November 24, 2011
A New Leaf in Late Autumn
Although I still bemoan the fact that Americans, as a collective, continue to torture ourselves and each other by gathering around the Thanksgiving people with people we can't stand, in honor of some idealized tradition that probably never existed in the first place (and will continue to secretly hope that we give it all up and just go out for pizza with people we actually like one of these years), today, I am going to try a new approach.
Wow, that sentence was Dickens-ingly long.
Now, before I go ahead and tell you my approach, let me first give you the cast of characters that I am going to spend MY Thanksgiving dinner with:
Billi: My BFF and baby sis, the consummate benevolent hostess.
Brad: Billi's husband, a loud and often-exasperated yet good-hearted man.
The Girl Child: She has called "dibs" on sitting next to Aunt Wenchie.
The Boy Child: My little angel and fellow middle child.
The Spare: Eight hundred pounds of personality crammed into a 45 lb. body. If anyone has less of a brain-to-mouth filter than me, it's him.
Grampa: My Dad. Ninety percent hearing loss plus stereotypical Nordic stoicism equals not a chatty man. We sometimes forget he's there.
Gramma: My Mom. She tries hard to keep up the smiles and good-natured conversation but she is not a magician, people! She can't do this alone!
Papa: Brad's Dad. Wow, where to begin. A man who likes to start sentences with, "So I was in line at WalMart behind a family of towel-heads..." So charming. Luckily, his size makes him easy to escape because he doesn't move around much.
Nana: Brad's Mom. She'd rather be playing poker than with her family, ...and sometimes, I can't really blame her.
Brad's Sister: One word -- narcissist. Also has no qualms about dropping the F-bomb in front of the kids when her husband displeases her.
Brad's Brother-In-Law: Three words -- professional stand-up comedian.
Brad's B.I.L.'s Father: We call him Homer, although he's really exactly like Grandpa Simpson. Exactly.
Husband: The poor, loyal soul that I continue to drag into the most horrifying and awkward family situations.
My [airquotes] favorite [end airquotes] Christmas was the one where Brad's B.I.L. forgot to put the presents in the trunk, which opened him up to some very audible and trucker-like beratings from his wife. The poor, hen-pecked guy was going to drive home (an hour each way!) to get them -- AT HER INSISTANCE -- until we all stepped in and convinced them that Christmas is about being together, not presents, and we'd really rather he be with us for dinner than out driving around.
Looking back, I'm sure he probably would have relished the opportunity to flee that scene, but hell if I was going to let her win!
Even with my brief descriptions, you can see how this crowd posesses the potential for serious annoyance. Indeed, I have been anticipating this Thanksgiving with a mixture of hunger and dread. It is difficult when you never know what to expect. But I am determined to walk into the festivities with an attitude of gratitude and good will.
Of course, this will require a zen-like meditative state during the entire hour-long drive to Billi's abode, in order to prepare myself. But it's not like I'll have many distractions. Husband will be listenting to his Christian rock station. Mommie Dearest will be quietly talking to herself. Dad will be not hearing either of them. And it's not like any of them will be expecting me to chatter cheerfully to fill the void because I have cleverly avoided ever setting that presidence.
Yes, I am determined to greet my fellow feasters and see them -- not as one-dimensional cartoon characters -- but as people with quirks and foibles, but also with the potential for mirth and kindness and great tolerance for my quirks and foibles.
It's not going to be easy, and I'm not going to guarantee that I will be entirely successful. But I will keep reminding myself that a charitable attitude is, at the very least, good for one's digestion.
Posted at 11:33 AM | Comments (0)November 20, 2011
Awesomeness & Wonder
Five days 'til Black Friday! If you're like me, you've seen the last of the inside of ANY STORE that sells anything besides groceries or lunch, at least until about mid-January.
I will not step foot in any retail store to do any Christmas shopping. I don't care how damn good the deals are -- I cannot be enticed. It is worth the price of shipping for me to be able to shop at my computer, far, far away from other human beings.
Black Friday begins that special time of year when I (metaphorically) clasp my fellow man to my bosom and say, "I hate you all. See you next year."
Having said that, and in order to prove that I am not a TOTAL asswipe, I now present...
WENCHIE'S GIFT-GIVING GUIDE OF AWESOMENESS & WONDER
A few suggestions on what to get those people on your list who have everything, those ungrateful brats of yours, or your favorite aunt.
