Christmas is...

What is it about Christmas that makes it okay when as adult children gathered in the spirit of family togetherness no one feels compelled to change the HBO Chris Rock special for...count them...45 minutes? Or, the bizarre normalcy of sharing masturbation techniques disguised as embarasing moments / "this one girl I know" stories (yes, even the ladies got involved). At this festive and holy holiday season a certain cloud of openness falls upon the merry-makers which in any other context could thankfully be attributed to boozes, but in mine, the practicing Mormon one, our closeness has nothing more to be blamed on than a growing sense that we are less and less our parents children and more and more--well--our parents.

As this frightful thought drowns my mind with fears of growing a grizzly beard that I casually insist makes me look more "rugged, like Magnum, you know Magnum P.I." I realize that this is maturity. No longer is my sister gauging my back with a sharpened pencil lead contending that I do indeed still owe her $35 from prom tickets I couldn't afford; instead we mock our mother in happy comradery as we reminisce over the time I found out my phone hadn't been receiving calls for two days because she let the cell phone bill go unpaid and that it had happened to dear sis twice (yes it's not very nice to joke about financial ineptitude but if we can laugh at it then maybe we will be aware and it won't happen to us).

And maybe this is what Christmas is, an annual token of the small but significant lengths we have taken to find our independence and gain greater control of our individual destinies. This has in fact been a seminal year for each of us: I have left three/fourths of the way into my degree in Sociology to take a job in New York which I am ridiculously unqualified for - a fact reflected in my paltry pay, Ian completely failed to attend any of his classes after the first month and is ambitiously climbing the corporate ladder of his retail chain store because now he has a wife and baby to support - seriuously, though, how could he be expected to parent while trying to retake classes for the next six years, the youngest of us has made the least impact by getting her Associates degree but shows promising signs as she has no clear intention of turning that into a bachelor's but may move out to New York and take her stand-up act on the road.

Oy, I wish I had kosher!

My dear brother toasted unicorns and rainbows as we gathered as siblings around the bench/coffee table we appropriated for our Thanksgiving feast. My sister chinked glasses over her desire to spend less quality family time and my very pregnant sister-in-law couldn't even get out her toast as she was already stuffing her face. I love being with family. It's about...striving (to get through the "time").

I am thankful for pre-cooked Tyson hams, canned green beans, disposable roasting pans, and Pillsbury rolls. I'm thankful for "imported" sparkling pear-apple juice (non-alcholic) and Sara-Lee frozen pumkin pie. But mostly I am thankful for naps, long quiet naps where I can be alone...sleeping.

It's all over-rated sometimes, unless your falling

"New Experiences," a Public Servive Announcement from "the Mormons."

Location - Underground Bar in a very bricky sort of East Coast kind of way. Karaoke Night.

Man 1: So, I am open to new experiences.
Man 2: That's great because I have tried EVERYTHING and would be happy to usher you through the world from unaware to aware.
Man 1: That sounds suspicious...but fun?
Man 2: Really fun, trust me (aside) I'll bleed your soul.


Later - Leaving the bar, Hallway.

Man 1: (To Bouncer) Umm, there's a big brawl going on in the bar. I have to pee.
Man 2: Haha. I love this!
Man 1: (Aside) Is he the devil? (To Man 1) I have the munchies, let's go to Beto's.
Man 2: Anything you want.

Interior - Beto's. (You know what it's like, the dregs of civilization sapping what life they have left at 3 in the morning as they contract 24 hour chronic bad-gas.)

Man 1: Am I a Libertarian?
Odd Man at Another Table: I am and everyone should be. Oh, and I am opening an internet cafe and gaming space. Do you game? It's awesome, we're have the internet and stuff.
Man 2: Great, well time to go. (to Man 1) You coming over to my place?
Man 1: You know, I have had a great time tonight but it's made me think a lot about my life and my choices. Going through this time has led me down a dark path but one that has led me to see something greater. I guess what I've figured out is I don't need other 'things" in my life and really I don't need you. Have a great night. See you at church?

