I’m not much of a card giver. Never really was. I think it’s because I’m a guy. I know few guys who really grasp the concept of the card. When a guy wishes another guy a happy birthday, he’s more likely to punch him in the arm and call him a geezer than go to the Hallmark store and find the perfect pre-manufactured greeting.

Then again, I’m cynical.

This attitude toward card-giving extends to Christmas cards. Think about this: how many single guy friends do you get Christmas cards from? Now, how did that change once those guys got into a serious relationship with a woman? Some of my friends got cards this Christmas and scratched their heads. “Rob who?”

Christmas cards are stressful. The list of recipients quickly grows once you add family, friends, co-workers, medical professionals, the local homeless and pets to the list. I think we sent something like 60 this year. I can’t even name 60 people off the top of my head. If you think that’s a lot, wait ’til you see Dani’s preliminary list of people to invite to our wedding. YIKES!

So, Dani, knowing my apathetic attitude to the greeting card industry, made a deal with me: She would address, sign and mail all 60 of the cards if I’d write the Christmas letter.

It took her several days to get the cards together and ready to go. It took me half an hour to write the letter. Pretty good deal to me.

All of this is the long way of introducing the now-infamous Rob and Danielle Christmas Letter for 2001. I came across it on my hard drive today and have meant to post it for some time. I realize it’s about a month late, but happy holidaze anyway.

Dear friends and family,

Let’s just get the bad news out of the way up front. We’re still mourning the loss of thousands of Americans from the worst disaster to ever hit U.S. soil (For further updates, stay tuned for Peter Jennings’ special report, “Milking the Tragedy”, only on NBC). My company was shut down due to poor business decisions, leaving me holding a sign near the onramp making offers to “code Java for food.” Despite the pained wails of children and the elderly, Carrot Top is still allowed to appear on national TV.

Which of these is the greatest tragedy?

OK, moving on. Despite the bad news that hit us, 2001 hasn’t been too shabby a year. Danielle and I are still living happily in Hayward, California (Motto: “At least we’re not Fresno”) in a lovely little two-bedroom pad that backs up to the corporation yard. Our apartment employees are so considerate, in fact, they bang on the dumpsters every morning to wake us by 6:30 so that Danielle doesn’t miss the train in to work.

Danielle has been filled mightily with the holiday spirit this year. Our living room looks like an elf exploded in there. Bells on the door! Wrapping strewn about the ground! Eggnog on the ceiling! It’s quite the festive household. I’m afraid of what she has planned for the hamster (Four words: reindeer antlers and staples).

As is my holiday tradition, I have been spending my free time down at the mall placing bets on the fights that break out in the toy department. I’ve made at least $100 (little kids are so willing to put their milk money on their mommies — naive little fools) which I quickly blew on Orange Juliuses and steak fries.

This year, we will have the joy of being surrounded by family, both Danielle’s and mine. They will more than likely remain there until we come out peacefully with our hands up. BUT THEY’LL NEVER TAKE US ALIVE!!!

Whoa, too much apple cider. May your Christmas be bright and wonderful and your new year prosperous. And if it is prosperous, remember to spread some of that around. I still need a job. My resume is attached.

Love, warmth and holiday wishes to you and yours.

Rob and Danielle