Walking in a Walmart Wonderland

What would the holidays be, really, without another fine Lighten Up! Christmas Carol or two? I do it for you, people - I'm a giver like that. You're welcome. 

Or - I'm sorry, as the case may be. 

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Walking in a Walmart Wonderland 

(copyright 2013, Dawn Weber)

Children scream,

Are you listening?

Then their moms,

Give them beatings,

An alarming sight, but

We're desperate tonight,

Walking in a Walmart Wonderland.

Gone away,

Is the greeter,

Here to stay,

Is the tweaker,

He lifts his meth pipe,

And asks for a light,

Walking  in a Walmart Wonderland.

In the aisle we will see a hooker,

Then pretend she's wearing lots more clothes,

We will try hard not to stare at Hooker,

And her pimp and all the other hos.

Later on, we'll get ground beef,

Near a thug who has no teeth,

A worrisome night,

We're scared for our lives,

Walking  in a Walmart Wonderland.

In the canned goods we will find a scooter,

Blocking access to the vegetables,

Big, fat guy just sitting on his scooter,

Getting green beans as he picks his nose.

Now it’s time to pay and go,

Might as well set up camp though,

Thirty-eight lanes - just one is open,

Walking in a Walmart Wonderland.

Walking in a Walmart Wonderland . . .

Walking in a Walmart Wonderland . . .

"We Wish You A Merry Christmas?" Nope. "I Hope I Get Wine for Christmas."

(copyright 2013, Dawn Weber)

I hope I get wine for Christmas;

I hope I get wine for Christmas;

I hope I get wine for Christmas;

'Cause I am flat broke.

I don't care if it's shiraz or merlot;

Just bring me some wine for Christmas -

Since pot's a no-no.

Oh, bring me some beer for Christmas;

Oh, bring me some beer for Christmas;

Oh, bring me some beer for Christmas;

A six-pack's just fine.

We'd all like some hooch at Christmas;

We'd all like some hooch at Christmas;

We'd all like some hooch at Christmas;

If we told the truth.

So buy me some wine for Christmas;

So buy me some wine for Christmas;

So buy me some wine for Christmas;

Or vodka would do!

___________________________________________________________

"Jingle Bell Rock?" Nope. "Santa's a Chick."

(Couldn't resist re-posting my top radio hit from last year, "Santa's a Chick." Lyrics copyright 2012, Dawn Weber)

Santa Claus, Santa Claus, Santa's a chick,
She lacks a dick, Santa's a chick,
No dude could do all they say that he does,
Only chicks could get all that done.

Santa Claus, Santa Claus, Santa's a chick,
Ain’t that a kick, Santa’s a chick,
Bakin’ and wrappin’ and deckin’ the hall,
With her wine bottle!

What a headache, how her back aches,
Fifty-nine things to do,
It's pure chaos, runs her ass off,
Most of these men don't even have a clue.

Santa Claus, Santa Claus, Santa’s a girl,
All 'round the world, Santa’s a girl,
Started her list around June 24,
Men they wait until the day before.

Santa Claus, Santa Claus, Santa has boobs,
Thirty-six Cs, average boobs,
Bouncing and flouncing all over the mall,
Since the early fall!

On Black Friday, she’s up early,
Left before the crack of dawn,
Flat-screen TVs, she’d like one, please,
“I'm sorry ma’am - they’re already gone.”

Hurry up, Santa Chick, get the hell home,
Cookies don't make themselves,
Hubs he's asleep and he's no help at all,
That's why Santa's a . . .
Surely Santa's a . . .
That's why Santa's a chick!

_______________________________________________

I am still plugging along on the book, and guess what? I have only FIVE MORE CHAPTERS TO GO to reach my goal! It's been awesome and awful, exhausting and exhilarating. But I am almost to my goal of 50 essays - 50,000 words - in a year. I am pretty damn proud of that.

Here's a chapter with the tentative title "Made of Money:"

. . ."Hey Mom," he said. "I need a laptop."

I glanced into the sunroom where, sitting on the desk, was what appeared to be his laptop.

"Um . . . " I pointed to the desk. "Isn't that your laptop right there?"

"Yeah, but I need a NEW laptop."

I cocked my head and tried to remember back to when I'd spent a stack of perfectly good U.S. dollars - several hundred of them, in fact - to buy the computer for him, the one that sat gleaming in the sunlight. It wasn't hard to recall. I'd just bought the thing.

"Son," I said, trying to control my bubbling blood pressure, "I got that laptop for you less than a year ago. What are you talking about?"

"Yeah, but it's not very good. Minecraft runs soooo sloowwww on it."

I took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes hoping for some patience, since my own notebook computer dates to the previous presidential administration, and - I might add - works just fine . . .

Stay tuned!