Dueling Banjos Christmas

Brandon Figliolino

Dueling Banjos

December 19, 2015

            On October 31^st, I helped my father put up Christmas decorations on my childhood home. Normally, my father dedicates the day after Halloween as the official kickoff for his decorating blitz. Because of my family’s hectic schedule, however, he called upon me early to help.

            Christmas is a spectacle in our family. My father has been expanding his collection of lawn decorations, lights, inflatables, and the like ever since I was a child. Our house looks unrecognizable once he’s finished. My father’s Christmas display makes Clark Griswold’s look like something Charlie Brown would do at the last minute. I may be biased, but I believe my father’s light show fares well against the light displays of the millionaires and those people lucky enough to get a spot on televised light competitions. The photographs accompanying this story should help give evidence to this claim.

Every year, I’ve helped him decorate in some way. When I was young, I’d stick the North Pole way finding signs around the yard. In my teenage years, I’d help purge the sheds of their Christmas spirit. Now, as an adult with little time for anything, I typically walk past and give him a thumbs-up. I’m usually always free to help with the breakdown after the holidays.

 My father has a rhythm to his display installation, a madness no one could understand. He really doesn’t need my help, or anyone’s for that matter. But when he asked for assistance on all Hallows Eve, I reminisced over the times I was able to take credit for helping with the display, even if it was just sticking a yard sign into the grass.

            My father called early that morning. We chatted briefly about some fool who had gotten arrested, as well as my plans for that night. Then, he brought up the display.

“Hey, before you go, do you have a free minute to give me a hand this afternoon?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. “What’s up?”

“I need your help carrying that bear up to the roof. Ty is gone and I need to get it up first since it’s the heaviest and in the corner.”

“No problem. I’ll see you in a bit.”

I pulled up to the front of the house Saturday afternoon. I passed the fake tombstones that dotted the front yard. After tripping over the cord that secured a skeleton dog to a coffin my father had made, I wrapped around the side gate into the backyard. The yard was a mess of red and green and white. Reindeer and Santa Clauses, trees and elves, snowmen and inflatable nutcrackers all had found their way out of the two sheds. Dispersed along the entire surface of the patio and a large majority of the lawn, it was as though I was walking through an outdoor Christmas sale.

“Hey, B!” my father called out. I squinted up at the roof. He stood up there with his hands full of green cables. “Let me hop down and we’ll get that bear.”

“That bear” was a massive decorative item made out of dirty white tinsel that was nailed to a red platform. It held a present in its hand, which used to be red, but now was a dull pink; nature isn’t kind to outdoor decorations over the years.

My father descended one of the two ladders that were propped up against the roof of the porch.

“How’s it going, bud?” he asked.

“I’m great,” I said. “It’s looking pretty busy back here.”

My father grinned. “Yes, it is.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get that bear.”

After careful maneuvering, we hoisted “that bear” up to the roof. Once it was up there, we carried it to the front of the house, past the massive cloth ghost that hung between two windows. Once it was lowered into its spot, my father adjusted the base and secured it with the cables.

“Perfect!” he exclaimed.

“We’ve got both seasons up!” I said. “Now we just need a giant turkey and we’ll be all set.”

My father laughed. “Do you have time to help carry up a few more?”

I always have time for him.

A spiral LED tree, a Santa Claus riding a hot air balloon, and some penguins on sleds all made their way up to the back side of the roof.

“Sweet. We should be all set for now,” my father said. “Thank you for your help.”

“It’s no problem, Daddyo.”

We climbed down the ladder and headed to the front of the house. The garage door was open, and filling the space where cars normally go were mountains and toys my father had built out of wood. Led Zepplin played over the stereo on the workbench.

“Well, I’m off. Have to go get a few things for the party tonight.”

My father nodded. “Sounds good, bud. Thanks for your help.”

“It’s no big deal.” We fist-bumped and I turned to head to my car.

It was then I saw something I didn’t recognize. Off in the corner, near more familiar boxes of Christmas decorations, was a large box with what looked to be an alligator on it.  Even though I don’t participate in the Christmas set-up as much, my father always tells me about new procurements and changes; except this one.

“Hey, what’s that?” I asked, pointing to the box.

My father, who had gone over to the workbench for twist-ties, glanced over. Upon seeing the box, his demeanor perked up.

“Oh! That’s something new!” He hurried back to my side. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you about it.”

I moved in closer. “Is that an alligator?”

