A Child’s Guide To Increasing The Likelihood of Getting What You Want For Christmas by Alexandra

1.   Don’t fight.

2.   If you do fight, fight in hissy whispering.

3.   Don’t sass

4.   If your mom asks you if you sassed back, say “No, ma’am, I was just clarifying.”

5.   Don’t hit.

6.   If you do hit, hide it like you were walking past your brother or sister and tripped.

7.   Even if it’s hard, mind your own business.

8.   If you don’t mind your own business, tell your parents you were just worried about your sibling’s safety. Because you love them.

9.   No name-calling.

10.  If you do name call, say you meant it as a term of endearment. “Oh you little poopyface. I love you.”

11.  No swearing.

12.  If you do swear, blame it on your parents losing their hearing. “Mom I did not say I hope he gets his ass destroyed. I said, ‘I hope you get your asteroid’ for Christmas.”

13.  Do your homework every night.

14.  If you don’t do your homework every night, pretend to be holding your U.S. History book open on your lap, with your Nintendo hidden inside.

15.  Try new foods your parents make for dinner.

16.  If you don’t like the new foods, spread them around on your plate so they look like less and then say “Boy that was so good I just wish I hadn’t eaten a whole bag of popcorn at school right before you picked me up.”

17.  Do your chores.

18.  If you don’t do your chores, make it look like you did your chores–keep the area under your bed as a free space so you can jam your toys, books, clothes in there at the last minute.

19.  Don’t lie.

20.  If you do lie, say all the double negatives in your parents’ question mixed you up. You meant to say you did NOT not not do it.

21.  Take a shower, brush and floss, comb your hair, change your underwear, make your bed, and be polite. If you don’t take a shower, get the shower door wet. If you don’t brush or floss, get the toothbrush wet and leave a string of floss on the counter. If you don’t comb your hair, leave a brush sitting next to the sink. If you don’t change your underwear, just put a ball of clean ones in the laundry basket, if you don’t make your bed, just throw the top blanket over everything like you’re going on a picnic.

22. You can’t fake the Be Polite — Hold the door open for everyone, say Happy Holidays to everyone, smile at everyone.

Just forget numbers 1 through 21. Do only number 22, and you’ll win your parents’, your grandparents’, your teachers’, and your siblings’ hearts for the holidays.

 

AlexandraAlexandra

Alexandra is an overanalyzing, oversensitive mother of three boys who somehow found herself named as BlogHer ’11′s Voice of The Year for Humor. She has been a mother since 1994, which means she hasn’t been right about anything since. She blogs of the sweet and the funny while trying to go unnoticed in her small town. You can find her at Good Day, Regular People. Did we mention socially awkward? We should, which is why the internet was made for her.

The Reverse Gift Guide: 7 Gifts Guys Will Get You…And What They Mean


Around this time of year, I fantasize about this question: if I had a boyfriend, what would I get him for Hanukkah/Christmas/Kwanzaa/Secular Seasonality For The Hipster Atheist I’d Probably Date? Because, you know, I’m a giving person! I like to be generous and buy people things. To that end, I certainly like receiving things, and I’m sure all of you funny women enjoy holiday materialism as well. So I also spend time fantasizing about what my imaginary boyfriend would get me, and to that end, I’ve come up with the Reverse Gift Guide. You know how EVERY magazine tells you “what to get for your boyfriend?” I’m here to tell you how to decode what your boyfriend got you. If you’re single, you can use this to understand all of the relationships that surround you and nauseate you at this time of year. Granted, these are my interpretations…but you should trust me on these.

 

1. A hand drawn card

AH! I love hand drawn cards! Especially ones in pencil that look like they took forever to draw. Home made gifts show that he took extra time out of his day for you. Some women may judge this and say, “ah, he must be broke because there’s no gift inside,” but the truth is that money isn’t really the thing in question here – it’s what did he draw? Did he draw a generic picture of two people ice skating? Because that means he’s a seven year old girl. Is it a poorly drawn portrait of you in which you resemble a deformed animal? That’s not exemplar of his drawing skills, it’s representative of how you look to him. Analyze that picture, ladies. This is how I discovered that I actually looked like an eight year old Jewish anime character with an enormous head and no boobs. Why are my eyes X’s?

You should also know that men who draw cards believe that they are artists, and they want you to know that without telling you. A hand drawn card is a quiet plea for you to say, “wow, why are you a banker? You should have gone to art school! Let’s go tot the MOMA, babe. Quit your job! I’ll support you.” Don’t say that.

 

2. A Starbucks gift card

This is a traditional gift to give in my family. Practical, convenient, and who doesn’t love an overpriced espresso beverage with exorbitant sugary syrups? The answer: NO ONE. Everyone can use a Starbucks card. That said, if your boyfriend gets you a Starbucks card, he wants to be on par with your family and be thought of as a sibling or a cousin, which is gross, or an indication that he’s just not that into you.  Or he’s into you, but $25 worth of lattes into you.

