All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth

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Really. Truly.

I used to complain that we have no traditions in our family for Christmas, other than violently ripping our gifts open and reading the Christmas story. Well, it looks as if I may have started one on my own. Er. Yes.

Last Christmas, I was proposed to. I accepted. Relationship dissolved two months later. (And I politely gave the ring back.)

In between this Christmas and last Christmas I have had the sprinkling of varied proposals. Mostly men and boys who were elated to find out that "real women" existed, godly, could cook, blah, blah. (Makes you wonder if they were "real men.")

Well, with this onslaught of proposal's I have developed an inside joke with myself and tell these lads (jokingly) that the ring must be inspected by the trusted family jeweler if they would like their proposal to be taken seriously.

After telling someone I had never physically met, that no, I would not marry them. I also just had to inform them that the whole business of having the ring inspected was also a joke. No, I did not want a ring. No, I would not marry you. AND LEAVE ME THE BLOODY HELL ALONE.

All I ask is for two white gold teeth. Inset with diamonds. Pre-inspected. If you can't find a jeweler, a committee of three sisters will do.

Merry Christmas.

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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