I don't know why I even bother with Christmas cards, I mean really. [Gulps wine.]
To paraphrase that MasterCard commercial:
40 fairly twee (but really it was the less...est? of 5 million evils that involved lots of candy cane graphics and fonts that might be best described as "Tinsel Ejaculation") holiday cards featuring a single photo of my adorable spawn that I designed on the internet: $80
40 special square envelopes in red because, apparently, plain ol' free white is not festive enough for Christmas Una: $2
40 85-cent (!) stamps because square envelopes require extra (!) postage (!!), which is something I only learned after I already bought the 40 twee, perfectly square holiday cards (!!!!!): $34
Mailing little pockets of goodwill to 40 of my closest family and friends:
I know, I know. You're wondering why I would shell out that much cash for actual mail when I could just slap up another Fresh Prince of Bel Air gif and call it a day.
Here's why: My grandma doesn't have email.
So I have to send her a card, because at the risk of sounding ageist, old people are weird about holiday cards. Not sending one is basically like telling them to eat a shit sandwich and die.
I have to send a card to my grandma. Which means that I also have to send a card to every other relative in the small town where my grandma and all of my dad's other relatives live. And they're gossipy Catholics so that's 20 right there.
And then if my dad's family all get cards, I have to send them to my mom's family, too, because otherwise I'm playing favorites (and also, I am someone who thought her Cheerios had feelings, so when it comes to actual humans I am hopeless).
And then I have to print some extras just in case I misspell (I just typed mispell, btw, so this is clearly a problem) someone's last name or accidentally get deodorant on the envelope (I DON'T KNOW HOW IT HAPPENS, IT JUST DOES SOMETIMES), because with exactly 40 envelopes for the freakish atypical square cards that require postage made from gold leaf and foie gras, there is no room for error.
(This also explains why I don't just get a box of blank cards and write heartfelt greetings. Nothing doing. I need that shit pre-printed.)
Oh, and disclaimer to anyone reading this who gets a Christmas card from me this year: It is because I am filled with the joy of the season and wish to spread it to you and yours, not for any of the aforementioned, more selfish and paranoid, reasons. Good tidings unto you, o blessed--
Eh, fuck it.