Never, in the history of "Sex and the City", did Carrie go Home for the Holidays. I can't recall a single other show in recent history holding back from forcing the "Holiday Special" down the throats of it's viewers.
I, in the grand tradition of "Sex.." will not be hosting a Holiday Special this year. When people ask me when I'm going home for Christmas, I just smirk and say that I can't afford it. I say a little prayer every time these lies slip past my lips. Horrid, Horrid lies.
Now, don't get me wrong. I am terribly homesick. I do miss the grand St. Louis Holiday traditions of snow and ice storms bringing traffic and life in general to a standstill. I long for the tiny cigarette smoke-filled apartment my mother occupies that is utterly brimming with holiday cheer. A tear comes to my eye when I think of my "mixed family" celebrating without me in Woodriver, Illinois, where the smog from the local industrial plants make the sky glow like beautiful northern lights.
Truthfully, I will celebrate Christmas here in West Hollywood. I will charge an un-naturally green, fake tree at Target. My roommate will get half priced decorations from Urban Outfitters. (Employee Discount) We will spend a day with a bottle of Grand Marnier and shot glasses, gaily decorating our apartment and singing along to holiday classics from the Nsync Christmas Album. (Personal Fave: "Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays")
I will shop at The Grove while bits of fake snow fly into my freshly gelled hair. I'll resist the urge to kick the child with the "American Girl" doll, (they're wearing matching outfits!) because, after all, it is Christmas.
On December 25th, I will rip open gifts that I barely remember wrapping from the night before. Only I would know that I wanted a new Coach Messenger Bag and assorted goods from Fred Segal. I didn't bother giving my parents that wish list. They think Fred Segal is a cartoon character from Bedrock.
Granted, I will enjoy the stationary and underwear my mom sent for me in the mail. She still buys XL boxers, refusing to believe that I've dropped 100 pounds since the days when she spoon fed me KFC gravy and I chugged bottles of Pepsi. Maybe I can cut the boxers and make a blanket...
Honestly, I don't know when I became so "L.A." Reading this, you probably think I am a total clichÃ© jerk. But, think about me when youâ€™re knee deep in wrapping paper at your parent's house next month. Take an extra helping of Grandma's "Nutmeg Surprise" for me!
Sure, you may have the family, but I've got the Prada.
WORLD - AN EDGE IN MY VOICE
Copyright © 2010 C. Reagan
Home for the Holidays?
Copyright © 2010 C. Reagan
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