Christmas Eve Shuffle

Every year we come back to my husband’s childhood home for Christmas. We are fortunate, I guess, in that we never have to worry/argue/agonize about splitting time between two sets of grandparents since mine are 7,500 miles away. It has become a holiday ritual:

Santa goes to grandpa and grandma’s house.

This year I let my 7 yo, Mr. Monk, pack his own backpack for the plane ride. Not surprisingly, “practical” was not his top priority…

Packed with Love by Mr. Monk



I have been doing the holiday the right way: I did not accomplish a thing since we arrived here on Monday. It certainly feels good to not have to be mindful of efficiency 24/7 because now I have plenty of time to burn… I am after all, as the British calls it, on holiday.

My mother-in-law on the other hand makes the gingerbread house, does arts and crafts, plays “pretend games”, bakes cookies, plays cards and Scrabbles, in short, provides great childhood memories for the boys. And in all honesty, things that I am not good at. I do however remain an accomplished “efficient” dishwasher, as my father-in-law commented appreciatively. Here’s the thing: I don’t mind helping out when I am at my in-laws because they are always so appreciative, making sure I know that I “don’t have to do this or that”. They actually thanked me EVERY TIME I did the dishes. Because of my own anal retentiveness, I cannot sit around watching the mess built up anyway. I volunteer to vacuum the house while they entertain the children. I consider that a more than fair trade.

There is no rest for the wicked as the cliche goes, especially on the day when baby Jesus was born: I do need to pay the piper today. Christmas Eve. An entire holiday tradition of my own: Frantically wrapping all the presents that have been arriving at my in-laws since November and accumulating in the basement. The “DO NOT ENTER” zone for my kids until December 25, aka, Santa’s Workshop…

Santa'w Workshop...

The most annoying part of “Santa’s job” is to open up all the packages, tear open the plastic wrapped around the items and discard the cardboard boxes and the said plastic thingy. Seriously, Amazon.com, have you not heard of global warming or any environmental alarm about our impending doom? You do NOT need to wrap books in that fashion: they do not break! One of the boxes has an elongated shape, and is about 4 feet tall. You wonder what it contained? A nylon kitchen spoon for my mother-in-law, wrapped in giant bubble wraps! Yes, yes, yes, I do feel guilty for being part of this… But they (Amazon.com) make it so easy to just order everything and have it shipped to my in-laws rather than lug them all the way from Chicago…

So. Now you know what I will be doing the whole day on Christmas Eve: Hiding in the basement. I only wish that Santa’s Workshop came with a bar…

If you celebrate Christmas, here is wishing you a peaceful Christmas Eve and a very Merry Christmas.

My treasured James Garfield card from The Bloggess

WTF Wednesday: Christmas Presents Don’t

If you must, get the hand wipes.

Your pending divorce. Or the future bildungsroman written by your children. Courtesy of CVS.

While you are at it, get one of those cards strategically positioned by the cash register at any liquor store to go with an item you carefully selected from this section.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas: Jackal & Hyde Style

This post was written on December 20, 2009, the Sunday before Christmas…

I am a gullible cynic. Or rather a cynical _______ (Fill in the blank for “a gullible person”). If it is possible to have such a conflicted personality. Or I may just be plain crazy.

Despite the making fun of the over-exposure of the so-called holiday “shop till you drop because the economy needs YOU!” season, the rampant commercialization of Xmas (not being Christian, I don’t really lament the secularization of Christmas but I do sympathize), the frenzy and stress we arguably inflict upon ourselves, I do look forward to the holiday season.

It is a time for family to gather around, for friends to get together. And for each one of us to marvel at how much the children have grown, even just through the sending of the holiday cards, or the much-lampooned holiday letters. For snow: always nice to admire from inside a heated house even though we curse at it when we shovel. For hot cocoas. For fire in the gas fireplace. For remembering how blessed one is. For thinking of the others, even if only once a year. Better than never, really. For teaching your children to think of the others, hoping the once-a-year lesson will stick with them as they grow up. Better than not even trying, really. For vacation.

