Annual Holiday Letter

Well, hello everyone.

Here is the Freeman/Brewer holiday letter. It is intended to replace all of those boring, bragging insipid letters other people send out on Christmasy paper. They make me gag.

Anywho....here we go. 1. January was you know...okay. It was January.

2. February I had a birthday. Big whoop.

3. March...spring break. We did nothing.

4. April. My son had his 18th birthday.

5. May. We were entering the home stretch of the end of the school year. If you could hear me now, I would sound amazingly excited, but in

6. June, I was more excited because Tyler graduated from high school.

7. July. We did nothing at all.

8. August, I got ready for the new school year.

9. Our school was transferred to our new ultra swanky building. It's pretty sweet. I changed grade levels. I teach second grade now, and I love it.

10. September. Required to teach children who were born WAY after 9/11 about 9/11 and field all of the questions of 'how", and "why', etc. Big fun. My son Jack turned 22, my daughter Kira turned 23 and Wally turned 61. We moved Jack back into his dorm, Kira began grad school at the same school Jack attends, and my brother got his masters degree there, as well. It is hella expensive. I mean, if you ever want to put food on your table again, consider another school. Tyler began his first semester at the local community college, which he well continue to do for 2 years to get his basics out of the way. Jack's art is great, by the way.

11. October. Who cares.

12. November. My Mom's birthday and another reason to eat like hogs.

13. December. Who cares. All it is is an excuse to buy crap for everyone and feel guilty if you cannot. And eat like hogs.

So. Nobody won a Nobel Peace Prize. Nobody had her book published. Wally still sits at his computer all day and considers doing a load of laundry "housekeeping", therefore, I live in a filthy, disgusting pit. I want a new house.
I have the same three dogs, and as a matter of fact, the Westie bit the HELL OUT OF MY FINGER this morning and I just now stopped bleeding. I probably have rabies, since Emperor Wallace hasn't taken them to the vet. I just realized that I might have rabies. Great. Another pain in the ass. Oh. Here is some interesting tidbits:
Our air conditioner broke...what at least two, maybe three times. The final time was in the HOTTEST part of the year. I had already started back to school and our bedroom was 98 degrees. I was cussing the guy who fixes it, and he said he is the only person in the area who can work on our stupid geo thermal unit. FILTHY LIAR. I saw a truck outside of school for another company that specializes in geo thermal and they are local. Plus this ass hat who "fixes" (we think he is secretly jacking with it so it breaks every 2 months or so...)LIED OUT OF HIS ASS. (happy holidays...sorry for the not nice words.)
I would come home from work, and enter the pit of death otherwise known as our house, and he would be sitting there at the indoor part of this dumb fancy a/c heat unit and I would come up behind him and get close to his head and scream, "IT'S HOOOOOOTTTTTT!!!!!" and he would jump and promise he was ALMOST finished and we would have cool air. HE LIED. Over a WEEK. IT WAS OVER A WEEK WITH NO A/C. In August. In Texas. I was ready to go on a killing spree or bring a sleeping bag to a movie theater and dare them to kick me out. The A/C dude told us it would be TWELVE THOUSAND dollars to get a regular A/C outside unit. LIAR. OOORRR, if were REALLY, REALLY STUPID, who could dig up 24 grand for a new indoor unit for out geothermal. Guess which one won? NEITHER ONE. I told him to fix the damned thing right and he better get it right or no pay. He was not comfortable with me at all. I screamed at him every time I saw him. I even told him I was very sick of his face. He sort of chuckled. So I said, "No. Really. I. AM . SICK. OF. YOUR. FACE." Then he came back with a very witty quip: "Yeah, I guess I'm back a little too soon." I said, "Haha. I'm sleeping at your house until you fix this crap. You can sleep here...how's that sound???" He then began to pretend to wash something off with our hose. Assclown.
We got a bill. You know where it is? On the corkboard where it will sit until I'm damned good and ready to pay it. I AM NOT AN IDIOT. YOU RIPPED US OFF AND I NEVER WANT TO SEE THAT DUDE LARRY SMITH(yes, I used his name) AGAIN.


