The Yearly Christmas Letter

I propose that we have a law that mandates separating Yearly Christmas Letters into two batches.

I'm serious.

One set should be sent to people who know you well (like family and close friends), and the other set should be sent to people you keep in touch with infrequently or only once a year, mostly via Yearly Christmas Letters.

Because after reading some of these letters, those of us who know what fantastic people you are are often left scratching our heads and wondering if you had some kind of momentary eggnog-induced artery-clogging fat bubble in your brain that caused you to manifest an episode of Scary Orange Hair and Pompous Fart Disorder (it's listed under Donald Trump in the DSM-IV).

Since the early stages of our relationship, Hubby and I would save the Yearly Christmas Letters we received for a special night. We'd put the kids to bed, get out the snifters, have some Brandy or Grand Marnier (or more than some) and read them aloud to each other.

And laugh our damn fool heads off.

Maybe it sounds a bit unkind. But it's not.

We love hearing news from people we don't keep in frequent touch with.

But some letters from family and friends we are close to kind of freaked us out. Since as Paul Harvey used to say, we know "the rest of the story".

And since you know we know "the rest of the story", why in the world would you send us these silly letters? Alternative reality?

An example are the ones I like to call the "Who Are You Trying to Impress?" letters.

"Snotleigh was accepted at the very exclusive private Snerdsville Academy this year! Bratleigh has decided to stay in public school because he embraces all challenges!"

[Snotleigh threw his steel-toed boot at another kid on the bus but missed and hit the driver on the back of the head, causing him to momentarily lose consciousness and run into a telephone pole, so the kid has been banned from all public school buses for a year. Tuition at the Snerdsville Acadamy is an astronomical 25K per kid, so Bratleigh is just going to have make do like the little people!]

"This year, I did what I always dreamed of doing, and took a 60-day European tour (insert fabulous locations, shopping, food and details here)! Although Hubby missed me terribly, he graciously supported me in this opportunity to explore the world."

[I caught Hubby humping the housekeeper and convinced him that springing for this luxury tour would put a smaller hurt on his wallet than my divorcing his skanky cheating ass!]

Then there are the letters that seem to come from royalty, because the entire thing is written in third person with a royal "we".

Then there are the really weird ones.

One very lovely, gracious, successful, intelligent and usually "normal" friend sends out weird letters and writes about herself in third person. Apparently she had a bit of a weight problem as a teen (she's been thin as long as we've known her), because almost every year she references this in her Yearly Christmas Letter.

1995: "Sharon continues to keep her figure trim with yoga and swimming after losing 40 pounds in 1984."

1998: "Sharon is still slender after 14 years of weight loss and enjoys showing off her svelte silhouette in the slinky fall fashions. Vavavoom!"

2004: "Skiing is Sharon's new passion to maintain fitness (after losing over 40 pounds in 1984!). She could be a fashion model in her racy snow gear. Move over, Tyra Banks!!"

WTF?

So hubby and I would get a little sauced and snicker over some of these letters and compose our own...

"After hitting the pinnacle of smoking 3-packs a day, Attila has managed to cut that in half this year. Now she just smells like a slightly smaller ash tray!

Mr. Attila was able to kick that nasty nose candy habit, and saved the family $6000.00 this year. We're looking forward to finishing the rec room (complete with full wet bar!) sometime in the spring with these extra savings!

The Big Kid has decided that it was time to move on from his first love and find a new girlfriend. Of course the restraining order helped this along a little bit.

The Little Guy has graduated from man-handling his janglies every time someone talks to him to the slightly less embarrassing action of sticking his finger up his nose like he is mining for treasure. We're so proud of him!"

Ok, I know we're a little demented. Maybe a lot demented.

But this is what passes for entertainment in the Atilla House!

Happy Holidays everyone! Stay safe and warm!