I go through the holiday season playing Jackal and Hyde. Flip-n-flopping. Thanks to the “Stolen Day” and my will to procrastinate till the last minute, I am enjoying an atypical day of leisure and peace, and I am feeling especially schizophrenic. One minute I am all cynical and wondering how hilarious it would be, albeit absolutely not advised, to give my mother-in-law one of these ornaments…

Come on. You know you want one of these...

Or how “wink wink ain’t I hip and cool” it would be to hang this on our Christmas tree, at the risk of DCFS pounding on my front door (since I assume they have such a law against passing down cynicism against Xmas to children under the age of 18)…

For truth seekers only

The next minute I am merrily humming, going through Bing Crosby’s Christmas song repertoire inside my head. Driving through the burbs, appreciating the snow-covered trees and rooftops during the day, admiring the twinkling lights by night and, as much as I am tempted to make fun of the enthusiasm, the extravagant Christmas displays some families put up. The radio in my car is turned to the Christmas music station (though back to NPR on Saturday mornings). I sing along to almost every song, and I feel… *gasp* HAPPY. *ashamed* HOLIDAY-y. Except of course when they play “Christmas Shoes“. I cry so hard every time this song comes on that I am unable to catch my breath. Sappy? Sure. Do I feel manipulated and stupid? Of course. But is it the saddest, most depressing song ever and your heart is made of stone if you don’t cry when you hear it for the first time? YES!

The next minute, not satisfied with the old Internet meme of “creepy/scary Santas and crying kids” photos, I am spamming the Interweb with the new meme called “Santa Gone Wild”:

Annual Santa Speedo Run in Boston

Santacon in UK, complete with a pub crawl!

And the next minute I am wistfully looking outside at my boys frolicking in the snow while Sinatra crooning “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” in the background…

What reminded me of the true spirit of what has come to be known worldwide as “Christmas”, yes, the secular holiday that is widely celebrated in say, China, Taiwan, Japan and even India, the non-Christian countries, ironically, is when Mr. Monk, my youngest, observed out loud,

“Why did they call the radio station ‘Holiday Music Station’ when everything they play is about Christmas? How come they don’t play music for other holidays?… Shouldn’t they just call it Christmas Music?”

Mr. Monk, who still steadfastly believes in Santa, unknowingly expressed, IMO, what a true Christian should reflect upon– the existence of and the respect due to the others– as Christmas fever sweeps the nation, nay, the world. Faster than you know. Whether you like it or not.

Stolen Day

I feel that we have got an extra day out of this insane holiday season…

The original plan was for me to be away for 3 days this past week on a business trip. I would come back late on Friday night and start cleaning, doing laundry, packing, addressing holiday cards, and finishing up holiday shopping ALL on Saturday, and then we would fly out to my in-law’s this morning.

Thank goodness for the snow storm in the DC area. Reportedly the highest amount of snowfall that DC has seen in at least seven years:  at Dulles airport snow accumulation reached 16 inches on Saturday, and 13.3 inches was reported at Reagan. Instead of agonizing over the prospect of waiting in the airport for indefinite time today, we had decided to change our flight to Monday morning. As soon as we made that decision, I felt physically the lessening of the winding inside my head and my body. A collective sigh of relief felt in every corner of the house.

I worked through my check list at a leisurely pace yesterday:

Laundry detergent and gift cards at Costco. Check.

Gift cards & holiday cards for Catechists and gym coaches. Check. (And I assume it is safe to wish the Catechists a Merry Christmas without the possibility of offending them?)

Hold the Mail request at the Post Office. Check.

Newspaper hold. Check.

Neighborhood watch request at the police station. Check.

Kids’ haircut. Check.

Lip wax. Ooops. I forgot. I guess I will just have hairy lips with face powder dangling off the end of my upper lip throughout the holiday.

Laundry and the dreaded folding part. Started and ongoing. (“Predecessor task” in MS Project lingo)

The chaos of packing. Started and ongoing. (“Successor task” in MS Project lingo)

Addressing holiday cards, figuring out whether the cryptic emails from my friend with no mentioning of her husband means she is now divorced, deciding whether to say anything or what to say on the cards to distant cousins who are now divorced, coming up with proper words for our Jewish friends now that we have missed the entire 8-day window of Chanukah to show that we did not forget about Chanukah and we are not sending them the holiday cards now out of our callous Christian (+ 1 pagan) hearts (Thank goodness we can still wish them a “Happy New Year!”), stuffing, licking, stamping. Check. (With NO paper cuts to fingers or tongues. Success!)

