What happy little elves we are
Though we’d rather be at the bar
We work day and night
For Santa’s big flight
But as karaoke night, WE’D be the star!

The fat man is on his way
He’s loading up his sleigh
But the weight is too heavy
It’s more than a Chevy!
Santa’s eaten too much today

Santa has lost his sock
So he called his good friend Spock
“The logic’s not there,
It’s got to be somewhere!”
And it was hiding in his bright red frock.

C3PO is trimming the Christmas tree
R2D2 is noisy as can be
Santa’s on his way
When they hear Yoda say,
“A Christmas very merry, it will be!”

It’s getting closer to midnight
Santa’s preparing for his flight
He sits on his throne
With a pack of Keystone
And he’s good to go for the night.

If you look out your window at night
Don’t expect to see Santa in flight
He’s too busy napping
After a day job of rapping
With his homie Dr. Dre, what a sight!

Didn’t get much this year,
Just a shirt and a twelve-pack of beer.
Not sure who to thank,
But someone I’ll shank,
So Santa better watch his rear!

Santa is jolly, don’t you ever forget
He’s the roundest man I’ve ever met.
I make sense of the sleigh
As he flies far away,
But how does he fit in that Corvette?

The reindeer are all in a row,
Ready for Santa’s big show.
Rudolph ate a la carte,
And let out a big fart,
Now none of them want to go!

Santa, the dear ol’ fellow
Though he was just being mellow.
He went out one night,
Turned down a big fight,
Now the reindeer all just call him yellow.

Frosty the Snowman came to life one day
With his big snow boots and a stolen hat, he tried to get away
He realized the hand he was dealt
When the sun came out, he began to melt!
So it looks like the cops will not be catching Frosty today.

2. Little red-haired boys are mean. I was terrified everyday of preschool because of the little freckled monster and his blondie best friend.

3. I do not like gummy worms. In first grade, the teacher gave us gummy worms often as a treat or for doing good work. I discovered I disliked them, and because of my fear of any form of confrontation (yes, my social anxiety started at a very young age), I would not tell her that I did not like them, and so I built a pile of uneaten worms inside my desk. One day, the boy sitting next to me, JB, noticed the mash of colorful goodness going stale inside my desk and decided to announce it while telling me how gross it was. I threw them away after that.

4. I am certain that “Achy Breaky Heart” is one of the worst songs ever. No explanation needed.

5. Lines such as “How about a nice cup of shut the hell up!”– my wonderful high school Civics teacher

6. You don’t have to be popular or prissy to be a cheerleader. I was one, and I’m not even cheerful. I did at one time have good abs, though. Those have since gone by the wayside. That doesn’t mean I can’t get them back, right?

7. You wouldn’t think it possible, but you can apparently tie in Tuesdays With Morrie to just about any assignment, including describing how you think Morrie would feel about a particular ethnic restaurant. I probably should have just turned in a blank sheet of paper because Morrie never got back to me about my inquiries.

8. It does not matter how much I try to accomplish, or what plans I make to study, chances are it just will not happen.

9. When you think you have done well, chances are you have done poorly. When you think you have done poorly, it could go either way.

10. Never start swearing angrily if you forgot to turn the loudspeaker off.

11. An instructor that will not yell at you for being unprepared, but will slap you on the arm for doing something good is an instructor that cares.

12. Procrastination really is not so bad. It teaches you to think on your toes, and work quickly toward a greatly shortened deadline.

13. When you are four, and embarrass your father because you refuse to “hop” at the Hop-a-thon in preschool (to the point where he never wants to attend school functions again), he will still be frustrated about it 20 years later.

14. A 1966 Plymouth Valiant is the greatest first car ever. And you will never lose it in the parking lot.

15. Never underestimate the possible dangers involved in dodge ball.

16. I’ve been pushed around a lot throughout my entire life. I have no advice on this, it’s just simply a realization that pisses me off a little bit.

