I've never, ever been kissed beneath the mistletoe. Come to think about it, I'm not sure whether or not I've ever actually seen a mistletoe sprig in person. Anyway, this was a fantasy of mine as a young'un, and I'd always imagine it going down the way it does on cheesy TV shows, you know, where two characters "unwittingly" find themselves under a hanging wrap of the plant and one says to the other "Hey, do you realize where we're standing? Do you know what this means?" And then they exchange a sexy smile and enjoy a gentle game of tonsil hockey. Well, that hasn't happened yet, but I'm actually cool with that - in the same way that I'm cool with not having ever run away from home, with not having ever teamed up with friends to solve mysteries on weekends, with not ever having chickenpox, etc.
I've never gotten smashed and made a fool of myself at a holiday party. Mildly drunk, maybe, but never annihilated. The last holiday party I went to was like two years ago, one of those Baltimore City Paper things that's held in a huge loud club with no real seating and is total Hell-in-a-Cell unless you like huge loud clubs with no real seating and are okay with being able to get blasted on free drinks and not being able to actually talk to or find anyone you know. Oh wait, forgot - I've gone to one since then, for a job Alecia had in late 2006/early 2007, but that was at somebody's house, and it wasn't a dancing-naked-on-a-table-with-a-lampshade-on-your-head kind of deal. It was actually really, really nice! Too bad the lady who ran the office turned out to be full of crap. And now that I think about it, we went to another super-duper holiday party for a different job of Alecia's a few years before that. Oh, my memory.
I've yet to awaken on Christmas morning to find a brand spanking new luxury vehicle awaiting me outside of my home, wrapped in an oversized red bow. Fuck you, Santa.
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