Break out the eggnog and cigarettes! Now that it’s officially November, it’s about time we all start panicking about the winter holidays. I know that I, for one, have already eaten 4.5 Xanax—sometimes I go for halfsies so as to pace myself—just thinking about the shitstorm that Santa and the baby Jesus are going to rain down on me. Something’s gonna go wrong, I can just feel it. Rudolph is going to make me his bitch, or my roommate’s menorah is going to light my hair on fire, or my family will run out of wine. Hopefully one of the first two. My life (and yours, too; don’t think you’re getting out of this) is about to become as messy as last year’s tangled Christmas lights. Things that are currently stressing me out about the holiday season include:
- Getting our totally awesome window display designed in time. It’s gonna be hot eggs,** but that doesn’t make it any less on my mind.
- Planning a life-altering store holiday party. (Although, technically, this is Jessica‘s problem. Ha ha, Jess.)
- Trying to figure out who of our staff will still be intown, so I don’t have to man the register every single day. And hoping that by the time I go to buy my flight, I’m not going to have to pay $800 for layovers in Detroit and DC.
- Finalizing my Christmas list, complete with style numbers, sizes and web links. I leave little to the imagination. Things I’m lusting after include but are not limited to a fancy collar for Boo Radley and a really big Wacom tablet. Like, I don’t even want to see ANY desktop surface, that Wacom better be so big.
There are a lot of other seasonal things that’re driving me to bite my nails, but I think I’m going to stop talking about them now. My eye is twitching.
Start your shopping early, is my advice.
***Note: Hot eggs is a new phrase coined one Saturday at L:C. Most likely with a bit of a hangover. Means, like, “the hot shit.” Hot eggs. Live it.