An Absolutely True Christmas Story (2012)

This is a DIFFERENT Christmas Story- no relation whatsoever to the famous movie where the kid may or may not have shot his eye out with a be-be gun. I wouldn't know because I've never watched the whole movie, and I don't find it funny when people get their tongues stuck to cold things because it hurts, and it can be dangerous and possibly embarrassing, depending on the specific circumstances. First Example: When he was but a wee lad, running wild and free-ish, Apache is rumored to have licked a free-standing metal Propane or natural gas tank and gotten stuck to it... by his tongue. The story always ends there, so I don't know if he pried himself off, or if somebody rescued him in a less-injurious manner. I also don't know what prompted him to act with such recklessness. You'd have to ask him about both, assuming his speech is understandable, considering the history of his tongue. Second Example: During super-busy times at work, one might find that one can accomplish much and still remain hydrated and sugared by simply using one's non-dominant hand for (oral, but I shouldn't have to clarify that, pervs) popsicle administration. One might discover the drawback to this one night when a popsicle suddenly adheres firmly to one's LIP. A grown-up woman (or man-not every story is about ME, you know) with a popsicle- related emergency in the workplace is something I don't believe many have experienced, witnessed, or considered. Obviously, one cannot simply rip the popsicle off because maybe she (or he) might be what is commonly referred to as a BLEEDER. Coworkers, formerly FRIENDS, had all developed whatever psychological or behavioral disorders that allowed them to see the humor, but NOT the danger, in the situation. (FYI: Sink, warm water, face under faucet, and a pact to never speak of The Popsicle Incident EVER again.) And NOW, for those of you still with me, here's the Christmas Story you were promised. I knew I was risking exposure to the elements when I decided to venture outside and into the coulded, shoulded, woulded wilderness back of the house a mere few days before Christmas. Some of the potential elements included a brisk breeze, the sight of the neighborhood riff-raff (Tommy), being struck by any number of unmonitored leaves being carried on the wind, minor smoke inhalation as all the stoopider people in the neighborhood insisted on using their fireplaces because the weather man (Tommy) issued warnings of the possibility of a severe light frost overnight. Also, you never know when it might sprinkle, mcflurry, or heck, it might even hail! All that being completely true, it is also true that this particular story has NOTHING whatsoever to do with the weather. Sorry, but I've found that often the detours are the most rewarding part of the journey. All I still needed (or so I thought) to prepare to be merry were 2 things I should be able to get for free (meaning: supplied by Nature, NOT stolen! Do you even KNOW me?!) right outside. Since I ended up spending the week in bed with the flu for Christmas, all my project planning ended in vain. Of course, pre-flu, I wanted, nay, NEEDED, to make my own, all natural, Charlie Brown style Christmas tree. For this purpose, I procured a suitably pitiful small pine tree limb, the kind that literally LITTER this area at all times. I also located a small, leafless branch, in JUST the right size, to decorate the dog to make him look like the Grinch's dog when the Grinch disguised him as a reindeer! These items were easy enough to find, but a bit damp from recent precipitation, being outside in a humid area, etc. I shook them out well (outside!), and examined them closely for signs of insect (or other) activity. None noted. I don't mean to brag, but I AM very nearly world-renowned in the field of Insectory, Buggery, Snakery, Rodentia, Spiderelia, and Other Disgusting Types of Nature, as Related to Their Inconvenience to Humans. Therefore, I was pretty confident bringing my treasures into my home. I turned the oven to its lowest setting, opened the oven door and placed "tree" and "antlers" on the open door to dry out. It's okay, I don't have small children. Once dry, they were removed and placed in the general vicinity of the massive amount of projects in various stages of completion that were accumulating on and around the kitchen table. "Projects in various stages of completion" is just code for: not one single project was done, and most were not even started yet. Several days into the X-Flu (it's like regular flu, except you get it at Christmas), I heard the sounds of panic ensuing on the other side of my sickroom door. Those engaged in the ruckus claimed my Charlie Brown Christmas pine tree limb AND my Grinch branch dog antlers were infested with some sort of insectory. Despite my weak protests, both were immediately discarded, back into the wilderness from whence they came. And that is MY Christmas Story. The tragic tale of how I spent a week in bed, deathly ill, and with NO homemade Charlie Brown tree or branch-antlered dog to comfort me. Not exactly the feel-good story you were expecting, huh?
P.S. If you gave me a present, Thank you. However, I don't remember what it was.

