I love this time of year. It's the only time I can really be myself, you know? The rest of the year, I only wear the elf shoes and the reindeer antlers in private. But as soon as Thanksgiving is over, I'm free. I can walk down the street in as much fake white fur trim as I want and nobody minds.

When I was a kid, I loved Christmas. I mean, I really loved it. I'd beg my mom to put up the tree in July. Everyone thought I'd grow out of it, but I didn't. In fact, by the time I was twenty, I found that I couldn't orgasm without tinsel.

I've had a few girlfriends, and at first they were all willing to indulge my little fantasies. One even dyed her pubes green, just for me. But eventually it was always the same: "Can't we do it without Bing Crosby playing?" "My Rudolph nose is chafing." "It's called a condom, not a stocking." I can't change who I am.

I've met a few people like me. Through the Internet mostly. Sometimes someone will throw a "Christmas Party" in the middle of the year and I'll try to fly out if I can. One guy owns over two dozen animatronic elves and penguins. I get all sweaty just thinking about it.

I still have hope that someday people will let go of their petty prejudices and realize that you can have the Christmas spirit year 'round, whether at work, on the street, or tied to your bed with twelve yards of cranberry and popcorn strands. Then we can all have a holly jolly Christmas.