Alright look, let’s get serious about this whole Christmas gig. I’ve been pretty good this year so you’d better not be thinking about putting me on that damn Naughty List. Sure, I’ve done some stupid shit, hasn’t everybody? I mean, alright, I know I started the year by getting really drunk at a New Year’s party. But hey, it was the fucking New Year, right? And frankly, 2011 had been a pretty tough year anyway, and we all needed to burn off a little steam, don’t you think? Anyway, beyond that, I think I’ve been pretty good. Sure, in general, sometimes I drink too much. Look I’ll be the first to admit it. I bet you and those creepy, fucking little elves you hang out with sit around most of the year partying it up, drinking and eating nachos and shit. Seriously, there’s no way you’d be that overweight if you hadn’t been pounding down some brewskies here and there. Anyhow, other than that, I’ve been mostly pretty good this year. Sure, sometimes my wife and I have watched some porno movies. C’mon, you got to live a little, right? Look, I know I stopped at the casino last spring and pissed away like twenty bucks in the slot machines. But hey, I made a sales call on the gift shop in the casino. So it’s a write-off, right? And I know I got pulled over for speeding twice this year, but you know, I’m on the road a lot now, the odds are just fucking higher. Neither cop gave me a ticket, so it’s all good.
Anyhow, so I’m not perfect, but seriously I’ve been mostly pretty good this year, just like every year. I mean, you’ve got to admit, I’ve got a pretty good track record over the last 45 years. You’ve gotta give me some points for that, right? Right?
So, let’s do this shit.
This is what I want for Christmas this year. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t really want anything that’s wrapped up all fancy-like with bows and shit. Look I’m 45 now, that’s just not a big deal anymore. That’s for my kids, who you probably figured out by now, don’t believe in you anymore. Sorry dude.
Alright maybe I’d take some new socks. You can never have enough socks.
Here’s my list…
Look, you gave me a new job last winter. It’s going okay, but it’s been a pretty lean year. Everyone told me it would take two, maybe even three years to get it going. January is the beginning of year two. This year it’s got to kick the fuck into gear. Let’s get this shit done, okay?
Give me a fucking block… for writer’s block. Seriously, this whole writing gig is sorta becoming a pain in the ass. I used to love to write, now it’s like a fucking struggle all the time. I can see why so many writers are bat-shit crazy alcoholics. God damn, imagine having to depend on writing for your income? I just watched the movie The Shining the other day for probably the 10th time and amazingly it was the first time that the whole Jack Torrance writer’s block thing really sunk in. I haven’t started seeing ghosts or anything so I think I’m still okay. Anyway, give me that motivation again to start cranking this shit out more regularly. Give me that and I’ll write something stellar and profound this year. I promise.
Give me the fucking strength to survive my kids becoming teenagers. I mean seriously dude, these are two of the best kids around, but this is some crazy shit watching them grow up. Not believing in you? That’s the least of my fucking worries. I’ve got a girl talking about boys and a boy talking about girls. Seems like overnight we went from toy trucks and barbies… to boobs, boners and tampons. This is serious business. Help me out with this shit, alright?
Get me back on a fucking exercise program. Dude, I used to work out all the time, I was like all lean and ripped. At my annual physical this past month I cracked the 200 lb. mark for only the second time in my life. 211 fucking lbs. Of course those douchebags at the Doctor’s office weigh you with all your clothes and shit on. I hate that shit. I mean seriously, my clothes probably add 2-3 lbs onto my weight. Okay so I’m still over 200 lbs, whatever. Anyway, look, I know that probably doesn’t sound like much to you… seriously, you gotta be comin’ in at what, 4 bills? I don’t know how the fuck you get down those chimneys. Maybe you and I can both get back on an exercise program.
How about this, give me some fucking peace-of-mind, okay? Yeah, I know that’s kind of a vague request. Just seems like I’m always stressing out about everything, work and life and what the Hell I’ve accomplished in my time here and the fact that I’m not famous and I’m just a regular guy. I mean, seriously, what does all that shit matter anyway? Do other people worry about stuff like that all the time? Anyway dude, give me some peace-of-mind, alright?
What about Gay Marriage? Look I don’t stress out much about hot-button political issues. But gay people should be allowed to get married. Can you finally get that shit done? Look, I’ve got no stake in this. It doesn’t even remotely affect me. And seriously, what is it like, 2% of the whole population or something? We’re not going to be overrun by a bunch of gay people in rainbow t-shirts. They’re just people and they should be allowed to get married. I’m tired of hearing about it and there are so many more important things to be talking about.
Give my family and I another year of health. That’s a pretty simple request, right? Look, I’ll admit, the last few years I’ve started to feel older for probably the first time in my life. Plus, I’ve got gray hairs popping up all over the place. Shit, I bet I’m up to like 30 of them. I know, I know, I can hear you saying “get back on the exercise program you lazy fuck!” Okay, you promise me another year of health and I’ll promise you to start hitting the weight bench again, you know, if you promise to help me with #4.
Give me lots of sunny days this year. I know, that’s not really your gig, its Mother Nature’s gig. But she’s kind of a pain in the ass sometimes, so maybe you could put in a good word for me. I just want lots of sunny days. I want lots of rainy days too… and plenty of snowy days… and days that it’s hot… and days that it’s cold… and days that it’s right in the middle. Those are perhaps the best days, the one’s where it’s right in the middle. On Christmas day though give me lots of snow. Big fucking piles and piles of fluffy snow. So we can wake up Christmas morning and drink Mimosa’s and coffee and hot chocolate and have a fire in the wood stove and eat my wife’s cinnamon buns. What? They’re cinnamon buns. Get your mind out of the gutter, you creep.
Alright buddy, I guess that’s about it. There’s probably other things, but that’s all I can think of and time’s running out. Seriously, I really have been pretty good this year.
So could you help me out with these requests? It’s not much, right? Just these few things.
And maybe a new set of guitar strings.
Thanks,
Steve
The Brown Road Chronicles 