One lonely dollar: Approximately one dollar might remain in my checking account when I’m done with my holiday shopping. I wonder how I’m going to pay for textbooks next semester. But how silly of me – that’s what credit cards are for!

Two gingerbread houses: Every year, my sister and I resolve to purchase one of those gingerbread house kits usually on sale at Michael’s or Target. I’m beginning to suspect why they are so cheap: They don’t work. What I mean is, the “glue” you use to piece the cardboard-cookie pieces together doesn’t serve a purpose other than getting all over your clothes and smashed into the carpet.

After about an hour later, my sister and I throw in the towel and never bother to finish the house’s miserable construction. Although, in hopes of better results, we do try to redeem ourselves weeks later by purchasing a new kit. I don’t think I need to comment on how try number two works out.

Third time’s not a charm: On average, Christmas radio stations will play the same staple Christmas songs, such as “White Christmas” or “Winter Wonderland,” in an infinite loop approximately three times per hour. I love Christmas just as much as the next brainwashed holiday junkie, but even I think the tunes can get repetitive.

Four Charlie Brown Christmases: I have no one or nothing to blame but myself for this one. Whenever “A Charlie Brown Christmas” shows on a TV station, I’m compelled to watch it.

I don’t know if I do it for tradition’s sake, or there’s literally nothing else on, but I will watch this holiday special at least four times throughout December. Is there anything actually worth watching more than once per season?

Five golden lottery tickets: A winning lottery ticket? I wish. I buy and receive dozens of lottery tickets all throughout December, and out of such a generous pool, only a small handful amount to anything. That is, I may win a dollar here or there if I’m particularly lucky. Buying lottery tickets is a lost cause, and my wallet isn’t thanking me for my hopeless stupidity.

Six hours a-walkin’: That’s about how many hours of wandering throughout the mall it takes to burn off all the calories from eating Chinese takeout on Christmas Eve. My family always indulges in chicken teriyaki-and-eggroll bliss on this day, and I have to say, knowing the consequences slightly puts a damper on this odd family tradition.

Seven pounds a-packin’: Lucky number seven! After the amount of holiday indulgences I splurge on, I’d say seven gained pounds isn’t really that bad. Sure, my pants don’t fit quite right, but I’d imagine it could be a lot worse.

Eight lost minutes: As an American, I will proudly state that I’m obsessed with time. So when it takes me about this long to find a place to park my car for any holiday hotspot, I get a little peeved.

I have to resort to snagging a spot creeper-style by waiting for someone to pull out of their space, followed by playing chicken with another car waiting to take the same spot.

Nine traffic jams: Trying to escape the start-and-stop roads is futile. At any given moment around Christmastime, you could accidentally drive yourself into some sort of circus disaster, as you desperately try to avoid obstacles left and right and pray you get to your destination unscathed.

Ten cups of caffeine: About how much it takes to make it through a full shopping day. Some may accuse me of addiction, but I argue it’s only a particularly persistent craving, like the kind one gets when passing Taco Bell at three in the morning.

Eleven dozen batches of cookies: It’s sometimes hard, you know, to be known among your friends as the baker of the group.

The moment a friend finds out you can whip up just about any blissfully sugary confection, they’re probably thinking “jackpot” because they’ll benefit from your skills during any special occasion.

Christmas would be one of those times, and every year I’m left agonizing over who gets cookies and who does not. And then I worry about causing hard feelings so I end up making cookies for everybody. Joy to the world, except me.

Twelve (thousand) strollers strollin’: The next time you peruse the malls or any congested area, notice how parents relish in using their child’s stroller as a weapon.

They cut, shove, push, karate chop and everything in between – with strollers – in order to make their way through crowds.

Why? Because they have a child in that stroller, of course. You wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt a child, would you? I for one do not appreciate being knocked over by eagerly-violent parents.