I deserve a break today...

This actually occurred. Tonight. In the lovely metropolis of Childersburg. Ah, Childersburg. Sister-city to Sylacauga, or Sly Town. The foul-smelling, armpit of central Alabama. But I digress - this post is dedicated to Childersburg and one of her finest eating establishments...McDonalds. Just the name McDonalds is one of my greatest pet peeves. It is pronounced mick-don-alds. NOT MACK-don-alds. Why is that so hard to 99% of the free world? MICK. Not MACK. Get it right people. Anyhoo I was hungry before I went to G's basketball game, so being the obese American that I am, I went to MICKdonalds. I waited my turn in the drive thru, pulled up to the board, and was greeted with "Welcome MACKdonalds, can I take your order?" I replied, "Yes. I would like a 6 piece nugget Mighty Kids meal with a coke." Bon Qui Qui didn't miss a beat and angrily informed me "We out of chicken." I said, "Okay then, I'd like a hamburger happy meal - no onions - with a coke." Again, ever punctual with a retort, I am informed, "Ma'am...we out hamburger meat too." Are you kidding me right now? You out chicken, AND hamburger meat? I'm sorry - I thought I was in MACKdonald's drive thru...not Taco Bell. HOW can you be MACKdonalds AND have no chicken MACKnuggets and no hamburger meat? I am starting to think those dang Mayans were right. This is most def a sign of an upcoming apocalypse. Back to my story, I said, "Are you kidding? Are you really out of hamburger?" Precious, darling Bon Qui Qui raises her voice a smidge too much for my liking and angrily tells me "I SAID we out of chicken and hamburger meat. We out. You want something else?" No ma'am. I'm good. I don't want to overindulge on ketchup packets and apple pies.

Ah – Christmas. The trees are hung. The cookies are made. The presents are wrapped. And the elves are active. Oh the elves. The blasted elves. Let’s stop with the whole “look what the elf did last night” line. The elf didn’t do squat. YOU did. You, with the help of Pinterest, Facebook, and Google. It’s all you. So you are killing yourself to execute elf shenanigans nightly AND clean the mess. For what? So your kids can have a “nice Christmas memory?” Um, NO. I call bull crap. You aren’t doing it for your kids. You are doing it for YOU. For your FB friends. For your Instagram followers. You are doing it to show the rest of the cyber world that you are super cute, super creative, and just plain super. I am SO on to you, you super liars. We have an elf. He does what he is supposed to do, he moves locations nightly. That is his purpose. Do I post pictures of it? Um, no. Do I post pictures of me washing my kids’ clothes? Cleaning their messes? Feeding them? No. I don’t. I do all of that crap FOR THEM. So they will have happy memories of a semi-normal childhood. Same with Charlie, our elf. He moves…sometimes. When we remember to move him. The boys love it. I am not going to blow up FB, Instagram, and Twitter with pictures of his newest location because hello – MY BOYS AREN’T ON FACEBOOK, INSTAGRAM, AND TWITTER. Obviously my kids are being cheated not only by their lazy, non-active elf, but also by the fact that their parents don’t allow them the Internet access that all the rest of the children of our area have. Sorry guys. Mama’s bad. Here’s another elf peeve of mine – stop taking credit for your marshmallow messages, staged syrup sippings, cereal tower construction and such. YOU DIDN’T THINK OF THAT! You logged onto Pinterest or maybe Googled “what can my crazy elf do” and you got literally thousands of ideas. Bravo, Mama. Bravo on your plagiarism abilities. I stand amazed. Here’s what I’d like to see. Anybody can spell out messages in Alpha Bits cereal or write with toothpaste on the bathroom counter. And obviously half of the free world has. Get creative, Mamas. Think outside the box. If you insist on blowing up my newsfeed with your hilarious elf antics – wow me. I’m tired of seeing the same old same old. Since most elf owners need suggestions on how to pose those pesky elves, I am here for you. Here is my list of what I’d LIKE to see these overachieving Mamas and blasted elves doing. Get creative with me…I dare you. Scenario #1 – set fires. Why haven’t you all thought of this one yet? This should be a no-brainer. Christmas songs even reference the power of fires. “Chestnuts roasting on an OPEN FIRE.” Hello? If Skippy the Elf wants to get my attention – give him some matches. I think it would be super cute for Skippy to leave some matching matches, lighters, and lighter fluid for your precious babies as well. It is for the kids, after all. Scenario #2 – Leave the freezer door open Ah yes, the elves are from the North Pole. They like the cold. Well why not share the love then? I think it would be precious for Elfdingo to open wide the freezer door so the whole house can experience the magic of the North Pole straight from your kitchen. This would be especially wonderful if it happened before a weekend trip. Nothing would warm my heart like a picture of the children’s’ faces as they walked in the house and were met with a wall of rotten meat stench. Merry Christmas indeed. Scenario #3 – Shred the couch pillows. With knives. We know, we know – elves love snow. We’ve seen it in the form of marshmallows, sugar, and ground up Danish Wedding Cookies. (I hope your house got infested with ants after that one, you stupid liar). I say push the envelope and be different. Pose those mischievous darlings with various and sundry knives and cutting instruments. Sharp ones. It’s for the kiddies, after all. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re not afraid of a little mess, so go big! Shred your couch pillows in the name of the birth of Christ! Your babies will certainly love it, as will I when you post pictures of it. Scenario #4 – Cut some hair! Elves love scissors; I think I have made this abundantly clear. They also love clippers. It is a little known fact that most elves are born with the innate desire to be a hair dresser. Embellish them! While your babies slumber – cut their hair! Give em’ a buzz! If they go to sleep with precious little pigtails, let them wake up to one of them resting tenderly on the floor. What joy! Buzz a reverse Mohawk on yourself or your husband and post a picture. “Oh holy night” indeed! This is just a start; I’m sure I can come up with several more options.