“Yeah! Come here and check it out.” He set down the canister of twist-ties and picked up the alligator box. I looked at it, which had an alligator, a rat, and what looked like a possum sitting on a fallen log, all playing musical instruments.

“You know how our music system keeps freezing when it’s cold out?”

How could I not? Every time the temperature dropped below freezing, the contraption that controlled the synchronized lights and music would stop. Since my father would typically be working, it was up to the children to go out and reset the breaker on it until it started up again.

“Yeah, I remember. Does this play music?”

“It does! It’s a country band.” He highlighted the text that read I PLAY MUSIC with his index finger. “It plays country Christmas songs.”

“That’s different.”

I don’t particularly like country Christmas songs.

“It’ll be something new! I think everyone will like it.”

“Plus, we won’t have to worry about it freezing up,” I said.

“Exactly.” We fist-bumped.

“Where’s this going to go?” The house was already overcrowded with inflatables and lights, so finding a place for this band was going to be difficult, I thought.

“It’ll go right on the corner of the porch, next to the bay window and Santa’s Workshop.”

Right below that bear.

“Well done, Daddyo.” I patted him on the back this time. “I think that’s a good purchase.”

I was wrong.

Several weeks passed. The cobwebs draped over the porch lights and brick walls disappeared, replaced by wreaths and garland. It was Thanksgiving Day, and everything had been installed. The house was ready for opening night.

My father and I stood across the street, admiring the house in the morning light. The inflatables were lifeless, and there were no bursts of color from twinkling icicle lights, but even so, the house looked remarkably festive, even without snow on the ground.

“The house looks great, Daddyo.” I took a sip of tea from my travel mug.

“Thanks, bud. I really mean it.”

“I just can’t believe how much bigger it is this year!” I motioned to the second-story roof, where my father had erected a large Island of Misfit Toys made out of hand-carved wood pieces. “I mean, look at all that. There’s so much going on.”

“You’ll have to let me know how it looks tonight.”

My father worked a part-time retail job, which scheduled him to work Thanksgiving night. Not only would he have to dine and dash, he’d miss out on the first night of the lights.

“You want to know something crazy?” he asked me.

“Sure.”

“Normally, I count how many days it takes me to set up the lights. Last year, it was six days; three weekends, essentially. This year, I counted how many hours.”

“What’d you end up with?” I took a sip of tea.

“Thirty-six.”

I swallowed. “Are you serious?”

“Yup! That doesn’t even count the time building anything or taking it out of the sheds.”

“You definitely need to calculate that next time, Daddyo, because then you’d be well into the hundreds of hours. That’s just amazing.”

“It takes a lot of work, that’s for sure.”

I nodded. “Totally worth it, though.”

            “Absolutely.” We bumped fists.

            That night, my mother and I hurried outside at five-until-six. Already, a small crowd of neighbors was gathered in front of the house, all waiting for the big reveal. We exchanged hugs and hellos. By now, the weather had dropped and there was a dusting of snow on the ground.

            “Let’s get this show on the road!” I called out.

            Sure enough, at six o’clock, the house was illuminated in color. The inflatables rose, and the strings of lights popped on. Everyone started clapping and cheering, myself included.

            Then, the music started playing, except, it was not music.

            I’m not a country music lover. Taylor Swift is about all I can stand, and what my father’s inflatable hick band began playing was definitely not T-Swift, nor was it Christmas themed. The banjo twang that emanated from the inflatable’s stereo was awful.

            Ba-da-da-de-da. Ba-da-da-de-da. Ba-da-da-da-da-duh.

            The song lasted a mere thirty seconds. After a brief reprieve, it started up again, with the same song.

Ba-da-da-de-da. Ba-da-da-de-da. Ba-da-da-da-da-duh.

I wasn’t the only one who thought it was anomalous. I looked over to my left. My neighbor craned her neck, as if it would help her understand what she was hearing.

“Well, that’s a different song, isn’t it?”

“It’s coming from the country band, back behind the gingerbread house.” I tried to show her, but it was too hard to see behind all the other lawn ornaments.

“That’s unique,” she said.

“It sure is,” I muttered. “Doesn’t sound like Christmas music to me.”

I walked up the driveway and onto the porch to get a closer look. The way the possum’s eyes were closed, it looked dead. The possum’s mouth was open, and showing teeth, which made the inflatable even more unsettling. The alligator had a dumbstruck look on its face, and I couldn’t even tell what animal was playing the bass in the band. Maybe it was a frog?

