Saturday 31 December 2011

Morticia's Massage Parlour and Advice Academy Presents Frightfully Useless Holiday Advice!

She's Back!  Just in time for the New Year...

Dear Morticia,
Do you get into the Spirit of Christmas?
Signed, Curious

Dear Cur,
I’m not interest in the Spirit of Christmas and I’ve told him that a hundred times!  (Honestly…it’s these office Christmas parties.  Everyone gets embalmed.)

Dear Morticia,
For Christmas, may I interest you in private flying lessons?  Free of charge, my dear…
Signed, Ace Pilot

Dear Ace,
No thanks.  I’m not much on school.  A ghost tried to teach me how to walk through walls once…he had to go through it again and again…

Dear Morticia,
Can I interest you in custom-designed fruit baskets for your dearest friends.
Signed, The Custom Grocer

Dear Cus,
No thanks.  I gave a Christmas food basket to Thing last year and it bombed horribly.  He just didn’t have the stomach for it.

Dear Morticia,
I’m quitting smoking starting Jan. 1.  Are you making any New Years resolutions this year?
Signed Sincere

Dear Sin,
Yup.  As soon as the vulture dinner is over, I’m becoming a vegetarian.  (At least when you carve a pumpkin, it doesn’t try to eat you back.)

Dear Morticia,
I was a good girl all year, and all Santa brought me was a large frog.  Frankly, I feel cheated. 
Signed, Princess

Dear Princess
Honey, I don’t blame you, so be sure to follow my advice: Be very bad next year and Santa may bring you a Prince. (And if you don’t get the Prince, at least you will have had a smashing good time all year!)

Morticia will return to these pages unless someone pays off her creator big time.

Wednesday 21 December 2011

'The Night Before Christmas' - Morticia's Version

(reprinted with permission)

T’was the night before Christmas
Just right for a fling
Not a creature was stirring
Not even dear Thing
The relatives were hung
By the chimney with care
And spiderwebs shimmered
Like wreathes in the air.

When all of a sudden
There was such a clatter
I rose from my coffin
To check out the matter
T’was the big guy himself
And in situ quite dire
Missed his step in the flue
Landed square in the fire.

He cursed and he blustered
And rolled on the rug
I shook my head, scolding
“Don’t you be such a mug,”
“Santa,” I said
“If you want to get hot
Step away from the fire
And come see what I’ve got!”

His eyes were like saucers
He straightened up quick
Then he yelled to an elf
“Hold my sack for a bit”
And I’m happy to say
Though his belly may jiggle
The rest of him functions
With nary a wiggle.

A few hours later,
The clock ticked away
But ole Santa, the rascal
Seemed inclined to stay.
“Darling,” I said
“While I hate to remind
The children are waiting
You’re right out of time!”

“Oh damn,” he exclaimed
Tripping over his suit
“Get the reindeer all ready!
Where’n hell is my boot?”
He dashed to the graveyard
In a manner most hardy
To find reindeer engaged
In a whale of a party.

“Yo, Dasher!  Yo, Dancer,
Stop it, Prancer and Vixen!
Who’s on her?  Oh Donner…
Where’s Cupid and Blitzen?
Get off her you bugger,
Mind the top of that wall.
Oh, dammit all! Dammit all!
Dammit to hell!”

He had them reharnessed
As quick as a wink
Then he mounted and muttered
“Could I use a drink!”
And I heard him proclaim
As he rose out of sight,
“Merry Christmas – Hey doll!
Be back later tonight!”

Wednesday 14 December 2011

Christmas Newsletters Unmasked - what REALLY went down last year!

One thing I hate even more than the current gang of thieves in Ottawa is the annual Christmas Newsletter brag sheet.  You know the type…when people who couldn’t be bothered to pick up a phone all year long suddenly feel you can’t possibly survive another day without knowing their intimate business.

Have you ever noticed that nothing BAD ever happens to these people?  Where is the heartbreaking stuff?  The flunked tests?  WHERE ARE ALL THE STUPID FINANCIAL DECISIONS? 