Then there is the problem with Wally's van. We call it the "vomit comet". It is a travesty to all car makers, car drivers, car dealerships, Henry Ford and whoever invented the car. When you ATTEMPT to turn the steering wheel(it has lost it's power steering capabilities.) it makes this sound..."ssssccccrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" very loudly. As far as I can tell, there are no brakes. You practically have to put your foot out the door to stop the stupid thing. When you go over any single bump or anything in the road, his car goes.."squeek, squeek, squeek". LOUDLY. His driver's side window won't roll down. One of the side doors opens on it's own. It smells really bad. He has rigged up so much crap inside for his "convenience" that nobody will ever take it as a trade. It is a DEATH TRAP. OH YEAH. I had to drive it one day because some mouth breather rear ended MY BRAND NEW CAR, and it was in the shop. As I was going downhill, it began going.."ding...ding...ding...and I was looking at the gauges...then it begins DINGDINGDINGDINGDING!" SO, I pulled over, and called the Emperor. I said, "Dude, your piece of shit just overheated." His response? "Hmmm." I was beyond furious. I said, "So what are you going to do, knight in shining shit?" He said, "Just give it a minute. It's the thermometer...it has a spring in it...blah blah blah..." I said, "Wait. This happens a lot? ARE YOU FREAKING SIMPLE????" He said, just keep going, and the sound will stop as soon as the spring or some shit releases.' I said, "You didn't even offer to come get me, you asshole." I hung up. I cautiously pulled back into traffic, went under the speed limit and watched the temperature gauge the whole way home. I got home with no further issues, except for the horrific dying cat sounds his van produces. I got out, stomped into the house and went on a horrific, (but justified) tirade. I'm pretty sure, hell, I'm totally sure I used foul language and threats to pieces of his body he would be really sad without. He told my Dad..."Well I have almost 100,000 miles on it! Gonna put another 100,000 on it. I began cussing and my Dad laughed in his face.

That brings us up to a couple of weeks ago. OH, then I got the real actual true flu. The doctor said, "Well, my dear...I'm afraid it's not a cold...it's the flu." Great. Bronchitis, pneumonia...it all goes hand in hand with me. Problem is...I have a job which requires me to be there or the kids will tear the room down. So, I had to get a substitute for three days. The kids were good, but I felt like real true crap. I am still achy and don't feel 100%. He said it would take a week to two weeks before I should go back to work. I went back in three days. Who can do a week to two weeks? Nobody.

Yesterday, my youngest and I got into some ridiculous argument about the Berlin wall, East and West Berlin, which was a sovereign nation (West Berlin) and I explained the damned Soviet Bloc to him. He then informed me with aggravating "I'm superior to you" that Paris had been a sovereign nation when Hitler invaded. I informed him that no, it had not. It had been a city. I said almost all of Europe and a good deal of Africa and who knows where else was invaded by Hitler so what did that have to to with anything. He disagreed with so much it was amazing. He then said the BEST THING HE HAS SAID IN A VERY LONG TIME. Get ready for it. He said, "Haven't you heard of Vicky France?" I sat there confused then realized he mean Vichy France and I almost peed I was laughing so hard. He kept saying, "What, what?" And I said, "Vicky France sound like a stripper, and it was VICHY FRANCE". I had to say it with the proper pronunciation , so he would think I knew what I was talking about, then I asked if he had ever heard of VICKYSWAW? He said, "no" and I said, "That is because it is Vichyssoise" Oh my god. It was so fun. He says the funniest things. He did something like that a few days ago, but I can't remember what it was. I have been calling him Vicky France for two days. He gets furious.

That is our year until today. I haven't run in awhile, because of my GD ankle. I hate my left ankle and I hate 19 year old me for getting into a wreck that almost had them have to amputate my left foot because every bone, ligament and tendon was torn up in my left ankle and all of the bones in my left foot were broken. I hate me at 19. Well, at every age, I guess.

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals. (I didn't edit this. I'm not editor.)