on christmas eve:

• Finished a couple of boxes of chocolates. A week’s worth of sweets consumed in one sitting. Am now devouring a bowl of chocolat truffes as I type this.
• A tray of lasagna beckoned me. Oh sweet tomato-based pasta, a bed of melted mozzarella and raindrops of parsley on top. Third serving, and chewing started feeling like a chore.  A tray of lasagna beckons me again today. Mother of goodness, you Italian madness one more bite and my Christmas will be in ruins.
• Poorly wrapped gifts with an I love you note. I love you back kuya, but please take lessons from the National Bookstore ladies, you wrap gifts like a geezer.
• A cashmere jacket, cut like a bomber. Foaming bath cream; scent of iris. A black faux-leather with a hoodie. A camel leather jacket, with breasts bulleted with studs. And a beautiful pair of russet sandals with golden soles. Yes, brothers are the best.
• No surprises under the tree this year. Only preempted tragedies.  Oh and badly wrapped gifts.
• I’m sick. I always get sick during the holidays. I remember spending the entire New Year’s Eve this year nursing a bad cold like I would the past year’s grievances. 
• You're a late santa. But thanks for coming and goading whatever silly hopes I already have. Merry Christmas!