By: Mia Bencivenga
The time is now upon us.
Don your red Santa hat, down some eggnog, and feel free to yell “ho ho ho” with no legal repercussions! Yes, at last, ‘tis that magical time of the year.
Remember when we were young and happily naïve enough to think that an elderly overweight stranger sliding down your chimney dressed uniformly in red that ate all of your cookies and put unknown objects in your home was a good thing?
I miss those carefree days. So much so, that I’d like to recreate a little bit of that magic with you. Remember those Christmas lists that you’d send to Santa? If you were anything like me as a child (if you were I found a great support group you’d be very interested in), you would not just make a list, but also have a careful explanation for why you chose those particular gifts.
Because if little pointed eared people are going to slave over a hot etch-a-sketch for my benefit, working overtime, pissing off their union leader, I think they have a right to know why.
So, in order to reclaim the Christmas spirit in the best way I know how, I will make an overly complicated somewhat snarky fantastical list about the things I want a burly white bearded man to sneak into my house in the wee hours of the Christmas eve. Please to enjoy.
Item #1. Tina Fey Glasses.
Why: Not only do they make you look vaguely like a naughty school teacher, (which can either really work in your favor or get you into one hell of a legal pickle) but they also make you an immensely talented and funny writer. And I think many of my readers will agree that I could certainly use a little help in that department.
Item #2. Angry Pundit Translator.
Why: Between their belligerent yells of “socialist” and “propaganda” and the ever clever “Obama-nation,” they make grandiose statements so radical, one wonders what they actually mean. Surely, they can’t really mean what they’re saying, because that would mean they have lost their minds. They must be using some kind of strange dialect of English where the word “Hitler” actually means “a little hill” so when they are talking about “Hitler” they are actually making comments about the pleasant countryside; not equating our democratic president to an evil maniacal Nazi! Because I mean really, who says that? Right? Right!?!
Item #3. Ryan Gosling.
Why: I think we all know the answer.
Item #4. Instant Food Materializer Gun.
Why: I’m in college. I feel hungry about…well, always. But let’s just say, as I grow larger, my wallet grows smaller. Thus, if I could just point at an inanimate object and turn it into food, that would be swell. And to be quite honest, it would probably have more nutritional value than the stuff I eat anyway. I know, I know, this doesn’t actually exist. Well, neither does an Angry Pundit Translator, or anything else I want, thus the term “fantasy” in the title. But to be quite honest, if there are magical elves who are able to survive in subzero temperatures, obeying the sick whims of a large human fat man…then I’d say that making these magical objects should be of little difficulty for them.
Item #5. Robotic Man Date.
Why: After Ryan Gosling escapes, I am going to need someone for those pesky familial get-togethers where the only available question to ask is apparently “So, got any men in your life?” Why yes, I do have a man in my life, we met in a nondescript class, went on a few vague dates, and we’re both sort of crazy about each other. Now please stop asking questions, as my date’s battery life is running out. Also, my glaring inferiority at attracting the male race is becoming so prevalent that I may join a nunnery just so the pressure of finding a mate subsides; which most likely won’t happen until I’ve reached spinster status. Then I will start collecting cats. Yes, I have a rosy future indeed.
Item # 6. The Ego Stroker 5000.
Why: Being a writer, I am highly susceptible to any perceived insult that happens to cross my path. Whenever I’m in need of a generic compliment to get me through my narcissistic existence, the “Ego Stroker 5000” does the job right quick! For instance, let’s say someone accidentally coughs in my direction. I become affronted. I mean, why would they want me to become sick? Is my existence so horrid that they wish for me to become ill so that they don’t have to hear my lop-sided mouth form words any longer?! Why is the world so indefinably cruel?! In order to remedy my spiral into crazy-town, I simply turn on my automated “Ego Stroker,” and before I know it, a soft male voice is telling me that I’m pretty. Sweet, sweet validation. Note to the elves: Combine item #4 and #5, and I will most likely never need anything ever again. Ever. This will most likely greatly relieve Ryan Gosling.
Item #7. World Peace.
Why: Because I’d be a pretty big jerk-face if I didn’t ask for it on my fantasy Christmas list. Also, I’d like to believe world peace means more hugging and less, of well, general douche-baggery.
And there you have it folks! My Christmas list to the leather whip toting, reindeer torturing binge eater up north. Hopefully it gets to him in time. Actually, I hope he never sees it. If he does, I’m pretty sure my ass is getting nothing but coal for Christmas.
Well, considering the energy crisis, that may not be such a bad thing.
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