1. Archie McPhee & Co. -- Super Awesome since 1983! See? They have awesome right in the header! They also have Last Supper After Dinner Mints, the Jane Eyre Action Figure, and more bacon-related products than www.bacon-r-us.com! Great stocking-stuffers for all ages!
2. Okay, seriously, what do you get the person who has everything? A Dining Table Ping-Pong Set! Because everyone loves ping-pong, but no one wants their home to reflect the ambiance of a college dorm! It's the perfect solution to the age-old stuggle!
3. A CD of Face-Melting Ragtime played by Martin Spitznagel! The name says it all.
4. Various and sundry products from Clear Light: the Cedar Company! Now your home, your hair and your dog can all smell like that wardrobe in Grandma's spare room where she kept Grandpa's WWII army uniform! Ahhhh, good times.
5. Vosges Bacon Chocolate Chip Pancake Mix! Who can say No to breakfast when all three main food groups are represented?!
6. If you know a human being who personally owns a vagina, then you know a human being who has been on a life-long quest to find The Perfect Mascara. Indulge her flight of fancy at Sephora, with either of their huge mascara collections -- Laststash or Give Me Some Lash. Either way, the look of gratitude on her face will be hilariously pitiful.
* * * * * * *
So you see? I'm not a complete ogre. Just a partial ogre.
Now, if you want to know what I want for Christmas -- and at least half a dozen of you should be giving it some thought -- I have conveniently provided some items in the sidebar. Click early, click often!
Posted at 06:50 PM | Comments (2)November 15, 2011
Take Back Thanksgiving
Okay, people, I want to start a new protest movement here in America, called Occupy Thanksgiving.
Human microphone! Test! Test! Test!
What do we want?
Not to have to spend Thanksgiving with people we don't like!
When do we want it?
Now!
What do we want?
Not to have to spend Thanksgiving with people we don't like!
When do we want it?
Now!
My cousin-in-law is a cop, and has been for a long time. He said that Thanksgiving is the day with THEE HIGHEST NUMBER OF REPORTS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE out of the whole year! Thanksgiving! The day we're all supposed to be holding hands and being grateful for everyone at the table and smiling adoringly by candlelight!
And do you know why? Oh, don't look at me all quizzically -- you know damn well why. Because your father is a drunk, and your mother is hooked on painkillers, and your father-in-law is a racist, and your cousin is a socialist, and your uncle is a pervert, and your aunt is a born-again Christian, and your little brother is a vegan! THAT'S why! None of these assholes are going to get along with each other no matter WHAT the seating arrangement is, so why torture ourselves?!?!
Family is so over-rated. There. I said it. And I know I'm gonna take some flack for it (especially if Mommie Dearest figures out how to use the Comments section), but there it is. AND YOU KNOW I'M RIGHT! And you know that I know that -- deep in your heart -- you agree with me, and you are wishing that I would invite you over to my house for Thanksgiving, so we could sit around in our fat-pants and be TRULY THANKFUL for once -- thankful that we don't have to sit next to our mother-in-law because what is that smell?!
C'mon, I want a show of hands. How many of you are going to be sitting at a table of Thanksgiving, looking around and thinking, I am just so very grateful that my life has been touched by each and every person here?
If you raise your hand, you are either:
1) Liar, liar, pants on fire.
2) Spending Thanksgiving with just one other person.
3) The luckiest damn person in the country.
And I mean that. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, and you think you may stop reading my blog because I have taken it to new heights of bitchery, then please -- stop whatever you're doing, raise your hands to the sky, and bless His Almighty Name! And then go play the Lottery because you are clearly on a roll with the good fortune and such.
But if you do know what I'm talking about, then join me! Let's get our signs made and picket in front of our own houses!
"Thanksgiving is NOT too big to fail!"
"There was no Jack Daniels at the first Thanksgiving!"
"I'm a human being, not a blurb in your gratitude journal!"
"I'm part of a family, and I'm mad as hell!"
"Close corporate tax loopholes, tax religious groups, end the wars, legalize weed, and kick Aunt Tanya the fuck out of your house!"
"Make love, not stuffing!"
"I am part of the 99% of people who can't stand at least one member of my family!"
You get the picture.
Let's join together and get serious about not having to get together. And no tie-dyed shirts or face piercings, okay? If we don't have credibility, this movement will never get off the ground.
Posted at 05:30 PM | Comments (3)November 10, 2011
Why I Hate Charles Dickens
Okay, I don't hate him personally. I'm sure he was a nice man who had tea with his elderly neighbor lady once a week and tipped his chimeny sweep really, really well.
