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Top Ten Reasons Why the Holidays Suck

I’m fat As much as I hate to admit it, the point was driven home with brutal clarity by Granny Gu and said with a cackle, "Looks like somebody already ate the turkey!" I’d bla offer irrefutable proof that so similarity to a barnyard animal

Snow Manhattan snow is never white It’s a drab, listless brown, like my hair (Note to self: call the hairdresser Red???)

Christood holiday fas should be adopted by concerned relatives And It’s a Wonderful Life? I’e Bailey is a dick There are sothat ether One of my favorites quotes: "You call this a happy family? Why do we have to have all these kids?" I can feel the love, Superdad

Christ in Line until You Die, Christs: screa around a crowded public space until I’er Games meets Lord of the Flies, co lot when you finally try to leave after twelve hours of spending money you don’t have Fun tireat! Aard, forced conversations with coworkers I want to unfriend on Facebook!

Christ As a perfect example, I offer the lyrics to "Do They Know It’s Christmas?" by Band Aid: "There’s a world outside your/ And it’s a world of dread and fear / Where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears / And the Christ chie

Santa is a lie

Kiss atflattened by a stray asteroid are better

Michael still doesn’t love me

See nu by the sound of a voice It’s Portia--blade-thin, elegant, blonde editorial director Portia--loo in that way she does that makes me self-conscious and uncomfortable, attacked by her physical perfection and how hideous I feel in comparison

The woman looks airbrushed I have back fat, pores a toddler could fall into, and cat hair on et this close, but the witch snuck up on lasses, too weirded out by how she can materialize from thin air like Dracula to be annoyed that’s she’s calleda look at this manuscript? Maria called in sick, and we’re behind deadline" Without waiting for a response, she drops a thick rubber-banded sheaf of papers onon a yellow legal pad "We need it by Monday"

"Monday?" I stare in horror at the enormous pile of papers

"Thanks! You’re a doll!" Portia turns to leave

I stand abruptly, knocking over my chair in the process Because of course I would It clatters to the floor and makes heads turn in my direction I sit in the middle of a warren of cubicles on the thirty-third floor of Maddox Publishing, where I’ve worked for the past ten years It’s four o’clock on a Friday afternoon, and I’m about to make a fool of myself

So it’s situation normal in the world of Joellen Bixby

I blurt, "Wait!"

Portia stops She turns slowly, pivoting in a pair of red-soled heels that likely cost more than I make in a paycheck, then props a hand on one bony hip and stares at me with arched brows

Conscious of the sudden quiet and the field ofeyeballs, I clear my throat "Um I, uh, don’t think I can finish it by Monday"

The field of eyeballs eagerly shifts to Portia, who is gazing at"You don’t think?"