Christmas memories — good and bad
Good day good people. With Christmas quickly approaching, I thought I would beguile you with some of my most interesting Christmas memories. (I started to say my favorite Christmas memories, but not all of them are great.)
Let’s start with a shitty one: When I was in sixth grade — by the way, I know when I start with a sentence like “When I was in sixth grade,” I know you young fuckers immediately start thinking, “Was that before color? Was everything black and white? Was your school a one room schoolhouse for all of the grades? Did you ride a horse to school since it was before cars?”
Fuck y’all! I get it; I’m old.
When I was in sixth grade, someone broke into our house on Christmas Eve and stole all of our Christmas presents. That was the year Return of the Jedi came out, and my mom went crazy and got me everything Star Wars. A stuffed Ewok, the Millenium Falcon, a Jabba the Hutt playset and about 20 action figures — all stolen while we were at my grandparents’ house for dinner. Christmas morning sucked donkey dick that year.
The day after Christmas, my momma went to Toys R Us and rebought everything. So, gift-wise, I was golden. But what I really got that year was paranoia that the robbers were gonna come back.
We lived in a townhouse-style apartment complex where each building looked like two houses were pushed together. A few days after Christmas, I noticed pink fiberglass insulation in my bedroom closet. My mom immediately called the detective handling our break in.
It turned out it was our adjoining neighbor that broke in. They went through the attic space, came down into our apartment and out the back door.
They got arrested, and we got almost all of our gifts back. So I ended up with two of almost everything. I even had enough Star Wars proof-of-purchase barcodes to send in to get two Emperor figurines. Apparently, that was the only way to get the Emperor. I got one for me and one for my cousin, Jeremy.
Jeremy received his in the mail in less than a month. Six months went by, and I still hadn’t received my Emperor. I was pissed and remember bitching about it to anyone that would listen. Luckily, we were learning about writing form letters in school, and my teacher told me to send George Lucas and the people of Star
Wars a letter. My letter was professional with a hint of bitchy.
Well, it worked. A few weeks later, I received my Emperor and an apology. To make up for the delay they also sent me an entire set of die-cast metal Star Wars Micro Minis. My little head and heart nearly exploded.
I knew they were going to be valuable one day, so I gave my grandma the micro minis and a bunch of the extra Star Wars figurines to save for me. She put them in her china cabinet and displayed them proudly for me. A few months later their house burned down, and they lost everything.
We did find a thin strip of melted metal in the area the china cabinet used to be. The Sith Lord giveth; the Sith Lord taketh away.
Now the tale of the Christmas cat! A long, long time ago — about 16 years ago to be exactish — we had a lovely Christmas gathering at our house. I cooked, and we had a houseful of friends and family. The last to leave that evening were my husband’s mother and sisters.
When I opened the door to walk them out, a calico cat was sitting on our welcome mat like it had just rung the doorbell. Everyone took a few steps back as this overconfident “kitten” walked into my house and looked around. She wasn’t quite a kitten but wasn’t a full-grown cat either.
I am not a cat person at all, so I asked Miss Kitty, what the fuck she thought she was doing. She ignored me and continued to sashay her way further into my house. At that point, all four of our dogs came running in barking at her. She gave them a slight hiss, and they shut the fuck up, walking away with their tails between their legs.
I told my husband, “Get her out of the house! I do not want a cat.” He, being the big softy he is, said, “It’s cold out there, and its only gonna get colder tonight. Let her stay the night.” I said absolutely not, but then, I think, he promised sexual favors, so I relented.
He drove a tow truck at the time, so he went out to his truck and brought in the kitty litter that he uses to soak up oil spills. He poured some into a gift box we were about to throw away, and Miss Kitty immediately jumps in and uses it.
The next day, I am sitting in my recliner watching TV. Miss Kitty jumps onto the armrest, and I start petting her head without even thinking about it. I turn and look at her as she drops a dead mouse onto my lap. I was grossed out, but kinda impressed. I didn’t even know we had mice!
I told her she could stay as long as she earned her keep. She brought me a dead mouse every day for the next three days.
We named her Kitty. (I know, very original, but she was actually named after Calista Flockhart’s character from the show Brothers and Sisters, Kitty Walker.)
We had Kitty for almost 13 years. She was moody, sometimes elusive, sometimes affectionate but always loved. I didn’t know it at the time, but she was one of the best Christmas presents I have ever received. The universe gives us exactly what we need if we are open to receiving it.
Remember to always love more, bitch less and be fabulous! Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals! XOXO, Cassie Nova
