On the first day of Christmas my husband gave to me a bottle of perfume the stripper was wearing when we went last week. When her boobs were in my face I was busy thinking about her smell. We nicknamed her "Smelly." She looked like Malibu Barbie.

On the second day of Christmas my sis-in-law gave to me two, too-large hurricane candle glasses that I plan to return. Would have today but they're suddenly half-price and I want a full-price return.

On the third day of Christmas my dog's girlfriend (in-laws' dog) gave birth to three (well, four but the first one didn't make it) little shih tzu pups. All male. The day after we left, so we missed everything. There's a little black one. I've already named him Sebastian. I'm fighting the desire to bring this one home with me someday, and I'm losing. I'm told he's four inches long.

On the fourth day of Christmas my brother gave to me four homemade coasters in the shapes of the different card suits. (We decided to give homemade gifts this year as none of us had any money--made for an interesting time. No expectations and no disappointments. I suggest everyone try it.) I made my dad four bowls out of records melted in the oven.

On the fifth day of Christmas my mother gave to me a set of five pink notecards with large K's on the front. I also got a Christmas themed basket of flavored coffees and cocoas.

On the sixth day of Christmas I got a whole lot of money, some of which was already spent on my new leather jacket.

Leaving the tired format, I'll just briefly get to the rest. Christmas at my house was spent with my four-month-old niece. She's finally starting to look less like a baby and more like an actual person. We had a potluck of sorts with fondue and the boy's soups, and the Fat Bastard my uncle thoughtfully brought. The middle brother made a rocking chair for Ellen. Cute.

We made our way to the boy's house. Christmas morning was spent eating customary nachos and relish trays (Yes, at 9am.) We opened presents, napped, and ate again. Spent the next day at the mall, sifting through clearanced baby clothes with sis-in-law and friend. Realized I'm really not interested in having kids before I'm thirty.

Today I got another ultimatum. Finish thesis or lose advisor. Fair enough, I suppose. Maybe that's the motivation I've been needing, though I still don't feel very motivated.

We've already taken down our tree, the few sad silver balls, the stockings, the garland, and everything else Christmas. I'd wonder if it ever existed if it wasn't for the abundance of leftover marsala in our fridge and a pile of things to return.