Wishing you a fucking great Christmas.

It’s Christmas letter season again. I haven’t sent out cards since 2003, and I must say that the guilt is finally getting to me. I bought some cards at Target – on sale – and I might even send them out. However, I’m at a loss for what to say.

Do I just sign my name? Or do I include a brief note of my doings?

And how do I sign it? Stay sweet? Have a great summer? Oh, no, wait – that’s yearbooks. Definitely a little different than Christmas cards.

I love receiving Christmas cards because it makes me feel so very rich. I have so many amazing people in my life, and I truly love hearing from them. I love the photos of the kids and dogs and sunburned summer vacations.

Right now, the front runner for favorite card is from my friend who writes a hilarious newsletter about her family’s goings-on. She actually included a note about how their minivan window was smashed because some thug thought the diaper bag was a purse. She noted – in her Christmas letter – that her only regret was that the bag didn’t contain a poopy diaper. Best Christmas letter ever.

But so many Christmas letters are just so over the top and wrong. My parents get a letter every year that I make a point to dig out and read. It’s always full of exciting news about prestigious awards won, perfect grandchildren coddled, and trips to Gstaad. And, this close family member consistently misspells my mom’s first name. Klassy.

Then there are the cards that try so hard to make it sound like everything’s beyond perfect that they are desperate in their tone and so brittle that the paper practically cracks under the pressure. Those disgust me, but mostly they make me sad.

So, I took a stab at a Christmas letter from Casa de Cha Cha. Is it too much?

Happy holidays from the Cha Chas! Our holiday promises to be much more aware, culturally sensitive and smugly joyous than yours.

Geriatric Poodle is his usual adorable, young-for-his-age self. Foxie Doxie is actively pursuing his personal jihad against bunnies, squirrels, and all woodland creatures. I couldn’t be prouder of their many accomplishments. Both have been parasite free all year.

I continue to be fabulous. Adding to my fabulousity this year are a handsome, attentive new beau, a pair of gigantic new knockers and a startling lack of shirts that actually fit my bosoms.

Oh, and I remodeled the kitchen. Yes, of course that’s real granite.

From our sprawling house to your sad little shack, here’s wishing you a joyous holiday season. And thanks for understanding why I don’t return your calls anymore.

Best,
Cha Cha