In the evening we behaved as if it were any other Saturday evening: my husband went to the movie with my 11 year-old (AVATAR, in 3D); I took Mr. Monk, my 7-year-old, to the mall because he wanted Auntie Anne’s pretzels.

What? Was I crazy to hit the mall on the Saturday before Christmas? Yeah, I thought so as soon as I turned into the mall drive and saw all the cars, moving, squeezing, waiting, and parked.

Here’s a tip for you out there from a Mall Veteran. One word. SEARS. Go to Sears and I guarantee there is a spot for you. Probably not too close if it is the last weekend before C-day. BUT still closer than what you could find at the other parts of the mall. Trust me.

So here is the GOLDEN parking space Mr. Monk spotted. Good job, my lad! I was so excited I wanted to call everybody I know.

I never want to leave this spot again!

Seriously, this was no small feat. I did not want to leave that spot when we were done at the mall. I wanted to stay there, to stake my claim, to “Put a flag on it.”

In addition to getting the best parking space I have ever gotten on a crazy day like this, my stolen day ended up on a high note also because a light bulb went up after I’d had two drinks at the stupid Rain Forest Cafe (aka the worst tourist trap because it is located inside a goddamn MALL! Why is there a tourist trap inside a mall?), ok, a fuzzy light bulb nonetheless, and a thought bubble formed:

I think my kids are scarred by this Christmas song…

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus*

Yeah. You know the lyrics. And seriously? This song is wrong on so many different levels…

The innocent explanation of course is that DADDY is dressed up as Santa Claus. So mommy is actually kissing daddy, only that the poor kid has no idea and is probably going to grow up with this terrible secret weighing him down and become… well, you guessed it: either a great writer or a serial killer…

As a matter of fact, my tongue was tied since my youngest is determined to still believe in Santa. That leaves me no choice but to listen, while pressing my lips hard so I wouldn’t burst out laughing, to their reactions to the lyrics…

“Is his mommy single?”

“Why is she seeing Santa Claus?”

“Is she dating Santa? He is so much older than she is. Yew…”

“Is she cheating on his daddy? Yew…”

Yew… aside, they found the video hilarious and fascinating. My youngest asked me to play this version several times this weekend. Right before bed on Sunday night, I heard both boys humming, actually trying to sing, the first few bars of the song. On Monday, when we were in the car listening to the “All Christmas Music All the Time” Channel (which is, indeed, the epitome of “Season Treason” perpetrator since they start playing Christmas music right after Halloween every year), the kids complained about the songs being played and decided to substitute with their own rendition of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus”, which went like this,

“I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe last night. La la la la la (off key off key off key)…”

Then my husband chimed in, “I saw daddy kissing Santa… OOOOOPS!” Ugh. Boys.

Is it the bizarre contrast between Santa Claus, one of the most benign, trustworthy, persona and something naughty even though they are too young (and for one of them, too immature) to put their fingers on it that makes this song so fascinating?

“When you are married, you are supposed to stick together.” Back on Sunday evening, my youngest ruminated on the only lesson one could possibly get out of this.

Then finally, he declared,

“I am going to go tell daddy!”

You do that, buddy.



Later my husband told me that my youngest offered this explanation without any prompting:

Mommy is on a break from daddy, and Santa Claus is on a break from Mrs. Claus.

Can I get an Oy Vey here? Oy vey indeedy.

* This URL links to the Jackson 5 version. Remember the times? When M.J. was a normal kid? In hind sight, if I had shown the kids this version, instead of the weird animated version with the slutty-looking mom and the perv-look-alike Santa, it would probably not have caused such an alarming, albeit hilarious, brouhaha…

WTF Wednesday: Fighting “I Guess I’m a Racist” with “I Guess I’m a Lazy Ass”!

UPDATE (12-17-2009):

I realized that my attempt at satire actually makes it even more confusing. My apology. I will lay it out straight: The “I’m a Racist” ad is ridiculous also because it predicted on the faulty assumption #1 HCR is mostly about the African Americans #2 Ergo I have been accused of being a racist because I am against HCR. OR, if you criticize my criticism of HCR, you are accusing me of being a racist. In my mind, #1 is incorrect, and therefore #2 is incorrect. (This is the argument I was trying to make by invoking the fact that there are also a lot of POOR WHITES who are trapped in the poverty cycle AND the arguments, on both sides, seem to have overlooked their plights).

