Bleh. What the crap? This is supposed to be a holiday week, no? Why the Christ am I working Monday through Friday? This turn of events doesn't fill me with ho ho happiness. Grrrr...
But enough with the cranky poo. It's my favorite time of year. I love everything about Christmas. Santa coming down the chimney and plucking out a single grey pube for the children to play with for the entire year. It's a heart-warming story, especially the way my grandfather used to tell it. It was always followed by holiday-themed game of Good Touch/Bad Touch featuring a special appearance from Blumpkin, one of Santa's lesser known reindeer.
Nothing's going to kill my Christmas spirit. As a matter of fact, I just decided that this week, I'm going to let up a little on my one-man war on Christmas (it's been going really well, especially since I sent anthrax to Frosty the Snowman) and delight you all with some original winter/holiday songs prominently featuring your very own members of Scamper. Unless of course I change my mind or can't think of a clever way to rhyme "Nate" with "seasonal affective disorder."
In the meantime, anyone have any good Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa stories about how fucked up their family is? People like those.
But enough with the cranky poo. It's my favorite time of year. I love everything about Christmas. Santa coming down the chimney and plucking out a single grey pube for the children to play with for the entire year. It's a heart-warming story, especially the way my grandfather used to tell it. It was always followed by holiday-themed game of Good Touch/Bad Touch featuring a special appearance from Blumpkin, one of Santa's lesser known reindeer.
Nothing's going to kill my Christmas spirit. As a matter of fact, I just decided that this week, I'm going to let up a little on my one-man war on Christmas (it's been going really well, especially since I sent anthrax to Frosty the Snowman) and delight you all with some original winter/holiday songs prominently featuring your very own members of Scamper. Unless of course I change my mind or can't think of a clever way to rhyme "Nate" with "seasonal affective disorder."
In the meantime, anyone have any good Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa stories about how fucked up their family is? People like those.
8 Comments:
My Mom always said our tree takes up too much room, so the past few years, she assembles half of our artifical tree and then shoves it against a wall. She thinks people can't tell that the whole tree isn't filled in, but it looks pretty pathetic.
Christmas always makes me want to kill people but instead i buy them presents and then spend the next 6 months wanting to kill myself because of the debt i'm in. the end.
Either last year or the one before, my usually reserved mom loudly told off my shit-talking aunt in front of the whole family at my grandparents' house. The rest of the week was great, because then we were all having a laugh at my aunt's expense. I don't think she's my aunt anymore actually.
Merry Christmas!
When I was growing up, I used to write these long, detailed letters to Santa Claus, asking weird shit like 'Can you make me a robot friend like D.A.R.Y.L.?' and 'Can you teach Daddy how to talk to Mommy?' (seriously). These things were pages and pages and pages long.
Anyway, I was drinking with my dad in a pub in Dublin one Thanksgiving (again, seriously), and we were talking about Christmas, and for the first time it occurred to me that he had actually been the guy reading ALL of those crazy letters. I asked him about it, but he just nodded. Always nice to know your parents knew what a neurotic pussy you were from an early age.
I've heard Vinny's letters to Santa story many times now and I NEVER get tired of it. Just tremendous work.
You know how is some funnytime comedytime xmastime movies some crazy family sets one or more of the family's head on fire with a crown of burning candles? Yeah. We did that. My sister hated it. And so she always put up a fight. "It's not even an Xmas tradition, it's a St. Lucia's tradition, and we're not even Catholic! Furthermore, I think it's perfectly reasonable not to want to set my head on fire." Cue passive aggressive martyr-off between my mother and grandmother about which one of them was going to set her head on fire.
I got off easy with the super-gay crown of cardboard reindeer antlers, which I was made to wear as the "Reindeer Prince," a character invented by my grandmother when I was 3 so that I would not feel left out when they set my 8 year old sister's head on fire. Sweet, delusional Grandma insists that I invented the character and made the crown of antlers myself, but I'm pretty sure no matter how stupid or weird I was at age 3, I did not possess the dexterity or focus necessary to forge an antler crown adorned with holly which would last more than 15 years.
All for the benefit of my drunk ass grandfather, who was a 2nd generation Swede, and for whom we also had to prepare this multi-course Swedish Xmas meal, including lutefisk (lye-soaked cod surprise), which FYI is fucking disgusting.
The other thing we did was "The Hound Headed Ham" wherein we placed a ceramic dog head on the Xmas ham, gave it four legs of cinnamon sticks, and proceeded to make an entire suit for the DogHam, fabricated entirely out of other foods. Mind you no one pretended this was a Swedish tradition.
If only I were kidding,
blp
Perkins, you've officially scared the hell out of me.
Chrostmas!
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