The only thing that made the country band a Christmas country band was the Santa hat on the alligator, and the snowflakes on the box.

A few days later, my father asked me about the display. “What’d you think of it?”

“I loved it! It looked amazing.”

“That’s good to hear!”

I paused.

“Have you had a chance to hear the country band yet?” I asked.

“Yup!”

“It doesn’t sound very Christmas-like.”

“Yeah, I thought it would play Christmas music, but it’s okay.”

“I don’t really understand it, though.”

My father laughed. “Your mom’s gotten the same reaction from others. Some of her students have come by with their parents and thought it was weird.”

“Well, Daddyo, that’s because it is weird. Honestly, I miss the old music.”

“I think what we’ll do next year is put the band in the front of the lawn, that way people can tell that that’s where the music is coming from.”

He patted me on the shoulder.

“I guess that’ll work.”

When I would visit my parents’ house, I had to hear the twang of the banjo. With it sitting next to the wall of the living room, every time I sat on the sofa, I could hear it seeping through the walls, badgering me.

Ba-da-da-de-da. Ba-da-da-de-da. Ba-da-da-da-da-duh.

On the fifth night, I couldn’t take it. I had to say something.           My father and I were standing by the front door, getting ready to go outside and snap pictures of the lights to post onto the local newspaper and media websites.

“I’m sorry, but I hate that country band. Hate hate hate it,” I told my father while zipping up my coat. “It doesn’t play Christmas songs and it’s awful. I can hear it in the living room all the time. Can we please turn it off? I’d rather have no music than that noise.”

“No worries,” he said. “We can turn down the volume. Let’s get a picture of the house first, okay?”

We went outside and started taking photographs, the noise blaring in the background. A few cars rolled past, their passengers admiring my father’s extravagant display of Christmas cheer. We captured a few solid shots and were ready to head back in when one car unrolled its passenger window.

It was our neighbor.

“Hey! Excellent job on the display again, Thomas!” she said.

“Thanks! I’m glad you like it!”

My neighbor started laughing. “I have to ask though, Thomas, why did you pick that song for the display?”

“Ha! I told you, Dad, it’s just not a Christmas song!” I popped my head through the car window. “That song is weird, isn’t it?”

My neighbor scrunched her face and wiggled her nose. “You know what that song’s from, don’t you?”

I pulled my head out of the car and looked at my father. We both shook our heads.

Our neighbor erupted in laughter. “Oh, my goodness! You two are a hoot!”

“Wait, I don’t get it,” I said.

She stopped laughing long enough to speak. “Have either of you seen the movie Deliverance?”

My father and I shook our heads again.

“It’s an old, old movie. Thomas, you kids were probably way too young to watch it when it came out, but you both should see it.”

We chatted for a few more minutes before heading inside. I promptly retrieved my phone and did an internet search of Deliverance. It was my turn to laugh.

Here’s a synopsis of the film: four male friends go on a canoeing trip. Seems innocent enough, right? Well, then one of them gets raped, and then they murder the rapist with an arrow through the chest, and then the rapist’s accomplice murders one of the four friends, also with an arrow, and then the canoes crash and one friend breaks his leg. The one friend, who wasn’t killed, raped, or hurt, takes it upon himself to murder the rapist’s accomplice with an arrow through the chest.  Then they sail home, broken and mentally unhinged.

Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like the theme song from a movie about rape and murder, am I right?

I told my father, and showed him a video of the song being played in the movie.

“Unbelievable.”

My father was miffed at first. “How could we have known that song was about that?”

I shrugged.

“Why would anyone think that’s a good idea for a Christmas display?”

I shrugged.

“I’m turning it off.”

The next morning, I received a text message from my father. It read:

                                    MERRY DELIVERANCE DAY!!

I phoned him.

“Good morning, B!” he said cheerfully. “Do you want to play a banjo with me?”

We erupted in laughter.

“I ordered a replacement music system for next year,” he said after a few minutes of bantering.

“Are we going to keep the banjo band?”

“I think so, but it sure isn’t going to be making any noise!”

“Amen to that!” I laughed.

If there’s one lesson I can take from the Dueling Banjos Christmas inflatable, it’s this: There is too much information in the world for us to know and understand everything, but that shouldn’t stop us from learning and seeking out information. It’s imperative we continue to seek out knowledge. This betters ourselves and improves our perspectives. Being willing and receptive to information, whether it is what we want to hear or not, helps develop our wisdom and shape our character.

