|thank Jesus this is only a cutesy (obnoxious) saying, because can you imagine how terrifying that would actually be? gah. no thank you.|
|like this. even rats know to abandon this shit.|
|... most of the time...|
|instead of subjecting you to a picture of my mother dancing, here instead is a blurry picture of The Patti Fiasco, jamming out. I like the way the lead singer rocks out while she sings. it kinda makes my day.|
Plus there was kind of an epic dance-off to Michael Jackson's Thriller in between sets. I saw some most excellent moon walking.
|why is it called moonwalking? if you were on the moon, would you really walk like this? it just doesn't seem likely.|
Now please excuse me while I tell you all about how good the parties used to be back in the day.
|just one more reason I'd be an excellent old person.|
And, of course, there was Santa. At the old (good) parties, Santa actually showed up and gave everyone presents. It was amazing. He'd sit on the stairs in the main room, and ho-ho-ho his way along as he handed out presents wrapped just like your mom wraps them. A friend of mine got a slinky two years in a row, but hey- there were a lot of us! How do you expect him to keep track?
|... or was there another reason?|
Some friends of ours usually have an annual holiday party a week and half or so before Christmas. They didn't this year because their oldest daughter is studying abroad in Ireland, and that's where they'll all be for the holidays this year. But anyway, theirs was also a party at which Santa made an appearance. You got to sit on his lap, lie to his face- *ahem, I mean- tell him you'd been good, and then he'd hand you a present with your name in your mom's handwriting on it.
*Quick backstory: from when I was about 8 to when I was about 13, I looked like a boy. A lot. End backstory*
So it's finally my turn to go up and sit on Santa's lap and get my present. Of course, all the parents are watching and taking pictures, and all the kids are gathered round, rehearsing their Christmas wish lists. He plops me down on his lap (I think I was probably 12 or so) and says in that big booming jolly Santa voice "And what would you like for Christmas, young man?"
|no seriously, I looked like a boy. this is me. like 8 years ago. ish. I told you so.|
And then it was just awkward for everybody. Except all those watching, who were probably in stitches. Damnit.
|FAKE! I call shenanigans.|