your product’s “recipe.” We had to give up on you years ago as Christmas tree tinsel is apparently a delicacy in the feline community. Our previous (diabetic) cat, Toby, always managed to sneak his share of tinsel from the tree which never much worried us until, one day, we saw him running wildly around the house being chased, it would appear, by his own feces. As it turned out, the tinsel had passed all the way through his system. One end stayed in him while the other lodged itself into his ball of waste. True story. Which I just took the time to write about and, worse, you just took the time to read.

(5) Dear Specialty Toy Stores … If you’re going to have adult games available on your shelves, please create a special section … if not a back room … for these items. My kids spent the entire afternoon cutting up about them (and, I think, quoting the boxes on a few hushed occasions). We had to leave your store so fast that we didn’t buy anything anyway. And I promise I would have. Every other damned store at the mall got some of my money that day.




(6) Dear Santa … Apparently, one of us should’ve gotten gifts for the caterpillar/butterfly habitat my daughter keeps on our porch these days. Way to drop the ball, jolly man. Said my girl, “Bubba Chubba and Kevin are sad that we forgot them.” (Yes, those are real names. One of them definitely lost the name lottery. I won’t say who.)

(7) To My Children’s Preschool Teachers of Yesteryear ... Thank you for introducing my kids and I to the art of reindeer food creation. I have come to love the annual tradition of making food to leave out for Santa’s fleet. The only recurring ingredient each year is raw oatmeal. Everything else is whatever I’ve got lots of … and am looking to get rid of … in the house. This year’s menu included some old parsley flakes and paprika as well as blue and pink face glitter (“to catch the light and help the reindeer find the food”) left over from my girl’s school play. It is the best way I’ve found to clean out my pantry and spice cabinet in years. Hmmm, I wonder if I could feed them stuffed animal spare parts next year. Those nappy little critters are taking over this house.

(8) Dear Manufacturer of the Shirt I wore on Christmas Eve … Please improve the quality of your zippers. When I tried the shirt on in the morning to select my evening attire, the zipper locked up on me, trapping me inside for the entirety of the day. And dressy black shirts do not really complement the sweat pants and unshowered mess that was the rest of me for all of my last minute holiday errands throughout the day.

(9) Dear Drugstore located Two Minutes from My House … You lost my business on Christmas Eve because of the annual “rock” concert you hold in your store each year. I know I sound like a Scrooge, but I needed to get in and out of your store in a hurry but everything was entirely too packed for me to even consider stopping in. So, the next closest drugstore got my business. And I spent $163.53. Just so you know.

(10) Dear Sanitation Department and Letter Carrier … Do you really care about political correctness on my girl’s homemade greeting cards to you each year? She seems to struggle to fit these lengthy titles in her festive holiday designs. Would ‘garbage men’ and ‘postman’ be acceptable next year? Also, did you like the candy canes/cookies?



(11) Dear Lady Next to Me at Church on Christmas Eve … Fishnet stockings?

(12) Dear Me … Remember that your kids are always listening … and somehow, apparently, reading. Which is why, when your boy asked about the mysterious gift tag on his dad’s present that read ‘To Dave, From ODNT, your girl said … without hesitation … “That stands for Old Dog New Tits.”  You, dumb ass, now get the joy of explaining to her what ‘tits’ means and why she can’t use the word anymore. And then, you get to deal with what will undoubtedly be her implicit disapproval.

Vote for me @ Top Mommy Blogs - Mom Blog Directory


‘Twas the Night before Christmas (Mystery Science Theater 3000-style)

It’s Christmas Eve and what I really want to do is reference you back to my first stab at this parody business entitled ‘Twas a Week Since my Surg’ry” … but that would be lazy, right?  And sooo tacky.  So, I’ll just link you to it and we’ll get to work today on an entirely new version of the famous poem by Clement C. Moore.

