No, I don’t hate Christmas. I’m just currently eating it. Well, the parts that I stole.
So, sometimes, I can be a real fatass. And by sometimes, I mean whenever I let my self control lapse even a little. Which is often.
It’s not as bad as it sounds! Well, maybe it is. I don’t know, you guys be the judge:
So, my family has a really weird Christmas tradition. Mom cooks all the time, so we have big dinners frequently. The people from Bible study come over, Jase comes over, etc. and we’ll all have dinner. So for holidays, when people are expected to cook and such, we really don’t want to go through all that work. Too much cleaning and everything else to have something we just had two weeks ago.
So on Christmas and Thanksgiving, we eat pizza. Not just pizza, but chips and dip. Yes, the really delicious potato chips (crisps for you English folk) that have like, 5000 calories a bite. We then add 10000 calorie french onion dip. Then we combine all of this with copious amounts of fizzy beverages, cheese and buttery crackers, all different types of spiced and flavored nuts, and whatever dessert we come up with. But the stars of the show by far, are the pigs in a blanket. This is the terribly backwoods redneck term we have for
Diabeetus little cocktail sausages wrapped in crescent rolls.
Excuse me, have to take another bite….
Okay, so I’m an awful person. Mom went and got the sausages and crescent rolls today. She knows I look forward to it with bated breath… I dream about these things. I crave them. They would be my last meal.
So when I came home from work and saw the little sausages, all cute in the package… the tubes of crescent rolls… I snapped. I went into a full on, uncontrollable, feeding frenzy. I attempted to coax Mom into making them a day early… what would it hurt? We had a discussion about how time is calculated throughout the world, with me insinuating that if it’s Christmas in Australia, damn it it should be Christmas right here too! I was shut down.
So what did the adult, responsible, awesome Katie do? I wailed. I wailed like a three year old.
But, as disgusted as she was by my appalling behavior (and I concur with her) she just walked away, leaving the sausages unprotected. Bad move Mom, bad move.
I don’t have to tell you what happened next…
Enter Mom sighing and saying “Katie, those are special for Christmas”
“We have two packages of everything left, don’t judge me.”
Dad stayed mysteriously quiet.
“Fine, but I’m not making them. You have to make them and you’ll have less for tomorrow.”
As I type with one hand, I’m noshing on the last bite of crescent roll. Yeah, I made a batch. And I ate it. I ate Christmas dinner for lunch on Christmas Eve. I’ve ruined the magic of Christmas.
Alas, cold cruel world! Punish me with a stomach ache for my holiday sins!!
There are no regrets. My craving has been sated, and I have two batches to consume tomorrow… with dip, chips…. delicioussssssssssss
By the way, the reason why Dad didn’t say anything? He was waiting for me to take my bowl to my study. Then he hunched over the stove like Gollum and downed like, 5.
I guess ruining Christmas for a taste of delicious food is hereditary.