Where did I get this cute ass tie, you ask?
From the girls who will always hold a spot in my heart reserved only for the most esteemed, the most valued, the most loving, and the most loved.
I didn't send out anything more than cards this year for Christmas, although I did get my sister and nieces presents, and Ali and Bri's package made me realize how important a few inexpensive but thoughtful gifts can be. I felt loved, and it made me sad to think of the love I could have imparted by sending gifts, albeit small ones, to those I miss most.
The package that they sent [I give Bri most of the credit for this, since Ali referred to it as "Bri's package" (not her penis)] somehow arrived at my office outside of the hours of 9-5 so it was left at the post office for me to pick up. Then the storm hit, life stopped, and the little brown box was left unclaimed at the Cooper Station Post Office below Union Square.
I was planning on going to pick it up during my lunch break today, but then a miracle occured. The mailman went out of his way to see if maybe he could redeliver it. THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED TO ME EVER. And my happiness was borne.
I guess Bri's name on the return address sort of entitles her to the credit for this.
Sort of.
Excitement.
Uncontrollable anxiety and urgency! The Priority Mail "Thank You" adds to my already exaggerated emotions!
The inevitable embarrassment that comes with anything Bri produces.
Along with the self-embarrassment that comes naturally from her as well.
Treats! TREATS! Christmas treats on January 6, but still, TREATS!
My gorgeous girls.
An elusive scrapbook . . .
TO STORE MORE TREATS IN!
I loved this tie when Ali sent me a picture of it. She gave it to me. Selfless.
And Karen's contribution – I love her.
That's all I have for now. I was so happy after receiving this that I vow to replace Santa Claus if he ever dies. Thoughtful gifts effect happiness, as this package put me in a good mood in the middle of a shitty, busy day at work.
Anyway, tell everyone you love that you love them. And read Decoded by Jay Z. I'm a quarter of my way through it, and I'm understanding why I love rap so much. Or I'm buying into his lie of why rap should be massively consumed without guilt. Hmmmm, but I hate the idea of ghostwriters.
