All I want for Christmas . . .

Since I have six pairs of cowboy boots, five electronic devices upon which I can play Words with Friends, four useless books on getting organized, three personalized rubber stamps (one for home, one for school, and one with someone else’s address on it, and no, I don’t know who they are or why I have it), my two front teeth, and at least one homicidal cat, I was hard pressed to prepare a Christmas list. It never seems to matter what I want anyway. I get what I get, and a day later, forget what I got. Therefore, this year I’m just going to cut out the middle-man and ask for things I already know I’m not getting.

1. A pink Kevlar vest that says FBI on the back. In case of an invasion of serial killers.
2. An axe, a shotgun, and an icepick, in case the serial killers that invade are also zombies. According to the Internet, these are the three best ways to take a zombie out.
3. A ladder, in case the axe, the shotgun, and the icepick fail. It’s a well-known fact that zombies do not climb and serial killers are afraid of heights. You don’t believe me? Well, the next time you’re under attack by zombie serial killers, climb the nearest tree. You’ll see. And if I’m wrong, let me apologize in advance.
4. A toothless bat. I’ve decided I must have one, but I don’t want it to bite me. I don’t know any bat dentists, but if you want to get me a bat without teeth, I’ll bet you could find one on Craig’s List. Of course, there are also serial killers on there, and probably zombies, so be discerning.
5. A serial killer in a cage. If he’s in a cage, he can’t hurt any more poor, defenseless people, and I can study him and see what makes him tick.
6. A member of the Tea Party. Or, barring that, a run of the mill conservative. Either way, put him/her in a cage. See #5 for reasoning.
7. An hour with Joe Kenda. I know he looks sort of like a blue-eyed Deputy Dog, but I like my men kind of hound-doggy.
8. A lifetime ban from Branson. If I wanted to visit a place country singers go to die I’d choose the state fair. It’s closer and they have lots more stuff to eat off a stick.
9. Jon Stewart’s phone number. And address. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a decent picture of me. I don’t know how I overlooked that.
10. More students who collect cat videos for me. I don’t care if they can write. I mean, come on. Cat videos, people! If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.
11. One semester in which there are no high-risk pregnancies, dead grandparents, spouses who won’t obey restraining orders, or students who send emails that say, “u give 2 much work! and yore comments on my papers don’t make since, u keep saying stuff about academic diction. i dont  even HAVE a dictionary? ur making it impossible for me 2 stay in school.” That’s only a slight exaggeration.
12. A diurnal cat.
13. A device that automatically bleeps televised instances of Mary Fallin’s voice and name.
14. Hair that’s always perfect and never has to be cut. Barring that, a hairdresser who can cut it perfectly with no input from me. All my input ever gets me is a mullet, and everyone knows a girl with a mullet is man-bait in this part of the country. I do not want to be man-bait in this part of the country. New York, yes. California, maybe. Here, never.
15. The return of Deadwood.
16. A parrot I can teach to say, “Fut the shuck up!”
17. Patience with people I don’t like.
18. Compassion enough to resist returning meanness for meanness.
19. Neighbors who find their barking dogs as nerve-wracking as I do.
20. Fashion sense
21. Good sense.
22. A cable package guaranteed to be free of Honey Boo-Boo, members of the Amish Mafia, girls who are 16 and pregnant and aren’t sure why it’s a bad idea, Kardashians, Chuck Norris, and real housewives of anywhere.
23. Peace on Earth.

That is all.