Thursday, December 11, 2008

Guest blogger Amy Ellis!

So, back in October, I held a (lame) "name that movie" contest, and the lovely and talented Amy Ellis was our illustrious winner. The prize, of course, was an opportunity to guest blog while I was busting ass on NaNo. Now, there was no question in my mind that winning this (lame) contest was the zenith of Ms. Ellis' existence, however, she has one of those nifty things called a job, and things went a bit headfirst into the shitter at said nifty job, forcing the poor girl to divide her time between comforting disgruntled employees and chain-swalling carbs and therapeutic bacon.

But, since I'm her sister, I get to do tacky things like bug her about guest blogging when she clearly has far too much on her plate already. She asked if she could do something else, like guest-handbag shopping or guest-wine tasting instead. I said no (mostly because she does that every day anyway). Finally, after one more attempt at dodging her "prize" by sending me seven pages of U2 lyrics instead of a guest post, she relented.

"The Guest Post to Get My Sister to Shut Her Yap, in the Form of a Letter to Santa"

by Amy Ellis

December 10, 2008

Kris “Santa Clause” Kringle
North Pole

Re: Vivi Alden

Dear Santa:

I know that it’s only socially acceptable for adorable little children to write precious, misspelled letters to you. But here’s the deal. The world is a pretty rough place right now, and, when you think about it, kids have it easy. Somebody else pays the bills, makes the food, cleans up the poo/projectile vomit, and has to love you even when you’re having a completely uncalled for and ridiculous meltdown.

So I think it’s only fair that you start accepting letters from bill-paying, cooking, poo/vomit-cleaning, loving-even-when-it’s-irritating adults.

And in order to sweeten the deal, I’m writing you on behalf of my sister. Before you look her up, I’m quite confident that she’s been good all year. (I really don’t think that making fun of a short Chippendales guy in Vegas counts as a bad deed. And before you say it, your sleigh has never been cut off by a Detroit hoopty, now has it?)

I respectfully request that you send my sister good hair days for Christmas, and make sure that the Feria does not turn her hair strange shades of green like happened to her in high school. Granted, her hair was much larger then. But so was mine. Combined, our hair could have taken over the planet. However, I know for a fact that girls in New Jersey had much bigger hair than we did.

Anyway, that’s not really the point, is it?

Second, I think she needs hand-crafted cappuccinos every day. No, I don’t know how you’re going to accomplish that, but you’re Santa. You can do anything. And please make sure they have good foam, and don’t – under ANY circumstances – put syrup or sprinkles in the cappuccino. Hasn’t she been traumatized enough by the questionable coffee-drinking habits of Michigan residents? Besides, think of all those mornings she spent getting up at 4 am to open the cart in the cold, dark, and rain in Seattle only to have to pretend to care about those goofballs who worked at KOMO 4 news.

Next, please give her Clive Owen for Christmas. Make sure he comes with a big blue bow to match his pretty eyes. Yes, I know, she’s a married woman, but all I need him to do for her is shovel snow, get things down from the tall shelves, and mix her afternoon cocktails. This would make up for the fact that she missed that party that Kiefer Sutherland attended a few years ago, and you know how many times we watched The Lost Boys when we had hair big enough to take over the planet.

Then, I need you send her an agent with a brain who will get her published. See, she writes really brilliant stuff I’d pay good money to read, and that’s saying a lot coming from me. If I’d buy it, that means all the other millions of women who buy the crap that’s already published would want to read it, too. I mean, really, Santa. NASCAR romance novels? What brand of crack are these publishers smoking?

And then, if it’s not too much trouble, please give her a Burberry coat. It would go well with Clive’s accent; plus, if you could slip around $10 million in the pockets, I think she’d be all set.

Thanks so much, Santa! And by the way, I had nothing to do with that little incident involving the screen door and the scissors when I was 10. Just so you know.

Amy Ellis

Amy Ellis is an English major, writer, semi-professional shoe shopper, Star Wars junkie, closet super-hero, and possibly the best sister in the history of time. She lives where it rains every 4.2 seconds, and though she is officially Bono's soul mate, she went outside the box and married a really cool viking. Someday, she will live in Paris, where she will eat pan au chocolat and shop Christain Louboutin on a daily basis. In the meantime, you can find her at


Sarah J Clark said...

I thoroughly enjoyed this post from the both of you!

Happy Holidays, and long live great hair!

Elizabeth said...

Wow. I don't have a sister, but if I did and she wrote something like that I would be full of warm fuzzies and love. Very nice, I hope Santa is listening.

Tracey said...

What a fabo letter to the big guy. I hope you find all those goodies under your tree, Vivi. And maybe Amy could find a few extra Christmas treats under her tree too for writing such a sweet letter on her sister's behalf.

Anonymous said...

You might have better luck if you changed the bow to green to match Clive's eyes.

Case in point:

Vivi Alden said...

I know, isn't my sissy the sweetest? She didn't ask for one single thing for herself (though I suspect that the $10 mil comes with a finders fee :>)

Though, as much as I'd love to find a Clive under my tree, it would make things really awkward when hubby was around. Unless Clive likes European racing and The Foo Fighters. Then they'd have plenty to talk about!

(and don't worry sissy. My Christmas Clive can be blue or green eyed. I'm not picky at all.)

Bryan B. said...

There's all this chick stuff happening in this post. It got better when I found out she was a Star Wars junkie.

Big Plain V said...

Amy rocks. In fact, both these girls are so dang funny I'm not even gonna try to be funny because it would wrong to clutter up their funny with my less-funny.

Big Plain V said...

And who is Clive Owen? Seriously.

I'm gonna assume he's British.

Vivi Alden said...

Bryan - yeah, sorry about all the sisterly, chicky, "Steel Magnolias" stuff. I promise we'll resume regularly scheduled snarkiness soon.

V...*gasp* you don't know who Clive Owen is??? The BMW shorts with Madonna? Closer? King Arthur? Sin City? Children of Men? Derailed (really, really bad movie w/ Jennifer Anniston)? You'd like him, I bet he drinks Guinness.

Amy Ellis said...

The BMW short with Madonna is THE BEST. Even my viking husband likes Clive just because of the BMW's.

And none of you have truly met a Star Wars Chick until you meet me and my sister. We still have the Star Wars album someplace. Not the soundtrack. The album of the film. In the days before VCR's, you had to listen to the albums to relive the experience.

Bryan B. said...

Oh, I'm positive Clive Owen drinks Guinness...

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