Premature Christmas Ejaculation
Dear All,
Well, where has your dear (m)Arthur been these past few months I hear you asking? And how did you manage to have the perfect homosexual Christmas without my valuable assistance? As you will all be aware Christmas is one of the busiest times of year for the gay housewife; with all the preparations for the big lunch, the buying of presents, the essential ski holiday (Beaver Creek in America this year, and yes it was lovely), the various Christmas consultant posts I hold and of course decorating ones own home for the occasion. With all the preparations, and of course writing the queens speech (and pod cast would you believe) for old Liz the time has hardly been available for me to but finger to key board to share with you my dears. Well, now Christmas and new year are behind us for another year I am back with you for 2007 or until my valuable attentions are needed else where!
However, before we move on any further into 2007, I feel, with Christmas now said and done, as gay housewife’s we should take a moment to reflect on how we did this Christmas, and what can be done to improve future festive gatherings. My dears, I have to say, my Christmas was fucking wonderful as usual, but what are years of practice for if not the ability to deliver perfect results every time. However, from what I have seen this year I would expect some of you to find room for improvement. For the majority of you out there I would suggest re-evaluating the following areas; decoration, present giving and receiving (some people are simply gift tops, some bottoms but few are versatile; they just can’t help it) and of course guest list – who do you invite to your various parties and who do you keep at an arms length.
Small social errors, however, are not the crux of my discussion this week, but Christmas itself dear gays. I feel we have become deeply confused over exactly what Christmas means to us. Don’t worry, I am not about to bemoan the downfall of a Christian society. Lets face it, take any religion, ancient and new; all have some form of event between 21st of December and 1st January, some old, some borrowed, some blue, but none of them new. We live in a secular society that I adore and support, but for the love of all that is good, what the fuck do I need to buy Christmas decorations in mid September for? The festive season has become a protracted four months of commercial torture designed to extract many a pink pound from your calf leather wallet.
Christmas, when stripped of all its perceived meaning is merely a large dinner party for the family at which you give presents. If you ignore the presents this is something we do many times a year. I may be a bloody brilliant housewife, and such an event takes me only an afternoons planning, but even an idiot from Hull could pull such a thing off badly with 2 days thought. And would said idiot or their family notice the shoddiness of the occasion? No, because they’ve been told to expect stress, tantrums, bad presents, ruined turkeys and financial trouble.
Marks and Spencer’s, even my darling Waitrose, in fact every food outlet, must bombard us with adverts for months in advance of the day, suggesting they are there to help us out at this stressful time of year should it all get a bit much and what’s more they’ll help us save that extra pound because its all so expensive! Well, where were they when I threw a masked ball for 200 people in a marquee in the garden and the caterers failed to make the distinction between virgin and extra virgin olive oil? No helping hand then. No, the media and mechanisms of commerce tell us we have failed, we lack benevolence to our fellow man and we can’t cope with the pressure before we have even planned the simplest of menus or bought the cheapest of gifts, all with the maleficent intention of whipping us up into a master card melting frenzy of sustained panicked buying to make us feel like more worth human beings. It doesn’t have to be this way my dears. As gays we have become good at ignoring what society tells us and had some reasonable success in creating our own counter culture, together we need to keep the premature ejaculation of Christmas all over our faces at an arms length in order to maintain some respectability and of course some sanity between the months of September and December. After all, as gay housewives we pull off equally stunning acts of entertainment regularly throughout the year, the only difference being we give gifts on this one occasion.
Gays, fats, poofs, lezzies, fems, trannies, trans, and freaks please join me in pledging to only begin giving Christmas the slightest thought once 1st December has arrived. Let no bow of holly deck your halls, no present darken the furthest recesses of your wardrobe and let no festive food fill your cupboard until 1st Dec. The Christmas can still be enjoyed in its full glory as the one event a year that pulls the family together for no other reason than you are a family, and for that exact reason you can merrily disband afterward the big day before killing each other! No mess, no tears and no caroling in September.
Say hello at MySpace or email me.
