My life (the Christmas, Chuannaka, Kwanza and especially Festivus edition)

8:50 a.m.
Must make sufficiently un-crappy crap for crappy loved-ones... thank God I'm almost done.

-or at least, that's what I thought five minutes ago. I was just sitting here, finishing up the most lopsided wool hat in the history of ugly knitting (Merry Xmas, Dad!) when something dawned on me. Underneath my teensy tree I have gifts for my mom, sister, baby bro- hell, I even knitted a scarf for my boyfriend's mom. I got/made stuff for EVERYONE -except my middle brother. CRAP! Now I have to go to the store again. I have to go to the store on Christmas Eve to buy something with money I don't have for a dude who's so hard to shop for that I haven't been able to find him anything all month. Oh, and before you suggest that I knit him something, that's out of the question. Last year for Christmas I made him a wool hat with great big foam-supported, avacado green dinosaur spikes all down the back of it. He wears it all the time- even when it's way too hot to wear a wool hat. In fact, when my sister's boyfriend made a (veeerrry low budget) zombie film for Halloween he cast my bro as one of the zombies lurching around in the background of a scene. My brother kept the hat on the whole time so in the credits he's listed as "The Dinozombie." That hat is his signature and nothing I can knit him will ever be able to compare.

That and I'm sorta short on time here.

Oh, and I have a nasty cold resulting in copious, viscous boogers the color of manilla folders, but that's the subject of another rant.

So yeah, I have to *shudder* shop some more.

Before I do that though, I feel compelled to indulge in a bit of sentimental whatever as people are so prone to doing this time of year. I stole borrowed this little Q&A from her royal wittiness (the Q part at least- I have too many neuroses of my own to plagarize someone else's). Without further adoo:

Year of the first Christmas you can remember-
1986. I was 3. On the 21st I got the best/worst present ever: a little sister. On the one hand I gained a playmate and friend-for-life. On the other hand, she bit.

An early Christmas memory?
Throwing up. When I was little I would puke when I got excited. At first my mom thought it was from a sugar overload so she stopped giving me candy but I still threw up every year on Christmas. I threw up on my birthday until I was about 12 too. I also threw up on field trips and more recently at the prom. The moral? Don't get me excited, I will retch.

Ever in a holiday play? When?
It was stupid. I was 8.

Did you play a role? What was it?
I got in the line to try out as an elf. Robin Williams (the gym teacher/music teacher/play director- and yes that was her name) saw that I was in the wrong line and told me not to bother. I wouldn't get cast as an elf. She gave me the role of "Child Number Three" without so much as an audition. I hated that woman. She hated me. Example:
Her: "Jesus Christ, Emma- what are you crying about now?
Me: "Some kid just tripped me in the hall because I'm the social leper of the third grade."
Her: "Well, that's as it should be. Now drop and give me 20."
I know that sounds like hyperbole, but my seemingly exagerated memories are confirmed by the fact that after her dad died a couple years ago she found Jesus and learned to hate kids a little less. She's appologized to both my mother and me for how exceptionally mean she was to me. That's why I can say with confidence that this teacher hated me- she has admitted herself that she hated me when I was little.

Favorite holiday ornament (Past and present): The carved wooden Buddha on the tree at my parent's house.

Decoration you dread seeing every year:
Nana's fucking red-and-green croched door-knob warmers. They slide around and won't stay on. They make it impossible to open doors, thus making it ipossible to leave or even go to the bathroom. Maybe that's the point.

Classic Christmas song you never get tired of:
Good King Wenseclas

Classic Christmas song you loathe:
I used to love "Have yourself a merry little Christmas" until I heard it every fucking time I went to the store. There's something so wrong about a quiet, lonely little song being blared over a loudspeaker in the midst of a consumeristic feeding frenzy. It highlights everything I hate about the season, but it's not the song's fault, I guess. One way or another, if I hear it in the mall today I won't be held accountable for any uncalled-for ass kicking.

Modern Christmas song you never get tired of:
That song about Santa Claus sung to the tune of "Ironman" by Black Sabbath. You know the one I'm talking about, right?