My father had unknowingly purchased a Christmas decoration that paid homage to a movie that was violent and offensive. It was what he did after he found out about it that makes all the difference: he adapted, and did so with good spirits.

So often we discover the truth about a situation or person, and become upset that that situation or person didn’t turn out how we had anticipated. That’s not to say we should halt any exploration of the world. Instead, we must continue searching and learning and analyzing—essentially living. It’s better to uncover the truth, and consequently, deal with it, than it is to live blindly and unwilling to change.

           

            On October 31^st, I helped my father put up Christmas decorations on my childhood home. On January 2^nd, I will help him deconstruct the North Pole he has erected. The lights will come down, the inflatables will fall, and that bear will be pulled from his perch on the roof and placed safely back into his spot in the shed.

            “Where are we going to put all this new stuff, Daddyo?” I’ll ask, pointing to the workbench upon which an Elsa, Olaf, and miscellaneous woodland animals lie.

            “I’ll just build another shed,” my dad will joke.

            “I’ll be there to help you build it,” I’ll say.

            Then, I’ll take a sip of my tea. My father will turn on the radio. Led Zepplin will begin singing about living and letting die.

            “Alright. Let’s get the house back to normal. Ready?”

            “Ready.”

            We’ll, fist-bump and then get to work.

 

Hello From the Other Side

Hello.

It’s me. Yeah, I bet you didn’t think you’d be hearing from me again, especially after how things ended. But listen here, good sir, I’m not some super-villain you can vanquish with a death ray or a minion! No, I am a woman scorned, and I shall do everything in my power to destroy you! Megatron has NOTHING on me! I can set fire to the rain!

If I tell the world, I’ll never say enough. I despise you, good sir! You’re despicable!

You have me rollin’ in the deep, deep abyss of my daughter’s ever-flowing tears. Because of that, I swear, the sky will fall down upon you, and all you love. You refused to return my 99 phone calls, and that restraining order may hinder me from showing up within five hundred feet of the ticket kiosks—though I would love to turn up out of the blue uninvited—but I will not stop until you are squashed like the Voldemort you are!

Bless your soul, good sir! You’ve got your head in the clouds. But don’t worry; I’m going to bring you down.

You are employed as top-ranking security personnel for a superhero themed amusement park. Guess what?  During our family vacation there, I was most certainly not amused. We were having the time of our lives, basking in the glory of the summer haze.

Then, it happened. Someone, as disgusting and immoral as you, pilfered my daughter’s very fancy camera. She bought it at Walmart with her babysitting money and a coupon! You don’t know how bittersweet this now tastes. It’s like an overpriced ham from the Honey Baked Ham Store!

Someone, rescue me from this nightmare! I’m a damsel in distress, and no one seems to care!

Yeah, I get it, the hot dogs are overpriced and the wait time to ride the Alien Attack thing was over two hours long because it’s popular, but that’s not what I’m upset over. What I didn’t find amusing was this grand theme park employed you, a middle-aged, balding overweight piece of trash to manage the safety and security of park visitors.

You are no hero, good sir! You are an anti-hero, a villain in every sense of the word! Pick a villain, any villain. You are TEN times as evil as that villain you just picked. Now, don’t you feel bad?

My hands, they’re strong, but my knees are weak because of arthritis, which is why I couldn’t chase after the thief who kidnapped the last shred of fun my family was having. You are a security guard; you should’ve aided us! Been the superhero we were counting on to save the day! Instead, you gorged yourself on a ham sandwich from the Honey Baked Ham Store in a control room Batman would mock as a broom closet with a ten-inch monitor! I get it. You can’t fly, and you don’t have a shield like Captain America that you could throw at the man running past the Superwoman signing autographs by the park bench, but you could’ve at least hopped on your silly moped and pretended it was the Batmobile!

It matters how this ends. You will apologize for not protecting and serving; and you will reimburse us the $49.99 we spent on the camera. You will also help us recreate all the special moments we lost when the camera and memory card were stolen. I, of course, will pay for you to participate, and buy you lunch, because I’m no wicked witch or villain, like you, good sir.