Luckily, I’m learning to read between the lines.  Here is my version of what really happened:

Hello to all our dear friends!  Here it is, Christmas time once more, and I still haven’t gotten around to spring cleaning again.  Oh well – good thing nobody ever comes here.  They wouldn’t be able to get around the empty cases of brew in the front hall. 

I’m happy to report that things are back to normal after Ted broke his leg trying to resist arrest.  It was all a silly mistake; he never would have smashed into the cruiser if they’d had their lights on.  Luckily they have terrific medical facilities in the Don Jail, and Ted is on the mend.

And just when you thought it couldn’t happen, young Wally flunked grade 10 for the third time.  The Principal seems to think this is a record, which just goes to show that Wally can be outstanding when he puts his mind to it.

You may have heard that we’ve added a son-in-law to the family.  We also have a new grandchild, who arrived about the same time.  The birth was easier than the wedding, and luckily the father of the bride missed both, as he was otherwise detained <see above>.

Dear Grandpa is just a spry as ever.  He totters around town waving to all the girls and showing them his new trench coat.  He’s really proud of the plaid lining, too.

Aren’t families wonderful.  And as for me…well you may have heard about Ted’s last foray into the stock market before he lost his job.  They took the house, but I still have the dog, and frankly, except for a little touch of pneumonia, we do fine on Queen Street.

Well, that’s it for now.  How was your year?

Thursday 8 December 2011

Hold the Fur, Santa! (reprinted with permission)

Time for the annual pilgrimage to Santa’s Workshop with the Christmas wish list.  I prepare the troops for major action.

‘Who wants to go see Santa tonight?”

Number one daughter turns several shades of scarlet.

“Oh no.  No way.  Remember last year?  I nearly died of embarrassment.”

I admit we did cause a bit of a fiasco.  Even Santa was surprised when I plopped down on his lap.

“Hi Santa.  Hope you don’t mind me bringing a list – whoops, there goes the end – but I’ve been saving up these past few years."

“What can I do for you, Darlin’?  (He’s such a charmer.)

“Well, for starters, I’d like to hear the occasional ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.  You know, like: “Thank you for making this terrific meal, Mom!” instead of “Oh no, not homemade Linguini alla Romana AGAIN?”

“Sounds fair.”

“Wish number two: I’d like, just once, to wake up to a house that didn’t look like someone picked it up and shook it.”

“That’s a might big wish,” said Santa.

“Well, how ‘bout if you make it so I can get to the front door without kicking my way through the shoes?”

“That’s what you’d like for Christmas?”  He was dubious.

“You want to get your milk and cookies?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“And another thing.” (I was on a roll.)  “No Lego for the kids this year, please.”

“Don’t they want it?”

“Sure they want it. I don’t want another thousands pieces to pick up around the house.  Consider it a personal favour.”

“Gladly.  Have you been good this year?”

“Better than you.  Watch those hands, Santa.”

“Sorry.  Any stocking stuffers?”

“Lots.  How ‘bout the following: a clean floor for more than one day; a doorbell that works; a bath by myself; the kids to sleep in past seven just one Sunday; to find the five missing socks the dryer ate; complete laundry service; all meals planned, prepared and cleaned up by someone else; and lots of time to do nothing by myself.  Oh – one last thing: a diaper that changes itself.”

He was impressed.  “That’s a good one.”

“Thank you.  I’m an expert.”

Santa looked puzzled.  “Most girls your age ask me for diamond rings and fur coats.”

“Skip the fur.  I want a maid.”

Later in the car:

“Sorry to tell you this, Mom, but there is no Santa Claus.”

My eldest daughter is a cynic.  But it takes more than that to bring me down.

“Don’t be ridiculous.  Who do you think stuffed your Christmas stockings all these years?  And what about Rudolf?  Where did those carrots go to on Christmas Eve?”

Kids today.  They don’t believe in anything.  “Why, you probably don’t even believe in the Easter Bunny,” I accused.

“You’re right.  I don’t.”

“Careful, kiddo.  He might decide not to come.”

A cynic, but not stupid.  “Oh, well in that case…”

“I thought you’d see it my way.”