When letters to Santa stop being polite and start getting real.
I would like for someone to fix the leak in my bathtub that sounds like a neverending stream of pee. You know how in public bathrooms it’s almost impossible to pee when someone else is peeing in another stall? Like your urethra suddenly becomes an air-tight bomb shelter and you can actually feel the pee retreating back into your bladder (does this happen to men)? And you know that the muscle contraction is probably good for your Kegels, but the downside is that if you don’t start peeing within ten seconds the other person will think that you are pooping? And so you try to relax your muscles and coach the pee out, but you also have to will yourself not to nervously fart? It’s all very stressful. Anyway, point being, I have to put my fingers in my ears and hum every time I use my own bathroom, which is humiliating. Please fix.
So I dropped my phone in a glass of Shiraz the other night. I was trying to hold my phone and the glass in the same hand so that my other hand was free to grab my Amy’s mac n’ cheese frozen dinner out of the microwave, and it slipped and was totally submerged. My immediate instinct was to wash it off, which I realize now was maybe not the best idea. Good news: the wine tasted okay, although my husband reminded me that I drop my phone on the sidewalk about as often as Oprah has one of her aha! moments, which is to say with the regularity that other people move their bowels. But that’s neither here nor there. The point is my phone still kind of worked but it started making a static-y noise every time it rang so I took into T-Mobile and the lady there told me that my warranty didn’t cover water damage. She told me that I would have to buy a completely new phone and the way she said it was judgy, especially for someone wearing adult braces. So for Christmas, Santa, I would like you to smite that woman at T-Mobile. Or just get me a new phone.