Since I last posted here, my mother has informed me that I am, in fact, a total liar. “You never threw a tantrum on Santa’s lap,” she insisted, “NEVER.”
Well! We’ll just have to see about that, I thought, and started digging through my mountain of completely unsorted, unorganized photographic evidence.
And darn it, she was right. I was lying. Or perhaps mixing myself up with a photo of one of my siblings. Or drunk. AGAIN.
Other than one three-year-old crankpotface, I am remarkably chill and unfazed in most of my Santa photos, despite the fact that these were some of the worst-looking Mall Santas this side of Billy Bob Thornton. I mean, wow.
Let’s take a look, shall we?
1978 1 of 6I am almost a year old. I like how Santa's beard is approximately eight times the size of his face.
1979 2 of 6What the Budget Mall Santa hell is going on with the eyebrows?
1980 3 of 6Yep. That's a three year old, right there. That's every three year old in the history of the planet, in fact.
1981 4 of 6This picture has always bugged the crap out of me because I have no recollection of that toy I'm holding. I clearly felt it was worthy of dragging along to see Santa at the time but lost or abandoned it soon after. Even in elementary school I was disappointed in my own apparent disloyalty to that ratty-looking...monkey...thing.
1982 5 of 6My last photo with Mall Santa, and appropriately the most busted, budget-looking one yet. What's with the moving boxes next to the chair? What, was there a wrapping paper shortage at the North Pole or something? Honestly, Santa.
And now for something completely terrifying… 6 of 6OH MY GOD WHAT THE HELL IS THAT WHY AM I SITTING ON THE DEMONIC RABBIT FROM DONNIE DARKO'S LAP WHO IN THE WORLD THOUGHT THIS WAS A NORMAL, GOOD IDEA RUUUUUUN!!!!