By Scarlette Quille
Reader Columnist
My life in December is basically a shit-storm of glitter, pine needles and vodka. There are parts that I enjoy more than others (mostly the vodka). But for as long as I can remember, I have never felt quite as enchanted by the holidays as everyone else is. My favorite childhood memory involves working in a family owned sweatshop in the back of a cheese factory. There was so much extra business, my aunt was desperate enough to enlist the help of her nieces and nephews. My parents were eager to get rid of us because kids are annoying at Christmas, and they need to learn where money comes from. It was something like that, anyway. I think our salary was like $10 a week, but I could be exaggerating.
My brother and I found the best way to cope with our holiday servant status was to make up new and often inappropriate lyrics for classic Christmas carols. You know, they can force us to work, and take away our freedom, but they can’t take away the songs in our heart. Anyhoo, when I find myself becoming imprisoned by holiday expectations, I find that rewriting carols to capture the true “magic” of the season, helps me get through all the festiveness. Let me show you how…
(Please feel free to sing along to the tune of “The 12 Days of Christmas.” If you are unfamiliar with the tune, just turn on a radio or walk into a store, it is played about every 10 minutes for the entire month of December.)
On the first day of Christmas Sandpoint gave to me a cold that makes me pee when I sneeze.
On the second day of Christmas Sandpoint gave to me two rock hard nipples and a cold that makes me pee when I sneeze.
On the third day of Christmas Sandpoint gave to me three-hour lines, two rock hard nipples and a cold that makes me pee when I sneeze.
On the fourth day of Christmas Sandpoint gave to me four freaking fundraisers, three-hour lines, two rock hard nipples and a cold that makes me pee when I sneeze.
On the fifth day of Christmas Sandpoint gave to me five sweater parties, four freaking fundraisers, three-hour lines, two rock hard nipples and a cold that makes me pee when I sneeze.
On the sixth day of Christmas Sandpoint gave to me zero self-controlling, five sweater parties, four freaking fundraisers, three-hour lines, two rock hard nipples and a cold that makes me pee when I sneeze.
On the seventh day of Christmas Sandpoint gave to me seven rednecks drinking, zero self-controlling, five sweater parties, four freaking fundraisers, three-hour lines, two rock hard nipples and a cold that makes me pee when I sneeze.
On the eighth day of Christmas Sandpoint gave to me eight tourists skiing, seven rednecks drinking, zero self-controlling, five sweater parties, four freaking fundraisers, three-hour lines, two rock hard nipples and a cold that makes me pee when I sneeze.
On the ninth day of Christmas Sandpoint gave to me nine hours of therapy, eight tourists skiing, seven rednecks drinking, zero self-controlling, five sweater parties, four freaking fundraisers, three-hour lines, two rock hard nipples and a cold that makes me pee when I sneeze.
On the 10th day of Christmas Sandpoint gave to me 10 pounds and counting, nine hours of therapy, eight tourists skiing, seven rednecks drinking, zero self-controlling, five sweater parties, four freaking fundraisers, three-hour lines, two rock hard nipples and a cold that makes me pee when I sneeze.
On the 11th day of Christmas Sandpoint gave to me 11 coworkers twerking, 10 pounds and counting, nine hours of therapy, eight tourists skiing, seven rednecks drinking, zero self-controling, five sweater parties, four freaking fundraisers, three-hour lines, two rock hard nipples and a cold that makes me pee when I sneeze.
On the 12th day of Christmas Sandpoint—this snow-covered hell hole—gave to me 12 bills I’m paying, 11 coworkers twerking, 10 pounds and counting, nine hours of therapy, eight tourists skiing, seven rednecks drinking, zero self-controlling, five sweater parties, four freaking fundraisers, three-hour lines, two rock hard nipples and a cold that makes me pee when I sneeze.
Happy holidays,
XOXO
Scarlette Quille
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