17. Graham crackers and chocolate frosting are delicious.

18. Late night take-out at a university cafeteria was a great idea for insomniacs like myself.

19. There really is nothing like a freezing ten-degree walk clear across a campus at 8am to wake you up.

20. It really is okay to change your college major three times. By the time you graduate, you still won’t know what you want to be when you grow up.

I have some cheap, black boots with furry crap on the inside that I wear to shovel the driveway, or if I just need to run outside quickly but am being too lazy to put on real shoes. But no way am I going to spend $200 on a pair of fuzzy boots.

And I don’t care how warm and fluffy they feel on your feet. If you wear them with a miniskirt they are not going to keep your legs warm. And they are not going to prevent you from looking like an imbecile.
And then there’s the step down from simply furry on the inside to 4-inch hair completely covering the outside so that you look like a yeti.

Yes, I’ve seen at least two or three abominable snowmen wandering around this weekend. When the fur on your boots makes up about 70 percent of the material on your body, you look ridiculous.

In no way am I saying that I am an expert on fashion, because I’m not. I wear Beatles, Spy vs. Spy, and Transformers t-shirts with jeans and bright green running shoes. I’m not much of one to put a ton of thought into what I wear most of the time. I’m just different, but I do try not to look like a complete fool. So why pay so much to get that I’m a complete conformist to “fashion” norms even though I look stupid look?

I’d rather not have soggy, snow-covered hair surrounding my ankles all winter long, but if you feel so inclined, go for it. Join the yeti ranks in your leggings and puffy coat that is two sizes too small.

I think I’ll stick to being warm and covered when it’s ten degrees outside.

Just yesterday I encountered not one or two, but FOUR of these craptastic fellas in the basement, waiting to hop into my clean laundry pile and hitch a ride upstairs so they can more easily attack me in my sleep.

As most people know, and as you can tell from what I’ve said so far, I have an oddly ludicrous fear and paranoia of these things. I sense them when they are in the room. I see even the tiniest little bugger when other people have to search even after I’ve pointed it out. And yet I’m so incredibly phobic that I cannot even get close enough to kill one, much less clean up the aftermath. It’s bad. And it’s a good thing I don’t live alone.

However, I will say that the one spider I can deal with are daddy long legs. Maybe it’s knowing that they can’t possible hurt me if they wanted to, or the fact that I used to play with them as a kid. But I’m pretty sure it’s due to the fact that I picture them as a lanky, doofy thing with a cartoon smiling face.

All other spiders are fair game. They can be minuscule, and to me they are terrifying. But the fear does grow the larger the spider is. But I imagine all spiders are out to get me. They know I am more afraid of them than anything in this world, and they thrive on the adventure of encroaching on my safe space, my once bug-free house, and semi-normal basement. But the basement to me is now their space. I cannot go down those stairs without the feeling of something watching me, waiting for just the right moment.

I’m quite certain that these beings could withstand the fiery depths of Hell and return to taunt me. Laugh at my uneasiness and feed off of my anxiety.

Next step: Have a spider-free house. Good luck to me on that one. They always know where I am. And they will come for me.

On the way out, however, I happened to notice the “greeter” of the day. Generally it is one of two or three different people that I recognize as being there ALL the time, and they generally say their own masterfully planned versions of “hello” or “goodbye” that I’ve heard a thousand times, and I pass by and am on my way.

Today it was not one of those textbook, lovable door people. It was an older woman. She had one of those short, old-lady, mushroom top style haircuts, and an awful scowl on her face like she was preparing to take somebody down if they tried to cross her. She was old lady Hitler.

Not only did she have this fowl look on her face, but she was maybe five feet tall. And pushing 90 pounds. Tiny, tiny Nazi lady. Standing with her arms crossed. Like she was a brick wall and you were about to make a swift, strong movement and bust through.

The entire way to the door she stared straight ahead, as if she were staring me down, but was careful not to make eye contact. Didn’t want to look TOO serious.