The new ad “I Guss I’m A Lazy Ass” I am proposing here is for the Pro-HCR camp as a comeback. And it is satirical. Hard to convey “satirical” tone with words since you can’t see my Quote Fingers or Jazz Hands… It plays upon #1. The assumption by many in the anti-HCR camp (anti-Public-option) that people without health care are lazy asses who cannot hold a job, etc. Why should we help those people out? #2. This proposed ad would confront that assumption. #3. The prominent representation of white people (a la the prominent representation by the final Black guy in the “I’m a racist” ad), as sarcastically proposed, refers to the common assumption that Poor White People are Poor NOT because they are lazy but because they are unfortunate…

Anyway, it serves me right to be smug enough to think that I can tackle such a controversial and complex issue. This is such a charged subject and as you can see I am confused myself. There is probably no need for this update either since you either got me (for which I am very grateful and would you please come to my house and explain me to my husband?) or you have moved on to more important things (I would have done this if I were you too so no hard feelings), but I feel that I need to clarify things because I am anal retentive. The bottom line is:

I would like to see the government TRYING to help the truly unfortunate out, esp. the millions of children that are not ensured, and if that means I have to pay more taxes, I am fine with it. Will they make some bumbling mistakes along the way? You bet ya. But the expectation of imperfection should not be the excuse for not doing it at all. Have all the countries claiming to be a democracy really adhere to the democratic principles all the time? Are there not corruptions, nepotisms, all sorts of Jackassery going on? You bet ya. Does that mean democracy failed and we should just write it off? I am sure the answer is no.

This I believe:

“No one should die because they cannot afford health care, and nobody should go broke because they get sick.”

The Original Post (as published on 12-16-2009):

Many of you have this feature called Wordless Wednesday every, eh, Wednesday. But me? Not talking? When I have my own soap box right here? Ha. Therefore I decided to start my own tradition called WTF Wednesday.

And conveniently, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, together: what do we have here?!

My token male reader called me out on an evasive post last week, half-assedly commenting on the “I guess I’m a Racist” anti-healthcare reform ad.

Yeah yeah I know I just also wrote this big giant navel-gazing post about how I am going to ignore all of you and just do whatever I want. So I am going to ignore you right now for mocking me…

You are a dick, dick!

Although I have blogged about how I feel about HCR, his comment struck a cord. I was caught red-handed for not following through with my oh-so-big announcement of how I am going to just go ahead and be myself. YOU GOT ME DICK! (No, he really is a dick. I mean, that’s what his blog is called. Eh, never mind…)

So here it is, a week later, assuming (hoping, actually) that I am preaching to the choir, FWIW:

The video is asinine to say the least.  As Professor Melissa Harris-Lacewell succinctly puts it, “THIS sucks the rhetoric air out of the room.”

  1. First of all, the ads (and many comments circulating on the Interweb) unquestionably assume that RACISM operates on the individual level, rather than on the institutional level. Regarding institutionalized racism: You either agree with this, or you don’t. This is my pessimistic conclusion.
  2. Furthermore, the ads (and the subsequent celebratory comments around the Interweb) wrongfully, yet effectively, turned the entire HCR debate around and recast the issue in an ultra emotional light, since most people do not deliberately practice racist beliefs and activities, and most people take it very personally, understandably, when they feel they are being accused of being a racist.
  3. The real issue of HCR, in my opinion, is one about class: the Have’s vs. The Have-Not’s. And we need to recognize that in the U.S., the class issues are inextricably linked to race issues, due to our unique histories. Although many in the African American academia have challenged the “code words” used in the HCR debate, e.g. “Welfare Queens”, “under class”, etc., it does not mean that they are trying to “hijack” the HCR issue with race issues. The poor Whites will also benefit from an improved health care system. And do you know approximately 2/3 of all welfare benefits administered by the government went to poor Whites? Why is that in a discussion on HCR that could benefit all the people who currently do not have any form of health insurance across the board, we don’t hear about these non-non-White folks’ plights?
  4. Somebody should make a video with all sorts of people speaking to the camera, “I guess I am a lazy ass,” to move the dial all the way to the other end: “You cannot afford health insurance, it must be your own damn fault!” Preferably featuring WHITE PEOPLE since as the thinking goes (as exemplified in the “I Guess I’m a Racist” vid) :

    BLACKS <> NOT RACISTS : WHITES <> NOT LAZY ASS
    Ergo, all these people that you saw just now? NOT Lazy Ass.