Retards Aren't Even This Retarded

I have decided to be honest. I don't get music. Last night when I was at the Good Time Happy Karaoke rent-a-room-by-the-hour-and-we-won't-tell-anyone-what-you-do-in-there in Sugerhouse I kept trying to sing along with so-called classics like "Livin' On A Prayer" and "Holdin' Out For A Hero" when I realized this is why I had no friends in Middle School.

My life was fine sitting with Jared Ferguson, the coolest guy in 7th grade with a sprouting of chin hair, leather lanyard, and black tank top who dained to let me eat lunch at his picnic table until one day he asked me if I liked the new Metallica Black Album. I had never even heard Metallica as far as I knew, let alone the Black Album but I needed to pass this test as I was not cool and I knew this would bring me one step closer to cooldom. So, I nodded with thougtful reminiscince and stated that it was "a good album." By doing so I knew I qualified myself as someone worth his precious cool time because I had (1) "listened" to Metallica's Black album and (2) as far as he knew even owned it. Ready to accept my place among the officially cool, I was caught off guard when he threw my a curve by requesting to know which of their albums I liked best.

SH#T! I had given no thought to the fact that they had released other records and that as a cool kid who liked the Black one I probably had thoughtful opinions about the other albums they had apparently produced. Seeing a loop-hole I proclaimed that the Black Album was actually the best one. The bastard must have smelled my pubescent fear because then he asked which SONG I liked best. There was no escape. I fumbled, "well track 3 was pretty good but call me a populist, the best is the Black single."

He asked me to hum it. BASTARD! So I was screwed, not cool in Middle School and no friends. Funny how that didn't stop me from telling Amie in 10th grade that I was going to get her Weezer's Orange album because I liked that one better then the others and in my first year of high school as a still mostly pre-pubescent boy-child that I had in fact been in 2 bands and that we rocked hard core.

So Karaoke was only as fun as trying to convince the slovenly drunken group that singing to Nat King Cole would be just as cool as singing Green Day's "When November Comes" (or whatever it's called). I tried to sing along until the quasi-recognizable hook came, doing my best not to tell Heather (23 from Boston and single) that I had written a song a lot like Gavin Degraw's Glycerine.

Thank goodness it's not...

What I love about Law & Order is that it IS the same week after week. The detectives find a suspect who gives them a lead to another guy who is at the root of the crime to reveal an even greater evil embedded in the world of crime and evil. But then the lawyers come in to show that all the ends aren't so easy to tie up because there are ambiguous moral issues at hand and maybe, just maybe, some issues aren't so easy to tie up because...wait for it...there are grey areas.

Can I help it if I love Keira Knightly? And if her "beefy" arms and less than ample bossom make me a "lover of men" then so be it. I love men! (Please don't take that out of context, it means I love Ms. Knightly...I think.)

And that brings me to my next point: I don't have cancer but maybe gonorreha. Thank goodness.

Da Whaaat!?

What is there to love about the television. To be honest, sometimes TV lets me down - like when I have to search through every channel for 12 minutes between commercial breaks and not even the Food Network can satisfy my craving for brainless entertainment disguised as interesting brain fodder.
Todays Viewing:
. Everybody Loves Raymond
. Will & Grace
. My Name is Earl
. The Office (but not really because I was on the computer)
. Boston Legal (ah, bestiality)
. The Real World
. The Daily Show with John Stewart
. The Colbert Report
Besides this I had to babysit a cute coke head who pretends to be my neighbor but who I believe is a spy trying to entrap me in drug use/underage sexual relations/banality. What am I to do when a 17 year old Rachael McAdams starts coming over to my apartment after a three day binge at a hotel where she was nearly rapped and ODed the first night (but her friends wouldn't take her to the ER because...wait for it...they were afraid they would get in trouble. For F*ck's sake!). Just sigh as she laughs too hystericaly at "raymond" and sits on my couch oblivious to the Lolita she is making herself.