Okay, so all three of you who were expecting Christmas cards, they’ll probably be a little late. Or a little not at all. Why is that?
Well, Monday, I went to the local holiday card outlet store and, after glancing through the store for the most flamingly gay box of cards I could find (literally, they have sparkles, sparkly gold lettering, and red bows on them), grabbed a box with the intention of getting them all done in one day and sent out in the nick of time.
Of course, because I’m me, I didn’t actually grab Christmas cards with envelopes. No, I grabbed gift card holders with envelopes.
This is one of the many reasons I hate Christmas, and yet another reason as to why I’m a Grinch of epic proportions. Even when I TRY to do something holiday-themed against my will, hoping that by hooking my nipples up to the car battery of Yuletide festiveness I’ll somehow be infused with Christmas spirit, I reek of epic fail. I try to be holiday spirited, but it’s like at the moment my sleigh slides down into Whoville and I’m giving back presents, Cindy Lou Who kicks me in the balls.
So, uh… do any of you kids need 12 gift card holders by any chance? They’re free to a good home.