a few notes to send out
As much as you love visiting your family, I’m very excited that you are coming home tonight. I wish it weren’t so late. I’m not too familiar with the new airport, so I don’t know if I’ll meet you at the gate or not. I’ll be somewhere around there, though, so don’t worry.
Give my love to your family before you get on that plane. And don’t forget to bring home your Christmas presents again, like last year.
P.S.– The washing machine seems to be broken. I’m blaming Matt and Becca. I know that they used it when we were gone. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I threw our throw rug in the wash thinking it would be spotless when you got home, but instead tore itself to shreds inside the machine and turned the inside of the machine a bizarre orange. But, you know, school spirit and all, we should have a burnt orange washing machine, right? Heh-heh. Uh, anyway, now it seems to just hold water in there for a while and not wash or rinse anything at all. I’ll talk to Matt about it, so don’t you worry about anything.
P.P.S.– I love you!
Dear Matt and Becca,
First of all, I wanted to thank you for looking after our apartment while we were away. The cats were still alive, no one was locked in the bathroom and everything was still inside of the apartment. You guys rock. I’ll come pick up the keys this afternoon.
The real reason I was writing was to tell you that Eric had quite a bit happen to him while he was visiting his family, and he’s acting sorta strange. I just don’t want you guys to worry when we hang out this weekend if he looks a bit shifty-eyed, or won’t go and get you guys any beer or says strange things like, “Appliance Breakers.” He’s just a bit on-edge after this whole Christmas dinner incident that would be best off not talked about. I hope you guys understand.
Oh, and if Eric throws Eggs on your windshield– he’s only saying “hi.”
I know that you guys probably sat around and tried to come up with the best Christmas present to give the nation and probably passed a few high-fives around when you decided to run 24 hours of A Christmas Story. I’m sure you realized that the beauty of running the film over and over again for a full day straight was that anyone could watch the film at anytime, and not worry about missing this holiday classic.
What you probably hadn’t anticipated, however, was my father.
You see, he doesn’t just watch an hour of your marathon. He doesn’t watch just two hours. He watches the marathon. The marathon. If there is ever a second where he cannot find something on television, or if he just feels like half-napping in his chair with the television on, he switches it over to TNT and dives right in.
Hours. Hours of listening to monologues and kids screeching and “Mommy’s little piggy” snorting. Hours of “You’ll shoot your eye out” and “Cry! Baby! Cry!” Hours of “Fra-geee-lay” and “It was… soap poisoning!” Hours. HOURS! HOURS!
If this continues, next year I’ll be forced to shoot my own eye out and mail it to your network.
Dear Squishy readers and senders of gifts,
Christmas will be celebrated this evening, so I haven’t opened anything yet. Tomorrow I will be filled with good tidings and joy, I’m sure.
Dear Mom and Dad,
Thanks again for the new dining room set. I can’t wait for it to arrive. It will be very nice to sit and eat at a table for the first time in three years. We can’t just eat over the living room table anymore, as the “food catching rug” has been demolished in a horrible holiday accident. You see, I had friends watch the house while I was being a good daughter, staying at home and visiting you, and they totally threw this huge party (you should have seen how scared Cal and Taylor were!) and at one point they shredded our throw rug just for fun. I know, it was pretty senseless. Don’t worry about who threw the party, you didn’t know them. Well, Matt. Matt. Remember how much you liked Matt? Well, he ripped up my rug and spat on the cats. I didn’t see him spit on the cat, but the cat had this crusty thing by his tail, so I just put two and two together. But thanks for the furniture. Don’t send any money or anything, as we are going to take care of this whole rug fiasco quickly and put it all behind us. Have a good new year.
Well, you’re almost here, aren’t you? Hard to believe we’ve been pumping a whole year of excitement into one evening. I saw the office Christmas tree this morning and I got a bit depressed because all of this brouhaha is almost over.
I really just have one question: Was I supposed to do something for your arrival? I don’t mean plan a party or whatever, all of outside is going to be a party, so I guess we’ll just go outside and try not to get killed. I mean more along the lines of my home/work computer. Was I supposed to download something or turn something off or upgrade? Look, Y2K, I’d appreciate it if you kept it pretty quiet, as I’m supposed to be really cool and geek-like, and I’m pretty sure I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do, but I’d appreciate a bit of reassurance.
You see, the number one forum on the site that host’s my forum (mine’s number nine, by the way) is a Y2K readiness forum. Number 2 is also about you. I’m just concerned that maybe I was supposed to build a shelter and buy canned food and pull a mad amount of cash from the bank and stuff. They all did.
Y2K? Am I going to die?
Write back real soon.
+ 2 be