Dear Santa,*
Readers, take NOTE!
Back in late August, I made a friends-locked post for one Mister Kris Kringle.
Yet in this season's spirit of generosity and good cheer (along with some tiny hope that my request might come true), here's a public re-post. Enjoy!
Dear Santa,
I know it's a bit early to submit my Christmas wish list to you, but not only am I trying very hard to stay on top of my life (like a good girl), I know that come the day after Thanksgiving you'll practically be swimming in envelopes stuffed full of misspelled and crudely written demands from every fresh-faced Jimmy and Sally who are still naive/mercenary enough to believe in you. And I like you too much to be one of the many sources of exhaustion at that, your busiest time of year.
You're welcome.
With all this in mind, I want to wake December 25th to discover one and only one thing under the tree: my very own geek.
Given all those years you've spent holed away in the frozen Arctic, I don't how well-versed you are in the parlance of our times. So before there's any confusion, let me clarify - NOT a circus geek. I do not want to roll out of bed to step in a puddle of blood, gore and feathers before spying a grinning Mister Darnell Lee Hickson of Grease Guzzler, TN, wagging a headless chicken by its ankles.
No, my dearest jolly gift-giver, I want a different kind of geek. I want a person full of resourcefulness and obsession. Someone whose passions overwhelm them, for whom curiosity is a secondary sex characteristic. Someone fascinated and thus fascinating. Someone who speaks about their interests in a completely foreign jargon, but who's enough of a cultural emissary to pass on their knowledge freely.
If you promise to deliver someone meeting this description to me before or in time for the holidays, I promise to smoke no more than 10 cigarettes a day, (or continue on valiantly as a now non-smoker!) sit with my legs crossed at the ankle when wearing skirts, and limit my usage of profane language to Tuesdays and bank holidays.
Your devoted little lady,
viruswshoes
© MBS 2006
Back in late August, I made a friends-locked post for one Mister Kris Kringle.
Yet in this season's spirit of generosity and good cheer (along with some tiny hope that my request might come true), here's a public re-post. Enjoy!
Dear Santa,
I know it's a bit early to submit my Christmas wish list to you, but not only am I trying very hard to stay on top of my life (like a good girl), I know that come the day after Thanksgiving you'll practically be swimming in envelopes stuffed full of misspelled and crudely written demands from every fresh-faced Jimmy and Sally who are still naive/mercenary enough to believe in you. And I like you too much to be one of the many sources of exhaustion at that, your busiest time of year.
You're welcome.
With all this in mind, I want to wake December 25th to discover one and only one thing under the tree: my very own geek.
Given all those years you've spent holed away in the frozen Arctic, I don't how well-versed you are in the parlance of our times. So before there's any confusion, let me clarify - NOT a circus geek. I do not want to roll out of bed to step in a puddle of blood, gore and feathers before spying a grinning Mister Darnell Lee Hickson of Grease Guzzler, TN, wagging a headless chicken by its ankles.
No, my dearest jolly gift-giver, I want a different kind of geek. I want a person full of resourcefulness and obsession. Someone whose passions overwhelm them, for whom curiosity is a secondary sex characteristic. Someone fascinated and thus fascinating. Someone who speaks about their interests in a completely foreign jargon, but who's enough of a cultural emissary to pass on their knowledge freely.
If you promise to deliver someone meeting this description to me before or in time for the holidays, I promise to smoke no more than 10 cigarettes a day, (or continue on valiantly as a now non-smoker!) sit with my legs crossed at the ankle when wearing skirts, and limit my usage of profane language to Tuesdays and bank holidays.
Your devoted little lady,
viruswshoes
© MBS 2006