Recently I saw a poll on AOL asking whether or not there was a War on Christmas. Apparently, removing “Christ” from “Christmas” has become a common theme in some towns and areas across the country. This includes a few episodes of “Holiday Tree Lightings” and “Hollidazzle” shows.
Then of course there is Beyond Belief Media… who officially declared War on Christmas on December 5. The opening shots were fired across the pages of the New York Times, USA Today, and the New Yorker. They have apparently also waged a guerrilla warfare model against holiday celebrations.
Do I believe there is a War on Christmas? Mmmm… no. Do I believe people are intentionally disrespecting the traditions of Christmas in an anti-Christian stance… absolutely. At the center of my reasoning for this, stands the Christmas Tree. Apparently, people are intentionally renaming it the “Holiday Shrub” or “The Yule Tree”. Well… why do that and not rename the Menorah the “Festival Candelabra” or Kikombe cha Umoja (The Kwanzaa Unity Cup) the “Holiday Mug”. This is why, while I do not believe there is an intentional war on Christmas, I do believe there is intentional disrespect to the traditions of Christmas and the faith the spurned it.
Hence… the reason why I clearly labeled my Christmas Tree as a Christmas Tree this year. Granted, while I may be Christian by design and atheist by choice, I see no reason to purposely disrespect any other religion… so the first person who refers to my Christmas Tree as a “Holiday Shrub” will be getting their collective holiday lighting knocked out.
Your probably wondering why I have suddenly taken this pseudo-political stance here instead of whining away at how miserable my life is… well there are some things that tick me off enough that warrant a stance. The Christmas Tree is one of those things from childhood that in now way shape or form could ever be any different. Always glistening… always glowing… soft shades of color gently illuminating the room. The age of innocence… oh how fond those memories are.
Anyway, reality-check here people. I’m still the grumpy frumpy fat guy with little to no hope for a companion to drive away the loneliness within. Let’s try not to forget that… and don’t forget not to mess with my tree either.
Then of course there is Beyond Belief Media… who officially declared War on Christmas on December 5. The opening shots were fired across the pages of the New York Times, USA Today, and the New Yorker. They have apparently also waged a guerrilla warfare model against holiday celebrations.
Do I believe there is a War on Christmas? Mmmm… no. Do I believe people are intentionally disrespecting the traditions of Christmas in an anti-Christian stance… absolutely. At the center of my reasoning for this, stands the Christmas Tree. Apparently, people are intentionally renaming it the “Holiday Shrub” or “The Yule Tree”. Well… why do that and not rename the Menorah the “Festival Candelabra” or Kikombe cha Umoja (The Kwanzaa Unity Cup) the “Holiday Mug”. This is why, while I do not believe there is an intentional war on Christmas, I do believe there is intentional disrespect to the traditions of Christmas and the faith the spurned it.
Hence… the reason why I clearly labeled my Christmas Tree as a Christmas Tree this year. Granted, while I may be Christian by design and atheist by choice, I see no reason to purposely disrespect any other religion… so the first person who refers to my Christmas Tree as a “Holiday Shrub” will be getting their collective holiday lighting knocked out.
Your probably wondering why I have suddenly taken this pseudo-political stance here instead of whining away at how miserable my life is… well there are some things that tick me off enough that warrant a stance. The Christmas Tree is one of those things from childhood that in now way shape or form could ever be any different. Always glistening… always glowing… soft shades of color gently illuminating the room. The age of innocence… oh how fond those memories are.
Anyway, reality-check here people. I’m still the grumpy frumpy fat guy with little to no hope for a companion to drive away the loneliness within. Let’s try not to forget that… and don’t forget not to mess with my tree either.
Bloggin Hotties is doing the right thing for us hetero-sexual male bloggers in the finest tradition of hotness. Hopefully when Ms. Chatty from I Talk Too Much gets around to checking out the blog… I’ll break the negative smack record for having their button right below hers.
Hurt me Chatty… hurt me hard…
Hurt me Chatty… hurt me hard…
Holidays always seem to bring both the best and worst out in people. I think with this recipe… I’d be straight. Check it out at The life and loves of Pickle: Christmas recipe. It’s well worth the try… just be careful of the dog…
I went to the dentist yesterday afternoon. Probably not the smartest thing to do considering my state of mind. So he drilled and yanked and cleaned… and when all was said and done I lost a rear upper right molar I had expected to be able to keep. I was not happy… and I was in a whole lot of pain. I went home, took the Vicodin script, and woke up at 5:00am in scorching pain. So I took another Vicodin… and I did the unimagenable… I called in sick for work.
See… I’m a workaholic through and through. I possibly might take two sick days the entire year… and even that would be a lot. But today… I called in sick. I spent the entire day in bed either asleep or groggily watching some tv. I know I watched Love Actually on not only MAX, but MAX West as well (with DirecTV you get both).
Sometime during the day I had enough mindset to check my messages… and The Steff had called me last night while I was comatose. I was going to call her back… but let’s face it, I was in a deep depression and didn’t feel like talking. She called again at around 6:00 tonight… and left me another voice message. The message beep roused me up and this time, I did call her back… she sounded sad and worried… and there was just something in her voice that haunted me into action.
So for thirty minutes we talked… mostly about her shopping, her mom, and her copper love interests. She did ask me twice if I was alright… of course I told her yes, I was fine although I know I’m not. After she asked the second time I then asked her if I had ever lied to her… and she said the sweetest thing… she said “No… only when I ask you about you.” I know… it doesn’t seem so sweet or flattering… she called me a liar… but I laughed… she knew me too well.