 

3. One of those creepy stuffed animals with a voice recording

He not only wants to be in your dreams, he wants to be in your nightmares. You KNOW these bears, right? The ones dressed like Football players or skiers? Cute, right? Then you squeeze it and it says in a deep, masculine voice, ” hey baby. I’d light all eight candles for you,” or “I think you’ve been particularly naughty this year…” maybe out of context this is hot, but when I’m falling asleep, I don’t want a bear telling me he’s hot for me.  Do you? These bear gifts are just the predecessors to Raped By Bear nightmares. This shows a lack of sensitivity. The only thing worse than a stuffed bear with a recorded voice would be a stuffed dolphin with a recorded voice, because dolphins have actually been scientifically proven to rape humans.
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MAKE IT like The Girlfriend Mom: Holiday Sex – Having It and Loving It


I lost most of November to Hurricane Sandy-ass, and her aftermath. I can honestly say that after that she-bitch blew through my town, flooded my basement and took away my power, heat and hot water for 17 days, I did not feel very sexy or amorous. Instead, I felt cold, dirty, (not in a good way) and I’m pretty sure that the potent odor that followed me wherever I went, was originating from my pores. Yum. For the first time in a long time, sex was the last thing on my mind… and that irked me.

I was busy thinking about mold spores, ripping sheetrock out of the walls and changing generator oil. I was not dreaming about anal beads and hot bubble baths. I was euphoric when I took my first hot shower and I actually could see myself under the lights in front of a mirror. And now, just like that, it’s the start of the holiday season. Ho Ho Ho… and I do mean that in a whore-y kind of way.

I started thinking about how sex is different during the holidays. I wondered if people had more or less of it. Does the eggnog go to his head (yes, that head) and the next thing you know, you’re doing it by Menorah candlelight? Or are you preoccupied cooking, shopping, decorating, baking, working, generally stressed because you’re hosting Aunt and Uncle Drunkard, who’s visiting from Peoria for a week, so sex is on the way, way, back burner? [Read more...]

~ Holidays ~ ‘Tis the Season For Singledom…Here’s Why – by Slutty but Funny

Single during the holidays, ladies (and gents)? 

Let’s get real for a hot sec, that’s the best way to do it. Asides from those Kay Jeweler commercials making you feeling inadequate as a human of the female (and/or male) population, or your mother constantly asking you if you are a lesbian in public bathrooms, oooooorrrrrr having every one of your siblings (and their significant others) give you the, “Ahhhhh, she had so much potential when she was younger…and then her hair turned that icky shade of brown,” stare, it’s really not that bad at all!

You have to remember that when you do not have a significant other, you don’t have to worry about anyone else but yourself. Is that selfish? Abso-fucking-lutely.

But god dammit does it feel all warm and tingly inside! (It really does. I’m doing it right now.) Haven’t convinced you yet? Don’t worry. I will.
 

  • You don’t have to eat in front of anyone that you are having sex with.

I don’t like eating in front of guys I’m dating (and/or sleeping with). It’s not pretty. It consists of talking with my mouth full, dollops of mayo and some lewd attempts at sexual gestures with meat in my hands. Sexual, I know. Yet it seems to have little to no avail on actually upping my sex appeal. People really don’t seem to want to boink the lady with a vat of Hellman’s mayo close at hand.
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EAT THIS: Thanksgiving Leftovers Faux-Pie – Heather Davis

Fake Pot Pie with Hard Core Mashed Potatoes

The day after Thanksgiving always throws me for a loop. I mean I just spent approximately fourty-two friggin’ hours cooking a meal that takes approximately thirteen minutes to devour but will set out for six hours until it’s picked plum apart. The day after Thanksgiving, then, someone will inevitably say, “Let’s have leftovers.” Ahhh, hell no. We ate the leftovers at about ten thirty last night, and it’s a wonder anyone is even still hungry considering we had enough to feed a squadron of army dudes and actually only had ten people at the meal.

But, eaters be eatin’ and you’ll need to have something to feed them. Here’s my fool-proof plan to earn a spot in the “Day-After-Thanksgiving-Hall-Of-Fame.”

Here’s what you’ll need:

  • 2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
  • 2 cans of turkey gravy (yes cans… you want real gravy, make it yourself)
  • 1 can of mixed vegetables
  • 1 c shredded cheese
  • 2 frozen pie crusts
  • 3 large potatoes
  • ¾ c half and half
  • ½ c butter
  • salt
  • pepper

Two weeks before Thanksgiving, boil two chicken breasts. Add salt and pepper. When the chicken is done, remove it from the broth and add more water. [Read more...]

Ask The Suniverse on FnS – Vol. 1 Edition 12

Dear Suniverse,

Although I’m quite the “as a matter of fact, yes this dildo IS awesome” online, I am quite the opposite in real life — or at least, with people I do not know.

Whether I pack my special toys in my main suitcase or in my carry-on, there’s serious intrusion of privacy shit that can play out either way.

