The Months Of The Year, As Described By Seinfeld's J. Peterman

Perhaps wistfully looking at a calendar at a cocktail party in mid-town Manhattan, possibly while scrolling through his phone next to a trapped passenger on a flight to Myanmar (Burma), maybe in his office while keeping his employees late on a Friday......
  1. 1.
    January
    A new year begins on the heels of the passing of the previous year; if given time, could that year have met the lofty expectations we had of it? Doubtful. Make the infant year feel supported, like the baby rhino I helped deliver on the banks of the Mara River in the Serengeti. This year will be what you make of it.
  2. 2.
    February
    Both the shortest and longest month, February will fit you best depending on your attitude; it can feel longer than a tour of the Yucatan Peninsula if your love is unrequited during that double-sided coin brought to you by Saint Valentine, or it can fly by like an evening in Malaysia holed up in a hotel room with a lady of the night and some Molly. The choice is yours.
  3. 3.
    March
    The doldrums of winter begin to relent in March - the highest of Irish holidays is celebrated midway through, and your liver better be up to the task, or you'll spend two days recovering from the whisky flu. I had a touch of that this morning, but I'll let you in on a J. Peterman secret - a shot of Hennigan's cures it!
  4. 4.
    April
    April showers bring May flowers, and April dalliances bring January babies. After siring seventeen children via sixteen different women on 5 different continents, you'd think ol' J. Peterman would have learned his lesson - and the tattoo of this particular saying on my wrist should have prevented at least 8 of them. Unfortunately I make love with my Rolex on. *winks*
  5. 5.
    May
    Spring is fading into summer, in the easy way that falling into a bath of lavender salts and rose petals feels after a long night of chasing the high that only a Madagascar nightclub crawl with British royals can provide.
  6. 6.
    June
    Oh June, you appetizer for the main course of summer, I love you so. You come on strong, providing the best accoutrements and bounty from the kitchen of spring, and leave me semi-satiated but wanting more. Like a fortnight I once spent in Katmandu, you are quickly left behind but never forgotten.
  7. 7.
    July
    The apex of summer! July opens her blouse and presents the fullest, most satisfying bosom a man could ask for - the celebration of the birth of our fair lady Independence. Let the parties begin, let the fireworks explode, let the food and drink flow like the smorgasbord at the Shah of Iran's compound, for we care not about the repercussions!! *claps hands*
  8. 8.
    August
    The comedown of months, an unstoppable, unwelcome detoxification from the addiction of summer highs, like my stint in Betty Ford in the summer of '83. Or was it '84? So many other unanswered questions: How did it go so fast? How did I get this tattoo? Why did I spend $12,345 at Lloyd's of London on Ringo Starr's used guitar pick that may or may not have been used during a live performance of "Hey Jude?"
  9. 9.
    September
    Fall is coming. There's no stopping it, it is unavoidable, no matter how long you try and fool yourself with clothing much too lightweight and airy for the temperature. You curse the exit of summer, leaving you to deal with the repercussions of questionable decisions, just like that charlatan the Sultan of Brunei. He knows what he did.
  10. 10.
    October
    Full-on fall arrives with an anticipation for the greatest of holidays, where we all get an evening to play dress-up, to be someone else, to throw caution to the wind and accept all the gifts and love from our neighbors and friends. Huzzah to you Halloween! Our second biggest catalog month every year.
  11. 11.
    November
    We are staggering now, into the end of the year, like a drunk Pakistani stumbling home after a night in the Dream Cafe'. Thanksgiving is here, a holiday that forces us to spend time with relatives and eat terrible food in honor of imperialism and manifest destiny; ever since Mothers passing I have spent it in Peru.
  12. 12.
    December
    December. The end is here, but the beginning is also near, a double-sided pleasure and pain I can only equate to the Siamese twins I experienced in French Polynesia. *shudders* But when you get to the end, there are two holidays waiting for us honoring my two favorite "isms": capitalism and alcoholism. Cheers to both!