Cappin' Off the Christmas Spirit

Wow. The spirit of the season is incredible, like sparkling snowflakes falling all over my head! Ho! Ho! Ho! See, yesterday morning I filled up with gas and went to work. Eight hours later . . .

I'm driving down 17th Street and pull into the left turn lane. I am six cars back from the red light, when what to my wondering eyes should appear? A blue minivan loaded with a mom and her passel of kids, my dear.

She stops beside me and points to my gas tank, mouthing: YOUR GAS CAP IS OFF!

I glance into my side mirror with Jingle Bells in my head. Sure enough, my gas cap is dangling and the tank door is wide open. See what I mean? The joyful holiday spirit even courses through the hustling, bustling air of traffic. It fills me like hot chocolate.

Good deed accomplished, the mama and her passel drive on up to the red light. Then another car drives up and stops beside me.

YOUR GAS TANK, the guy mouths, pointing frantically toward my rear quarter panel.

I wassail in the key of candy canes and mistletoe. "Yes, I kno-o-o-ow, I kno-o-o-ow."

The driver moves forward to get in line at the red light. And then comes Car #3. The gangsta inside mouths: BEEOTCH, ROLL DOWN YO WINDOW! With his eyebrows pinched, I'm thinking he's cranky. Or he thinks I'm a dumbass.

"Yeah, no," I say, my holiday cheer gleaming like a silver tree bulb that's just cracked.

YOUR GAS CAP IS OFF THE HOOK! The gangsta is like Kanye. His mouth is moving, but all I'm getting is a steaming pile of reindeer pooh.

"Thanks for telling me what I already know!" I give him two thumbs up as he drives off but think, Did somebody put out an APB? Now you're just making me look bad, people!

Once again, another car stops beside me. It's a guy and his wife, both about 110. The geezer jabs at the air with big-knuckled, crooked fingers. His unnatural fish lips seem to gulp air as he mouths: YOUR GAS CAP! CHRIST-A-MIGHTY, HOW DID YOU EVEN GET A LICENSE?!

"Joy to the world, old people! Okay?"

Finally the light changes to green, and I follow the six cars in front of me through the intersection. I speed past everybody for about two miles. One car tries to pass me, and I look straight ahead when he honks three times.

Jingle Bells, Santa smells, Rudolph ran away.

I stop at another red light to make a left turn into Wally World, and a ponytailed 20-elfin-something stops beside me, even though she has a bright Christmasy green light. She rolls down her window and shouts, "Your gas cap!"

I can't believe the world is paying this much attention to me, and I shake my head at the absurdity. It's like I'm driving naked.

"Yes it is!" Elfin yells. "It's off!" She curls her lip, a gift that indicates I truly am a classic dumbass.

Bah, humbug.

Elfin hits the gas, just as the light turns red.

And then, surprise. A Jeep pulls up beside me. The driver turns his head toward me, and I scream, "I KNOW my gas cap is off! I GET IT already! O holy-fucking-night!"

The guy looks aghast. I realize it's because he hasn't noticed my gas cap at all. He stares at me like I'm Scrooge's Grim Reaper. Which I am. That, and a dumbass. I have just killed Christmas.

Schwetty Balls
Schwetty Balls
It's Christmas ti-i-i-ime to get petty.
Ring-a-ling . . .

Yeah, the spirit is glopping all over my head, like cold turkey gravy. How's yours going?
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Good Enough

Dear Santa,

I've been exceedingly good enough this year. If you insist, I'll tell you why . . .

• It's really not that bad to cuss habitually. My dad and mom always do it and I don't want to disappoint them by breaking with a beloved family tradition.
• Always telling the truth is overrated. Little white lies are actually beneficial under opportune circumstances, and saving my own ass is Priority One because, really, this shows that I love myself. It's a proven fact that one must love oneself first in order to love others.
• Vanity is just part of being a woman. Because of all my nurturing aspects and shit, I take pride in my appearance so I can be a good example for my daughters. How else would they know how much makeup and jewelry to don before they do anything strenuous?
• Shooting the bird at strangers and loved ones alike is educational. As both a student and teacher of life, I perform a valuable public service with a single mad flourish that says, "You have annoyed me, mofo, boogermuncher, pitsniffer, skidmark, fleabrain, buttdog, punkchild of the universe." In this way, they learn not to make that mistake again, and I learn that imparting my true feelings is the safest way to cleanse myself of nasty toxins.
• Embarrassing your children builds character. It instills in them a healthy dose of humility and an endearing penchant for storytelling they can share with others year after year. Intrigued therapists will take copious notes until their hands cramp up, and I ask you, how else would they learn to write like real doctors? See? Win-win for everyone!
• Just saying no is not really selfish. Deny, deny, deny, because people need to become self-reliant. If I loan some chick all my cherished Twilight tomes rather than letting her drive her ass to Barnes & Noble to buy her own damn books, she will never grow as a person. Withholding is its own reward.

For goodness sake, Santa Baby, this is by no means a complete list of the ways I've been good enough all year. But since you're coming to town, and I may be inebriated by the time you get here, I want to make sure there will be no misunderstandings between us on Christmas morning.

In holiday merriment,
Your Fragrant Liar

P.S.
It's totally pervy that you can see me when I'm sleeping. Dude, you can get your ass arrested for that. However, I am inclined to forgive your creepiness if you could see your way clear to gifting me with a new Lexus IS. If I have to, I'll settle for an ES350. Whaddaya say, big guy? I'll call off the coppers if you'll call up the elves and get them assembling my sleek new wheels.

P.P.S.
I don't have a chimney, remember? But I do have a garage, and I will totally kick the kids out of their makeshift gameroom if you don't have enough wrapping paper to cover it. Oh, and I don't want to be any trouble, so no need for a big red bow. Unless you insist.

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Holiday Head-Shakers

Every holiday around our house inspires some memorable head-shaking that brings to mind lines from favorite Christmas songs. In addition to my brush with zombie rats, plenty of contenders "sleighed" me, like:

• Our resident angel from on high, Miss America, came down and addressed a sofa full of wassailing out-of-towners. "Want to know what the new baby is doing?" She sighed, screwed up her mouth in disgust, and rolled her eyes. "She's trying to suck on my mom's boob." O come let us adore her . . .
• The overhead lights in our kitchen went out. The Three Wise Men of the family gathered beneath them as one after the other stood on the island and attempted to remove the frosted plastic cover from the fixture. After much ado, they couldn't remove it. Naturally, this begs the question, how many men does it take to change a light bulb? While These Three Kings took their special gifts to another crib of worship (aka, our garage for beer pong and darts), my daughter TG mounted the island and popped that sucker right out. Joy to the Girls, the boys are dumb.
• My dad, he with the Santa belly, walked through the living room and sneezed explosively. Ho ho ho, his pants dropped to his ankles. Thankfully, I did not see the South Pole. Jump in bed and cover your head . . .
• Six-year-old elf extraordinaire, JazzyB, was dissatisfied with our holiday decorations. She took matters into her own hands by completely undressing a dozen Barbies and Kens and lining them up in the manger that is her elfin workshop, depicting her version of the nativity scene. Or an orgy. Or a firing squad. The world in solemn stillness lay . . .
• Three-year-old drummer boy, Destructo, stood at the toilet peeing while his mother supervised. He looked over his shoulder while pointing to his drumstick. "My peep big," he said. "Right, Mom?" Officially becoming the first woman in his life to protect his holy ego, she replied, "Um, sure, baby." Then he smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum.

Naturally, this should all be taken as gospel. What memories are you making over at your place?

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