TODAY WE HAVE A GUEST WRITER IN TEETSVILLE.
My sister has written out her tale of holiday shame for all to see and I just read it in email form and LAUGHED MY ASS OFF. I copied the entire thing just as she wrote it and here it is for your reading pleasure:
Every year, Teetsie takes me Christmas shopping. Teetsie is the best power-shopper I have ever known, and I am the worst shopper, ever, in history. Only with the extra-strength power of Teets can I get it all done in one day. We begin early, and by the time we are finished, we're both haggard, weak, and irritable.
Two years ago, the yuleshop went down just weeks after the birth of my second child. I was worried about going out, being the food source for the new baby and having left her, for the first time, with her Father. The yuleshop went long, but it was fruitful, and finally we were back at our cars in a far corner of the parking lot of our local mall. I decided to call home and see how the other half was living...and when the spouse picked up the phone, my worst imaginings were realized: I heard screaming. Baaaaby screaming. The milk came down and panic set in as the Father-unit began to rant. "You better get your ass home RIGHT NOW! ", he barked, as if I had snuck out to go bar hoppin' and play naked Twister instead of out to buy presents for his entire clan. Normally, he wouldn't speak to me like that, 'cause normally, I'd reach up and dot that eye...but this was different; he was panicking, plain and simple, and all I could do was panic right along with him. I hung up, relating the deal to Teets as we flung packages from the trunk of her car to mine. I could not get home fast enough.
Teets helped me finish, gave me a hug, hopped in her car and started to drive away. WITH MY PURSE. AND MY CAR KEYS. IN HER TRUNK.
She was a good 50 yards away by the time I realized it, and God, the horror. If I didn't catch her, I would be stuck at the mall. My husband would snap, the baby would yell herself into a coma, the Earth would burst into flames.
I gave chase. I flew out after the Teetsiemobile, scrambling as fast as my then-Michelin-man frame could muster, hollering, flapping, desperately waving my hands and yelling like that Culkin kid in Home Alone. She didn't see me. Nooo, Teets was maxin' and relaxin' in her comfortable sedan, probably blaring NIN, completely oblivious to the hulking ball of galloping flab loping up behind her like a yeti on fire.
Note that the mall lot was still quite full; plenty of folks were still about makin' merry. They were soon made much merrier.
As I ran, I began to hear horns. Car horns, coming from every direction around me. People were blowing their horns to help me get Teet's attention. At the sound of their horns, I looked...and saw what every plump but proud Leo woman forced to run for a crowd of strangers never wants to see: everyone's teeth. Everyone's teeth as they smiled the smiles of the entertained. As they laughed the throaty laughs of the very amused. I saw one guy's entire pie-hole, yawned wide at my expense.
Why, God, were all those people out there? Why did every car seem to be occupied? It was as if they had bought tickets and lain in wait for the Festive Holiday Flab Parade, for their chance to see the Yuletide phenomenon of a very ungraceful and obviously panicked big-belly woman running full-Nellie down the center isle of a parking lot, screaming like a banshee. And they laughed their jolly laughs.
And then, finally, blessedly, Teets saw me. And then I saw all of Teet's teeth. And Teet's entire esophagus, and a flash of her lung as she parted her maw as wide as it would go in order to properly put the humiliation cherry on my holiday shit cake.
Teets laughed so hard, and so long, that I was forced to just stand and stare at her, both of us heaving for air for very different reasons, while she worked it out. Teetsie, when extremely tickled, just kinda makes a silent chuffing sound while bouncing helplessly. And she bounced, and chuffed, and gasped, for so long, friends and neighbors, that the thought throttling her occurred to me.
This sent my parking lot fan-base into new peals of hilarity, and Oh! What a happy Christmas it was! And the legend lives on, as Teets is sure to relay the tale to the kiddies each year when the winter wind blows and Salvation Army bells ring.
The tale of the year The Grinch Stole My Last Ounce of Personal Pride.