If I’m wrong, I’m right; I am always right. What you did—or rather, what you didn’t do, was wrong, good sir! You are a self-serving hypocrite, “protecting and serving” only what belongs to you! Who has video surveillance that only focuses on the cash registers of souvenir shops where you can buy Superman capes and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle headbands? We live in an age where the NSA is tracking phone calls, and you can’t even track the movement of a camera thief on your park grounds?

Now that that’s all settled, I’ve attached a park pass to the back of this letter, as well as my contact information, which I’m sure you already have on hand. There’s also $750 dollars in cash you can use to buy lunch and snacks and souvenirs with my daughter. Since I am banned from the park, you shall be required to step in a surrogate mother. I’ll be watching from the other side. Do me proud, good sir, because I can’t stand to see my daughter hurt again. Be the superhero I know in your heart you can be.

Until we meet again, goodbye.

Sincerely,

Agatha May Jeremy, Mother of Annalise June Jeremy

Letter to the Family

Brandon Figliolino

Letter to the Family

December 11, 2015

Heyyyyy everyone! It’s Meg-han! I know it’s been forever since we’ve talked. Life is just so crazy, ya know? I was trying to think of a good way to tell you all what’s happened this year without losing my voice. Then, it came to me! I’ve seen this idea floating around Pinterest lately, and so I thought, why not do it? I’m a writer, and a pretty dang good one! That’s right, everyone! I’m talking about my very own Christmas letterrrrr!!!

I’ve seen so so many great ideas! Some letters are done in the shape of—wait for it—CHRISTMAS TREES! Can you believe it? Ugh. I’m so jelly. No way could I do that with my letter. I’ve decided to stick to the basic month-by-month approach because it’s tried and true, ya know?

This is actually my second try at this letter. My first letter was all typed out in Franklin Gothic Medium font on this glittery paper I found at the craft store. Can you say adorbs?? It had a Santa Claus and little elves and reindeer on the borders. Well worth the money, if you ask me!

Anyways, I told my mom about this idea. She FLIPPED.  *cue hand gesture* “You can’t tell people about that stuff, Meghan! Keep your damn mouth shut!”  *cue finger-pointing* I don’t listen well, so I printed them and put them in envelopes with stamps and addressed them and everything. Mom came over for dinner with dad that day. I put the letters in my car to take to the post office because I don’t trust the mailbox in the apartment complex. My BFF Becky had her credit card stolen! Can you believe that? RUDE!!

I tried to cook pasta for dinner but burnt it, so dad ordered a pizza. After we had dinner, and mom and dad left, I went downstairs to the car and gasped! My letters were gone! I forgot to lock the car and poof! They vanished. So did my iPod! It turns out, mom saw them on the passenger seat and took them and pushed them through a paper shredder, but she kept the iPod so she could listen to Jay-Z during her aerobics class. *cue hand gesture* “You will NOT embarrass this family, Meghan! Don’t you dare make us the black sheep!” she told me.  *cue finger-pointing* “I’m off to jazzercise class; we’ll talk about this later.”

Well, guess what, mom? YOU OWE ME STAMP MONEY! Oh, and I just decided to post this letter on Facebook so EVERYONE can read it. Friends. Family. EVERYONE! Mom doesn’t know my password, so hahahaha! I win! #iamsmarterthanallyallbitches.

So here goes noth-ing! I hope you like my snapshot of 2015, everyone!!!!

January

January started off really rough, guys. Like, when you have dry hands and cracked skin kind of rough. On New Year’s Eve, I was out in downtown Topeka with Nicco. I thought it’d be cute if I’d buy him dinner at the Olive Garden, you know, since I just got a $25.00 bonus for the holidays at JC Penny’s where I work. He LOVED IT! He kept refusing, but I gave the money to the waitress and told her not to give it back unless he attacked her. He was so taken back by my kindness in front of his friends!! We finished our unlimited breadsticks and drove to the club. Poor guy forgot his cash, so he asked me to pay the $40.00 to park the car. He was so grateful when I did, cause I’m so nice and stuff, and he’s so grateful and stuff. Well, when we got into the club, I wanted to dance so so badly, but he said he was like really shy and embarrassed and stuff. He went to a corner with his friends so I danced by myself and when the clock struck midnight, I looked over and guess what? HE WAS KISSING SOME OTHER TWAT!!!!!! He said it was his sister, and since he’s Italian, they’re very intimate. I told him she looked Asian in the eyes and went off in a huff, after I pretended to throw a drink on him. I was super dramatic and everyone laughed at him as I left. Luckily, the night wasn’t totally spoiled, because this cute guy in ripped overalls saw me in distress and offered to put down his cigarette long enough for me to get a New Year’s kiss. Can you say RO-MAN-TIC???

