The Grinch Who Stole Pingle Christmas

It has been brought to my attention that I haven’t written a blog post in a while. I would love to say it’s because I’ve been lounging on a beach while husky bronzed man-servants brought me fruity cocktails. Alas, the real reason is sadly bereft of oiled muscles and sexy coconuts.

Last month, whilst wearing a green visor and using an old-fashioned adding machine to balance my checkbook (as everyone does), I discovered a thief had absconded with a large amount of my hard-earned money.

The description I gave police. How they have yet to find this guy, I have no idea.
Description I gave police. How they have yet to find this guy, I have no idea.

Somehow, someone way smarter than me hacked into a bunch of debit card numbers. My card and my husband’s card were included in this nefarious plot to ruin Christmas. I have no idea how this person got both of us. What I know about hackers is what I see in TV and movies, and somehow I don’t think it’s as easy as they make it seem.

"Type in a bunch of code and CONTROL THE WORLD."         "I don't think that's how it works."
“Type in a bunch of code and CONTROL THE WORLD ” “Um… I don’t think that’s how it works.”

What really, really sucked is that it was our debit cards, so it was like, real money. They drained our checking account. So we basically woke up and Christmas was gone. The Grinch snuck into our checking account and cleared out the place. He got the presents! The ribbons! The wrappings! The tags! The tinsel! The trimmings! The trappings! The bags!

Okay, I’ll stop. But first, what are “trappings,” exactly?
Okay, I’ll stop. But first, what are “trappings,” exactly?

I just felt so… violated. Did I bring this on myself with my sexy online purchases? Did we drop our poor, innocent debit card into a shady part of the internet and just walk away? All I know is that our debit card is now curled in a corner of the shower sucking its thumb. That’s on you, hackers. How do you sleep at night?

"Since I bought a cruise with your money, pretty well, actually."
“Since I bought a cruise with your money, pretty well, actually.”

Anyway, I don’t know how it happened, but it happened at the worst time possible. Not that there’s a good time to get money stolen, but right before we go on the biggest shopping spree of the entire year? Kind of bad timing, guys.

Our bank credited back our money eventually but we had to get through the entire month of December with nothing in our account. The week of Christmas we finally got our money back. THE WEEK OF CHRISTMAS. My husband and I were both in our busy time of year at work; we couldn’t take any days off, so he did all the shopping on Christmas Eve while I worked from home. Shopping and wrapping all the presents on Christmas Eve? Not fun. Luckily there was plenty of wine left over from Thanksgiving or I would have been very grinchy indeed.

Christmas Eve, basically.
Christmas Eve, basically.

Needless to say, it was hard to get into the Christmas spirit this season, and no one was happier than me when it was time to kick Santa’s big butt out the door.

For my husband and me, 2015 looks to be filled with paranoia and lots of hiding money behind toilets. Maybe not even our toilets. By the way, don’t look behind your toilet.

DON'T LOOK IN THERE.
DON’T LOOK IN THERE, EITHER.

Nothing to see, folks.

Okay, I lied. I’m back.

This was supposed to be a non-working blog. A place where I display my wares and walk away, like those kiosks in the mall that sell stuff like soap made with salt from the Dead Sea. Then when you pause for a nano-second, because you have an eyelash in your contact or something, they appear from nowhere with a charming yet purposeful air. “May I help you?”

THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME. I’m creepy sea salt lady.

But I couldn’t stay away! You know how hard it is for a writer to have an audience at her very fingertips and not write?

Clearly impossible.

I have too much on my mind to not write. Let me take you on a tour through my thoughts. Watch your step, it’s sticky.

I got into grad school and start in August which is like a FEW MONTHS away and I’m freaking out.

I loved college. Loved it. But I also worked part time on the weekends, lived at home, and graduated over ten years ago. My brain has got a lot slower since then, I work full-time, I have a house, a husband, a family… ahhhhh! What was I thinking? How am I going to do this? What if I fail? What if I’m the class dummy? What if everyone gets it but me????

See above re: freaking out.

I’m trying to write a book and I can’t find the time/energy to work on it.

I wanted to finish my book before I went back to school. I had a plan. I was going to write such-and-such words a day—not an unreasonable amount, either. A totally doable amount. But I haven’t done it. I was on fire for a few weeks, then pffft. I wrote a book in a freaking month for NaNoWriMo, so I know it can be done. So what’s my problem? Blaaaaarg.

Lastly, the whole point of this blog was to garner some freelance work.

I’ve garnered exactly two things:  1) A woman asking if there are any job openings at my place of employment (there aren’t) and 2) another woman who wrote to me for marriage advice after reading one of my xojane articles. Do I look like f%^&ing Dear Abby? Go see a marriage counselor!

WHAT THE CRAP, Y’ALL.