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All posts for the month December, 2016

Dear Santa

Published December 25, 2016 by WELCOME TO HEIDI

I know it’s a little late but if the fat guy is still up there flying around handing shit out – I have a list and a chimney and I’m willing to bake cookies if that helps get a visit from the Commander in Chief of Christmas. I feel that since Hanukah fell on Christmas Eve this year,  I can poach a couple of elves to handle my stuff. I’m sure if the people who ran Chanukah could figure out one spelling for that holiday for all of us to use – we’d finally get a couple of gift and wish elves of our own, but until that happens I’m hoping for a crossover episode. Now I realize some of my requests are a little global but hey – you’re Santa and you have a shit ton of reindeer to help – so get to it fat man – you still have the whole day. I don’t need new stuff. Just some help with the old.

 

#1 – Can you please help me find my slippers. They were last seen on my feet.

 

#2 – Can you please help me find my favorite bracelet. It was last seen on my wrist.

 

#3 – Can you help me find everything I’ve ever lost in my own home.   Socks, shoes, shirts, glasses, rings, my mind, etc. This one in particular is going to be on the list every year so deal with it. I have to.

 

#4 – Can you please erase the memories from the brains of all the people I was in exercise class with the morning I almost shit myself and had to hide in the workout bathroom for twenty minutes with disaster pants listening to the instructor yell – “thirty seconds left people, lets really push it!” Trust me… I was pushing.

 

#5 – Can you make sugar the greatest diet secret known to mankind and every time we eat something sweet we drop another pound? I’d be invisible right now. And not the kind of invisible I already am.

 

#6 – Can you straighten my hair permanently. I feel like this is a fair trade off for a Jew turning to Santa for help.

 

#7 – Can you please get people to stop reminding me of my past. People do change. People who remind us of what assholes we used to be – don’t. Lets knock that crap out immediately.

 

#8 – Can you get Zara to stop using Syrian Refugee children to make my favorite clothing. How am I supposed to buy sparkle pants for NYE if they’re tainted with child sweat.

 

#9 – Can you put an age limit on dieting and award a bonus to everyone who stays skinny until they’re 55?   YOU DON’T KNOW HOW HARD IT IS SANTA!!

 

#10 – Can you end war and famine and all that shitty stuff so I feel better about wanting the new Time Slippers that look like sneakers but feel like heaven.

 

#11 – Can anyone who ever abuses a child or an animal, immediately vanish from the planet the second it happens right after they get a punch to the face that lasts an eternity.

 

#12 – Can good things stop happening to bad people.

 

#13 – Can bad people stop ruining good things.

 

#14 – Can the Karma police get a time limit. Thirty seconds tops is good for me.

 

#15 – Can you erase the life tapes of me doing embarrassing stuff like falling down drunk, eating things out of the garbage, having sex with horrible people and maybe barfing on them, wearing stirrup pants, getting a perm, leaving that horrendous fuck you message that one time on that guys answering machine and the time I bought a pet rock. I don’t want to have to watch those tapes when I get to heavens waiting room. I feel like I’m already going to be too busy crying about all the time I wasted caring about all the things on my lists.

 

Thanks Santa.

The Big Break Up

Published December 24, 2016 by WELCOME TO HEIDI

Well, I’ve gone and done it now.  I’ve completely misjudged an entire gender and now I think – I’m really going to pay for it.  It turns out that the straight white american man – is a big fat liar.

The straight white American man has always been my friend.  He was always predictable to an embarrassing degree and I was always cool with knowing exactly what’s in the box before I rip off the “you’re cute when you think you’re right” bow and throw away the “i know i can change you” wrapping.  The straight white American man and I got each other. That is – until now.

It’s taken me years to discover true friendships with women, the gays and I have managed to find some common yet shaky ground, but I never questioned my relationship with the white American man. I could always depend on his love. I believed that at the end of the day – my power as a woman – could overcome anything he didn’t intentionally put in my way (because you know they never do anything intentionally) and laugh quietly to myself knowing that in the grand scheme of life – I had won. We always win. We’re women. They love us. Ruh Roh.

