Our Annual Holiday Letter That I Hate

December 22, 2012

Well, here it is, folks. My annual Holiday Letter. I am afraid if you depend upon me for frivolity and general hilarity, you may be disappointed. Sorry, that’s life. It’s been a year of shame, tears, disbelieve, horrific working conditions, insane relative, (not you, Mom). (Well, a little bit you, Mom.) and you know, basic things that make me need medication, which just got increased, so rest easy, world.

I guess the good news is that if you’re reading this the world did not; in fact end, as the Mayans predicted. I wasn’t actually too worried, as they didn’t seem to be able to predict their own demise. So, here we are, muddling through yet another craptastic year.

Let’s see…just to keep in the “what we’ve been doing this year” tradition other people use; I’ll update you on the activities of my family.

Firstly, we are all physically healthy, thank God. Nobody has any diseases that I am aware of, and if the children do, they certainly aren’t telling me, because that would mean they have been doing things they shouldn’t and I would be forced to kill them.

Kira is 21 and is about to enter her last semester of under grad work at UT Austin and we are immensely proud of her. She is completely independent and takes no shit from anyone. Good girl. Not only is she gorgeous and brilliant, but she is, also, thank God, nothing like her insane father. She is my cherry on top of the cake of kids.

This brings us to our next child: Jack. Jack is 20, now. He is still in school here, in Killeen because Killeen sucks and is stupid (I agree) and he doesn’t see why he should put forth full effort in classes that are stupid and sucky in order to go to a larger school, DUH. (I don’t agree) He will transfer to Central Texas A & M until he gets his shit together enough to go to a place that isn’t stupid and sucky. I think he is getting the message, finally. He is gorgeous, brilliant and the light of my life. I would, however, like to spank the hell out of him. Alas, he is too large.

Last, but certainly NEVER least is our baby. Tyler is 16. He is over 6’ tall and is built like a farmer from Eastern Europe. This means his bones are incredibly large. I mean, so large you stare at them in a mesmerized state thinking to yourself, “How can a kneecap be THAT large???” He is a junior at Ellison. He is continuing the proud tradition set forth by his elder siblings. (Not really. He goes to socialize. He will be whipped harshly and frequently if he doesn’t get that shit locked down real quick.) So far, his punishment has been no Driver’s Education classes, therefore, no driving. His grades have improved a bit. He isn’t failing anything, which he takes as a success. I expect a wee bit more. We’ll see with Tyler. He is a work in progress, as we all are. He is funny, gorgeous, and actually quite brilliant although he would like to believe otherwise and if Jack is my heart, Tyler is my soul. I couldn’t make it without those two fools.

Now. Now, we come to my dearly beloved husband, Wally. Wally has had quite the year. He has used his computer a LOT. He has pet the dogs COPIOUS AMOUNTS. Their relationship is co-dependent, I’m pretty sure. He has lost all semblance of sanity. He has lost his temper in public and nearly been arrested several times. He has called strangers horrible names that even I wouldn’t say (TO THEIR FACES). That’s pretty freakin’ bad, when you think about it. He is no longer allowed to carry a gun on his person. I check the safe twice a day. He has blamed me for many, many things, including financial issues (of which there are none), a broken (but not really) garage door, dogs needing to go to the vet (as they should do yearly) a parking ticket I did not deserve (and subsequently was dismissed because I caught a cop near the spot I got the ticket and asked him and got his card and all that jazz and he was awesome and it’s taken care of.)

Me? Let’s skip that, shall we?

We will nave no children for Christmas for the first time ever, and I am therefore not having Christmas. I thought Wally and I could get away and get our minds off of it. Say, perhaps…Paris? Wally said he would prefer Hawaii or Rome.

I priced both. Hawaii was more expensive. What’s up with that, Hawaii? You aren’t even Christmassy! Seriously, take a look in the mirror, Hawaii. You are NOT my idea of a Christmas destination.

So, Rome it would be. I booked the trip. Airfare, hotel, the whole deal. Got a GREAT deal on it, too. JUST shy of 24 hours later, Wally decided to have a financial mental breakdown because I was such a horrible person. I said, “Fine! You want me to cancel the trip???” He said, “Yes!” So I did. Done. Full refund. Happy now, Wally? Because, I’ll tell you what…I’m not. Christmas day, I will be in bed, heavily sedated, possibly watching episodes of “24”.

