Holiday Humor...continued

Letter to Santa from Mom

Dear Santa,

I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned, and cuddled my two children on demand, visited their doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground, and figured out how to attach nine patches onto my daughter's girl scout sash with staples and a glue gun.

I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes: I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache after a day of chasing kids (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to carry a screaming toddler out of the candy aisle in the grocery store. I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.

If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like a car with fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide when I want to talk on the phone.

On the practical side, I could use a talking daughter doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with one potty-trained toddler, two kids who don't fight, and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools. I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting, "Don't eat in the living room", "Take your shoes off the couch," and 'Take your hands off your brother/sister," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.

And please don't forget the Playdoh Travel Pack, the stocking stuffer this year for mothers of preschoolers. It comes in three fluorescent colors and is guaranteed to crumble on any carpet making the In-laws' house seem just like mine.

If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.

If you don't mind I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family; or if my toddler didn't look so cute sneaking downstairs to eat contraband ice cream in his pajamas at midnight.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back.

Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the chimney and come in and dry off by the fire so you don't catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table, but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.

Yours Always, My Kids' Mom

PS: One more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in you.


Signs You're Caught Up in the Holidaze Shopping Frenzy

-- Before stepping out of your car, you put in a mouthpiece, slip on protective goggles, and tape your ankles.

-- You've somehow convinced yourself that "Visa burn" entitles you to park in handicapped spaces.

-- You call the kids to dinner and hear their muffled screams coming from boxes you wrapped that afternoon.

-- At 95 percent off, you don't care if that Acme Iron Lung works or not -- your kids are going to use it and appreciate it!

-- On any given day, you have more plastic on you than Anna Nicole Smith and Pamela Anderson Lee combined.

-- Upon awakening on the sofa, you discover 10 beer empties, 5 Cheeto's bags, and an answering machine message thanking you for your order of 100 Dale Earnhardt Hummel Figures.

-- Your MasterCard bill arrives on a Zip disk.


What Do You Say Whey You Get A Gift you Really Don't Like...

- Well, well, well, now, there's a gift!

- No, really, I didn't know that there was a Chia Pet tie! Oh, wow! It's a clip-on too!

- You know, I always wanted one of these! Jog my memory--what's it called again?

- You know what?--I'm going to find a special place to put this!

- You say that was the last one? Am I some glad that you snapped that baby up!

- You shouldn't have! I mean it, you really shouldn't have!








The Twelve Days After Christmas

The first day after Christmas, my true love and I had a fight,
And so I chopped the pear tree down and burned it just for spite.
Then with a single cartridge I shot that blasted partridge
My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me.

The second day after Christmas, I pulled on the old rubber gloves
And very gently wrung the necks of both the turtle doves
My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me.

The third day after Christmas, my mother caught the croup;
I had to use the three French Hens to make some chicken soup.
The four calling birds were a big mistake for their language was obscene.
The five golden rings were completely fake and they turned my fingers green.

The sixth day after Christmas, the six laying geese wouldn't lay.
I gave the whole darn gaggle to the A.S.P.C.A.
On the seventh day, what a mess I found;
All seven of the swimming swans had drowned
My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me.

The eighth day after Christmas, before they could suspect
I bundled up the eight maids a milking, nine pipers piping,
Ten ladies dancing, eleven lords a-leaping, twelve drummers drumming
And sent them back collect. I wrote my true love, "We are through, love!"
And I said in so many words,
"Furthermore, your Christmas gifts were for the birds!"





An Arkansas Night before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the shack
Not a thing was a movin' -- from the front to the back,

The kids were in bed, I believe we had nine.
The wife in her curlers, was lookin' real fine.

A cold wind was blowin', up the holler it moaned.
All seven dogs on the porch howled and groaned.

The boys were all dreamin' of weapons and guns.
For killin' God's creatures, there's no better fun.

The girls in their feminine dreams were attuned,
To getting those gallons of Wal-Mart perfume.

The wife wanted jewelry, like rings with big rocks.
I wanted my Chevy, down off the blocks.

Then in the yard, such a noise did commence
Like something was caught, in the barb-wire fence.

I ran to the window, and saw pretty quick.
The man makin' the racket, was Good Ol' St. Nick.

You may think of Santa, in your own mind's eye,
Dressed in a red and white suit, but I've got a surprise.

That old boy's an Arkie, our fair state he won't fail'er.
He married his cousin, and they live in a trailer.

On Christmas, of course, a sleigh for his rig,
He hooks the thing up, to a razorback pig.

He climbed on the roof, with his bag full of goodies.
He backed down the fireplace, all dirty and sooty.

Fat legs in his britches, chubby hands in his mittens,
I admit from the back, he looked like Bill Clinton.

He turned toward the tree, his eyes all aglow.
He was a Southern boy, from his head to his toe.

His neck was a red one, His shirt said "Light Beer."
There was no red hat, his cap read,"John Deere."

He left all the presents, with an air of delight.
Then it was back to the chimney, and into the night.

He ran into the yard, and threw his bag in the sleigh.
Then he yelled at the dogs, to get out of the way.

And I heard him exclaim, as those pigs took to flight,
Merry Christmas to all, And to all ...A "Bud lite!"


