I forget how unreal my parents/mom are/is at making me feel daunted by my stocking.
Just to clear this up: our stockings hang over a hearth in our living room, so there’s a pretty decent amount of open space under the stockings. …which my mom never fails to fill with things. The traditions has become that the stocking is mostly filled with just candy, chocolate, travel-sized toiletries and other odds and ends. So… yeah… this year UNDER MY STOCKING:
- A BRAND NEW MATTRESS PAD
- TEN PAIRS OF SOCKS
- TWO WOODEN HUMBOLDT PENGUIN ORNAMENTS
- TWO CERAMIC PENGUIN ORNAMENTS
- ONE TINY FUCKING ADORABLE PLUSH PENGUIN ORNAMENT (WITH ADORABLY TYPICAL FESTIVE CANADIAN TOQUE)
- THE ENTIRE SERIES OF “ROME” (UUUH, OKAY MOM. THIS IS JUST A STOCKING. WHAT. WHAT. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?)
- THE FIRST SEASON OF “THE WALKING DEAD”
- “MR. POPPER’S PENGUINS”
- THE BOX COLLECTION OF “PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS” (BOOKS SON)
- CHOCOLATE
- GUMMY MADAGASCAR CHARACTERS
- CHOCOLATE PENGUINS
- “SALT ROAD”, A NOVEL
And last but not least
- A BAG OF FUCKING TURKISH DELIGHT
You guys, what the fuck. This is my stocking. MY STOCKING. THESE AREN’T EVEN ALL THE WRAPPED PRESENTS UNDER THE TREE. WHAT THE FUCK. MY MOM IS A SAINT.
