In the spirit of Xmas, I would like to give the always desirable gift of my love to all of my fellow elves, pixies and reindeer who helped me take a stand for our rights. Picketing is like, way hard. I don’t know how people do it. It seems like it would be so much easier to just go inside and sit at a desk and pretend to work all day but really just read fashion blogs and IM your friends and delete all the “Fw: FWD: FW: FW: HAVe A HAPPPY DAY!!!!11” emails your mom sends you.
We didn’t even get to the part where we have to get those megaphone thingies and come up with songs and stuff. Which is good, because I could tell that Debbie was totally going to want some creative input on that, and…no. Just no. I saw her iPod. I was embarrassed for it. But seriously, even before getting to the song part -- and obviously, the dance part -- I was pretty exhausted by the whole picketing thing. I’m really glad Mr. Alzate caved when he did, because it didn’t look like he was going to budge on the clothing allowance, and I just didn’t have the energy anymore.
What I did have the energy for was the rest of what I’m now calling Kristin’s Most Devastatingly Awkward Xmas Threesome, Like Ever. Failed proposals, returning ex-boyfriends, knives! I was kinda bummed that it fizzled into people understanding each other or whatever, but it definitely was exciting to have it all Real Housewives up in here while it lasted. And I suppose it’s good that Dad didn’t kill Ryan. As far as I’m concerned, every person around who’s ahead of me on the list of people who might have to change Boyd’s diaper is always welcome.