I Think I Figured It Out

Earlier, I wrote about my lack of Christmas spirit this year.  There are several contributing factors, but yesterday I think I figured out what was driving this cheerless horse wagon.

My oldest niece is 11 years old.  She's tall, athletic, beautiful, smart - the kind of girl that every father wants, and every father worries about.  She's in fifth grade right now, so boys are not quite in the picture...but they're starting to invade the perimeter. 

We had our family Christmas this past weekend (we had to have it a week early due to the distance between the families), and after a joyous occasion, everyone was packing up to leave.  I was giving out hugs to my nephews, leaving only my niece.  I asked her for my hug and she said "No!  I don't want to be picked up!"

I persisted, and she went into full freak out mode - shouting "NO! NO!" over and over.  It was extremely uncomfortable.  I asked why I couldn't give her a hug (and please save your "creepy uncle" jokes - that's not appropriate).  She said that she was too big for hugs now, and resumed watching TV.

Too big for hugs?  Really?  This was the same girl that I used to be able to hold with one hand when she was an infant.  She was approximately the size of a burrito from Chipotle.  I have changed her diapers (ok, ONE diaper), held her hand, watched her lose teeth, score goals, climb trees, learn to read - and now she's too big for a hug from her favorite uncle.

What really got me going, though, was the similarities between my niece and my 3-year old daughter.  They were both tiny when they were born (if my niece was a burrito, then my daughter was a pizza roll).  They look strikingly the same at the same ages.  My niece learned her ABC's and how to count at the age of 3.  My daughter counted to 50 when she was 2.5 years old. 

Right now, I'm the king of my daughter's world.  When in doubt, go to dad.  He fixes everything.  He knows everything.  I make her laugh.  I make her feel safe.  She even told me that she's marrying me someday (legal and creepy ramifications aside - I wouldn't mind that in the slightest.  Anything to keep her around some more.)

During the opening of presents, my little girl got what she was waiting for - a new baby doll that cries, sleeps, eats from a bottle, etc.  I don't have enough words in my vocabulary to describe the look on her face and the sound she made when she opened it - joy + rapture + happiness, combined with a little ecstasy on top.  She immediately began taking care of "Mia", and demonstrating some pretty capable child care skills.

I recall about 8 years ago, another little girl getting a doll that she wanted - and seeing a very similar reaction.  That little girl is now the niece who won't hug her uncle.  Is that's what is going to happen to my daughter?  She's going to discover boys, makeup, how lame her parents are, and make friends - and suddenly, I'm on the back burner. 

My kids are growing up - that's what is making me sad this holiday season.  How many more joyful Christmases do I have left with my kids?  How long until she wants to spend Christmas with her new boyfriend who lives six hours away, rather than come home to see her dumpy old dad?  How long until she (God help me) has her OWN kids, and can't make it home for the holidays?  I want this time to continue forever - and it won't. 

A bit of a silver lining - after a few moments yesterday, my niece finally relented and gave her uncle a HUGE bearhug.  That made me realize that no matter how old she is, she'll love me.  Hopefully my little girl feels the same way.

Christmas Is Coming

It doesn't take much to get me in the Christmas spirit.  Throw up some tinsel, let me hear the first few beats of "Christmas Vacation" from the eponymous movie, wrap the Hershey Kisses in red and green foil, and we're golden.  I'm ready to ho-ho-ho and go caroling and all that good-natured stuff. 

This year - something's off.  Maybe it's the new location.  Maybe it's the fact that we're not in our real house for the first time.  Maybe it's because I won't be at my mom and dad's on Christmas Eve (which usually doesn't bother me).  Whatever it is, I'm a little perplexed.  For the first time, I've become one of "them".

"Them" are the people that approach Christmas with a shotgun.  They see it as a necessary evil, or just another date on the calendar.  Them can also be the people who go out of their way to inform you of all their activities and tasks they have done or have to do before December 25th. 

"I got the shopping all done, the presents wrapped, the tree up, decorated the entire house with halogen lights, got the kids' Christmas pictures taken, Christmas letter written and sent out, made 18 dozen holiday cookies and cupcakes for the church bake sale - but I still have six holiday parties, two concerts and a so much other stuff to do!"

(Note: this is nearly word-for-word what a lady in the restaurant next me recited to her friend at approximately 92 decibels.  I think people in Madagascar know what she's endured this holiday season.)

Usually, I go with the flow.  I don't wait until the 24th to buy my presents (not all of them, anyway).  I get stuff wrapped - usually I wrap other people's gifts, too - I am using that three weeks as a professional gift-wrapper at J.C. Penny's to my advantage.  I put up lights.  I put up a tree.  I make cookies.  I go look at lights.  I do the whole scha-bangy-bang.   This year was no different - and for once there was some stress.  Usually I don't give a rat's ass if something gets done or not.