I still somehow expected to hear the usual “Have a nice day” or “Come back again” or whatever other insanely generic statement she could come up with… but I was sadly mistaken. She just continued to stare. Straight ahead. Not even budge. Or blink. So angry.

She was too mean, too all-powerful to even do her job. Or even crack a smile like it really wasn’t the end of the world, after all. And it made me so very frustrated.

I go to my job everyday, and do my job. Is it so difficult for everyone else to just do the same?

But either way, this little old tyrant woman is probably still standing there, finishing her shift as the “greeter” that doesn’t speak, and simply wants to destroy every human that walks through those magical electric doors.

But this isn’t to say that I don’t have a critical or judgmental side. I do. I won’t lie. I like to talk about and complain about people. Especially people that I don’t know and have no earthly intention of ever meeting.

The other day I saw a woman having a meeting, and she was dressed nice enough, business-like pretty much. But man oh man did she have some orangey, bleached-out puff hair. This along with a ragged, worn-out, fake-tanned face. Now I realize this is common practice for many individuals, and is widely accepted in social situations—although I am not involved in many of those things—but sometimes people just need to say “NO!” to leather face.

Either way, I referred to this woman that I’ve never met as “Crack-head Barbie.” Not to her face, of course. But she looked a little like this:

Well, let’s just say I know someone very… spiritual?.. who happened to hear me say this. And his response was, “Well that’s not very Christian of you. You should listen to one of my sermons”. Then he proceeded to tell me about his anger management sermon he gave, and how I need to get rid of the hate in my heart and fill it with more love.

So I said, “There are just some people that I cannot find love for.” And he continued on to tell me that I should. That he loves everybody. So apparently that means that I should, too.

And how this means that I have anger management problems is beyond me. I am cynical, yes. But angry? With problems managing that anger? Not so much. I do get frustrated and annoyed quite easily, which is probably why I am so completely pessimistic about everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. But I am far from angry.

If I were an angry person, you would probably see remnants of past acquaintances and uncomfortable furniture and faulty kitchen appliances everywhere. And I would be rotting away in a prison cell, or even solitary confinement for shanking someone that bothered me. And that has yet to happen, so I think I’m okay.

I do get a little peeved when I can’t get comfortable on the couch, though. We need some better couches. I guess if I shred them in anger that might be a good excuse? Maybe not a good idea. That would just give the cats a giant pile of shredded fluff to get devoured by, and I don’t feel like digging them out. However, I just imagined destroying them Wolverine-style (X-Men) and that would be awesome.

I might just leave it at that.

Let people wonder.

But I have a thought and should continue before I forget about it.

So, as I was in the stall, preparing to leave, I hear a girl begin to sing. I’m not quite sure what song she was singing, but she was just outright singing. So I walk out of the stall and over to wash my hands, and she’s standing at the mirror sort of playing with her hair, still singing. And after a few seconds she keeps singing, only a bit softer now, and leaves the restroom.

Not that I’ve never seen people doing that before–because everyone thinks they can sing nowadays–but it just got me thinking. Or more conjuring up a plan. A plan that most likely will never happen, but it’s still a plan, and could be glorious if it ever did happen.

So you go a busy mall with a few friends, and you each go in to the restroom at different times, not talking, acting as if you’ve never met the others. When you are all in various stalls, one person will start singing a song, and gradually the others join in, eventually traveling into harmonies and such, creating some awesome bathroom music.

I think it could be quite entertaining, and interesting to see if any random strangers joined in, if they were convinced the singers did not come in together. It probably would never happen, but it is a fun thought.

When I’m driving behind someone down a couple of streets, I always feel like they think I am following them anyway, so I figure, why not make it happen? Not for a long period of time so as to get caught, just to put a little more fear in the hearts of your fellow man. People scare me on a constant basis, so I guess I should find some way to return the favor.

Although in my case, I probably should hold off on this fun task, as I’m not necessarily in the best of locations for scaring people. Chances are they will be better at scaring me in return. And that’s not really a chance I’d like to take.
But if the time comes that I am in a nice, friendly spot where harm is not a factor, it sure could be fun.