My surgery set me back a bit this season, but thanks to my new friend, Honest Mom, for virtually slapping me across the face yesterday … and to Dave for wrapping more gifts in one day than he has so far in his lifetime, I think we’re going to make it.  Now, I just have to wrap his gifts and finish a little easy last minute shopping at the drugstore, conveniently located five minutes away. Well, except that we haven’t prepared a thing for the Christmas Eve dinner we host for my family every year. (Don’t tell them but I’m totally going to get everything from the ready-made section of my local grocery store.)

Anyway, I literally got out of bed to type this morning when these verses started running through my head. Don’t get me wrong.  I love Christmas.  Always have.  But the stress and pressure this year?  Well, it’s killing me. Please allow me to elaborate.


‘Twas the night before Christmas
When all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a mouse

Okay, first of all, gross! My house does not have mice, thanks to Orkin pest control. And, if it did, you can bet my ass would be doing plenty of stirring, to say the least.  And secondly, hello? Even rodent-free, I will be ‘stirring’ until at least midnight to get everything done tonight. 

The stockings were hung
By the chimney with care
In hopes that St. Nicholas
Soon would be there

Damn, I wish that I hadn’t upgraded us to those stupid new stockings last year. Those things are huge.  Let’s just say it’s a lot more work for ‘St. Nicholas’ to get the job done.

The children were nestled
All snug in their beds
While visions of sugar plums
Danced in their heads

God, I wish their wants were as simple and inexpensive as ‘sugar plums.’ Not that I have any idea what they are anyway.  And they sound British, so the shipping alone probably negates the savings. I wonder if Amazon even carries them and if they’d qualify for my Prime membership with free shipping. Do I really want something with ‘sugar’ in its name though? Isn’t that why the marketing geniuses at Sugar Smacks changed the name to Honey Smacks years ago? What parent in their right mind would buy something for their child that starts with the word ‘sugar?’

And mama in her kerchief
And I in my cap
Had just settled our brains
For a long winter’s nap

This story is told from the mom’s point of view so I guess that would put Dave in the kerchief.  And, seriously, if he ever tries to go to sleep wearing a kerchief, I will Gilligan-slap him with my cap.  And I will post a picture of him in this kerchief here and all over Facebook so you’ll be the first to know. Oh, and settling ‘our brains for long winter’s nap?’ What are we … bears?

When out on the lawn
There arose such a clatter
I sprang from my bed
To see what was the matter

Geez, Santa. Can you and your fleet please keep it down out there so my kids stay ‘nestled?’ I’ve got work to do here.

Away to the window
I flew like a flash
Tore open the shudders
And threw up the sash

Great. Thanks a lot, Santa. Now I need to get to Home Depot the day after Christmas to replace my shudders. And, apparently, my sash.   What aisle are the sashes on?

The moon on the breast
Of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of midday
To objects below

I wonder how many weasels who google ‘breast’ looking for, you know, wind up being directed to ODNT … or this poem. Maybe the famed poet used ‘breast’ as a tag for his poem to get more hits on his website.  Duh. Yes, I know they didn’t have Google back in the 1800s. In the early days, they used stuff like Lycos and WebCrawler.

When what to my wondering
Eyes should appear
But a miniature sleigh
Any eight tiny reindeer

Whoa, maybe I need to back off the pain meds. This is way worse that swaying fan blades. And, more importantly, where the hell is Rudolph?

With a little old driver
So lively and quick
I knew in a moment
It must be St. Nick

Old? Fine.  But little?  No offense, Santa, but I have no idea how you can be either ‘lively’ or ‘quick.’ Seriously, what’s your secret? Wait … it’s ‘sugar’ plums, isn’t it?

More rapid than eagles
His coursers they came
And he whistled and shouted
And called them by name

OMG, Santa! Will you please keep it down?

Now Dasher, Now Dancer
Now Prancer and Vixen
On Comet, On Cupid
On Donner and Blitzen

Comet? Vixen? Who named these deer anyway?  And, again, where the hell is Rudolph?

To the top of the porch
To the top of the wall
Now dash away, dash away
Dash away all

Dash away? Wait, you haven’t even come in yet.  Oh, and please get the reindeer off the porch.  Last year, they knocked off a ton of shingles and we spent the week between Christmas and New Year’s fixing the damned roof.

