Tomorrow is December.
I’ll let that sink in for a minute.
Some of you might be dreading the arrival of the final month in our calendar year, but I’m so darn relieved. Sure, I have tons to do before the holidays–presents to buy, assignments to mark, books to write–but it will get done. I just want this year to be over. In fact, I’ve written a poem about it. Ready? Here goes!
Dear twenty-sixteen,
You are mean.
You act like a queen and I want to kick you in the spleen.
I’d rather deal with a whiny-ass tween.
Charlie Sheen, caffeine, Lean Cuisine.
I suck at poems.
The End.
You like? π All I can say is, 2017 owes us BIGLY! I’m gonna do everything I can to make next year AWESOME for me and for you! One more month, my friends! We can do this!!!
You said it, sister suffragette!
Ya-Ya! You and me, we got this, Ethridge! π
2016 can suck it. That is all.
Word. To. That.
My house and my office are already decked out in everything Christmas, which is highly unusual for me, but I realize now it’s because I’m trying to hurry the season along. Hey, 2016, don’t let the door hit you on the way out!
Damn right! Let’s do the gift-giving thing, ring in the New Year, and say buh-bye, talk-to-you-never to 2016!