This is the artificial tree I had to buy because Nature was being a jerk.

 

Arson should be illegal, and it probably is.

Well, Shell-Frie, YOU don't get to tell ME who I can and canNOT threaten on Facebook! At least, not if you still want that Amateur Arson Kit I'm making you for Christmas. P.S. For anyone who's interested in purchasing one of these kits from me, OR if you are the Police, let me assure y'all that it's not a REAL arson kit, just a novelty type decorative gift with absolutely NO capacity whatSOever of creating a single spark, much less an act of ACTUAL arson, which is both morally wrong AND highly illegal in most parts of the United States, even in the WaaaaayDownSouth! Additionally, even though it's COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY, we include a quite powerful fire extinguisher in every kit! Also included: an assortment of one hundred reminder magnets and post-its to place all around your home. They fit in beautifully with most home decor, and feature the number to 911, so you'll be ready in case you are the type to panic when you need the number! We do NOT provide smoke detectors. That is YOUR own responsibility as a consenting adult. Unless you aren't an adult in the first place. We REFUSE to sell to minors, on principle. On second thought, if you ever experience a REAL fire threat, FIRST grab the nearest post-it or magnet on your way out of your house or tent! Unless you're nekkid, in which case grab the closest thing to cover up with first. If you're single and looking, always wear flattering lingerie to bed, just in case, but particularly if you have a "premonition" that you may need rescuing at any particular time. There are even Fire Fighter Pimp Specialists (no, not THAT kind of pimp) who can somehow manage to obtain the work shift schedules for your local fire department, with quite reasonable fees, or so I've heard. Obviously the best time for these "premonitions" is when your favorite's on the truck! Invest in those real firefighter calendars (local ones). And, should you be planning a move, check the firefighter situation before investing any money on it. I'm too sleepy now to go all back to the beginning and remember why I wrote this. Good day to you all, sirs and madams. And Good NIGHT to Me.

