Dear glorious reader,
I tried to write a Christmas post in order to make the most of #christmas searches on Twitter. But I couldn’t write anything of any creative value. I had something wonderful planned, with a coherent structure and tangible themes, but like the clustered rock of pistachio waste waiting impatiently at the bottom of my stomach, I couldn’t get it out.
So I’m stuck with this, shit.
I’ve been drinking a lot and gorging myself on pistachios, so needless to say my brain is a long and winding way from being in the right place to address you all formally and wonderfully. I have been busy basking in a truly American festive vacation.
I’ve been waist deep in trifle, mummified in glittered wrapping paper, prickled by polyurethane Ontario Spruce, oodling at fluffy snow, sneezing into embalmed toilet paper, laughing at John Candy trying to make it to Cheboygan, burping Bud Light and Alaskan salmon carbonate fumes, warming by a paraffin faux-wooden fire ignited by a switch on the wall, hoping not to have to say grace, wishing I’d never brought up Obamacare, unable to answer Entertainment questions from Trivial Pursuit from 1981, trying to learn the names of the starting line-up of the LA Lakers (I’ve got Kobe Briant, World Peace, Dwight Howhard and Steve/Kevin Nash, and that’s it so far), and being eternally grateful for every single great deed done for me in the name love.
This has been my first Christmas in America, and it has been absolutely wonderful.
I love you all and I hope that you had a fantastic holiday. Let’s keep the pistachio party going until 2013!