But this year, it's different. I can't canoodle with a strange hot man under the mistletoe. (Which means I better not indulge in the egg nog). Instead, I just stay home with my husband and furtively sneak out with my girlfriends when Ralph goes to the bathroom. This weekend, all my girlfriends disappeared. It feels like a conspiracy, but I guess they have dates or maybe someone got the evil swine flu.
I tried decorating our apartment to get me into the Christmas spirit. It didn't work.
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