Cake is a lie
Fuck you, Boxing Day . And take St Stephen with you. Once upon a time, in 1977, your beloved Hostess was supposed to be born on Christmas Day. Yeah, and I was going to be named Noel. Thankfully, on that part, I was stubborn. My great aunt's dog was named Noel. Do I fucking look like Indiana Jones? Despite My penchant for whips... So 4ish hours late, there I was. All cute and newborn and cranky at the chilly hospital air. Happy birthday to Me. Oh, also Happy Boxing Day! For a while, it was rather ace to have a birthday the day after Christmas. Extra presents! Wooohooo! Oodles of gifts for miles. My mother's side of the family did well and, in general, the presents were a plenty. This was until I turned oh... maybe 12? Then it was "oh hay, have a combination present !" ... Let's examine this with some visual aids, shall we? This is a standard calender for the month of December. Do we see how the 25th and the 26th have separate boxes? Yes well, I tried to explain to ...
