Coming to a Town Near You -- Provided You Live in Kentucky, Ohio or Pennsylvania

For Christmas, everyone is getting homemade beef jerky this year.

Well, not my Nan—Polygrip is no match for my barbecue jerky. But everyone else.

Wait. Not the little ones. I got them toys. Correction: I will get them toys. I hope. I haven't really started shopping yet.

I'm always one of those fools out at the 7-Eleven at noon on Christmas Eve: "Sanjay, do you think a five-year-old would like 'Mountain Pine' or 'Very Vanilla' better?"

Invariably, I go with the vanilla-scented freshener for my nephew's 12-Volt Jeep Wrangler by Fisher Price, while I choose "New Car Scent" for my other nephew's Radio Flyer.

I pick up my niece a copy of Cosmopolitan because it's never too early to start teaching young girls to hate themselves and to bring home the message that "Boys get to have fun and drive things, while you stay home and put on makeup."

Whatever the outcome, I am always reminded that putting off my Christmas shopping until the very last minute is a poor decision.

In my life, I have made many other poor decisions, not limited to but including:

1. Going home with Ryan
2. Attempting to go to cosmetology school
3. Signing the waiver for Girls Gone Wild: Miami Heat
4. Going home with Ryan again
5. Going home with Ryan's sister
6. Affixing bumper stickers to my cars

My pretties, while all of these mistakes have left me with some degree of regret, none are so sticky as my choice in bumper stickers. Well, maybe number 5.

Anyhoo, friends, the point is that I put bumper stickers on my car and, generally speaking, they are stupid.

It started innocently enough with my first car—a 1988 Nissan SX. "Go Devils!" Okay. No problem there. School spirit. Hoo rah.

My problem progressed, however, for my next automobile, a 1996 Ford Aspire I affectionately called Maggie or The Ass Pirate, depending on my mood. The first bad bumper sticker declared "Happiness is Loving a Dog." Yes, kids, I actually had that on my car.

It got worse when I joined a human rights volunteer group a year later and ended up with "Stop Hate Crimes: Honor Diversity" on the back of my Easter-egg mobile. Now, to be fair, both are good messages, but OH MY GOD, could I have been any more of a twag? I really don't think so.

So, with my next "grown up" car, a rapidly declining Oldsmobile Alero still in my possession, I decided no bumper stickers because it has a spoiler.

Even I don't understand my rationale there, but it lasted all of six months until I was at one of my favorite local dive bars, Rascal's Saloon, and it was "Wild Women Wednesday." Except, if memory serves, it was actually a Tuesday, but it's a minor detail, I suppose.

The point is, I got a free T-shirt and a bumper sticker proclaiming "Wild Women Don't Get the Blues."

Well, I'd had some drinks. Is anyone really surprised where this is going? I didn't think so. That bumper sticker was slapped on my car's ass quicker than I was slapping Ryan's sister's ass.

Not too long after, my sister coerced me into adding a Kerry/Edwards 2004 sticker, where it stayed until this very June—that is nigh three years or so AFTER the election passed. So, while the dreams of our country vanished, that Kerry/Edwards sticker remained, I am sad to say.

Until my friend, T, sent me bumper stickers advertising her glass-blowing business with the catchy tag line, "Glass Antixx: Get Blown" which is what every young professional should have on her auto. Now, T's sticker is kind of covering up the politico sticker.

Pretty much all I need is a pot leaf decal on my rear view and then I can get pulled over on suspicion anytime I want to. I guess I could use it as a way to meet guys.

Truly, I love T and her beautiful artwork, so I'm happy to bring the masses to her anyway I can. If I'm lucky, I just might see T this holiday week. As Pistols at Dawn rightfully pointed out, I am embarking on a Rust Belt Tour: Holiday Edition.

First, I'm zipping over to Kentucky to see said Nan with dentures.

Then up to Southern Ohio to spend some time with Megan Jane and her clan.

Then up to mid-Ohio for time with Bonita, Corina, Janee (accent about the e) and Kirstin.

Then up to Northern Ohio to hang with my sisters and our crazy reclusive uncle, and I hope the very preggers Kristina Hot Pants.

And then on to Pittsburgh for a good time with Al Bal and (I hope) some of my other D.C. Sisters.

And then I'm gonna circle out to the Grand Tetons.

So, this Christmas, as millions of children peek out their windows into the dark, snowy night to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus, some very lucky kidders in the Rust Belt may get a special surprise when they see a zippy Oldsmobile roar by, and they'll fall asleep with the words "Get Blown" dancing in their heads.

I hope you all get blown tonight, and every night. Happy Holidays.

In the Comments section, tell me about your bumper stickers, and let me know if you want an "official" Glass Antixx bumper sticker.

Winter sends people postcards; I will send you a bumper sticker.