The Hijacked Holiday

In our world of conflict where wives, husbands, mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers want nothing more than their loved ones home from an unjust war, it is hardly fair to celebrate and indulge in the festivities that have become Christmas. In our world of economic turmoil where hard working people are losing their jobs and future employment is uncertain, it hardly makes sense to succumb to the consumerism that has become Christmas.

Now please don't think I'm going all Churchy on your asses. I am not. However, I am a Christian, and I believe that Christmas is about the birth of Jesus. It's my personal viewpoint, one which I believe I share with most Christians. Sadly, somewhere throughout the years, others have hijacked this Christian holiday and made it all about some non-existent fat guy in a red suit with a cherry nose. A Christmas carjacking of sorts.

I liken it to this. I am not Latino. However, I have Latin American friends. I have learned over the years about their heritage and culture. They celebrate Three Kings Day, another Christian holiday that celebrates the Biblical story of the three kings who followed the star of Bethlehem to bring gifts to the Christ child. Now, for grins and giggles, let's say I go to Puerto Rico, and bring all of my non-Latino family and friends, and commandeer Three Kings Day. Just tell them we're going to change the meaning of their holiday, and instead of their holiday being about Melchior, Caspar and Balthazar, it will now be about Spongebob, Patrick, and Squidward. Instead of eating traditional sweetbread, we will celebrate by eating clams with chocolate sauce.

Perhaps we as a society can deem 'Santa Claus Day' or maybe even dub it 'Greed Day' as an official holiday on day 365.25 of the Julian calendar. If 4/20 can be deemed a holiday for pot-smokers, I don't see why my idea can't work. What say you?

Whatever you do, keep ya hands off of August 10. It's my birthday, and most assuredly IS ALL about me.

Stupidity and Nipples

Before I start, I should say, I don't think nipples are stupid. I remember when mine were functional and lactating all over my feet in the shower. Good times! They haven't gotten much use since I tucked them into my waistband.

Friday, I took the day off and went Christmas shopping. First trip was to Sport's Authority to grab Josh a Ripstick along with a roll of bubblewrap for his protection. They had it in blue, it was on sale, there was no line, and life was good....until....

"Ma'am, would you like to purchase the ECT?" I cocked my head to the side and gave him my confused puppy look. So he elaborated. "It's the warranty, where ya know, if anything, ya know, gets broken or falls off, they, ya know, pretty much replace it for free. But I'm not sure how much it costs." To which I responded "alrighty then, give me two of them!". Never trust a boy whose name tag reads "Tater".

Then off to Toys-R-Us to find his "#1 Santa list wish" .... the Screaming Banshee. Apparently it is on top of every child's wish list, because it is impossible to find, and Amazon is backordered for 6 weeks. So I found some Lego's and a flask holder for my bike and proceeded to the register. I swipe my credit card and sign the pen pad which always amuses me because my signature winds up looking like some heiroglyphics found on a cave wall. The girl at the register tells me she needs to verify my signature so she needs to see my card. I'm thinking, hey good luck with that, so I pull out my driver's license as well just knowing the two signatures are not even close. WRONG. Little girl stares at my credit card, stares at the receipt, stares at the card some more, stares at the receipt and hands everything to me and wishes me a nice day. I'm thinking, are you kidding me? I could be out popping mailboxes in the hood and stealing credit cards, signing them, and taking me a big fat rich lady vacation somewhere fo shiz!

If I ever get laid off my job, I know a job will await me in retail. Stupidity.

Having spent time at two stores, I could take no more. I like to pace myself. So I stopped by the bakery supply shop, picked up a gingerbread house kit, and spent all weekend with Josh and my 17-year old nephew, Danny, with his 17-year old smutty little mind, putting it together.

We erect (hehe, I said erect) the walls, glue 'em together with the frosting, and put the roof on. I then slather the frosting which is the consistency of toothpaste and non-spreadable on the roof. They are eating all of the candy while I am elbow deep in white goo.

Hey Einsteins, wanna stick some of the candy to the frosting before it sets up like concrete? So Josh is methodically placing his little gumdrops across the roof in a colorful pattern, and I look over at Danny's side because he's giggling to himself. He has two pink gumdrops sticking out of the roof. "Hey Auntie Heather, what's this look like?" Nipples. Josh says "those aren't nickels, nickels are silver!" OY!

So we get all the little stained glassed windows in place, the steps, the shrubs, the trees, the boy, the girl, the blah and the blah, and there was actually left over candy. So nipple boy decides he wants to spread the colorful little dots all over the cardboard base. So I slather the remainder of frosting which had to be thinned twice all over the exposed cardboard and he and Josh sprinkle the remaining candy around the house. Josh lets out a scream. "Danny, pick up the little yellow balls! Mommy told me never to eat the yellow snow!" OY! (again)

I need to find my ho kinda ho spirit. Oh here he comes, singing Jingle Bells at the top of his lungs.

Nanny 9-1-1

Are you kidding me?

Don't ask me why it's on in the background (CMT channel, whatever that stands for) but it is. If Josh ever told me to eff-off and spit at me, we'd be calling the funeral home to come pick his dead ass up off of the floor. Nanny 9-1-1. For real? Who the hell calls these shows to accent their poor parenting skills and their childrens' blatant disrespect.

I never would've gotten away with anything like that as a child, nor would I fathom trying. I knew a backhand would meet my cheek before I got the phrase out of my chubby little mouth.

I'm positive the 'parents' on these shows, and yes, I use that term very loosely, are the same people who advocate not keeping score during ball games; no failing grades; who think it's perfectly ok for their kids' feelings to never get hurt and allow them to experience what life is really about. Can ya say future thug?

I'm really appalled by some of the behavior of these folks. I thought the Osborne's was really a faux reality show for our entertainment only. Nope, people really live like that.

Dogs behave better than these kids. Does Cesar's whisper work on chillens too?

it feels just like starting over

Wellllllllllllll, I wonder how long I'll last here til someone makes a stupid change and I get all pissed off and take my ball and go home.

For now, I will just click my heels together and tell Toto that we're finally home. It might not be much at the moment, but a few coats of paint and some political spews from my fingers and all will be good again.

So, Obama doesn't know what to do with the $30 million in excess he has from his campaign. Odd that! The man's campaign still sends me daily emails groveling for donations. Pre-President-elect status he was asking for $5, $10 and $25. Post-President-elect status he is now emailing me asking for $250. WTF for?

Didn't he promise to pay down Hil's debt? Last I heard she still owed $7 million from her campaign. Ok, so now that I've spent $7 of his $30 million, who else needs help? It's Christmas for Christ's sake! Certainly there is a charity of some sort that money can go to if he doesn't want to stash it away for a 2012 run. Geesh. This isn't rocket science.

Anyone sad that OJ is going to jail for 9-33 years? His courtroom weep with no tears made me chuckle. Chuckle is a funny word. Say it three times. Sounds funny, doesn't it?

Ok, off to pick out paint, furniture, and some friends to visit me here. Is this what solitary confinement feels like?

*fist bump*