Sarah Gone Wild

You are in big trouble, missy!

Look what she did to me!

After I blogged about being a scrooge, this is what I get, huh? A tag for holiday traditions??? Well, this is an easy one.

My holiday traditions revolve around being stressed out, too poor to buy the cool gifts I want to buy for my family and friends and really cranky. So why should this post be any different?

Christmas Eve belongs to my mom, stepdad and siblings. We open all our gifts and have a huge dinner, and once again, I am NOT getting Christmas pizza. Christmas day is a stressful clusterfuck that includes spending a few hours at T’s parents’ house with his family (I love them all except two, and those two never fail to make it a miserable experience…”Oh, my diabetes! I can’t make the crying kids a plate because I have diabetes!” Funny, your diabetes didn’t keep you from bowling until 2 AM! ”Oh, you did [enter some trivial piece of conversation of which the culprit was not involved here], did you? Well, I [enter some overexaggerated, lie-filled one-uppance here].”) Then we head over to see someone on my biodad’s side. This year, we’re going to Festus. No offense to those who live there, but that’s just miserable sounding. How can anyone get excited about visiting a city that sounds like a pus-filled wound?? A few days after Christmas, I go see whomever got screwed on Christmas day. So it NEVER ENDS.

I want to be rich. I want to be off work entirely for the holidays. I want Christmas pizza, dammit!

Since I’m such a miser, I won’t be tagging anyone. Take that, my lovely Pamster. Yeah, I bet that hurts. It burns, just like the coal in my stocking (which happens to packed away in the attic). But you know I still love you.

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