Jesus' birthday just ISN'T what it used to be...
And I JUST made the fatal mistake of looking at pics from Christmas '97, which absolutely sealed my melancholy deal. Listen, I had a great day on paper...parents, brother, relatives, perhaps my best set of gifts EVER, people liking what I got them, too. But I must say, there's been an undercurrent of sadness and anxiety running through me all day. It can't be just me? It's well-known fact that many people get depressed during the holidays. But I FEEL like it's just me...unless everyone else is a better actor than I am.
The cop son of the tenants downstairs set me off as soon as I left the house -- he used to live here, knows who I am...but couldn't even turn around from doing shit in his car, parked RIGHT in front of my house, to say Merry Christmas? THAT, my friends, is a prime example of why I prefer the coast absolutely clear when I enter or exit my apartment...unspeakably AWKWARD encounters -- or, actually, NON-encounters -- like that. So next time i'm telling you about wasting precious moments of my life WAITING for my hall or front porch to clear of agitating fellow tenants, KNOW i'm not nuts...merely abundantly aware of the always looming possibility of an Awkward Social Encounter. I was THISCLOSE to extoling a holiday greeting to Cop Fuck, but my luck, he wouldn't have turned around and I'd just feel like a fucking ass. He's a fucking prick...and spare me any "maybe he's shy" bullshit. Have you ever met a shy cop?
Thankfully, the festive Indians in Dunkin Donuts perked me up a bit when I went in to fetch "surprise" donuts for the fam. After that, I spent 10 minutes wrapping a kitchen trash can in the car...yes, I got my father the gift of trash. For YEARS, my parents' kitchen trash can has embarrassed me...old, worn, torn, soiled, uncovered. My periodic outbursts of CAN YOU GET A NEW GODDAMN TRASH CAN have fallen on deaf ears. So I decided to take action and buy them one. If that all isn't ridiculous enough, the thought occurred to me last night..."could there SOMEHOW be some sentimental attachment my mother has to this piece of shit?!" Yup, there is. I couldn't FUCKING believe it when she shared this news today. Are you ready? It's my old diaper bin. From the 70s. Unreal. It looks every day of its age...unlike me, i'm happy to report. So while mom and dad both were happy to get a fresh, pleasing, larger, more efficient trash can, mom's already plotting a NEW use for The Battered Green Diaper Can...Attic Wrapping Paper Holder. This is my life.
The day also involved my very first Christmas visit to a Turnpike rest stop. The bro needed coffee, and while I could've waited in the car, my neverending need for social analysis meant I HAD to take a gander at who was having a Burger King Christmas dinner. On the way out, we noted the truckers and how much THEIR holiday must suck...and thus began our 45-minute meditation on how Christmas just isn't what it used to be. While the ungodly mournful Snow Patrol album played. I offered the theory that maybe it's because Christmas for us was SO GREAT for so long, so our expectations are higher. We were so lucky as kids...and teens...and into our 20s. Still are, don't get me wrong. Oh, it's too late to get fully into this...and you don't wanna be bogged down by me. I need to finish my rum-spiked egg nog and watch THREE'S COMPANY...end my Christmas '07 in an "all is calm" way. 4:15am...MERRY CHRISTMAS and to all a good night. Make no mistake, I'm blessed.
The cop son of the tenants downstairs set me off as soon as I left the house -- he used to live here, knows who I am...but couldn't even turn around from doing shit in his car, parked RIGHT in front of my house, to say Merry Christmas? THAT, my friends, is a prime example of why I prefer the coast absolutely clear when I enter or exit my apartment...unspeakably AWKWARD encounters -- or, actually, NON-encounters -- like that. So next time i'm telling you about wasting precious moments of my life WAITING for my hall or front porch to clear of agitating fellow tenants, KNOW i'm not nuts...merely abundantly aware of the always looming possibility of an Awkward Social Encounter. I was THISCLOSE to extoling a holiday greeting to Cop Fuck, but my luck, he wouldn't have turned around and I'd just feel like a fucking ass. He's a fucking prick...and spare me any "maybe he's shy" bullshit. Have you ever met a shy cop?
Thankfully, the festive Indians in Dunkin Donuts perked me up a bit when I went in to fetch "surprise" donuts for the fam. After that, I spent 10 minutes wrapping a kitchen trash can in the car...yes, I got my father the gift of trash. For YEARS, my parents' kitchen trash can has embarrassed me...old, worn, torn, soiled, uncovered. My periodic outbursts of CAN YOU GET A NEW GODDAMN TRASH CAN have fallen on deaf ears. So I decided to take action and buy them one. If that all isn't ridiculous enough, the thought occurred to me last night..."could there SOMEHOW be some sentimental attachment my mother has to this piece of shit?!" Yup, there is. I couldn't FUCKING believe it when she shared this news today. Are you ready? It's my old diaper bin. From the 70s. Unreal. It looks every day of its age...unlike me, i'm happy to report. So while mom and dad both were happy to get a fresh, pleasing, larger, more efficient trash can, mom's already plotting a NEW use for The Battered Green Diaper Can...Attic Wrapping Paper Holder. This is my life.
The day also involved my very first Christmas visit to a Turnpike rest stop. The bro needed coffee, and while I could've waited in the car, my neverending need for social analysis meant I HAD to take a gander at who was having a Burger King Christmas dinner. On the way out, we noted the truckers and how much THEIR holiday must suck...and thus began our 45-minute meditation on how Christmas just isn't what it used to be. While the ungodly mournful Snow Patrol album played. I offered the theory that maybe it's because Christmas for us was SO GREAT for so long, so our expectations are higher. We were so lucky as kids...and teens...and into our 20s. Still are, don't get me wrong. Oh, it's too late to get fully into this...and you don't wanna be bogged down by me. I need to finish my rum-spiked egg nog and watch THREE'S COMPANY...end my Christmas '07 in an "all is calm" way. 4:15am...MERRY CHRISTMAS and to all a good night. Make no mistake, I'm blessed.
posted by Gregoire at 11:34 PM
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