No Fairport/Season’s Gratings

SURPRISE!!! Here’s that Yule Blog you all weren’t expecting! Cue piñata burst of emotion!

I thought flying home on Christmas Eve would be a good idea. But everyone else had the same idea so I can no longer lay claim to it in that hushed, conspiratorial whisper used by spies & people inside a library.

It’s bad enough that my airport shuttle driver handled the wheel like he was trying to break some kind of a record. The record being “Can you be an airport shuttle driver, but also audition for The Fast & The Furious franchise at the same time?”

Plus that airport was filled with kids! HUB? More like a HUBBUB, am I right, crickets?!?!

Sexy Tangent: What if Santa’s elves looked like the elves from Lord of the Rings? He would feel so insecure. All lithe, lanky, and lyrical. Santa would be knocking things over all the time, and they’d be like “Our crystals! Not again. Please. Go eat with the reindeer. You’re embarrassing the nature spirits.” [AND SCENE.]

Oops, I was talking about kids and I got derailed with my life plans. Kids’ll do that to you. They’ll also enrich your life in ways you never dreamed Mission Possible. Tom Cruise knows. The couch knows. Oprah knows.

For example, this happened earlier today: A small girl at my gate was slowly eating chips & staring at me. HELLO SOCIAL WATERBOARDING. I was about to volunteer government secrets I didn’t even have, like the Natural History Museum’s Holiday Hours.

Boiler Alert: Nothing happened, other than that I boarded the plane and I sat next to a crying baby and in front of a Karate Kid (nonstop seat kicking). KIDS! Cue spaghetti face.

Thought I Had Earlier: Is it tacky if I buy everyone neck pillows from Hudson News? And by everyone, I mean myself. And by myself, I mean nobody. And by neck pillow, I mean Bugles.

Well, from me and this woman in a leopard print onesie/footie pajamas walking around the LA airport this morning like she subletted the place, HAPPY YMAS. Y? Because I said so!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I must donate all my Fabergé eggs to pseudoscience.

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