christmas is the pits, family version

IT'S TOO LATE FOR ME, I ALREADY SPIKED MY COFFEE WITH KAHLUA AND THE VODKA IS GODDAMN NEXT.

no, seriously, i have been refreshing facebook all goddamn day waiting for something to be christmas-y enough to make it feel like i took the --

OH MOTHERFUCKER. i let my kids play in the fucking pouring florida rain because i literally cannot handle any more, and that lasted five stupid minutes. now one of them is wet and crying and won't change because she's playing a game with her sister whom she also wants to kill because she just doused her with shit-filled florida puddle water, but omg game though. also can i dry her dress by hand while she plays the game, and fuck you christmas eve. why did you think you could type on a keyboard at any point during school vacation?

-- anyway, christmas-y enough to make it feel like i took the horrible three-hour flight -- where my kids will have to go to the bathroom four times each and spill their fucking peanuts and cry -- to my ma's where it's probably snowing its ass off. she has no heat so the whole family, all BILLION of us, would sit around in stinky-ass slippers and three goddamn overcoats hoping someone will make a joke that's actually funny soon, and did anyone get uncle tommy whiskey this year?

but, no. my sorry ass is here, looking at stupid "my year has been great" facebook reels while i ignore my filthy, mudtrodden, 90-degree house and think, LIES. ALL LIES.

no one's fucking year was great, okay? for a hot second, i consider lining my sopping kids up in the living room to sing their version of jingle bells because they say whore instead of horse and that is literally the jolliest thing about christmas this year. get them all ready in front of our fake-ass tree with the bulbs on all sideways and only on the top half because we bought this puppy and not related but i'm sure that thing is shitting in the house somewhere right now. probably on the presents we couldn't afford that i tossed under the guest bed that never gets used because ain't no one visiting this hellhole. which is a damn shame since i make a really great disgusting jello mold for christmas. it's red and green and everything, motherfuckers.

at least my dad is texting me lines from christmas vacation. the only christmas movie that means a damn thing.

all i want is a whole pan of fudge i didn't have to fucking make and goddamn lifetime christmas movies where some woman younger than me is convinced she's never going to have my life and she's so sad about it she ruins christmas for everyone until she throws on her expensive purple coat, crashes a bar, gets smashed and meets the man of her dreams and VOILA. christmas fucking saved on the tiny-assed tv screen we have because again BROKE AS FUCK.

i like to watch those movies so at the end when they ride off on a sleigh pulled by stinky, probably almost extinct reindeer (i don't know if that's remotely true), i can laugh, down an entire glass of wine and yell at the box in my house like it gives a shit -- THAT'S NOT THE END OF YOUR SHITTY STORY, DUMBASS!

but then my kids would wake up and be all, OMG DID SANTA FUCKING COME AND BRING US ALL THE PRESENTS EVER AND WHY IS HER BOX BIGGER THAN MINE AND YOU'RE THE MEANEST MOMMY I HATE YOU.

so i just gloat to myself. just wait, tv heroine. your time is coming.

but i can't even do that because like two hours ago, i have to drag my brood to the grocery store in the pouring rain on christmas eve because we ran out of fucking eggs, and as a stay at home mom for fuck's sake the least i can do is make waffles on christmas morning out of the cheap waffle maker my daughter bought me for christmas with my money as i pretended not to look. we also need milk, and fuck, i don't know, more fucking jello.

then tomorrow i spend my whole day cooking. i got cornish hens this year because i don't know how to make them so when i fuck it up there's a legit reason to get takeout. oh wait. before the cooking, there's the 5 a.m. wakeup call because nothing says christmas like childhood greed that cannot be contained. i'm keeping the vodka straight next to the coffee so i don't forget tomorrow.

and lol my kid 'forgot' to take her sandals off before trying to take off her soaked christmas leggings and since i'm not helping her ass she's fake crying for her daddy because she thinks that makes me mad.

newsflash, kiddo, ain't nothing you can do to make me mad. also, i'm santa, so we'll see who's mad tomorrow.

just kidding though because it wouldn't be american christmas if millions of parents didn't overload their already spoiled brats with the newest frozen gear and games with a gazillion pieces that they'll have to clean up over and over again when those same kids leave that shit all over the floor to go play with a goddamn box or piece of ribbon or something. and as a typical american family, you bet your ass i'll help uphold that tradition.

then i'm going to post all the pictures on facebook and instragram and twitter and everyone will be jealous of my beautiful girls, their awesome presents, and our amazing, through-thick-and-thin love for each other.

which isn't a lie.

but neither is this.

merry christmas, singles.

for serious, this year, you go do whatever the fuck you want. drink one for us families while you're out.

(written in the style of bitches gotta eat, who is WAY funnier and more natural at this than me. GO THERE. READ IT FOREVER. IT WILL MAKE YOUR HOLIDAYS BETTER, I SWEAR).