CHRISTMAS
THE MONTH AFTER CHRISTMAS
'Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse. The cookies I'd nibbled, the eggnog I'd taste All the holiday parties had gone to my waist. When I got on the scales there arose such a number! When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber). I'd remember the marvelous meals I'd prepared; The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared, The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please." As I dressed myself in my husband's old shirt And prepared once again to do battle with dirt-- I said to myself, as I only can "You can't spend a winter disguised as a man!" So, away with the last of the sour cream dip, Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip Every last bit of food that I like must be banished 'Till all the additional ounces have vanished. I won't have a cookie, not even a lick. I'll want only to chew on a long celery stick. I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie, I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry. I'm hungry, I'm lonesome, and life is a bore--- But isn't that what January is for? Unable to giggle, no longer a riot. Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS A NEW MOTHER-IN-LAW Any day now, I'll get my mother-in-law's annual letter to us, which will go something like this: Dear Darling Son and That Person You Married, Merry Christmas to you, and please don't worry. I'm just fine considering I can't breathe or eat. The important thing is that you have a nice holiday, thousands of miles away from your ailing mother. I've sent along my last ten dollars in this card, which I hope you'll spend on my grandchildren. God knows their mother never buys them anything nice. They look so thin in their pictures, poor babies. Thank you so much for the Christmas flowers, dear boy. I put them in the freezer so they'll stay fresh for my grave. Which reminds me -- we buried Grandma last week. I know she died years ago, but I got to yearning for a good funeral so Aunt Viola and I dug her up and had the services all over again. I would have invited you, but I know that woman you live with would have never let you come. I bet she's never even watched that videotape of my hemorrhoid surgery, has she? Well son, it's time for me to crawl off to bed now. I lost my cane beating off muggers last week, but don't you worry about me. I'm also getting used to the cold since they turned my heat off and am grateful because the frost on my bed numbs the constant pain. Now don't you even think about sending any more money, because I know you need it for those expensive family vacations you take every year. Give my love to my darling grandbabies and my regards to whatever-her-name-is--the one with the black roots who stole you screaming from my bosom. Merry Christmas. Love, Mom
Recipe for Stressful Times!
man after that letter .. thanks ma........ The Holiday Cake Recipe A Yuletide Tradition You will need the following: (Follow directions carefully!) 1 cup of water 1 cup of sugar 4 eggs 2 cups of dried chopped fruit 1 teaspoon baking soda 2-1/2 cups flour 1 cup brown sugar 1-1/2 teaspoon vanilla 1 cup chopped nuts lemon juice Bottle of your favorite whiskey ************************************ alright the tricky stufff First, sample whiskey to check for freshness and quality. Get a large mixing bowl. Check the whiskey again, to be sure it is the highest quality. Pour one level cup of whiskey. Drink and repeat. Turn on electric mixer, beat one cup of mixing butter in the fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar and beat again. Make very sure the whisky is okay. Cry another tup. Turn off the mixer. Break four eggs and add to the bowl and chuck up in the cup of dried fruit. Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers, pry it loose with a drewscriver. Sample the whishkey for tonsisticity. Next, sigt two cups of salt...or something.........where was I? Oh yes! Check the whishkey and repeat. Now, sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Spoon. Of sugar. Or something...whatever you can find. Grease the oven. Turn can pan 350 degrees. Don’t forget to beat off the turner. Boon the spatter...no, uh...poon the spatter in the cake ban, wisk the checky again, repeat, and go to bed. Nitey-nite. whew
MARTHA STEWART'S CHRISTMAS LETTER TO ERMA BOMBECK: Hi Erma, This perfectly delightful note is being sent on paper I made myself to tell you what I have been up to. Since it snowed last night, I got up early and made a sled with old barn wood and a glue gun. I hand painted it in gold leaf, got out my loom, and made a blanket in peaches and mauves. Then to make the sled complete, I made a white horse to pull it, from DNA that I had just sitting around in my craft room. By then, it was time to start making the place mats and napkins for my 20 breakfast guests. I'm serving the old standard Stewart twelve-course breakfast, but I'll let you in on a little secret: I didn't have time to make the tables and chairs this morning, so I used the ones I had on hand. Before I moved the table into the dining room, I decided to add just a touch of the holidays. So I repainted the room in pinks and stenciled gold stars on the ceiling. Then, while the homemade bread was rising, I took antique candle molds and made the dishes (exactly the same shade of pink) to use for breakfast. These were made from Hungarian clay, which you can get at almost any Hungarian craft store. Well, I must run. I need to finish the buttonholes on the dress I'm wearing for breakfast. I'll get out the sled and drive this note to the post office as soon as the glue dries on the envelope I'll be making. Hope my breakfast guests don't stay too long, I have 40,000 cranberries to string with bay leaves before my speaking engagement at noon. Love, Martha Stewart XOXO P.S. When I made the ribbon for this typewriter, I used 1/8-inch gold gauze. I soaked the gauze in a mixture of white grapes and blackberries which I grew, picked, and crushed last week just for fun. RESPONSE FROM ERMA: Dear Martha, I'm writing this on the back of an old shopping list, pay no attention to the coffee and jelly stains. I'm 20 minutes late getting my daughter up for school, packing a lunch with one hand, on the phone with the dog pound, seems old Ruff needs bailing out, again. Burnt my arm on the curling iron when I was trying to make those cute curly fries, how DO they do that? Still can't find the scissors to cut out some snowflakes, tried using an old disposable razor . . . trashed the tablecloth. Tried that cranberry thing, frozen cranberries mushed up after I defrosted them in the microwave. Oh, and don't use Fruity Pebbles as a substitute in that Rice Krispies snowball recipe, unless you happen to like a disgusting shade that resembles puke! The smoke alarm is going off, talk to ya later. Love, Erma [forwarded by Chris Davis] !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mikey's Thot for the Day: You stop believing in Santa Claus when you start getting clothes for Christmas.
TOP TEN THINGS TO SAY ABOUT A CHRISTMAS GIFT YOU DON'T LIKE 10. Hey! There's a gift! 9. Well, well, well ... 8. Boy, if I had not recently shot up 4 sizes that would've fit. 7. This is perfect for wearing around the basement. 6. Gosh. I hope this never catches fire! It is fire season though. There are lots of unexplained fires. 5. If the dog buries it, I'll be furious! 4. I love it -- but I fear the jealousy it will inspire. 3. Sadly, tomorrow I enter the Federal Witness Protection Program. 2. To think -- I got this the year I vowed to give all my gifts to charity. And the Number One Thing to say about a Christmas gift you don't like: 1. "I really don't deserve this." !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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