it must be santa, santa claus

The following is taken from a conversation I had with Jess last night as to my plans for Christmas.

The party tomorrow night brings round the DiPietros; the crazy Italians. I shall be kissed at least 3 times by men old enough to know better but who do it because ‘we’re related so its ok’. I shall be asked at least twice where my boyfriend is/did i bring someone/why didn’t i bring someone. Everyone will ask about school to which the answer is that I transferred for financial reasons, moved home for financial reasons and I’m a graphic design major in order to find a career after graduating because of the depression (because i think calling it a recession is pussying out). Nana will try to feed me and everyone else all night. JD and Sasha will arrive with their puppy Cosmopolitan (cosmo for short, because honestly who has a dog with a name longer than their own?) and she shall meet Charlotte – Nana will at least twice talk about someone peeing on the floor. Hopefully no one shits on the clean carpet – Nana might throw a bitch fit. Then about 20 people who I have never seen before in my life (old women mostly, aged 60-80ish) will tell me how big I’ve gotten and how much i look like my mother. Uncle will call me Lisa at least twice (thats my moms name). More than likely someone will be burned by either one of the many candles about the living room or by the fireplace. The smoke alarm will go off when the rolls burn are done. We will run out of napkins. And nana will get completely trashed. I’ll also have to talk to people and make small talk which I immensely abhor.
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One response to “it must be santa, santa claus

  1. sounds like my christmas except my family is cape verdean and my nana will say “praise the lord!” all night, drag out saying grace and make everyone feel awkward for saying “damn”, while my uncle says “how about them red sox?” every 2 seconds. and instead of dogs we have babies but they might pee on the carpet too.

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