We have both been on a nutrition plan called Visalus. I have lost quite a lot of weight, while he seems to have lost a bit. I am running daily, and working my way up to my previous ability of ohhhh 17 years ago. It’s not as hard as I thought it would be, either. I’m pleasantly surprised that I look forward to running everyday. Because of the Visalus, all of Wally’s blood work is perfect. His glucose, his blood pressure, cholesterol, it’s all good. That alone makes it worth it.

I have no diseases other than mental ones that I am aware of. Of course, I have more than my fair share of those, so it evens out. I won’t bore you with the details, but I’m probably on several local law enforcement agency watch lists or something. I haven’t been violent, UNLIKE WALLY. In case you are wondering.

Last night we had our MANDATORY FAMILY TRADITION. Which we all hate, except for Wally. Kira is forced to drive to Killeen from Austin. We get ready to go to dinner, dammit! We are informed that we will LIKE IT, TOO, DAMMIT!
So, we are driving my car, since some BITCH hit Wally’s car by accident, by the way. He wishes he had a 9mm to shoot her for some insane reason. I mean, it was an ACCIDENT.

Anyhow, we are in my car, and I’m driving, and I back out of the garage, and we hear a God-awful sound. Evidently, the little red emergency cord to the garage door opener got caught on my luggage rack, because I am a stupid bitch. I should have known that would happen.

Consequently, as the car moved backwards, so did the garage door, which resulted in my car colliding with the garage door. Oopsies. Wally got out of the car spewing profanities that I’m not sure I’ve ever heard before and pushed the door up.
I backed out into the driveway. The kids were not surprised or even fazed by this, but they did inform me that I would be blamed forever. I agreed.

We watched, (and I filmed) Wally begin to try to “fix” the door. He first pushed and punched it. Nope. Didn’t work. Then, he got some random piece of crap he keeps in the garage and began using that as a tool to knock the shit out of the door. Nope. Didn’t work. It DID, however, result in completely knocking the door off its tracks. Way to go, Wally!

He screams for Tyler to come help. We all yell, “Don’t go, Tyler!!!” He gone. Tyler gone. Goodbye, Tyler. Your choice. We’ll miss you.

He was holding up the door because he is gigantic if I didn’t mention that already. Wally is pounding on it with various things, and cussing. We are all hollering encouragement from the safety of the car (which we kept running in case Wally began shooting or something). We were yelling, (from the safety of the locked car with the windows slightly cracked,) “Don’t make eye contact, Tyler!!” and “Move slowly, make no sudden moves!!”

Wally and Tyler return to the car with the garage door still open. Wally informs me that because of my stupidity, the garage door will remain open for all eternity, and let’s go for our family FUN, DAMMIT. I said, “Uh, no.”

He ended up calling a garage door company who came out within an hour and fixed it. Meanwhile, while he waited happily arguing with people on his computer as he waited for the repairman, the kids and I went out to eat.

I had Prosecco to go with my Xanax. We went back and picked him up and I made him drive. Yes, I drove with Xanax and Prosecco and some chicken dish in my bloodstream. Get over it.

We drove the million miles to the light display that we go see EVERY.SINGLE.YEAR. AND. IT. NEVER. CHANGES. EVER. The kids hate it. I hate it. Wally loves it. I didn’t yell at anyone this year. I fell asleep. It was quite nice. Occasionally, I opened my eyes and saw some stupid assed display I had seen a million times before and closed my eyes again and drifted off. The kids were whispering once and I did halfway holler at them to be quiet. I was sleeping, after all. I am assuming Wally enjoyed it immensely. It was very crowded which I hope made him furious. I hope he was so frustrated he couldn’t see straight. I wouldn’t know, as I was, as previously mentioned, asleep. I am informed that I snored, but I don’t give a rat’s ass at this point.

THIS…this….was just LAST NIGHT, PEOPLE. The rest of the year was just more of this and many times more intense.

Now, we’re all sick with some cold. Our dogs are all healthy and really old and probably immortal. Let’s face it; if anyone deserves immortality and health it’s dogs. My dogs are usually great, except when they bark for no reason for about an hour straight. Then, I want to shoot them. BUT I DON’T DO IT BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE BAD AND ILLEGAL, WALLY.

So, there you have it. Our year. Hope yours was better, bitches. (There were parts of ours that I couldn’t even PUT INTO WORDS. THEY WERE SO SHAMEFUL AND DISGUSTING AND HORRIFIC…AND THEY WEREN’T OUR FAULT…JUST TRUST ME.)

So, have a happy whatever you celebrate and an adequate New Year. I don’t think the world is supposed to end this year; so don’t worry about that bullshit.

Love,
Helen, Wally, Kira, Jack and Tyler
(and the dogs, MacGregor, Haggis and Dixie)