  5. And definitely remember to show a mother with an innocent child who looks at her mother and asks, “Am I a lazy ass, mom?” That’s going to be some powerful shit.

  6. I would have suggested Asian Americans in the vid to make the strongest point because of the whole “Model Minority” stereotype — You know: We work hard. We pull ourselves up by the bootstraps. We are good workers. We hunker down and keep our goddamn mouths shut. We never complain. Yada yada yada — were it not for the other stereotype of Asian Americans being immigrants and foreigners. THAT would have served the enemy’s purpose: LOOK. The HCR IS going to provide insurance to foreigners. OMG!
  7. Some random lady “engaged” me on a debate on Twitter. Imagine debating someone on such a complex issue 140 characters at a time?!… Her argument comes down to: I have done my part. Why should I give more? The government should get out of the business of trying to tell ME how I should spend my (husband’s) hard-earned money. AND, this sort of sums up her position: “I pay tax because I HAVE TO. I give money to charity, through my church, already.” At that point, I said, “Do you seriously want to engage in a political debate with someone who was just talking about tits on Twitter?”
  8. That was the moment when I became deeply convinced that there is NO way we are going to change each other’s mind. None.
  9. That was the moment when I fell in love all over again with Jon Stewart.

p.s. Comedy Central’s blog post on this vid is calledI Guess I’m a Racist, Sexist, Puppy-Killing Psychopath Who Never Calls My Mom“…  The title IS the comment.

p.p.s. The funniest, most scathing, most intelligently sarcastic, and in my mind, the most effective comeback was found on The AWL:

“I’m of the opinion that it’s always great to see an oppressed group of people attempt to reclaim a word that has been used in the past to cause hurt and shame. I’m thrilled for Republicans that they’re trying to take the ‘racist’ label back.”

GOLD.

Quote Fingers vs. Jazz Hands

I am never taken seriously on the hardcore race/social justice discussion website Racialicious. But it is ok. I still visit often and once in a while cannot help but put in my $0.02 worth and continue to be ignored by the other commenters that are a lot more serious than I am… Because…

Unknown Mami

Oh yeah.

For the very serious discussion: “POLITICAL CORRECTNESS” IS A REACTIONARY TERM AGAINST THE LOSS OF PRIVILEGE I decided to lighten up the scene by interjecting (injecting) some humor in it:

I see the term “politically correct” or “politically incorrect” as the new “I am sorry but no offense” or the new “with all due respect”. It is mostly used with “quotation marks” and often accompanied by “wink wink”. I think from now on when somebody uses the term in the “quotation mark” way, we should combat it with Jazz Hands…

I thought that was a brilliant idea. No?

Dr. Evil - Abuser of Quotation Marks

Dr. Evil - Abuser of Quote Fingers


vs.

Possibly the most macho Jazz Hands you'll ever see

Possibly the most macho Jazz Hands you'll ever see

Seriously. I cannot be 100% serious at all times.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you…

I was thinking since I am all over the map going from warm fuzzy pictures of my kids smiling like angels to crazy ass inappropriate jokes and cursing to crazy ass all-out ranting on people/events/things that piss me off. I either have ADHD or Bi-Polar, I realized, or as my husband would gladly tell you, “Insane in the Membrane”. I was thinking, perhaps I should create a Warning System for my blog.

Straight from Homeland Security

Don't you wish there is such a system for everything in life?



I really like how Homeland Security did the color coded chart because, as we all know, homo sapiens (“Not that there’s anything wrong with it.”) are visual animals. Really, when I see the ORANGE color at the airport, I become appreciative and understanding of the 1-hour wait at the security line. When disaster strikes, nothing is going to get my fat ass moving faster than seeing a RED flag waving in the air.

