Christmas Time and Swearing

I have nothing to say.   

Since I started teaching I have run out of anything of relative interest to say.  To which I’m going to blame the children for.  Before I began teaching, my opinions, while unsolicited, were often begrudgingly accepted.  Now, however, I’ve got 120 students a day who are actively trying to block out any information that I am trying to share.  My day consists of tricking them into listening to me.  No, I’m not the teacher who raps, but I might become the teacher who rhymes everything with a profanity. But this isn’t an entry about teaching or students or swearing. 

Well, it’s always a little bit about swearing. 

I Christmassed the fuck out of my house this last week.  What do Christmassing the fuck out of something mean?  Why, it means decorating.  But I probably did it a little drunk.   I have a tree and that tree has presents under it.  Some of those presents are for me and they’re delightful.  I shake them and stroke their pretty paper.  There are some presents that aren’t for me and those ones are allowed under the tree – sometimes.  Sometimes my dog, Newton is allowed to bat those presents around.  He’s also allowed to gnaw on those presents and maybe a couple of times he’s been allowed to pee on one or two of them.  But I’m getting off track!  The point is that there are presents for me and they’re pretty and there’s stuff inside that I’m going to keep. 

I have another tree but it’s not a Christmas tree.  It’s a fig tree.  My fig tree has Christmas lights in it, though, and sometimes I worry that my dog, Newton will become enamored with the lights and be electrocuted.  This leads to me crying out, “Newton!” with anguish every time he walks near to the quadrant of the house where the tree is located.  He hasn’t made the tree-danger connection, but he’s now afraid of hardwood flooring.  I could unplug the lights, but they look really pretty.   

Finally, I have a plan.  It’s a plan to have Christmas dinner at my house.  And my plan includes many grown-ups who are going to come over and judge me.  They’ll say, “Stupid, girl with her stupid dinner.”  And then maybe I’ll cry, but more likely I’ll be a little drunk and agree with them.  I may take that opportunity to stroke my presents some more.  Hopefully the judging grown-ups won’t take their presents back.   

So that’s how you Christmas the fuck out of a season.  I know it may sound crass but it’s a hardcore holiday and I think it deserves some more emphasis.  Also, because we all known baby Jesus could make water into wine, I don’t think he’d argue with me turning a noun into a verb.  God isn’t the grammar police, because I am.