Dear All,
Well, where has your dear (m)Arthur been these past few months I hear you asking? And how did you manage to have the perfect homosexual Christmas without my valuable assistance? As you will all be aware Christmas is one of the busiest times of year for the gay housewife; with all the preparations for the big lunch, the buying of presents, the essential ski holiday (Beaver Creek in America this year, and yes it was lovely), the various Christmas consultant posts I hold and of course decorating ones own home for the occasion. With all the preparations, and of course writing the queens speech (and pod cast would you believe) for old Liz the time has hardly been available for me to but finger to key board to share with you my dears. Well, now Christmas and new year are behind us for another year I am back with you for 2007 or until my valuable attentions are needed else where!
However, before we move on any further into 2007, I feel, with Christmas now said and done, as gay housewife’s we should take a moment to reflect on how we did this Christmas, and what can be done to improve future festive gatherings. My dears, I have to say, my Christmas was fucking wonderful as usual, but what are years of practice for if not the ability to deliver perfect results every time. However, from what I have seen this year I would expect some of you to find room for improvement. For the majority of you out there I would suggest re-evaluating the following areas; decoration, present giving and receiving (some people are simply gift tops, some bottoms but few are versatile; they just can’t help it) and of course guest list – who do you invite to your various parties and who do you keep at an arms length.
Small social errors, however, are not the crux of my discussion this week, but Christmas itself dear gays. I feel we have become deeply confused over exactly what Christmas means to us. Don’t worry, I am not about to bemoan the downfall of a Christian society. Lets face it, take any religion, ancient and new; all have some form of event between 21st of December and 1st January, some old, some borrowed, some blue, but none of them new. We live in a secular society that I adore and support, but for the love of all that is good, what the fuck do I need to buy Christmas decorations in mid September for? The festive season has become a protracted four months of commercial torture designed to extract many a pink pound from your calf leather wallet.
Christmas, when stripped of all its perceived meaning is merely a large dinner party for the family at which you give presents. If you ignore the presents this is something we do many times a year. I may be a bloody brilliant housewife, and such an event takes me only an afternoons planning, but even an idiot from Hull could pull such a thing off badly with 2 days thought. And would said idiot or their family notice the shoddiness of the occasion? No, because they’ve been told to expect stress, tantrums, bad presents, ruined turkeys and financial trouble.
Marks and Spencer’s, even my darling Waitrose, in fact every food outlet, must bombard us with adverts for months in advance of the day, suggesting they are there to help us out at this stressful time of year should it all get a bit much and what’s more they’ll help us save that extra pound because its all so expensive! Well, where were they when I threw a masked ball for 200 people in a marquee in the garden and the caterers failed to make the distinction between virgin and extra virgin olive oil? No helping hand then. No, the media and mechanisms of commerce tell us we have failed, we lack benevolence to our fellow man and we can’t cope with the pressure before we have even planned the simplest of menus or bought the cheapest of gifts, all with the maleficent intention of whipping us up into a master card melting frenzy of sustained panicked buying to make us feel like more worth human beings. It doesn’t have to be this way my dears. As gays we have become good at ignoring what society tells us and had some reasonable success in creating our own counter culture, together we need to keep the premature ejaculation of Christmas all over our faces at an arms length in order to maintain some respectability and of course some sanity between the months of September and December. After all, as gay housewives we pull off equally stunning acts of entertainment regularly throughout the year, the only difference being we give gifts on this one occasion.
Gays, fats, poofs, lezzies, fems, trannies, trans, and freaks please join me in pledging to only begin giving Christmas the slightest thought once 1st December has arrived. Let no bow of holly deck your halls, no present darken the furthest recesses of your wardrobe and let no festive food fill your cupboard until 1st Dec. The Christmas can still be enjoyed in its full glory as the one event a year that pulls the family together for no other reason than you are a family, and for that exact reason you can merrily disband afterward the big day before killing each other! No mess, no tears and no caroling in September.
Say hello at MySpace or email me.
posted by Arthur Stewart at 4:11 PM
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