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Why am I on the Naughty List? I could list examples in chronological order, or perhaps according to geographic proximity to the North Pole.

Bad judgement through out my life has had a certain ebb and flow, but has kept me off the Nice List nonetheless. With each misguided step, another reindeer hung their head. 

Here are the highlights for your entertainment:

Dasher: Many, many years ago, while playing in the yard, my younger brother fell asleep in the shade behind the garage. I don’t remember all the details, but what ensued was a massive, frantic search by all our neighbors of the immediate area. After an hour or so, I grew bored of watching him snooze and the search party frenzy, and decided to inform my parents of his whereabouts. When asked why I didn’t speak up sooner, I simply answered “No one asked me”.  

Dancer: My teen years were molded warped by the 80’s. I can’t tell you how many times  my entourage and I Walked like an Egyptian into clubs we should not have been admitted because, after all, Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. Is “Madonna made me do it” a defense?

Prancer: Midnight showings of “Rocky Horror Picture Show”. That’s all I’m saying.

Another confused reindeer; with the help of Tim Curry & others. (animalpics.com)


Vixen: In my younger, cuter, size 2 days I got away with quite abit. Though on the tame side, one of my favorites was batting my eyes out of a traffic citation for not having current tags on my car. Not only did I apologize & “Blonde” my way out of it, but somehow convinced the nice officer to later put the new plates on my car for me.

Comet: Hypothetically, I may be aware of bubble bath being poured into a fountain in the center of a shopping mall. It is plausible I have information that parties involved did not realize the amount of suds produced would have the volume to reach into nearby stores. It is feasible I might be able to attest to the fact that the horrible 80’s fashions that may or may not have been destroyed were no real loss to the fashion industry.

Cupid: When my former in-laws (wretched, awful people) were going through their second bankruptcy, they managed to duck creditors for quite a while. But because of a very unique last name, and the fact there were only five families with this sur name listed in the entire state, our phone began ringing. I gladly gave out their new, unlisted, address, cell phone, whatever was asked for. “Oh yah der, I know how you’ze can reeech ’em!” (Midwest).

Donner: Before my current career as “Domestic Cruise Director” (on slow days, I pretend I’m Julie McCoy) I worked in Economic Development. Before that, banking. I LOVED to refund fees and be the “nice one”. “Oh, sure, we can do …….” any chance I got. It was the perfect way to agitate off supervisors – they can’t formerly complain about you when you’re making customers happy and have a customer satisfaction rating consistently above 95%. It made my supervisors look bad, not only to the customers they repeatedly made life difficult for; but to their supervisors as well. Which made my day.

Blitzen: My son is a bit of a perfectionist. Not once suffered through after school detention or a grade lower than a ‘B’. I am responsible for taking him and three friends T.P ing on a Homecoming evening. It is important to pass knowledge to the next generation; even small details such as the art of throwing a roll of toilet paper in such a way that it covers a tree, or intertwining as a bonding experience. In my own defense, it was tradition in the [Norman] Rockwellian town we lived. None of them yet had their drivers license. Note: I was in good company. The Chief of Police’s wife was out there as well under the guise of “Making sure no one gets too carried away”. Which did not explain her well-stocked trunk. Again, in my own defense.

Rudolf: My Coupe d’etat is so perfect because it was accomplished without any mal intent what so ever: living happily ever after with my family. The girls are well adjusted, not just considering all they have been through, but relatively speaking for their age (according to recent parent/teacher conferences). They consider my son their brother, he has nicknamed them “my mini-sisters”. I regularly hear “Bye Mom!” as they walk out the door for school. Fi Fi, their Incubator Mom, continues to distance herself and each day that goes by grants another day of bonding for us. It has been over two years since she has visited. Our plans to bring the girls to her are thwarted by excuses of “I’m staying with a friend, I can’t have them here” or “I don’t know where I’ll be in acouple weeks”. We’ve given up, as we have put forth much more effort than legally required. Every kissed scraped knee, painted fingernail, every cheer at a soccer game is mine. All MINE. Why is this keeping me on the Naughty List? I feel as though I’ve stolen the Crown Jewels.

Now I only need to wait, we all know my coal collection will eventually pay off. In afew million years, I will have diamonds for my own tiarra!

364 days of debauchery is worth the sacrifice of 1 day of gifts.