Dear Friends and Family-Over Due Christmas Letter

I hope this finds you all safe and well. I just wanted to make sure I took the time this year to update you on the going on’s of the Lauren(Hyphen) Gysber’s family. I know you all have been anxiously awaiting my yearly update. I mean I assume you have been waiting judging on the fact you all seem to assume I was waiting to hear who your daughter married, where your husband travels for work, and what color of brown your son usually poops. I can only assume you were waiting my response because if you weren’t that seems that you in fact would be a bit narcissistic, or self absorbed. And I know you are nothing of the sort.
Grandma, stop reading now… If you kick it over this letter I swear the rest of the family will never forgive me. Oh and don’t tell them I still secretly bring you cigarettes every time I see you, because basically Grandma, I’m pretty sure at eighty eight a case of lung cancer brought on over smoking eight cigarettes in the past year isn’t going to be the thing to kill you.
So my update for you… It is in fact no longer the Lauren (hyphen) Gysber’s family. Mostly because I spent the year banging the bitches and slapping the hoe’s and my husband left me. I joke. Really I joke. There was no banging of bitches and I just plain got divorced. And although I appreciate your phone calls over the past year digging for dirt on why it happened the simple answer is it just happened. Sometimes in big kid world we tend to make decisions that are less than ideal and later realize we would have been better off smoking the crack everyone thinks we do. So I am thrilled that all of your children and even your children’s children are having even more children but I personally am trying my damndness not to procreate.
So this year in a flash will mark my third year since finishing college in which I still wait tables. I drank a little less, and I know this might shock those of you that know me now but I do in fact drink less. What isn’t less is the size of my boobs which seem to have kept growing and I am sure that is something my mother will write about in her Christmas letter. “ My son Matthew has started his own consulting business, gotten married, bought a large house in the suburbs and is extremely happy. My daughter Katie…she now, at twenty eight has average size boobs.”
So divorced and a half or at least sufficient rack what did I get… a twenty one year old boyfriend. Mostly because it happened by accident. But I wouldn’t call it the “opps I accidentally hit your car accident as much as the “shit I accidentally bought a lottery ticket and won,” kind of accident. As a result I wrote a little less because shit writing just isn’t fun or very productive when you are happy.
I moved to a part of St. Louis where there is a bar on every corner because that’s what I needed in my more bars per Katie ratio. It’s shocking enough to hear myself say “moved in St. Louis” because I swore that I hated this town and would get out as soon as I could. Now I am ashamed and proud to admit that I live here by choice. Its like a great fart as a girl…we all know it’s great but do you call your friends to brag or hang your head in shame. I guess the fact that you all refer to casseroles dinner and everything made from the cupboard containing cream of something soup, covered in potato chips or crispy cereal is considered a casserole, and are incredibly racist and shop only at J.C. Penny’s has grown on me. Ok not the racists part seriously people this is strange.
I met some new friends, most of which I love some of which I want to trade on the black market except the fact there isn’t really a want for annoying people on the black market even when the economy is good.
Speaking of economy, I have grown even more irresponsible with money which is at this time judges as “ok” because shit everyone is having money problems. So I can keep blaming Bush for the fact I can’t pay my gas bill because I bought too many beers at the bar.
Most eventful of this year was the fact I bought a foul mouthed puppy. His favorite comedian is Andrew Dice Clay and he regularly addresses me as “Bitch” or “Pussy” when I enter the door. He has made my little world complete, even if my friends are afraid to come over because he insists in showing and talking to everyone about his giant balls. Which much to his dismay are being chopped from his body tomorrow. What will the Dice Man think about my little guy with no balls…
So the year in recap…Divorce, Moves, Dating Boys- Young Boys, Being Happy, Bigger Bags, and Misbehaved Foul Mouth Puppies. Over all I think it was a good year… spectacularly good if you will.
I wish for you all what I wish for myself this year… love, happiness, warm puppies and even bigger bags.

Merry Christmas,

Katie

Only because I know it is tradition to enclose a picture with these long awaited updates enclosed you will find a picture of my puppies giant balls and my super average bags… You can hang it next to the family pictures on your fridge.