February

I found my true love this month, everyone!! Can you BELIEVE IT!? Neither could I! Before you ask, it wasn’t the guy from January; he’s back in jail for grand theft auto now (totes sad because he had a hot bod!!), and it DEFINITELY wasn’t that lying, ungrateful sister-kissing Nicco. Nope, I met the most amazing guy at a FOOTBALL PARTY! I don’t even like football! Honestly, I went just to get drunk, but then I met Trayvon and we didn’t really hit it off at all. When I got home, he Facebooked me and showed me his dick on Snapchat and we talked and talked and exchanged photos and then we went on a date to a fancy restaurant, but the restaurant was sold out, so we went to McDonald’s instead. You won’t believe what he does! He is a FUNERAL DIRECTOR! Can you believe it? He directs funerals. I fell in love with someone who touches dead people all day!  But it’s okay, cause he said he washes his hands a lot and doesn’t touch dead babies and stuff. When it came time for Valentine’s Day, he took me to see Fifty Shades of Grey. That is SUCH a great movie! Like, the plot is just perfect! I can totes relate! I know she and Christian are going to find true love eventually, just like Trayvon and I did!!!!! #youretherightsharkforme.

March

There really wasn’t much that happened in March, aside from my BIRTHDAY!! Woo hoo! I turned twenty-five! Ugh, I feel like such a dinosaur, you know? Except not as old as the guys who hit on me at the club. Can you say, OLD MAN?? Pretty soon I’m going to like be forced to wear pushup bras and halter  tops and stuff just to get attention. Ick! Oh, well. Haha. We had a small par-tay at Trayvon’s place for my b-day. Heyyyyy!! See that? I just RHYMED! #totesgoodwriterandstuff.  I tried to bake a cake and burnt it, but we had wine so it didn’t taste bad. Afterwards, we went swimming. The pool was locked, so we climbed over the fence. I am such a good acrobat! I didn’t even hurt myself once! It was such a great birthday month, for sure! Mom and dad and Amber (my adorbs sis) and Taylor (my cool bro) were off in Europe during the whole month, so I didn’t get to see them, but it’s totes cool because Trayvon and I had SEXXXXXXXXX!

April

In April, I decided that I needed a vacay. I had been working really hard at JC Penny’s—cashiering is hard work and people can be mean!!!  One lady threw a shoe at me because it wasn’t her size. A SHOE?! Like, honey, I can’t help with that, you need to take it up with the Good Lord and stuff. Anyways, I was sleepy and bored and tired of working 20 hours a week, so I took some time off and went on a vacation to…..NEBRASKA! I’ve always wanted to go to a state that started with the letter “N,” so Nebraska it was! I walked around a little town and even had dinner at their local Subway restaurant by myself. I Skyped Trayvon every day of the two day trip, and I made sure to constantly update my Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram with EVERYTHING that happened! Can you believe I saw a raccoon once?? A RAC-COON! In a GARBAGE CAN! Totes adorb! I Snapchatted that one to like a billion people. The trip was like so so much fun, but I ended up coming home early because I ran out of money, but it’s coo cause it was still fun cow-tipping and drinking whiskey with strangers that one night!

May

I got carried away in May…just kidding! Nothing really happened this month, besides me joining the coolest knitting club in Kansas: the Kanas Knitting Club! It had fifteen people! I met my new best friend there! Her name is Rita. She loves the color orange. I worked really hard and knit a napkin for every member of my immediate family. They aren’t orange because I hate the color orange, but they are going to have everyone’s initials on them like the fancy pillows you can buy at Target and stuff! I’m actually still working on them, but maybe they’ll be done by next Christmas so we can all use them at dinner! #craftybitch.

June

June was so much fun!!!!!! I went on so many dates with Trayvon and we were both in love so we decided to MOVE IN TOGETHER!!! Yay! He really, really wanted to, and thought it would be a good time since he was running out of money and was going to be evicted from his old place. I said it was fate bringing us closer! He moved in and I cooked him dinner every night and I did his laundry and I drove him out to different events and festivals and bought him all the things he could ever ever want. He’s so appreciative! Once, he even told me he LOVED me!!! Ahhhh! I knew in a few months I’d be getting a ring on my finger, if you know what I mean. I also crashed my car this month, and broke my wrist carrying an overloaded shopping basket at work, but it’s okay because there was so much good that I didn’t care! Holla!!

