What I Want For Christmas

and not like that cheesy song. yeah, I get the sentiment. It is nice. But while I would love there to be no wars, I am not running for Ms. American (Ms. Congeniality reference for those not paying attention). I just want a boy. Well I guess technically a man (but I will always refer to myself as a girl, so while I say boy, I mean man.)

And I don’t mean I just want any boy. That won’t do. And I am not talking all about marriage and I do’s and all that jazz. I do, however, want a boy; a friend, so I guess a boyfriend. But really I just want a cool guy who thinks my dorkiness is enduring; who rolls his eyes as I dance around in the kitchen cleaning and singing while pretending to star in a Broadway show (this happens often) I want a boy to drive places without me having to think about it. I want a boy to pump my gas (that is so a boyfriend requirement because I DETEST pumping gas.) I want a boy who makes me laugh but is serious enough to take care of his stuff. A guy’s guy with  a little panache, dressing well and liking nicer things never hurt anyone.

One of my favorite Regina-isms is prepneck. Our part of the world is covered with them. For those of you not in the know, here is the definition:

prep.neck (n) – a guy; most likely from the U.S. South; enjoys hunting, fishing, football, Jesus, and family; loves his mama; goes to church when he should. Cleans up well; prefers brands like Polo; Southern Tide, Lacoste, can rock a bowtie if occassion calls for it, and possibly some team of choice embroidered pants on a Saturday afternoon (maybe); drives a truck or some derivative. There are very few pure bred prepnecks (equal parts prep and neck) Most are either a little more prep (the side I tend to lead toward) or a little more neck (the good ol’ boy) True southern girls love them with all they have because they can dress them up to take them to a sorority formal but also ride dirt roads with them, singing country music, and bog around in some mud.

Yeah, I want one of those, so Santa, maybe you can talk to Leroy, those other reindeer won’t have any idea what you are talking about and at least point me in the direction of my very own grown up prepneck. There has to be one out there who has my name on him. I know I haven’t been this good for this long and still won’t get my present this year. I have been waiting and still believing in you.