But in my heart I'm just an old-fashioned Christmas girl.
Multi-colored lights. Stockings hung by the chimney with care. Cuddly-wuddly Christ all bundled up in the manger. Presents to pretty girls.
And angels. On top of Christmas trees, dammit.
So, to paraphrase my friend Oz from a few days ago: "What the HELL is Santa doing there at the top of the tree?"
Sigh.
When Jim and I combined households 10+ years ago, the Christmas tree topper was a Major Marital Issue. Right behind Jif vs. Skippy peanut butter and Hellmann's versus Miracle Whip.
It went something like this:
"Santa goes on the top of the tree."
"Can't we try an angel?"
"Santa goes on the top of the tree."
"But he looks like he's drunk."
"Santa goes on the top of the tree."
"Jif! Hellmann's! Angels!"
"Skippy! Miracle Whip! Santa!"
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Santa isn't drunk. Really.
It's not a beer stein in his hand. Really.
It's a lantern. And when the tree's plugged in, Santa swings the lantern.
Which makes it look like he's hammered and hollering "CHEERS, motherfuckers! It's Christmas!"
Really.
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Hedy, it looks like Santa's pole is slightly bent.
Yeah, Mrs. Claus can't get enough of that shit.
Wait. Right.
Yes, it is slightly bent. That is the result of the Year We Almost Turned Jewish. We bought a bad tree with a trunk that was soft and rotten. By the time Christmas came the damn thing was held up by string tied to hooks embedded in the walls and we were rednecks on the verge of converting to Judaism.
Anyhoo.
It's 4:30 a.m. on Christmas and I hear that all too familiar sound: WOOSH-CRASH! Tinkletinkletinkletinkle.
While Gromit the Brave Yule Dog cowers in the corner, I dash out to the living room to see if Drunk Santa survived the third and final tree crash of the season.
Every single spendy Christopher freakin' Radko ornament from Marshall Field's is smashed to Shards of Christmas Death Glass.
But Drunk Santa? Trapped under a branch. And still swingin'.
I want want wanted to step on his little alcoholic head before Jim came out to survey the scene, but a minor Christmas miracle occurred that morning. My snoring husband wouldn't wake up for a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant, but Drunk Santa is in danger and lo and be-fucking-hold, Jim leaps outta bed to see what's the matter like that nightgown wearin' freak from the Night Before Christmas.
And if he hadn't Grinch-launched it out the front door minutes later, I was gonna keep pushing that rotten tree over until Santa's drunk ass finally cracked.
I guess there's always next year. Cheers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am listening to: Chris Rock: Kill the Messenger
I am reading: Not much, looking for a recommendation
And I am: On vacation 'til Friday.
13 comments:
Alright, he got the Santa, how did you fare in the peanut butter and condiment wars?
Trust me Dave because I have been to their house many times. It's Skippy & Miracle Whip. Sad very sad. Love, Mom
Skippy, OK; but, Miracle Whip??
Actually Skippy is better. We compromised on the mayo issue and keep both in the house. The Santa issue is an ongoing debate but I am warming to him.
This post wins my unofficial "best Christmas blog entry of 2008" award.
(Because you made me smile at work, and I was having a crappy day. Thanks.)
Thank you, Fermicat! And Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!
I love the Santa!!! I love looking at trees with unique toppers. Mine is a Snowman with twig arms and a sign that says Merry Christman. I have a beautiful star topper but I keep going back to Mr. Snowman. Maybe he needs a beer stein to swing too or maybe he needs a Mrs. Snowman to swing with. Alas, maybe next year!
Happy New Year!!
Fermi is first with her commendation, and right.
In my house, it's Skippy, Hellmans, and it-don't-freakin-matter-what-goes-on-the-top-of-the-tree...
That said, Santa is a bit too ... Hallmark? ... for my taste. Maybe a Grinch instead?
We have an angel on the top of our tree, mostly because someone once gave us an angel for our tree. Growing up we always had a star -- you know, to stand in for the ol' star of bethlehem marking the birth kennel of Cuddly Wuddly.
Happy New Year. Felicitous Festivus. Peaceful Solstice. Blissful Kwanzaa. Happy Hannukah. And Merry Christmas to all. And to all, a good night(s).
Thanks, everyone, for the great comments.
And Pos: I think you were being too nice about Santa being too 'Hallmark' for you. Kitsch. It's total kitsch.
Here's to a happy & healthy new year!
Actually, I had thought Santa was mounting that pole for a reason. Maybe Mrs. Claus isn't too giving during the Christmas season? We actually have a star at the top of our tree.
Thank you, Oz, for making me laugh wit this: 'Maybe Mrs. Claus isn't too giving during the Christmas season?'
Oz, you have no f***ing idea. You spend one night a year by yourself, and you'd think I was the worst spouse ever, to listen to her.
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