Just once I’d like to see a real holiday letter.
Season’s Greetings from (…ohhhhhh, let’s say…) the Simpson’s!
Good god, has it really been a year since I wrote last year’s pack of lies? If you are reading this, consider yourself lucky. The mutt ate most of the address book because the economy is so bad and groceries are so expensive we stopped buying dog food, except for grandpa.
2013 really sucked big gnarly ones. Nobody did anything. Nobody achieved anything. Nobody was awarded any medals for anything. I didn’t get a raise. My job still sucks. The people I work with still suck. I still suck. That’s why I’m still stuck in this dead-end job ‘till I die of a heart attack.
Lisa is still playing her saxophone. God help us, she’ll keep playing the blues and probably marry some loser drummer and have to live with us while her sorry husband searches for that pot of grunge drummer gold. At least she’s not pregnant, yet.
The baby is still sucking on that nunu. Her teeth will be messed up but it does keep her quiet.
Bart managed to stay out of jail this year and, to date, as far as we know, has not sired any offspring.
Marge is still my blue haired old lady. I can’t believe we’ve stayed married all these years. We have managed to work ourselves into subsistence, requiring a minimal amount of communication and sex only on a seasonal basis… whether we need it or not.
But truth be told, I am thankful for Baby Jesus and the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. You see, even though it was used as a medical ointment and burial spice, myrrh was also used in early recipes for mead. And from mead we got…beeeer, mmmmm. For that I am truly thankful!
DOH! Happy Holidays!