Modern Christmas song you loathe:
That painfully cute one with the female singer and the trumpets about chasing this boy all year then forgetting thr cranberry sauce while having Christmas alone then going to the store where "what to my wondering eyes should appear? Why it's the guy I've been chasing all year!" So they snuggle or whatever. STUPID. That and it gets played aproximately once every 20 minutes in the grocery store accross the street. Speaking of unwarranted ass-kickings...

Naughty or Nice?
It's all subjective.

If you have a Christmas tree, real or artificial?
To review: I have a 400 square foot efficiency. I have a 3-foot tall plastic "half-tree." It has no back so it can be hung on the wall. At my parents house there's a 10-foot tall cedar tree. In early December my dad ventures out at dawn with a chainsaw, finds a nicely shaped tree and cuts it down with utter disregard for private property. I've gone along with him a few times- it's quite a rush. Oh, but the tree we stole last year was a 15-footer. It was awsome. We could hardly get it though the door.

Any holiday traditions unique to your family you'd like to share?:
That whole tree-stealing thing is pretty unique.

If you were an elf what would your elf name be?
David Sedaris

Favorite Christmas Movie:
Kiss Saves Christmas

Best Scrooge Ever:
The duck.

Favorite Christmas Special:
This is a test isn't it? Like if I say anything other than "Charlie Brown" I'll get reported to the department of Homeland Security? Well, Charlie Brown really is the greatest Christmas special ever and if you disagree you're no better than the terrorists.
Oh, and Garfield is number 2.
But "Frosty Returns" is a travesty.

Favorite Misfit Toy:
My sister.

Have you ever re-gifted?
This kick-ass rock 'n roller gave me a copy of his band's new album. It rocks. Then he gave my dude one. These are full-priced CDs from a relatively popular local group- but we have two of them. The one that's still in the wrapper is going to the adorrable, shaved head feminist who's impossible to shop for. That's the only re-gifting I'm doing this year, but I think it's justifiable. Oh, but I've already been re-gifted. The lady who gave birth to the man I love gave me a 9 dollar Starbucks gift card. She made no bones about having recieved it at her office Christmas party. She's still giving me a "proper gift" but since she doesn't "do" Starbucks I got that too.

Do you still rush out and shop on the 24th?
Have you not been paying attention.

Can you wrap presents well?
I'm not so good at the whole taping thing, but I tie really nice bows. That's the trick- an attractve bow diverts attention from a shitty wrapping job.

What's one thing you know will always be in your Christmas stocking?
Socks. It's become my mom's running joke. Oh, shit- that was an unintentional pun- get it- socks? Running? Like she buys socks for me to wear when I run but she won't stop doing it becuase she thinks it's funny to give a lame gift? Get it? Haha- my family's so droll.

Best Christmas present ever?
Last year there was one little present left under the tree. It was a jewelry box from my dad. I opened it up and found a key. Since my dad's a locksmith and my parents find yearly sock gifts hilarious I figured it was his idea of beeing funny.
"Har Har, Dad."
Then he told me to look in the lining of the box. Folded up were the insurance papers (made out in my name) for a 1995 Mazda 626. I raised an eyebrow at him (a skill which I am particularly proud of- not everone has such stern controll of their forhead muscles) and he told me to go outside. In the night he had parked my new car in the driveway. It had a giant bow and everything. I'm not normally a jumping-up-and-down squealing kind of girl, but I made an exception that day.

Spill a holiday secret:
I'm the one who eats the cookies my baby bro puts out for Santa.

Started on your Christmas Cards yet?
Well, I bought cards, and I stamped and addressed envelopes, but I never wrote anything inside the cards or put them in the mailbox. I think that this year the family will have to settle for post-Christmas cards.

Do you bake Christmas cookies?
Been known to in the past.

Do you leave cookies out for Santa?
No- I just eat them for him.

Can I refill your egg nog?
Refill? Shit, I drank some in the first place? That's out of character. 2% milk is a bit creamier than I like and raw eggs scare me, so no- that must have been someone else you saw drinking eggnog.

You find yourself under the mistletoe with missemmerica...
and if you're like my boyfriend you inform me that I have a growth on my head which needs to be looked at by a doctor. Duh- it might be a "growth" but it's a damn romantic one. Oh well, I love that boy for his sense of humor anyway.

Feliz Navidad and whatnot.

The shit I wrote before I wrote this shit.