Working Wives & Bachelorettes: On the Fourth Working Day of Christmas...

On the fourth working day of Christmas my true love gave to me...Four Calling Birds!

I have nothing to write about four calling birds. I Googled it. I YouTubed it. I came up with nothing. Nothing funny. No good recipes. And my creative juices have been sucked right the hell out of me trying to figure out when I'm gonna clean, wrap, bake, etc.

So four calling birds. If I had four magic, effing birds to call upon to help me through this Christmas disaster, which, by the way, the world tells us is supposed to be magical and enchanting, these are the four I would call.

1. A cleaning service. I love to clean. I know, I sound insane, but there is an unmatched satisfaction in a clean toilet or dog/child footprintless floor. But if someone could keep my house clean I would be forever indebted. I can get it there, it's the keeping it there that I struggle with.

2. A baker. I can't bake. I have adult ADHD and cannot measure an ingredient to save my effing life. Baking requires skill and preciseness. Neither of which I have, unless it is about cleaning. Read #1.

3. Santa. Dude, I can't do your job. I don't want your job. I can't live up to the high expectations of my children--who are already bought for who keep adding to their list. I'm gonna go bankrupt over gifts that by December 30 they won't give a sh*t about anyway! And I hate wrapping. I don't have the attention span. See #2.

4. Jesus. I love you. I do. But somehow, somewhere along the lines your birthday became a complete pain in my ass. I want to celebrate you. Who doesn't want a big shindig for the big B-Day? But seriously, can you control the marketing and retail people, and Martha Stewart, who tell me is has to be perfect? I'm glad you were born. All Christians are glad you were born. I'm sure your mother is reminiscing about giving birth to you, what time you were born, how much you weighed, detailing each gift from the magi. But me, I just want it to be quiet and simple. It's not. HELP ME!

I have a friend, who at every holiday gathering and every birthday would yell "Happy F*cking Blah Blah." (OK, it happened once, on a very drunk New Year's Eve, but it has become the norm among my friends...OK, one friend). The guy who yelled it knows he yelled it because I remind him every year, but he probably doesn't exactly remember the first time he yelled it.

I digress. Happy F*cking Blah Blah. My your holidays be warm, special and exactly what you expected. Up to and including the NFL Snuggie you get from your cousin in the grab bag and the worthless piece of sh*t fruitcake you got from your aunt who knows "how much you love fruitcake!"