It's 1:37 a.m. EST on Christmas morning and

It's 1:37 a.m. EST on Christmas morning and I'm sitting here surrounded by wrapped presents thinking "Is this IT? Is this what it's all about?" If Christmas could be different, I'd

want it to be spent in summer camping by the river Spey in the highlands of Scotland. One morning I would get out of my tent to go swimming naked in a river of Scotch whisky.

It wasn't fast flowing & I didn't inhale, but I discovered you can absorb whiskey through your skin, & you know what they say about drinking & swimming. I was swimming in the drink

Linen had always been a fantasy of mine. I'm grande like that. Sparkly too. I can play the piano like no one's business, I am, LIBERACE! Maybe you heard of me?

"No." I shut the door on the vacuum cleaner salesman. Nobody vacuums anymore, anyways, not with these self-vacuuming carpets. God I'm bored. Thankfully, the Midleton was only half

full. I stepped back and realized how abrasive I must have appeared to the pimply faced salesmen who was probably pay for his mortgage. Reluctantly I peeked through the peephole

And realised they were selling toxic bundles of bad debts dating from 2007. I never answered the door after that if they showed up. I didn't want to lose everything like others did

when they invested in those mortgage-backed securities. Fools! However, I did answer the door for the Kleen-Eezy salesman and the Jehovah's Witnesses. Once, my neighbour knocked

on the door asking to re-use some "clean" TP. I was only all too happy to oblige. I'm a very obliging person, so they say, and yet I can't get a date in Little New Orleans.