BUT.
I don't know how this hack came to be known as a writer of "classics" because his words makes me want to die. I've read some real crap in my day, but "A Tale of Two Cities" wins the prize for Book That I Read The Least Of Before Leaving it on the 'Free' Table At Work. I couldn't make it through the third chapter.
Here's why:
1. He is the king of the run-on sentence. Like, every paragraph is just one really long sentence. I'd start reading, and then I'd have to skim and figure out where the verb is, so I'd have a clue what was going on. And invariably, I'd lose interest or fail to follow his train of thought before I got to the end of the sentence, so I'd have to start over. Sooooooooooooooo tedious.
2. The names. Dickens' character names. UGH. They are about as imaginative as a grade schooler's. Like when The Girl Child named her goldfish "Swimmy." I get it, Mr. Dickens! The names describe the characters' personalities! How very creative! Mr. Krook! Mr. Smallweed! Oh, how droll!
3. Despite his inability to reach the end of a sentence, Mr. Dickens' is a master of giving everything away in the first couple paragraphs of a chapter. I know exactly what's going to happen after the first page, so there's really no need to read any further.
Example. Thanks to Netflix, I am currently torturing Husband with Masterpiece Theatre's "Bleak House" on DVD because if there's anything I love even more than torturing Husband, it's a BBC costume-drama mini-series.
Now, at the heart of "Bleak House" are two questions: Who are Esther's parents, and who stands to inherit the Jarndyce fortune? Thanks to Dickens' very thorough exposition, I had both these questions answered within the first twenty minutes of Episode One (of fifteen episodes). * Having figured that out, I'm basically just in it now for Lady Dedlock's dresses and the tall-windowed houses and the pastoral landscapes.
Oh, and Gillian Anderson. Damn, but Agent Scully is acting the SHIT out of Lady Dedlock! She takes ennui and rocks it!
"Bored to death with this place. Bored to death with my life. Bored to death with myself."
Her character is tortured by secret regret and guilt, but instead of playing it over-the-top LIKE EVERYONE ELSE IN THE DAMN MOVIE WHO IS BASICALLY A ONE-DIMENSIONAL CARTOON CHARACTER AND/OR SERVES NO PURPOSE EXCEPT TO SYMBOLIZE ONE TINY-YET-OBVIOUS THING, she plays her part close to the vest and is incredibly nuanced and very sympathetic.
In short, high school students, rent the movie, or buy the cliff notes, but do NOT -- under any circumstances -- waste precious hours of your youth reading anything by Dickens!
Same goes double for "The Great Gatsby" and "Wuthering Heights." Christ, those people were swine!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
* SPOILER ALERT! Esther's parents are Lady Dedlock and the transient who dies in the first episode. Also? No one gets the forture because it all goes to pay fifty years of legal fees. And everyone rides happily ever after on a sled named Rosebud. Duh.
Posted at 06:12 AM | Comments (1)November 05, 2011
Eyeroll-Pologie
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the rolicking good times of the October 2011 Anthropologie catalogue.
"What a lovely day for navigating mossy, seaweed-covered rocks in our $1,120 outfits!"
"Are you wearing $1,120? Damn. I only thought to wear $540. I'm just mortified."
"As am I."
"A single ill-advised step on these trecherous rocks, and surely we will plummet to our deaths."
"How very droll."
"And I said, 'Mummy, for $348, this poncho had sure as shit better be waterproof!' I mean, really! As if I don't know how to dress for a day of fly fishing!"
"I think these $450 fur booties are just the thing for our driving expedition, wouldn't you agree, Penelope?"
"Quite! Except that I now feel positively shabby in my $170 frock. Good thing I thought to throw on this $170 necklace! Are you coming with, Susan?"
"I'd love to join you girls, but I've decided to single-handedly manage a sailboat in my $130 wool tweed pencil skirt!"
"Would you be a dear and help me up? I seem to have fallen off my three-and-a-half inch heels."
"This magical circle of rocks will protect me from the native Estonians, from whom I have stolen my skirt."
"Why, someone built a ring of silly rocks! Whatever can they be for, Lady Kennsington?"
"Oh, do shut up, Judith. And where is the professor with our picnic?"
"After a day of frolicking 'round the coast, I'm so grateful to have our stark, dreary room to retire to."
I don't even know where to begin with the camel dress.
"I love not being outdoors."