In one day I saw more confusing and frustrating things than I can even describe, but I can sure try.

A lady was leaving the park, in her car, driving insanely slow, partially on the wrong side of the road off and on, almost stopping at a few different points for no reason at all. What..?? Definitely aggravating when you are driving behind her, but seriously, lady, are you drunk? High? Can you just not drive and chose a Sunday afternoon to try and teach yourself? I know most people around here cannot drive in an acceptable manner but she was a bit ridiculous.

When I was waiting to turn out of the neighborhood, a man drove past while giving me a pointer-finger wave. Now this was index–not middle–finger. It was not a friendly, just-for-the-heck-of-it “howdy” wave, because his face was slightly more awkward than “hello”. It was more of a smirk. And the wave appeared to be more of a “tisk, tisk, you’ve done something wrong” one-finger wave. And all I could think was, What did I do? I’m just sitting here, waiting my turn to drive, and this is the response I get? Who are you? And what does it matter to me? It did only take him 2 seconds to drive past me, but yes, I really did have all of these thoughts after that measly occurrence, because I questioned it that much. That man was just that odd to me.

Maybe slightly more odd than the teenagers at the store later that evening, but then again maybe not. These special beings were either just plain weird or maybe they thought they were the next famous comedy act that would never make it past the first show. Either way, they were walking through the store wearing footed pajamas. Nothing else. No shoes required, because HEY, they have built-in shoes! In their pajamas! Pajamas that are now apparently designed for outdoor use. As comfy as they may be, all fleecy and warm, they are not meant for public appearances.

There are plenty of dumb things that happen every day. People just aren’t bright. And I may never be able to make sense out of things they do. Why drive like a moron? Why have three-inch long fingernails? Why act and dress half your age? Why speak in such a way that no regular person can begin to comprehend? Why turn your 1998 Neon into a tricked out racing machine?

Nobody Knows.

Basically, all I learn from observing people (aside from getting irritated) is that people do dumb things because they can. And other people let them. And with enough dumb people doing dumb things, it has basically become a part of accepted society. But really, all it does is make me not want to be in public anymore. I do what I can to avoid people that I don’t know. And sometimes, after spending enough time at the store or gas station or a restaurant, I think that is okay.

High school brought the most memorable moments that I can recall at the moment. The first item that comes to mind is the small group of cheerleaders that formed our special little “clan” to sneak around on the weekends and TP random people. Always people we knew. Not even always people we disliked entirely. It was just fun to do. We cruised around in the station wagon with piles of toilet paper in the back. We tried to avoid the white vans that drove around the town at night seeking out people like us. Trying to destroy our fun. A couple of us mastered the art of unlocking the school’s toilet paper holders with a bobby pin to get the giant rolls. However we could only do this during half-time at the football games when no one was around. And as it turns out, these rolls are only useful on bushes, since throwing them through the air does not end well. There was even a case where tuna came into play. This lucky person was actually a friend of one of the girls. Surprise! But I cannot reveal any of the houses where these events occurred. All I can say is that this is what we cheerleaders resorted to for fun on the weekends when we did not have games. We were not bad kids, we were just occasionally motivated to ruin people’s days. It happens.

At the moment I’ve drawn a blank to any other events. My life has just been that eventful.

I do have to point out, however, that I just witnessed a commercial that stated, “If you are between the ages of 0 and 85, call [insert phone number].” Seriously? Age 0?? That would mean that you either do not exist, or you are still in the womb. And that would definitely be something everyone would be amazed to see. A fetus with a cell phone calling the phone number from the television. Or even a toddler that is over the age of “0″. Why would a child be expected to pick up the phone to call about senior life insurance? Honestly people will do anything with these dang commercials to make everyone feel like it is urgent that they call NOW! When chances are, most people don’t need to call them at all. We would just like to be left alone. To watch our midnight programming. And terrible movies that they allow on television. Got to love terrible scripts mixed with terrible acting. Makes for a good show.