I’m just going to say it.

This Christmas kinda blew.

Not because of the wonderful people I spent it with or because of the great presents, but because the magic was gone. I have really high expectations for Christmas, but this year it was like I was stuck in the the Polar Express and it was the first time I couldn’t hear Santa’s bell. Maybe it’s because I am getting older or because there was no snow, but I am not happy about this, and the worst part was that there were no Christmas miracles. Can you believe that? No Christmas miracles and no magic.

You know exactly what I’m talking about.

Christmas Eve, especially, should be ashamed of itself. I count on Christmas Eve every year to be the most magical time of the year. It’s better than Christmas day, in my opinion. We get together with the whole family, go to church, reveal our fabulous party dresses under our even more fabulous winter coats, and drink until our cousin confesses he has a new girlfriend. Right now, my family is all at an age where we aren’t kids anymore but we also don’t have our own kids yet, so Christmas is just a bunch of old people drinking in sequins.

That’s just a regular Tuesday, not Christmas.

Hopefully New Years Eve will bring some magic back to the holidays, but if it’s anything like last year, I’ll probably just eat too much Mexican food and be too bloated to stay awake past midnight.

Maybe the real Christmas miracle is that I got someone to marry me with that kind of behavior.

Okay, Santa, thanks for the whole “man of my dreams” thing this year, but next year I want the magic back.