my grown up Christmas list

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December 11, 2012 by Heather

Does anyone else kind of hate that song?  I mean, I get it, and it’s nice and touching and all… but my gosh with that song and the Christmas Shoes song blaring on all the adult contemporary radio stations it’s a wonder we don’t all just sit around and cry during the holidays.

Since Kelly Clarkson (or is it Amy Grant?  or both?) gets to wail on and on about her completely unattainable wishes, I thought I would list a few of mine.

A microwave that cleans itself.

No more spiders, ever.

To be bff with the gay waiter at Longhorn Steakhouse.

An unlimited gift card to Sephora, Gap, and Target.

That I would have stuck with graphic design.

No more Pinterest.  Ugh, Pinterest.

That it would be ok to pick your nose openly in public.

No more mommy guilt for any mommies (work or stay at home?  formula or breastfeed?  etc.)

A professional massage once a week.

A chicken coop in the backyard, right next to my well-maintained raised garden beds.

No more pimples.

More time in a day to get things done.

For my mom to go on a two-week long vacay to Hawaii.

That I’d like tomatoes and mushrooms and olives.  And also fish.

That people would call each other more than they text.

An uninterrupted full night of sleep, every single night (it’s been a while..).

That the workout room at the college would get new equipment.

That I could take chello cello lessons.  And also belly dancing.

That all pants had built in underwear.

On that same note, no more wedgies.

That I could go fishing with Grandpa at Lake Norfork one more time.

For my parents to still be married.

That I could find some sort of part time job that I really really liked.

A Whole Foods in Jonesboro.

That I could be on SNL.

That the perfect bra existed.

No more student loans.

That I could get my master’s degree without it feeling completely pointless.

That I liked school enough to actually get my master’s degree.

…..etc, etc, etc.

Nooooo moooore lives tooorn apaaaarrrrt, that war would never staaaarrrrrt and time would heal alllll heeeeaaarrrts.

Come on, Kelly.  Or Amy, or whoever you are.  Get real, girl.






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