Friday, December 18, 2009

Christmas Carols for the Insane (Me!)

Some Christmas Carols for my friends...

Hello all! Here is my contribution to Christmas carolling. The tunes should be easy enough to recognize, so on that note, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy Kwanzaa. I especially feel for the Atheists at this time of year. Who DO you talk to when you have sex?! On that note, everyone, sing along....

When it snows our whole state panics,
But not me, I've got my Xanax
It's just a statewide freakshow,
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!
Or this one...
I'm dreaming of a warm Christmas, just like the ones I used to know,
In the lush warm tropics, where all our topics
were talk of hurricanes that blow.
Now, I am in a strong blizzard, at least it seems that way to me
May I live through this storm of white, while I dream of Florida so bright!
No? Maybe this one....
Oh the weather outside is frightful
and inside, it ain't delightful
While my kid is bouncing off walls
Well a big glass of chardonnay calls!
And finally....
While my kid squawks, city sidewalks
are all covered in snow
In the air there's a feeling of madness
Jenda's manic, I'm in panic, this is such a wild scene
and my frantic refrain you can hear....
Bloody hell, bloody hell
we are snowed in until Sunday
Bloody hell, bloody hell
I need some more chardonnay!
Whatever your preference, and wherever you are, have a wonderful holiday. I wish you ALL the best!

Yule Make Me Hurl!

Well the Christmas season is upon us and usual, people are going all out. Spending might be curtailed due to the economy, but crazy holiday decorations and nostalgia are still free. My favorite holiday is Halloween, so I am not one of those people who get all sentimental and drippy about Christmas and the holiday season. Of course, now that I have a child, I put a good face on it, but the whole commercialization and insanity give me the heebie jeebies, so it's just not really my thing.

I remember Christmases past and while some of them were really great, there was often a torment within me that was worse than having an eight foot Frazier fir shoved up my butt. At that time, my parents, my brother Patrick, and I lived in Tallahassee. Since the rest of the extended family lived in Tampa, we always made the trek to Tampa so we could visit with the whole family. We could always count on some kind of Christmas drama, like someone getting pissed off because we spent more time at some other relatives house. Or I might get a toy that I deemed 'not age appropriate', in other words, a BABY TOY, and then I'd throw a fit and offend the gift giver and my parents would bawl me out while my brother Patrick laughed! Such was the season of giving.

One thing that I remember clearly (primarily because my family won't let me forget!) is that a four hour trip to Tampa usually took us close to two days. Why? Because I had to throw up at every rest stop and public restroom along Interstate 10. Seriously. As soon as we'd get in the car to leave, I would start to heave. Sing with me, "Vomit spewing in a crowded car, everybody hold your nose...." My parents tried to explain it away as pre-Christmas excitement, but I never accepted that explanation. Surely Patrick was excited and he wasn't doing the yuletide hurl. It seemed strange, somehow, and I always wondered about it. After years of introspection, therapy, and Kendall Jackson, the answer came to me upon a midnight clear.

It was my parents fault.


This has apparently scarred me deeply. Allow me to elaborate. Mother and Daddy were two of those sentimental, drippy types who loved nothing more than to dress me and Patrick in some Osh-Kosh holiday finery and drag ours asses to Sears to pose for pictures with Santa. From the time I was small, I NEVER got close to MALL SANTA! I knew he was evil! And the poor minimum wage photographer had to drag out the widest angle lens in existence, not because of my chubby butt, but because I was standing safely out of reach of MALL SANTA, the creepy fucker! He never seemed to bother Patrick, but I saw right through that leering smile and that shitty fake beard!

Now that I am forty and a mommy, I can't help but wonder what the hell my parents were thinking, exposing us kids to such holiday freakishness. Well, not Patrick especially, but ME! It's tragic that I am still haunted by the ghosts of MALL SANTAS past, but it's true. It boggles my mind when I think back through the years to the hell they put me through....

  • Big Redneck Bubba Santa- all he wants for Christmas is his two front teeth!
  • Santorexic Claus- Sears couldn't always afford a jolly fat guy so they hired some puny, bony creep to haunt my dreams!
  • Osanta Bin Laden-yes, he was plotting the downfall of America but at least his shitty beard was real!
  • Swelter Claus- because nothing says Christmas like some over-dressed fat guy sitting under hot lights showering helpless little children with 'old-fat-man sweat!'
  • Hanta Claus- Hey kid, want a deadly virus for Christmas?

I could go on and on, but I feeling that yuletide urge to purge. Just trust me when I tell you that there exists NO picture of me sitting on the lap of MALL SANTA, and there never will be. With my luck, I'd run into Saddam Husanta....nevermind. Of course, as a parent, I did have an aberrant nostalgic moment, but only ONCE! Jerry and I took Jenda to see Santa and it turned out that he was a financial advisor that I had fired because he was so incompetent. Of course Jenda became hysterical and frankly, so did I. I mean, AWKWARD! I call him Bankruptcy Claus. I never took her to see MALL SANTA again, and never will. MALL SANTA hysteria could be genetic, or of course, she could have just been really smart at an early age. I tend to think it's a little of both. Whatever the case, I will spend future Christmases making up for that horrible lapse in mommy judgment.

That's not to say that I won't enjoy Christmas and create family traditions throughout the coming years. We always watch The Grinch and the 24 hour marathon of 'A Christmas Story', and we prepare the requisite feast for three that would feed a small army. Well take pictures of our tree, and family pictures, but there will be no MALL SANTA in our future holidays. But for any friends or family reading this, if you are feeling some kind of misguided, goofy longing for a holiday of me, let me know. I'd be glad to pose with Kendall Jackson!