Ingredients For Seasonal Cheer: Jesus and Zebras in Party Hats

Last week I was confused for an eight year old. This happens on occasion. And by on occasion I mean a lot. Almost daily people ask me what I want to do after high school. My go to move of replying in a squeaky, high pitched voice “I’m a grown up DAMMIT!” is less effective than one might think.

So I’ve decided to do the most grown up thing I can think of. And to answer your question – no I’m not having a baby. Teenagers do that all the time consequently the act has lost it’s grown up status. No I’m going to do the other thing- next year I’m buying a house.

Nothing makes you sound more grown up (and boring!) than talking about interest rates. Adults are very, very interested in interest rates. They talk about them all the time while doing mature things like commuting. Ergo I’m going to start peppering my conversations with words like “prime” and “five year fixed term” so instead of being confused for a precocious teeny bopper, people shall recognize me for what I am; a small, irresponsible adult who has no idea what she is talking about

Buying a house means that one has to save and cut costs wherever possible. Last weekend was Canadian Thanksgiving which means that along with budgeting, I need to start writing Christmas cards. To save money, instead of buying and sending out traditional Christmas cards, I’ve decided to use my preexisting supply of stationary.

I feel this would work better if I hadn’t spent the past two years collecting the strangest card sets I could find in the Michael’s 90% off clearance bin.

Last year I inadvertently confused the conservative parents of a friend by sending them a Christmas card about midget slave labour. So I’m not sure how they’re going to react to the zebra birthday invitations I’m sending out in December this year.


To : People who see me once a year and possibly think I should be institutionalized.

Date: December 25th 2013

Time : The whole day!

Location : Your choice.

Hosted by : Jesus! It’s his birthday and he wants you to bring gifts for everyone except him. He’s a seriously generous guy.

Merry Christmas and or Happy Birthday

Much love,

The Great Unwashed


I’m thinking that I may send these kinds of cards out every year for Christmas; I like that they practically write themselves. It would cut down on the amount of time I spend debating if writing about juggling dogs is appropriate to use with a seasonal greeting.

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