Christmas Eve

Ah, Christmas eve. By now, you’ve probably consumed enough food and beverage to feed a Nairobian village for six months. You solemnly vow not to eat anything more than a diet cracker in the coming days, knowing well that you'll be raiding the fridge a little later; that carrot cake is calling out your name.

With breathless anticipation, you rip open your gifts, starting with the one with the shmanciest wrapper and trimmings. Oh look, there’s the wooden Frosti the Snowman wall clock you’ve always coveted, courtesy of your boss! And wouldn’t you know it, your officemate, X, gave you another coffee mug to add to your fledging coffee mug museum!

A picture frame! A box of hankies! A paperweight with an etched biblical passage about greed! A stress ball! Another picture frame! Three, four, five more picture frames! And one more picture framewith your favorite Friendster photo in it! A personalized key chain with your name misspelled! Priceless treasures --- wait, here's one with the price-tag still on: P54.99! Oh, you can barely contain your tears of gratitude.

Then the text greetings start pouring in --- from family relations, life-long friends, colleagues, chat mates, acquaintances, that guy you’ve met once but never seen again, and that insurance salesman who just won’t give up. You chuckle at the one sent by Z, your bawdy former classmate. His message contains a picture, cleverly made up of commas, asterisks, and ampersands, of mommy corn-holing Santa. “Someone’s been naughty and nice,” it says. “Ho, ho, hoes!”

And then there’s one greeting --- “May this season fill your heart with joy, peace, and love. Merry Christmas!” --- from an unfamiliar number. You politely ask the thoughtful sender who he or she is and, after a minute or two, you get a “Oh, so you’ve deleted me from your contacts na?! After all we’ve been through?! FUCK YOU! I HOPE YOU FUCKING DIE ASSHOLE!” for a reply. You quickly delete that message of hate lest you accidentally forward it to someone else.

You make a quick survey of your contacts and think everyone you know, or at least, the ones who matter, has sent their greetings. Well, you’re wrong. There’s still one more person left. And no, it isn't Jesus.

It's Me!

Merry, merry Christmas, my dear (ad-clicking) readers! Make this one memorable and good! :-)

Hugs and kisses,
Misterhubs + Hubby