American Civil War Version 2.0

It's waaaay PAST time for us "Normals" to stand up and speak out (by liking or sharing on Facebook, of course!).
American Civil War Version 2.0 is coming soon, and it ain't gonna be pretty, y'all.  It ain't gonna be pretty at all.
Background (for those Rip Van Winkles among you):
This isn't a new problem, but it is growing exponentially every year.  This conflict is dividing families around dinner tables (meaning: McDonald's and, in the case of this economy's "wealthy" families- the Olive Garden), our nation's very FUTURE, as they ride to and from school in giant government machines made of steel, yellow paint, hard seats, and (now) CONFLICT!  Employees who carpool to work are arriving with their clothes ripped to shreds and their hair all a mess (and it's not because they were doing what some of you are probably thinking they were doing!  Sheesh, America- read a book that isn't about sex for a change!  They STILL exist; you just have to look.).  Drivers are screaming at each other at the longer red lights, begging for a little common courtesy.  When that courtesy is not forthcoming, I've seen NUNS, on their way to teach at the private schools, put their kickstands down and reach right into open car windows and beat those rude AHs senseless with their wooden rulers.  Nuns, people!  Nuns!  THAT's what this country is coming to!  An X-Mas apocalypse like none ANY of you have ever imagined, and some of you have VERY active imaginations (Kudos on that, by the way!).
The origin of this "war" between Normals and the "Others" originates not with Religion, the Christmas holiday itself, nor even with its associated music.  Something just went terribly wrong along the way.  Somebody (henceforth I will be referring to this individual simply as SatanHisOwnSelf, with NO offense intended to anyone whose ACTUAL name happens to be SATANHISOWNSELF; I chose the name randomly, I swear) decided that the easiest way to get society to willingly take religion out of Christmas once and for all would be to drown the citizens via a system of flooding the airways for an ENTIRE MONTH (the month the holiday actually occurs in) with nothing but the music associated with said holiday.  Also, all advertisements would be required to feature the seasonal music. This would surely cause such mass nausea and complaints that the "problem" would solve itself!
But, uht-oh, December (and Christmas with it) came and went.  And, for the most part, the people seemed to LOVE it!
Then SatanHisOwnSelf, in his hideout made entirely of RedHots candies, said to his ownself, somewhat grinchily: Well, crap on a fat-free cracker!  Whut to do, whut to do... And he spent the next eleven months plotting and planning and watching the original How the Grinch Stole Christmas movie over and over for pointers.
So came the next November 1st, and SatanHisOwnSelf brushed his best tooth, put on his best suit and plenty of that Axe spray (because he saw those ads, just like all those teenage boys did, and thought to himself, just like all those teenage boys did: Hey, just because I'm 99.9% pure evil doesn't mean I can't get lucky every now and then, right?) He went to the Annual National Radio Station Format Planning Executives Convention (that's a thing, right?), and gave the Power Point Presentation that he'd worked so hard to prepare.  His execution was flawless, even more flawless than an air-brushed supermodel in the Sports Illustrated Swim Suit issue.  SatanHisOwnSelf received the first standing ovation he'd ever gotten without having to threaten an audience with eternal damnation or the gout.  No one noticed the three single tears that dripped from his burning red eyes, and evaporated immediately due to his natural heat.
That very day, those radio dons mandated that December 1st was no longer early enough; Christmas music should monopolize the airways the very day after Thanksgiving!  This would coincide with the traditional Black Friday Mayhem Sales!  Yes, only GOOD could come from this!  The citizens would be pacified into a sweet Christmasy coma, by force,thus inducing peace and goodwill behavior, and giving cops and crime reporters time to do their own shopping and time to attend their own parties!  Good times were coming, and EVERbody was gonna be happy.
Danged if another year didn't pass on by.  Black Friday started being called RED Friday because of all the blood being spilled during the madness ensuing as shoppers who paid retail for cigarettes and the highest quality cocaine on a daily basis trampled disabled newborn babies to get to the $20 DVRs. 
Appalled at the violence, SatanHisOwnSelf returned to speak again.  Maybe, just maybe, if the Christmas lullabies started the day after Hallowe'en, the pacification would be in its peak effectiveness in time to prevent the now-traditional blood-baths of Red and Black Friday.
As for SatanHisOwnSelf, he has given up entirely on America, and returned to his RedHots Fortress of Cinnamony Deliciousness, where he lives quite peacefully with the one woman in the world who can stand the smell of all that Axe!  They live, laugh, and love, and enjoy Christmas music for exactly ONE week per year, just as Nature intended.
Now that SatanHisOwnSelf has given up, it's up to us Normals to fight this.  Please join me in explaining to celebrities that NO ONE EXCEPT THEIR GRANNY wants to hear THEIR VERSION of ANY of the TRADITIONAL CHRISTMAS SONGS! 
ATTENTION RADIO STATIONS:  We'd rather have NO RADIO AT ALL (literally, even if we have to remove it manually with whatever tools we can find in our purses, glove boxes, and trunks) than hear the same twenty-two songs ALL DAY LONG!  It does NOT count as a DIFFERENT song, just because this time it's Justin Timberlake or Glance Bass!  There are truly some wonderful songs available that could break up the monotony and help lower the suicide rates at this time of year.  You cannot convince me that the music barrage is not partially responsible for that!
So, I'm calling on radio stations to PLEASE, for the love of GOD, stop driving these people to suicide!  Ball's in your court now, Radio.  Let's see how far you'll go to save Lifes.
The whole world is watching.  Your move, sir, your move.