Christmas defined...

Christmas: The time when everyone gets Santamental.


Once Upon a Time...

Once upon a time there was a flock of angels with
long flowing beautiful hair. But lo and behold, due
to improper eating habits and advanced age, all
their hair fell out.

They soon saw the light and purchased gorgeous,
extravagant wigs, which were even more golden
and more flowing than their original hair.

One day, there came unto the angels very bad tidings.
They lost their financial security and were reduced to
a penniless state. In utmost misery, they fell to their
knees and prayed for a solution.

Suddenly, the clouds parted and a thunderous voice
gave forth the following, "Hock the Hair, Old Angels."


'Twas the Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, I sprang from my bed,
Hideous visions aflame in my head.
Was I dead? Overfed? Wherefore this dread?
Then it hit me like lead: I'd not taken my meds!

Away to the window I flew like a flash
Ere recalling that I of course kept my stash
Near my bed in a tray divided by days.
I pried Wednesday open, then felt myself sway.

It was empty! Ye gods! I hadn't refilled!
Would the panic of Christmases Past now rebuild?
The sobbing at Saks, the crying at carols?
The ill-chosen gifts? The parties? The peril?

The scorching of chestnuts, the gulping of nog?
The tantrum that comes from a wet Presto log?
The messy obsessing with all things morose?
Could I do that again? No, no! I'd be toast.

Quick! Call the druggist! (I said to myself),
And I did, but instead of the pharmacy elf,
I heard a man say in a proud, twangy voice:
"Our nation's depressed have new cause to rejoice!

I've expanded our war! (the one against drugs)
To wipe out all evil, including the thugs
Peddlin' them psychopharmaceuticals!
The Depressed can use faith! Like I do! It's beautiful!"

Then there was silence. I thought: It's a hoax.
A crop circle con job; the worst of all jokes.
With trazodone gone, I'd do no more sleeping;
Sans Paxil I'd go back to whining and weeping.

But now all these lifesaving drugs had been banned
So the free and the brave could reclaim the land?
But the brave, I'd found out, didn't have special talents;
Their brains were just blessed with chemical balance!

In withdrawal already, I thought I could see
My pre-med affliction flying toward me --
'Twas my negative animus driving a sleigh;
Eight twinkling iguanas pulled it this way!

"I'm not home!" I screamed out, but closer they came
Till I swear I could hear him call them by name:
"Now, Prozac! now, Xanax! now, Paxil, now Zoloft!
Onward, Wellbutrin! On, Vodka and Rudolph!"

Who was my bad animus? St. Nick? A pusher?
Part of a trap set up by some Busher?
Mister Rush Limbaugh? Mister Bill Bennett?
The ghost of Strom Thurmond returned to the Senate?

Unable to bear it, I jumped back in bed,
Dived under the covers and feigned being dead
Till this darkness had passed and on came the dawn.
My animus and his iguanas were gone,

And my Wednesday meds were still in their slot.
('Twas Tuesday I'd checked, while my judgment was shot.)
I swallowed them quickly and tried to put right
The lingering fright from my harrowing night.

Such a nightmare I'd had! It was worthy of Freud!
And poor Kafka too: It was that paranoid!
A Jungian rerun! So very regressive
To dream Bush would steal the rights of depressives!

Had he not, after all, used drugs himself?
(Albeit none that had come from a pharmacy shelf?)
Still, the man had compassion; ditto the season!
(I kept telling myself, searching for reason.)

But try as I might I could not feel secure
Till I phoned up my druggist and made really sure
That I'd dreamed it all up, and had I? You bet.
Nothing that crazy could happen. (Not yet.)

+Source: San Francisco Chronicle, Jean Gonick, Dec. 24, 2003+

Chanukah Songs that Never Quite Caught On

Oy to the World
Schlepping through a Winter Wonderland
Hava Negilah - The Megamix
Bubbie Yetta Got Run Over by a Reindeer
Enough with those facackennah Jingle Bells Already...Sheez!
Matzo Man (by the Lower East Side Village People)
I Have a Little Dreidel (the Barking Dog Version)
Come on Baby, Light My Menorah
Deck the Halls with Balls of Matzos
Silent Night? I Should Be So Lucky


Santa Is A Woman

Santa is a woman
I'm convinced it must be true
So many things he takes credit for
Most men just will not do

He spends his days in shopping malls
Passing out candy and gum sticks
He gabs with moms and kids alike
And takes great party pics

Santa always keeps a list
And always checks it twice
Why, isn't that the story
Of every woman's life?

Santa's into arts and crafts
He's always making toys
And he keeps tabs on all the neighborhood kids
Knows the nice girls and boys

Santa likes to decorate
They say he has a flair
He can do the trees all by himself
Knows which ornament goes where

Santa does not mind asking directions
There's a lot of deliveries, you know
To houses all over the universe
In cities high and low

Santa makes a fashion statement
That few other men would copy
In a fur-trimmed suit of velvet red
Never wrinkled, never sloppy

Yes, Santa Claus there is a Virginia
And a Mary, Sue and Jane
You must know all of them quite well
For you are much the same

Santa has to be a woman
It's the only thing that's right
Who else would work on holiday presents
All hours of the night

Author Unknown