This year - I can't figure it out.  Maybe it's because I don't really want anything for Christmas.  Clothes are nice.  Money always works.  But the really memorable Christmases had that defining moment or gift - this year doesn't really seem to have that yet.  I still have to obtain the wife's big gift - maybe that will get my Noel spark lit.  I know it's the season of giving - but even that isn't doing it for me.  I need Clarence.  I need the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.  Something - because in the words of the King, this is shaping up to be a blue, blue Christmas.

You're Not That Interesting

I get aggravated easily.  I mean EASILY.  Yellow lights.  Seven questions at a gas pump.  My cable company.  Everyone is against me.

However, there is one phenomenon that is overtaking my hatred of everything else.  It ties directly into my job, which is both good and bad.  Good, because my job is pretty boss.  Bad because I'm about to jerk the wheel into a goddamn bridge enbankment if this happens again.

I'm speaking to you, ambiguous Facebook poster (almost like a "Real Men of Genius" ad from Bud Light).

You know who they are.  Worse, you may know who YOU are.  The ones who post cryptic, dooming, damning posts on Facebook for the hope and desire that their 371 friends that they have hardly seen since high school will rush to their side with cyber support.

For instance:

"WHY ME?!?!?!?!"

(Note: if you use all caps and/or the question mark/exclamation point combo, you're a tool.  Your cry for help is about to go unheeded.)

Or something like this:

"One step forward, 10 steps back - just another day in my life."

Think of it this way - you're four feet away from a Wile E. Coyote type cliff.  You take one step forward, then 10 steps back.  You just saved your life.  Congratulations.  Now please excuse me while I unfriend you.  Tool.

My personal favorite are the ones who pine for love on their statuses.  They are also the ones who change their profile to "in a relationship" with the poor munch who they just met at Olive Garden.  Hell, they may not be out of the parking lot, and she's announcing to everyone they are engaged to be engaged.  Let me tell you something, sweetie - he's going to parade you to a very select group of friends to determine if you're:

A.) Hot enough
B.) Not crazy

We can live with you not being "A".  If you're "B" - well, sorry.  You have a long future of Hagen-Daas and petting your 16 kitties on Friday nights ahead of you.

So - here's the thing.  Try to not be psycho for a second before you post something next time.  Think about anyone who would TRULY care about your URL cry for help.  Does it make you look desperate?  Easy?  Trashy?  All of the above?  By all means, go ahead.  Include some profile pics of you making the dumb ass "duck face" while you're at it.  Just know - we're all laughing at you.

Santa Claus is a Damn Bigot

Yeah, I said it.

You're a dick, fat man...

Tonight is the annual showing of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" on CBS.  It's a holiday tradition, right up there with decorating the tree and a hangover on December 26th (or is that just me?).  However, as I have gotten older, and more importantly, since I have had kids, I have realized that Rudolph is not just a holiday classic.  It's also bigoted, mean-spirited, and a little misogynistic.  And you know who the ringleader of all this hate-mongering is?  None other than good ol' St. Nick - Kris Kringle.

Hear me out - Rudolph is born, and Santa comes to visit his lead reindeer Donner and his lovely wife and new mother.  He then chastises Donner for having a freak of a baby, and tells him (Donner) that he should be ashamed of himself.

Can you imagine?  All you parents - think about it.  You've just had your first baby.  You're ecstatic, you're overjoyed, you're in love with your new baby.  Then an allegedly jolly fat man (who is also your boss) strolls in, says "you're baby is deformed and it's all your fault" and leaves.  Thanks a pantload, Chet...

Then, when Rudolph (who is the best flier in his class, mind you) is revealed to have a red nose, he is shunned by Comet and the other yearlings from playing in the reindeer games.  Don't you think Santa, who allegedly loves all things, should've stepped in here?  Maybe said "I don't give a crap if he's got a red nose or five legs - that bastard can f'ing fly!"?

Then we see more of Santa's a-hole side when the elves are practicing their song for him - he's looking at his watch, then tells the lead elf that...well, they suck.  Have you ever been talking to someone who's busy texting or looking at their phone, then just walks away?  That's Santa.

Finally, after Rudolph comes home with his buddies Hermey and Yukon Corneilus (my favorite character), Santa realizes that he NEEDS Rudolph and asks the red-nosed one to help him out.  He barely even apologizes - but when he needs some assistance, he comes and asks for a favor.  Santa would make a great politician.

So - yeah, Santa's a jerk.  That doesn't mean I won't be watching tonight, though.

