THUMPITTY THUMP THUMP THUMPITTY THUMP THUMP, LOOK AT MY FIST GO.

Posted: December 9, 2009 in Uncategorized

I made a post a while back talking about how they had switched the intercom music at my work to the easy listening station and I was being bombarded with Backstreet Boys and Air Supply.  I long for those days.  I like the holiday season as much as anyone (like how I didn’t say Christmas like the good little Pagan I am?), but if I have to hear Santa Baby one more time, I might have to initiate some Christmas Slay.  They’re not even playing the Chipmunks.  It’s the same songs played about three times a day.  And I never realized how dirty the song, “Santa Claus Got Stuck in My Chimney” until our finance manager (who is one of the most perverse people I’ve met) came into our office while it was playing and went, “OH, GOD, SANTA CLAUS IS STUCK IN MY CHIMNEY.”   *shakes head*

On a side note, IT SNOWED.  IT SNOWED.  Hey, guys.  IT SNOWED.  On Saturday, it started snowing before I left work.  I ran outside without my jacket going, “FROZEN WATER!  FALL FROM SKY!”  One of the guys ran out behind me, “You nut!  You’re going to get sick!”  Me – “LOOK, MARIO!  SNOW!”  Him – “Congratufuckinglations.  It’s snow.  You…wait, is this your first New York snow.”  Me – ” 😀 ”  Mario – “Enjoy, weirdo.”

So it looks like we’ll have a tree in the house and are spending the holiday at home.   Which I am 100% okay with.  We’re going to have a Mexican Christmas Eve and make tamales (I really miss doing that with Petunia’s mom) and then have a bunch of eclectic food for Christmas Day.  I hope it snows.

This season always brings up odd feelings in me.  Not the expected depression or weird familial issues you’d expect (those are there, but sufficiently repressed), but this odd memory keeps popping up of Christmas morning and waiting in the hallway because my dad would put up a blanket in the doorway to the living room that we were NOT allowed to look through or around before they got up.  Oh, and we weren’t allowed to wake them up before eight.  Yes, I know it’s kind of messed up and is a good showcase of my dad’s control issues, but it’s given me a good story to formulate.  My dad was a master at getting his children to turn on each other so we couldn’t band against him.  We’d wait and then one of us would get the balls to look around the blanket and the others would go, “I’M TELLING!!!!….What did you see?”  And then eventually, they’d get up, we’d run out and then have to sit there while my dad goes, “Now, let’s remember why we’re here and Jesus and stars and Frankenstein and mermen.”  Or something like that.  Because, do you really think we were listening?  I could SMELL Super Mario Brothers in that box.   Oh, and for your enjoyment.  Nintendo 64 kid.

One root canal, coming up.

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