Christmas Letter 98

Seasons Greetings to Friends, Family and any other MCI Customers…

As I sit and think of all the warm and smiling faces of the acquaintances and loved ones I’m writing this letter for, I realize this is why we have a “Season of Life.”  I think it’s important during the holiday season for all of me to let all of you know how much you’ve meant to my life in the past year and for some of you, how very, very much you’ve disappointed me. (Which is why we celebrate a “Season of Life” by killing a tree.) In big ways and small ones, all of you have made a difference in my life.  And none of you have given me obscene amounts of lovin’ or money, so it must be in a grand-scheme of things, circle of life sort of way.

To update all of you on the year that has been 1998 for me.  I have changed jobs once again, now working at the lovely and talented Norrell Information Services in Houston.  I am still a recruiter (although now I am a Senior Staffing Coordinator.  It’s sort of like being Chief Sanitation Engineer, non-driver class.)  It’s not easy being a remora on the Information Technology Shark.  (Or for my more southern friends, a catfish in the Computer Bayou.)  One benefit is the really cool Time/Life operator headset that I got to be the 8^th or 9^th person (not all of whom were clean) to wear.  There is no good way to sanitize foam rubber.  Another benefit is the fact that I now work about 10 blocks from the apartment I had up until November of last year, when I moved across town.  Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?  Oh well, I love my rickety old Heights house and all the crap I find in the attic on a daily basis.  Last week’s freebie…hidden under the air conditioner unit… more classic porn novellas (My Wife and the Mule, Working the Secretary Overtime, Cousin Love) which I’m sure will fetch just as high a price as the previous ones did. (Almost $.87!!!)

I am still in the process of reworking and refurbishing my charming bungalow in the Heights.  In real estate talk, charming bungalow is loosely translated into small-as-hell lean-to.  I am halfway done with the kitchen, as I have redone the floors and put up new wallpaper. I still need to do some touch up painting and install ceramic tile, so gift certificates from HOME DEPOT would be appreciated.  My bedroom is completed at this point and I’m currently contemplating what the best (read most gay) color could be for the study.  I’m thinking mauve or maybe fuchsia.  The thing is I have no idea what colors those actually are.  I’m not messing with the bathroom for at least another year and I still need to refinish the floors in the living room and dining room.  The only way the inside of my house could be more gay is if I made my dogs wear feather boas. 

Speaking of my dogs, Astro and Rocket are both doing fine.  In an effort to appear even more multi-cultural and tolerant than they already are, The University of Texas in Austin offered both of them honorary doctorates after someone in their student senate claimed they weren’t sensitive to the chromosomally and evolutionally challenged.  We had to decline as both dogs felt they would be pawns of “The Man” if they were accept something so spurious.

I also have noticed that both Astro and Rocket are tired of having wildlife loiter in the back yard as they have taken to policing the comings and goings of the squirrels and birds.  They have tried scare tactics such as howling, whimpering and running headfirst into the pecan tree and the cyclone fence.  They have also decided to bark at lizards and roll in dead animal carcasses to hide their scents.  The squirrels have decided to return fire by carpet-bombing both dogs with pecan shells, small twigs and evidently, dead birds.

I know most of you are interested in my social life.  Well, frankly after my bush woman went back to the Serengeti last year, I was heart broken.  I’m thinking seriously about trying the mail order bride route again, but this time I want to make sure that the term “bride” is defining of not only role in the relationship but in gender and sexual preference.  You can put a stop to this by setting me up with any single female you may know.  As I get closer to 30, I’m becoming less and less picky.  Some of you know exactly what I mean.  I have tried to act more gay in an effort to attract women and pump up that anemic social life.  I have painted my front door bright yellow, a hallway in my house purple (I really do mean purple purple) and a wall in my bedroom (get this) Drama Red with (even better) Knockout Red diamond patterns on the red wall. I have made purple and green the primary kitchen colors on a black and white check pattern floor.  I’ve also taken to tying color coordinated scarves around the necks of my dogs, as well as watching Ally McBeal.  I’m confident these things will enable me to trick a woman (presumably one I don’t have to pay an hourly rate for) into thinking we can be friends.  If this ploy works, I will be writing a book on the results.  At the very least I can get on Springer. (My Gay Boyfriend is really straight…)

All of you receiving this letter have meant so much to me over the course of 1998.  Especially those of you whom I haven’t spoken to since 1997, you mean the most.  Thanks for staying out of my life.  And thanks to those of you who can’t take the time to return a damn Christmas card.  I don’t write these things for my health, you know.  I know as I love all of you (In God’s Way) those of you who don’t return the love must be the devil.  It’s all about the love. 

And even though you may be the devil, I hope that everyone who receives this letter is planning on attending my (along with 7 other people) New Year’s eve Party.  We’ll have swing dancing (and a lesson), we’ll be getting jiggy wit it, and they’ll be free beer and wine and at some point some champagne (somewhere around 11:55 or so).  Consider this letter your invitation.  I would like RSVPs (and money) by December 20^th, so we can actually purchase the alcohol without white knuckles.  The tickets will cost $10 per person, and we can’t accept money at the door.  The party will be at The Preet Banquet Hall (not the hall in the Montrose) on Fairbanks N. Houston off of 290 from 9pm ‘til 2am.  And tell your friends…especially the single attractive female kind.

On a serious note, I wish all of your families and friends and co-workers and underlings a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, a dope Kwanzaa, and a 1999 that fulfills all your hopes and dreams.  (Also, please keep in mind the millennium doesn’t actually start until 2001, as there was no year 0.  Slap anyone who tells you differently.  Friends don’t let friends celebrate round numbers for no reason!)

With all the mushiness of the Season…

Andy  

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