As dry leaves that before
The wild hurricane fly
When they meet with an obstacle
Mount to the sky

Hurricanes? Uncool, Mr. Moore, uncool.  We, New Orleanians, do not want to be concerned with hurricanes on Christmas Eve.  So, I’m suggesting the following replacement options: ‘As dry leaves put in my daughter’s mud pie’ or maybe ‘As dry leaves cluster across my lawn (sigh).’ Ooh, and one more.  ‘As dry leaves indicate the plant’s gonna die.’ You can have any and all of them.  Consider them my gift.  Just get ‘hurricane’ out of that poem.

So up to the housetop
The coursers they flew
With a sleigh full of toys
And St. Nicholas, too

Again, with the coursers? What’s with the ten dollar word, Mr. Moore?  You do realize that ‘reindeer’ would’ve worked fine here, too, right?

And then in a twinkling
I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing
Of each little hoof


As I drew in my head
And was turning around
Down the chimney St. Nicholas
Came with a bound

A bound??? Now, you’re not even trying.  I’m going to bed.  If you wake them up, YOU deal with it.

He was dressed all in fur
From his head to his foot
And his clothes were all tarnished
With ashes and soot

As Mrs. Claus, I would be so pissed at having to get out ash and soot stains every year.  You know how tired that poor woman probably is by the 26th?  And how do you think the reindeer feel about Santa dressing ‘all in fur?’ That outfit is probably red from years of PETA followers throwing buckets of blood all over the old man.  Santa, ever consider an upgrade? I found this fly red track suit you might be interested in.

A bundle of toys
He had flung on his back
And he looked like a peddler
Just opening his pack

Honestly, if someone fell down my chimney in the middle of the night … his appearance (‘peddler’ or otherwise) … would send me running for the panic button on my house alarm’s keypad.

His eyes how they twinkled
His dimples how merry
His cheeks were like roses
His nose like a cherry

It sounds like you have a terrible case of eczema right now, Santa.  Very common for this time of year.  You really should see a dermatologist about it before it gets any worse.

His droll little mouth
Was drawn up like a bow
And the beard of his chin
Was as white as the snow

Seriously, if you don’t take care of that skin problem, that beautiful beard is going to start falling out in clumps.

The stump of his pipe
He held tight in his teeth
And the smoke, it encircled his head
Like a wreath

I cannot believe you smoked in my house.  Geez, Santa.  It’s 2011. Get some help. http://www.nicodermcq.com/

He had a broad face
And a round little belly
That shook when he laughed
Like a bowl full of jelly


He was chubby and plump
A right jolly, old elf
And I laughed when I saw him
In spite of myself

I know, I know.  How many times can I apologize?  I’m sorry.  It’s just that with the bowl-full-of-jelly-thing and the red face … well, YOU try not to laugh.

A wink of his eye
And a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know
I had nothing to dread

I’m not afraid of you, jolly man! … And stop winking at me, creeper.

He spoke not a word
But went straight to his work
And filled all the stockings
Then turned with a jerk

I get this mental picture in my brain every time I hear this line.

And laying his finger
Aside of his nose
And giving a nod
Up the chimney he rose

As a child, I always heard “inside of his nose.” Kleenex, Santa?

He sprang to his sleigh
To his team gave a whistle
And away they all flew
Like the down of a thistle

Sure.  Go ahead, whistle.  My kids have been awake for hours now anyway.

Then I heard him exclaim
As he drove out of sight
Happy Christmas to all
And to all a good night

Well, at least they were awake to hear your good tidings.  But were we the last stop in our neighborhood … or was everyone else naughty?  Shouldn’t you be going to other houses tonight?  Also, are you British?  I love the expression ‘Happy Christmas’ and just wrote about it yesterday.  Did you read my ‘Throw your arms around the World’ post?  (That’s ridiculous. Like Santa has time to read ODNT these days.)


That Suburban Momma