Won’t it be cool if I have a Warning System for this blog, before you start reading a post, you would know what to expect:

Blog Advisory System: Don't say I didn't warn you!

Blog Advisory System: Don't say I didn't warn you!



Of course, after an hour of working on my Blog Advisory system, I realized that no Advisory System is going to reach the goal of MECE: Mutually Exclusive and Collectively Exhaustive. Mock ye not. This is something the McKinsey & Co. consultants live and die by. And they get paid big bucks for being anal retentive. No shit. For instance, it worries me that the heartless dicks and grouchiest bitches amongst you will need a special warning such as this one:

Danger Ahead

lolCAT

Well, like I said, don’t say that I didn’t warn you…

Holiday cheer continues… “The Why’s of Men”

The following is a collection of jokes emailed to me by more than one of my girlfriends. It warms my heart whenever I see these jokes spread like wild fires: I know, I am not alone. And it comforts me. It gives me strength to ignore the gloating from the bitches who claim that their husbands help around the house on a regular basis. Sometimes, they even IRON! If you are one of those lucky bitches gals, good for you. Now go watch your husband iron. For the rest of us, I share with you the jokes that elicit both laughter and tears within me, because of the grain of truth.

The Why’s of Men

1. WHY DO MEN BECOME SMARTER DURING SEX?

because they are plugged into a genius.

2. WHY DON’T WOMEN BLINK DURING SEX?

because they don’t have enough time.

3. WHY DOES IT TAKE 1 MILLION SPERM TO FERTILIZE ONE EGG?

because they don’t stop to ask directions.

4. WHY DO MEN SNORE WHEN THEY LIE ON THEIR BACKS?

because their balls fall over their butt-hole and they vapor lock.

5. WHY WERE MEN GIVEN LARGER BRAINS THAN DOGS?

so they won’t hump women’s legs at cocktail parties.

6. WHY DID GOD MAKE MEN BEFORE WOMEN?

because you need a rough draft before you make a final copy.

7. HOW MANY MEN DOES IT TAKE TO PUT A TOILET SEAT DOWN?

don’t know…..it never happened.

8. WHY DID GOD PUT MEN ON EARTH?

because a vibrator can’t mow the lawn.

_____________________________________

One day my housework-challenged husband decided to wash his sweatshirt.  Seconds after he stepped into the laundry room, he shouted to me,

“What setting do I use on the washing machine?”

“It depends,” I replied. “What does it say on your shirt?”

He yelled back, “University of Oklahoma…”

_____________________________________
A couple are lying in bed…

The man says,

“I am going to make you the happiest woman in the world.”

The woman replies,

“I’ll miss you…”

_____________________________________

“It’s just too hot to wear clothes today,” Jack says as he stepped out of the shower, “honey, what do you think the neighbors would think if I mowed the lawn like this?”

“Probably that I married you for your money,” she replied.

_____________________________________

Q: What do you call an intelligent, good looking, sensitive man?
A: A rumor

Q: Why do little boys whine?
A: They are practicing to be men.

Q: What does it mean when a man is in your bed gasping for breath and calling your name?
A: You did not hold the pillow down long enough.

Q: How do you keep your husband from reading your e-mail?
A: Rename the mail folder ‘Instruction Manual.’

_____________________________________

Dear Lord,
I pray for Wisdom to understand my man; Love to forgive him; And Patience for his moods. Because, Lord, if I pray for Strength, I’ll beat him to death.
AMEN.

p.s. I guess I am a sexist. The reverse sexist.

p.p.s. Since I came out and “ownded” it, I therefore get a free pass, right?! I LOVE being a bitch!

p.p.s. I can’t help it, I have to sneak this in: Do you think it is possible to be a reverse sexist? That jokes like this are sexist? That jokes like these incite violence against men? (Ok, ok. Elin Nordegren beat Tiger Woods because he was snacking. A lot. From a multitude of takeout restaurants…) You know, that it is legitimate for a man to complain that he fails to get a job, a promotion, college admission because the slot was given to a woman?  That because something like that may have happened to him, or a friend’s friend, it is a proof that reverse sexism exists institutionally? I wonder how much someone’s thoughts on / feelings about this are aligned with his/hers for reverse racism?