July

I had a small bout of bulimia during July. That’s where you throw up a lot. One morning, while I was showering, Trayvon hopped in and told me that he was going to move out. I asked him why. He shrugged and asked me to pass the shampoo. I asked him if we could still see each other, and he said yeah, that he was just MOVING DOWN THE HALL WITH MY JACKASS NEIGHBOR WHO IS A DRUNK AND SMOKES POT AND IS A DRUNK AND IS UGLY AF!!!!!!!!!!! He also smokes pot!! Can you believe that? I was so so mad, I almost shoved his goldfish down the garbage disposal, but I’m such a nice girl that I didn’t do that and instead I cried while he packed his stuff and begged him not to leave and stuff. He left anyways, so I threw up in sadness for several weeks and then realized, Meg-han, that’s not a good thing to do. So I took up drinking instead. Mom is very mad about that. *cue hand gesture* She says, “Meghan, I disown you and all you do, you little whore!”  *cue finger-pointing* but it’s okay because guess what? I HAVEN’T GOTTEN A DUI YET!!! So HAAAA. #iamtoteswinningbitches.

August

In August, I decided to put myself out there and use my smart phone the way Good Lord intended it to be used for: ONLINE DATING and hookups!! I chatted with so many nice guys! They were all super close to me and nice and a lot of them were really, really hot. I guess it wasn’t meant to be though, cause I’d like tried to go on more dates with them, but they were all just super-duper busy, and when I tried to add them on Facebook, I didn’t get any replies.

September

This month was a blur.  At one point, I thought I was pregnant, but it just turned out to be an STD. PHEW!!

October

I met someone this month who was really cute and hot and funny and I really liked him, but he didn’t want to date me so I went to a coworker’s Halloween party as a stripper to make myself feel validated and stuff.

November

I joined a naughty bingo club this month!! That’s where you play normal bingo, but with young and hot people at a bar and the winner doesn’t get cash they get sex toys! I almost won so many times with a good bingo, but it’s okay because one night, the Emcee asked if anyone was wearing blue underwear, and if they were, to show them and I was like, “I have blue underwear!” and he said, “Prove it!” so I pulled down my pants and won a set of fuzzy handcuffs. Too bad I didn’t have anyone to use them on. #singlereadytomiglebitches.  Since this is the month to be thankful, I decided to not let it get to me and instead focus on the positives, like getting to spend time with my family for Thanksgiving and stuff. I wanted really badly to have Thanksgiving with my family, but everyone was all super busy having their own Thanksgiving so I stayed at the apartment and cooked a Thanksgiving meal with my cat. I burnt it, but it’s okay cause it tasted alright with vodka. I should apply for a cooking show sometime!

December

December isn’t quite over yet, but I have HUGE news! I have been elected Chairwoman of the Kansas Knitters Club!! I can’t wait to lead our team to victory in the next Knitters Clubs of Kansas Local Challenge coming up in 2016!  I hear they are going to ask us to knit—wait for it—SCARVES!!! Ahh, I can’t wait! I def will win that competition! Aside from that, nothing much has happened, but I am sure I will find my true love before Christmas. That gives me two weeks. I’m hoping Santa will have him underneath the tree wearing nothing but a bunch of jingle bells around his neck when I wake up on Christmas morning. I can see it now: When I walk down the stairs, he’ll see me and stand up and I’ll see a fat, expensive engagement ring hanging on tip of erection. I’ll get down on my knees to retrieve it, and will show him what a lucky boy he is to have found such an amazing and loving and sexy twenty-five-year-old wo-man like me! It will be SO RO-MAN-TIC!! I get excited just thinking about it. Haha. #naughtybitch #getmecoalandacondomforchristmas.

That’s my year in a nutshell, everyone! I just can’t believe how time flies when you’re hiding from the law and having fun and being drunk and alone! I know I’ve been really distant with you all and stuff, but one of my New Year’s resolutions is to be more sociable with the people I care about: YOU! That, and make a few babies, if ya know what I mean. Haha.

See you in the New Yearrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!! J

**Hugs**

~Meghan

PS: I def lost my voice re-reading this letter over and over and over, so you should get me a cough drop, and a round of applause. #hahaiamsofunnyiamajokesterforreals.