Why not just leave my toys at home, you ask? Well, fuck. I’m a firm believer of the old proverb: “Don’t leave home without it.” (Don’t fool yourself, that shit did NOT start with American Express.)

Sunni, especially in this world we’re living in, there is a very strong likelihood that your private-ness could be put on display for everyone to see. Do you have some pointers as to A. How to hide said special objects in a stealth-like manner? and B. How would you handle such a situation when you’re travelling?

Sincerely,

Lady E, Adventures in Estrogen

 

Lady E,

I am right there with you – not in that I travel with my Happy Maker to every destination, but in that I have twice now gone to conferences in the past few months where Lady Pleasurers were given as swag [and a big thank you, to you, too, Sweetie!]. The husband is thrilled with this turn of events, as am I, but since I’ve flown both places, I’ve also been subject to the invasive search [no, not body cavity invasive; standard TSA invasive].

In both these instances, I’ve just put my carry-on bag on the XRay scanner and walked right through [well, I’ve more minced right through, because I’ve been barefoot and PUBLIC FLOORS ARE DISGUSTING], head held high, daring anyone to say anything about the interestingly shaped objects in my bag. [Read more...]

Memoirs of My America – When is Dressing Stuffing?

Thanksgiving is meant to be a celebratory time, of when the Pilgrims were helped by the Native Americans and there was a horn o’plenty of food. It was a good harvest, and along with eating there were three days of games and social cooperation. Peace among the people, eating together and sharing alike. No one cared that you called it corn and another called it maize. The feast was delicious and it filled your belly; and it was a time that would go down in history.

Giving of what you have to others should bring out some warm fuzzy feelings of love for one another. And Thanksgiving can do that, except when someone reaches across the table and asks another to “pass the dressing, please.” And that person a few chairs down sends a bottle of Wish-bone Green Goddess back their way.

“Excuse me, I asked for the dressing.”

“Right. And so there you go–dressing.”

“No, the dressing. The side dish there, the savory croutons drowned in butter. Please.”

“That would be stuffing. You want stuffing.”

“No, it’s dressing. My mother called it dressing. Pass the dressing, please.”

“Dressing is salad dressing. That’s what I gave you. If it’s stuffing you want, I can give you stuffing.”

“I don’t call it stuffing. Stuffing is made inside the bird. This was made on the side. I’d like that bowl of dressing that was made outside of the turkey. Please.” [Read more...]

Gobble Gobble – A Tale of Turkey Trepidation by Elizabeth Bastos

turkey trepidationMy holiday eating has swung like a pendulum through fashions. In college, I was a vegetarian. I gave the righteous stink-eye to my family as they were tucking in to the Thanksgiving bird. That’s an animal, I said. They were like, And? So? More dark meat for us.

Later, I became interested in farm to table like everyone else, and I ordered a bird through some Amish farmer cooperative in Pennsylvania. Later, I learned from an aunt in York that the Amish don’t necessarily treat their animals better than anyone else. So forget the Amish. The thing to do was to get a Kosher turkey, so the next year I did that. It was awfully salty. The pan juices reminded me of the months I spent in Israel.

I entertained the idea of hand-raising a turkey, but in high school when I went through a dorky aquarium-fish phase, I killed guppies. Accidentally. I just forgot to clean the aquarium for a year, my mind being on other things: Chris Nagy, the cutest brown-eyed blond thing in Western Pennsylvania that I knew. [Read more...]

Héléne Bouffant: Fashion for Obscure November Holidays

I am Héléne Bouffant, world-renowned fashion stylist. Welcome to my column on FNS. Most likely, you have not heard my name before. That is because I – like Voldemort – am She-Who-Cannot-Be-Named in the fashion community. It is whispered that if you say my name three times, I shall magically appear and offer you a pair of sequined harem pants. But do not fear, Not-Sluts, I am simply a misunderstood genius.

Happy November, my peasant friends.

November is a month that most people associate with family, and Thanksgiving. But not me: Héléne Bouffant. The month of November is a month of mourning for me.

You see, as a child, while most little girls begged for kittens and ponies, I pleaded for my parents to gift me with a turkey. Oh, how my schoolmates laughed. But ever since first setting eyes on those noble creatures at my Mamaw and Papaw’s farm, I was enchanted.

 

Majestic. Like Helen Gurley Brown wearing a feather wrap.

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Memoirs of My America – Dream Whisperer

One of the very first things we had to do when we woke up as little children, was to find our grandmother and tell her our dreams from the night.

She mentally had the Field Guide to dream interpretation as the backdrop of her mind. My Abuela knew it all; the meaning behind the color of the dress you wore, or whether your hair was loose or pulled tight. You’d present the facts, she’d pose a few questions back to you, and there you’d have it: what your subconscious was trying to tell you.

I’m lucky enough to still remember some of her interpretations and now it’s my children who come to the breakfast table and in between spoonfuls of Frosted Flakes, tell me about the mouse in their dream that tried to come in through the wall behind their bed.

I always begin with the first line of action: information-gathering. [Read more...]