Christmas Eve Special: Thank God for Bill Me Later.

It was a nail biter but I know my neighbors will be relieved to hear that the hot pink electric guitar and amp have arrived in time!

I'm feeling distinctly Grinch-like at the moment but am hoping that looking at my butt-naked wii boxer of last Christmas will put me in a more festive mood. The bigger is singing me the Chanukah Song, which he's memorized in honor of the season.

As it turns out, I'm not the only cranky BREEDER. While you kid-frees are still ruminating over at the Clay Pot and Loom, we're in crisis.

My old friend Nicole, "It may be Christmas time, but one more 3 a.m. wake-up and it's gonna seem like Halloween around here..."

My friend K is even worse. Her status update yesterday was succinct and to the point:  "Fucking hate Christmas."

My other friend K is even worse off than K-1. She's running a 102 fever and had to cancel Christmas Eve.

So, according to the USPS, the continuing inclement economic tidings have possibly cured today's generation of little people of their natural acquisitiveness if letters to Santa are any indication. What their "chief elf" told NPR:

"This year, the letters are single moms, three kids, no winter coats, no shoes, blankets, can't pay the bills, not enough food in the pantry. So the need has changed tremendously."

What do you think? Have you been successful in keeping it simple this year?

Show us your letters to Santa. Gimmes not yet cured over at my place but littlest tyrant did apologize politely for the obscene number of requests.