Every Romantic Comedy Broken Down in 5 Minutes

Unless Anne Hathaway is in it (and bonus points for when she goes topless), I am not a big fan of romantic comedies.  It's not the romantic part - it's the "comedy" section of the title that usually gets me.  Because it's not really comedy - it formulaic.  So let me break down 99% of the romantic comedies churned out by Hollywood.

The lead character is a sassy, knowledgeable female - usually mid-20's, single, and works for a magazine, television station or in advertising.  Nobody ever works at Target or sells cell phones.  This lead usually has a quirk or two (loves cupcakes, is a neat-freak, or something of that ilk), and is unlucky in love.

We see Miss Sassy go about her every day tasks - including being super-important at work, usually working for a demanding and uncaring boss.  Her career takes precedent over finding love - and her black/sassy/gay co-workers lament over her inability to find a man.  Sometimes her mom and dad, who are quirky or zany, get involved in this phase, too.

Something unexpected comes up (death in the family, jury duty, etc.) and Miss Sassy runs into a handsome devil, usually complete with a three-day scrub of beard, an unbuttoned long sleeve shirt over a solid color t-shirt, and an impish smile.   This handsome devil usually does something to annoy or bother or irritate our lead - to the point where she can't stand him.

Now this is the point where a romantic comedy can diverge slightly.  Our handsome man can either have a significant other or he can keep interjecting himself into the leading lady's life.  Usually, what happens is she either gets drunk or needs his assistance badly (or both) - and he does a caring and thoughtful act that makes her realize that maybe she was seeing him all wrong.  Sometimes this leads to an ill-advised one-night stand (if there is a sex scene, the female will be wearing a bra the whole time, and I guarantee it won't be white.  Nobody ever wears a white bra in the movies.  It just doesn't happen.)

Then comes the blow up.  The handsome man does something (either inadvertently or with good intentions that go awry) that upsets the leading lady and she leaves him or says something to the effect of "I can't believe I let myself get involved with you" (if I had a quarter for every time I heard THAT from a girl...) and then we get the "sitting in sweatpants and staring out the rainy window" scene.  Maybe, if we're lucky, there's a musical montage that shows the two characters still going about their daily tasks, but she finds something of his, or a picture of them together that reminds her of what they had.

Finally, we get the reconciliation.  This was nailed by John Cusack in "Say Anything..." - the radio over the head, Peter Gabriel on the boombox - and has been poorly imitated ever since.  Sometimes it's something simple like the man showing up with groceries to make dinner (and there will ALWAYS be a loaf of bread and something green sticking out the top of the bag).  There's the explanation scene, and most of the time the leading lady will be rambling on about how she was sorry or she was so mad at him, and then he will kiss her.

Some people think this is a show of affection.  I prefer to think it's along the same line of thinking of Nelson Muntz when he kisses Lisa Simpson in "The Simpsons" - "This will shut her up". 

Then comes the happy ending.  They get married, ride off into the sunset, and live happily ever after. The end.

Hopefully I just saved you a $10 ticket and 100 minutes of your lives. 

Kenny Loggins Has Never Steered Me Wrong

I have horrible taste in music.  "Thong Song" is #7 on my all-time playlist on my iPod.  So please take this next statement with a grain of salt - but I believe Kenny Loggins to be the most underrated musician...maybe ever.  And I wholeheartedly believe that Mr. Loggins is the single-biggest contribution to American cinema since the advent of popcorn.

Look at the movies that Loggins has contributed to.

Caddyshack.  Top Gun.  Footloose.  Over the Top.  Hell, he even chipped in on "We Are the World".  That, my friends, is a murderer's row of of a career.

Think about it - when Maverick and Goose are told that Cougar lost his edge and turned in his wings, what happens in the next scene?  Some killer synthesizer music that leads into "Danger Zone" while Cruise rides his little crotch rocket down the runway.  Do you think that Michael McDonald or even Bruce Springsteen could have filled that bill?  No sir - you are talking about possibly the cheesiest movie since "Ratatouille" - you need someone like Loggins for that one.

Now sure - Loggins has tailed off a little bit in the past few years.  He shows up every now and then, writing children's songs or appearing on "Don't Forget the Lyrics".  But really - what was left to achieve?  Like Earnest Hemingway or Jim Brown, Loggins left when there was absolutely nothing left to prove.  He left on top.

(And yes - I just compared Kenny Loggins to Earnest Hemingway.  Admit it - you were buying it, weren't you?)

So know this, dear audience.  If and when you hear some smaltzy lyrics, or a killer piano solo, you know you are in good hands.  Sit back and enjoy Kenny Loggins - the treasure of American cinema.