Fancy people suck

Next year, when December first rolls around I am going to try to remember December 22 from this year. Why? Well, because I will recall how much it absolutely sucks and how I wish I was anywhere but here. I will remember that snow is cold and hurts my feet. I will remember shlepping orchids and tulips around in the ass-freezing cold and arranging them in vases for fancy people -because apparently if you are a fancy person it is best to focus upon an orchid arrangement on your nightstand before you even set foot out of the bed. I will remember the mounting calls with outrageous demands from L.A. as the time approaches for the arrival of the fancy people. Most of all I will remember the tears in Cassidy’s eyes when she realizes we can’t go Christmas shopping together because I have to go arrange these fucking flowers and rescue a Christmas tree that somehow fell over and shattered most of the ornaments.
And then? When I remember all this crap? I will say, “Hey, kids, how’s about a tropical Chirstmas? How does Belize sound?”