I'll Be Home For Christmas

I know, I know, LA misses me. It's roasting chestnuts and hanging stockings, wistfully thinking of my sweet embrace, a nostalgic tear making a streak of white down its Mystic-tanned face. But here I am biding my time in Northern California, hoping we can be together again for the holidays. In fact, it's the only thing I asked Santa for for Christmas (sha right, I'm a greedy bastard). Actually, up North things are a bit more, shall we say, "christmasy" with the cold weather bestowing upon everyone a red nose to make Rudolph jealous (where as if you have a red nose in LA you probably just got done doing blow in the bathroom at Sky Bar.) All we have in LA as far as Season's tidings is that the girls in mini skirts exchange their flip-flops for Uggs, and Starbuck's starts selling their peppermint mochas by the thousands to anxiety ridden, prescription pill-popping, holiday shoppers. But now that's Christmas to me, and I can't wait to return home, some well-earned money in hand, to buy myself that peppermint mocha (with soy, of course) and enjoy it with a bag of roasted chestnuts from the West Hollywood Whole Foods. Does anyone make a soy egg nog?