We go way back – the straight white American man and I.  We worked in television and told dick jokes together, we drank beers and talked about ugly chicks at the bar and I even banged a couple of them here and there along the way when I was super duper drunk and didn’t care.  I got them and they didn’t get me.  It was a beautiful relationship. No surprises. Everyone keep making out and moving – and we’ll all be fine. They won’t do anything too stupid. They’re straight white American men for goodness sakes. They’ve even figured out how to do some good stuff right? Again, Ruh Roh

Now I’m not sure how it happened but it seems that all these years of me thinking that I was winning as a woman, has been a lie. It seems that behind our backs – we’ve been put into some kind of chick coma – hypnotized to believe we are loved … and heard. Yes, in 2016 I found out something that I really didn’t think was possible – is very very real.  The straight white American man HATES ME. (And by the way so do a lot of his women folk) Yes, the young man I grew up thinking I could count on – wants nothing to do with me. In fact – you’re running in the opposite direction of me and I’m starting to believe that all the horrible things people have said about you for all these years are true. I defended you – and now you’ve abandoned me. And the worst part is – it didn’t just start in 2016. You’ve hated me all along and hid it. You’ve laid in wait all these years and pounced on me when I least expected it. You may be the voice I’ve been battling the loudest all these years and you may have even used me to talk about my own kind and hate them and be jealous of them. You have lulled me into a false sense of security, plotting and scheming against me for years – and now the worst thing that could happens has… you’ve picked a leader more hideous than anyone could have imagined. You’ve made the doofus of all straight white American men – your KING. And you gave him the keys to my castle.

And so I’m breaking up with you straight white American man. You can have your records back but I’m keeping the I’M WITH STUPID t-shirt. I will not be quiet. I will not be polite. I will not be your bitch any more.

For all anger about grand generalizations… please see the management.

 

Party Pooped

Published December 19, 2016 by WELCOME TO HEIDI

“No wonder you don’t have a man”, were the horrific words said to me through an actual smile this past Saturday night. I had just entered a holiday party and had been there for less than three minutes before I was fully frontally assaulted by a hug and these seven words. My coat had barely left my shoulders when WHABAM! shot to the girly heart. Apparently I hadn’t hugged him fast enough or well enough.  Whatever it was – it was an epic hug fail that somehow suggested I did not like men.  I do like men. Now you may or may not know me but I’m still sure you’ll be shocked to hear – I did not immediately punch this person square in the “shut the fuck up you moron” face. But it was a beautiful elegant party and so I let it slide. I also liked this person. But quite frankly, I was flabbergasted. That’s kind of a big thought bomb to just drop on a person before they’ve even had a Swedish meatball or a slice of freshly cooked spiral ham.

Now anything can happen at a pre Christmas party because when the holiday drinks are flowing the assholes are showing. Now I’m not saying this person is an asshole but lets keep it real – that’s a fucking horrible thing to say to a woman. It’s also something you NEVER hear said to a man. I don’t even understand the sentiment. And don’t tell me you were kidding because those words should be outlawed. The words “I’m kidding” said together at once actually mean – I’m telling you the gods honest truth as I believe it. Also what’s going to be so much better in my life if I do have a man? Will I be smarter? Will I be prettier? Will my career take off in a whole new direction? Will I never have to diet again? Will I own my own home? (I DO!!) What exactly am I going to gain from this hookup that I just have to have? Now maybe I’m wrong and everything will be better with penis and as soon as it happens I’m gonna call all y’all. But until then, I’m going to tell you for the last time why I’m single. BECAUSE I WANT TO BE. I may be 56 years old but I can still walk this vagina outside – yell FREE PUSSY and manage to scrounge up a dick or two willing to take me out for pizza and a cold brew. I’m pretty sure if I expressed interest in someone and attempted to start a dating life – it wouldn’t be that difficult. I’m a goddamn fucking delight. So, why have I chosen to be single? I’m not completely sure. Perhaps I like not fighting with someone or not sharing my bed or not watching sports. Not a clue. But how about we let me deal with that.

The holiday party can be a tricky thing to maneuver when you’re me. I don’t drink and I’m a bitch. Well – I call it honesty – but everyone else calls it bitch. I’ve learned to be fine with that. I’m going to accept the word bitch because no one can think of anything else to call me when I blast a little honesty their way. Fuck it. I’m a bitch. But if you try to take me down again over a bacon wrapped bite sized quiche – you’re going to lose – because I’m not lubed up with liquor and I have a tongue that will slice you to ribbons. Just because you got a bug in your egg nog about something you’ve decided you want to tell me right now – doesn’t mean you should say it and it certainly doesn’t mean I should hear it.

As for the party – I had an amazing time. It was the best party of the year filled with friends and family and wondrous food and conversation. But I wouldn’t mind if the rest of you found your pause buttons before 2017. How about you do you – and I’ll do me.