Christmas Letter 2007

Holiday Greetings from the family that puts the Funk in Dysfunction!! After a year-long hiatus, I have returned to share with you the blissful joy that is my perfect family and prove that in 2007 we were once again so much better than you.

First, let’s get the obvious news out of the way. As you all know, my marriage ended this year after I lost my mind and became a big fat self-absorbed man-hating slut. It was a long, painful process for both of us, but all in all I am glad that we were able to give the girls a concrete reason for therapy. Yes, I have given them the gift of angst, and coupled with the Morrisey box set under the tree, it is one that they will enjoy for years to come.

On the bright side, after a steady diet of Cheezits, spite and gin, I have emerged from my emotional purgatory a newly slim and trim version of myself. I even got winked at by the old guy ringing the bell at Kroger yesterday, but he too, smelled of Cheezits, so I’m not quite where that rates on the compliment scale. The mere thought of dating frightens me to the icy depths of my dead black soul. Making things especially difficult is the fact that my point of reference is now Hannah Montana, Webkinz and an unhealthy knowledge of pop culture all of which I’m not sure will transfer well to the dating pool. I don’t even have a MySpace page, nor do I have the faintest idea how to get one. I am confident, however, that all of my newly revisited teenage insecurities will play much better to an older, more experienced audience.

My professional life is moving along swimmingly. I have been at my current position for a little over 6 months, and while the hour-long commute is not very enjoyable, I am doing quite well for myself. I work in a building with over 300 women and 6 twitchy guys who only stop playing Halo to come in to work and sort the mail. I am finding the work more challenging than I thought, perhaps mostly because for the first time I actually have to do the work—sleeping my way to the top would require a lifestyle leap that I am not ready to make at this time.

The Oldest Chica is now 9 and her soccer skills are such that she was offered a contingent contract with the Detroit Ignition. It was fairly lucrative, and would have improved my financial situation greatly, but in the end I thought it was more important for her to focus on the fun of the game, so she’s spending the winter teaching “futbol” to the Nepalese. The Middle Chica is now 7 and is still dancing up a storm. We switched ballet companies this year after she was snubbed for the Sugar Plum Fairy again—they have some arbitrary and anachronistic rule about actually having ballet skills that we find simply unworkable. We’re hoping to have more luck with the folks at Joffrey. Little Miss Chica is now 2 and has landed numerous voice-over gigs—her wicked huge vocabulary and deep baritone has enabled her to become the new voice of CNN among other things.

My own acting career is taking flight as well. You can look for me in “The Real Housewives of Wayne County.” I optioned the idea to Bravo and they simply loved it. I carefully screened the applicants myself to ensure that none are cuter than I am, so watch for me and my new housemates to be ripping things up in February. The show features me, Darlene from Westland, LaTrell from Inkster, and Bad-Perm Connie from Romulus all sharing a double-wide out near the women’s prison on 5 Mile. The pilot features me refereeing a slap fight between Darlene and Bad-Perm Connie as they argue over who should win the complimentary “female rejuvenation” procedure provided by the Celestial Institute for Plastic Surgery on Ford Road in Canton.

I am also continuing my crusade against magnetic car ribbons; the issue seems to be stalled in Congress, but the Obama campaign is very interested, so the fight continues. In the meantime, my daily travels have alerted me to a new menace on the road—the Rear-Window Family Sticker. These are adorable little decals of stick figure mommies and daddies and their cute little stick figure children complete with ballcaps and bows in their hair. Some even have little stick figure dogs sitting happily alongside the happy little families. These things are so very dangerous, because when you are stopped behind them at a red light you are suddenly gripped by an inexorable need to repeatedly ram their car at full speed risking severe injury to yourself and your passengers. They need to be eliminated and I will not rest until they are all buh-bye.

So there you have our year in review. I hope you all have a Merry Christmas and the Happiest of New Years.
Peace-Out and Word to your Mother--Kelly