Humor Life

All I want for Christmas is two butt cheeks…

…that are as plump as juicy peaches instead of as saggy as bags of rotten cottage cheese. Among other things.

As our kids prepare their wishlists for Santa, I’m preparing a wishlist of my own, and it goes a little something like this.

All I want for Christmas is:

For the baby to sleep through the night. For me. Just once. And then every night following that one night. Forever. He did it on my husband’s watch, who didn’t want to confess his good fortune to me, by the way, for fear of setting me up for big disappointment when it was my turn to take night duty.

Well, I was disappointed. TERRIBLY SO. Because the longest this kid has slept for me is 3.5 hours, and that’s after spending the last half hour grunting like a fat guy trying to reach for his nacho cheese and greasy cased sausages without actually having to get up off the couch. AND I’M SO TIRED, YOU GUYS.

A homework grading machine. I can’t spend another two weeks grading run-on-sentence-littered essays nonstop every evening without following that up by committing homicide. Really, I can’t. I’d say Santa could kill two birds and make it double as a homework doing machine, but my oldest actually looks forward to doing his homework because maybe he was switched at birth.

A free, round-the-clock house cleaner. I swear I popped a couple c-section stitches cleaning the house until it sparkled yesterday only to have my family come home and turn it back into the set of Hoarders. If my kids leave one more dirty sock on my couch, I’ll shove it down their throats. Hand to God.

For my dogs to stop shedding. You’d think honey badgers devoured a litter of fluffy bunnies Cookie-Monster-style, what with all the tufts of hair occupying every square inch of my floors and furniture. And that’s DAILY. Honey badgers are murdering innocent wabbits DAILY, it’s so goddamned hairy in here. I think I even have some in my mouth.

For the laundry to do itself. HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES DO MY KIDS CHANGE THEIR CLOTHES EACH DAY? Too many. The answer is too many. And short of forcing them go to school naked, I can’t figure out how to make it stop.

For my boobs to rest above my belly button instead of below it. OK, maybe things haven’t gotten that bad yet, but my chest resembles a luscious bosom less and a pair of floppy tube socks more each day.

Speaking of belly buttons, for mine to look less like a giant earthworm out of a Stephen King novel. I used to have a perfectly acceptable innie. Three kids later, I have the mother of all outies. I don’t even think it qualifies as a belly button anymore. I’m just waiting on scientists to offer me a stipend to be the test subject for a groundbreaking study on the evolution of the human’s fifth appendage.

A free, on-call, weekend-long babysitter. I have never wanted to go out and get roaring drunk enough to almost get arrested for public indecency as much as I do right now. And, of course, I’ve never needed a weekend to sleep it off more than I do now, either.

A self-replenishing bank account. I may still be too chunky to fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes, but that doesn’t mean I should have to feel any less fabulous than I did 30 pounds ago. Amazing what a little retail therapy could accomplish.

A personal beautician. I’m sick of looking like a strung-out crack whore. I could appear as fresh and stunning and not crazy as Britney Spears pretends to be if I had my own hair and makeup artists to style and paint away the ugly, too.

To get paid to play around on Pinterest and Facebook all day. I’m telling you, if pinning sarcastic memes and posting witty comebacks were a profession, I’d be rolling in the dough.

An endless supply of expensive red wine. Some people like to meditate or exercise to relieve stress. I like to drink cheap red wine. Imagine how stress-free I’d be if I could drink EXPENSIVE red wine instead. And classy. Don’t forget about how classy I’d be, too.

A vacation home in the tropics. I don’t think I will survive another snowpocalypse here in the North without resorting to taking all that damn dog hair and stuffing it down my underpants to maintain warmth this winter. And nobody wants foreign hair near their coochaloochey. TRUST ME. I heard it from a friend.

For my friends and family to be happy and healthy. C’mon. They can’t all be snarky.

all i want for christmas booze

What do you want for Christmas this year?