Get your grubby little fingers off my Christmas cookie

I’m tired today readers because it’s difficult to sleep with half a bottle of wine, two beers, and seven sugar cookies in your system. To be fair, decorating sugar cookies was a half hearted attempt to keep my goddaughter quiet for five minutes while I rapid fired every single thing that’s happened to me in the last four months to her mother, because that’s how it works when your friend has a toddler.

I also woke up with a cold this morning but honestly I think that’s because my goddaughter sneezed directly onto the sheet of cookies we’d just cut out (they were uncooked so I naturally assumed that the heat of the oven would take care of any unwanted particles). She also licked the tops of most of the decorating materials including eating all of the star sparkles and 80% of the chocolate sprinkles. I did however hoard the green icing, telling her that it tasted like beets and then proceeding to point at the far wall and scream “WHATS OVER THERE??” whenever she asked for it. Sorry kid, this picture perfect Christmas tree cookie isn’t going to ice itself and clearly you have neither the hand-eye coordination nor the ability to forgo short-term pleasure for long-term completion of a task.

Holiday traditions are a good thing though. For instance when my brother and I were children, my father used to put us in the car and drive us to the rich part of town to look at Christmas lights. Although it usually ended with me sucker punching my brother in the back seat of the car, there were at least two to seven minutes of good ol’ fashion Christmas fun. The thing that used to piss everyone off though, including my mother, was that my dad would yell the word “LIGHTS” in this creepy elfin voice every time we turned onto a different street.

Yes dad we get it – we’re in the rich part of town where people have time to do things like put up lights and make homemade eggnog and be happy at Christmas. Which means that every single street is going to have some variation on the theme of twinkling sparkly bulbs. What you do NOT need to do is announce it over and over and over again. My dad though has this habit of saying something moderately funny, getting a laugh, and then restating the same sentence for six months. I swear to god he used the line “It’s your upper lip” in response to the phrase “What’s that smell?” for a solid year. Sadly I too have the same tendency and while I don’t think it’s as pronounced as my father, it still makes me want to sucker punch my brother in the backseat of a car as a way to alleviate inner pain through the use of physical violence on someone smaller and weaker than yourself.

Ultimately I really like the holidays though. Being drunk at 11 in the morning isn’t frowned upon and notwithstanding the questions about how I spend my time if I don’t have a job, it’s fun to hang with family and friends. – umm CLEARLY these homemade lavender scented bath salts I’m giving as gifts are the result of at least twenty-two minutes of solid activity.

And to that I say Feliz-Navidad. Doo, doo, doo, doo. Feliz-Navidad. Doo, doo, doo, doo. Feliz-Navidad, something something in another language …

Sugar Cookie S’more

Sugar Cookies

Marshmallow

–       Bake sugar cookies (again look that sh^& up if you need a recipe. What do you think this is, a food blog)

–       Decorate sugar cookies

–       Melt marshmallow in-between and feast, hopefully with eggnog

Sugar Cookies

Advertisements

3 responses to “Get your grubby little fingers off my Christmas cookie

  1. S’moregasm is back mafucka! I love this post! Mainly cause I use those same “look over there” tactics with my daughter for the chance to talk with my wife… about sex. Happy Holidays!

  2. I may or may not make these s’mores and eat seven, all at once, while standing over the sink. Nice post. Sarcasm and Christmas go together dashingly.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s