Then after another ten minutes… in her own sweet way… she made me get up out of the bed and go to Starbucks with her. Well… we didn’t intend on Starbucks, because I HATE Starbucks… but we decided to go craft shopping at the new A.C. Moore… and Starbucks was on the corner… so we landed there by default. She had one of those vanilla caramel mocchiatos while I just had the apple cider. We sat in the big brown comfy chairs, and just talked. The topics were ranged from Christmas gifts, to her coppers, to her crazy sister, and the boots with the soft insides she got on sale. When all was said and done an hour later… her mom had made me chicken soup because she heard I wasn’t feeling well… and off she went to do whatever it is The Steff does… and I went to the gas station… feeling a helluva lot better than I had.
Granted… as usual… we talked mostly about her… but in the end, on the inside, I felt less alone. Am I still lonely? Hell yes. I would love to be able to go home to someone… to hold hands while watching television… and someone to put my arm over while I sleep… but I know that’s not realistic. But what The Steff gave me tonight was a warm smile, a hand squeeze, but most importantly a good laugh… even if it was at her expense. Yet another woman I love… and she knows it… because before I turned pages for you dear blog reader… I had turned pages for her… in fact it was last Christmas.
Maybe if I get a job in law enforcement she’ll lose the zeroes and get with the Sabine County Hero!!! Hell… I’m just happy to have her as a friend who can make me laugh… and all that cal my little droogies… all that cal.
See… I’m a workaholic through and through. I possibly might take two sick days the entire year… and even that would be a lot. But today… I called in sick. I spent the entire day in bed either asleep or groggily watching some tv. I know I watched Love Actually on not only MAX, but MAX West as well (with DirecTV you get both).
Sometime during the day I had enough mindset to check my messages… and The Steff had called me last night while I was comatose. I was going to call her back… but let’s face it, I was in a deep depression and didn’t feel like talking. She called again at around 6:00 tonight… and left me another voice message. The message beep roused me up and this time, I did call her back… she sounded sad and worried… and there was just something in her voice that haunted me into action.
So for thirty minutes we talked… mostly about her shopping, her mom, and her copper love interests. She did ask me twice if I was alright… of course I told her yes, I was fine although I know I’m not. After she asked the second time I then asked her if I had ever lied to her… and she said the sweetest thing… she said “No… only when I ask you about you.” I know… it doesn’t seem so sweet or flattering… she called me a liar… but I laughed… she knew me too well.
Then after another ten minutes… in her own sweet way… she made me get up out of the bed and go to Starbucks with her. Well… we didn’t intend on Starbucks, because I HATE Starbucks… but we decided to go craft shopping at the new A.C. Moore… and Starbucks was on the corner… so we landed there by default. She had one of those vanilla caramel mocchiatos while I just had the apple cider. We sat in the big brown comfy chairs, and just talked. The topics were ranged from Christmas gifts, to her coppers, to her crazy sister, and the boots with the soft insides she got on sale. When all was said and done an hour later… her mom had made me chicken soup because she heard I wasn’t feeling well… and off she went to do whatever it is The Steff does… and I went to the gas station… feeling a helluva lot better than I had.
Granted… as usual… we talked mostly about her… but in the end, on the inside, I felt less alone. Am I still lonely? Hell yes. I would love to be able to go home to someone… to hold hands while watching television… and someone to put my arm over while I sleep… but I know that’s not realistic. But what The Steff gave me tonight was a warm smile, a hand squeeze, but most importantly a good laugh… even if it was at her expense. Yet another woman I love… and she knows it… because before I turned pages for you dear blog reader… I had turned pages for her… in fact it was last Christmas.
Maybe if I get a job in law enforcement she’ll lose the zeroes and get with the Sabine County Hero!!! Hell… I’m just happy to have her as a friend who can make me laugh… and all that cal my little droogies… all that cal.
The Truth Of The Matter
So… not only did I attend the funeral this morning… but I did fall into a drunken stupor last night. However, I didn’t really do it alone.
General Christian tradition is to hold a wake for the deceased. Basically they lay in state surrounded by their family, whose friends come and offer condolences on the loss of their loved ones. I hate wakes. I always seem to never know what to say. So after the wake last night for George a bunch of us from Forest Hills, many of whom I haven’t seen in years, gathered together at a local haunt called Gibbons on Woodhaven Boulevard.
We got there around 10:00pm… and didn’t leave until around 3:00am. Needless to say I was intoxicated, inebriated, and ossified. I made it home to find one of my brother’s friends parked in the driveway. I didn’t completely lose my mind… but I strongly suggested he vacate the spot… and he did so.
So… in my drunken state… in between downing my Black and Tans and throwing back shots of Jeigermester… I came to the revelation that the truth of the matter is it may be in front of you but you can’t grab it… and that sucks… and I suck… which is why when I die… I’ll die alone.
It’s actually a depressing revelation… once again riding the line between being alone and loneliness. Of course… not realizing it… I sent it as a text to The Nick. She ended up texting me back when I was already in an unconscious stupor… but at least she texted me back. Of course… she turns around and says “Call me if you want to talk…” I guess she just doesn’t understand… these are things I have the greatest difficulty talking about… hence why instead of talking about them… I write about them.
So the funeral was this morning… and yes… I made it. Standing in the church brought back some memories (I worked in that church for 10 years)… and the cemetery did as well (I worked in the cemetery for 2 summers as a landscaper)… and of course the fact I was in those same places just last week for Kenny’s mom didn’t help the fact that this time I was there for his dad.
The thing is… I know he’s in a better place… but its one helluva trip to get there.
I’m not afraid to make that actual journey when the time comes… I’m just afraid of doing it feeling as empty as I do now. Time will tell…
So… not only did I attend the funeral this morning… but I did fall into a drunken stupor last night. However, I didn’t really do it alone.
General Christian tradition is to hold a wake for the deceased. Basically they lay in state surrounded by their family, whose friends come and offer condolences on the loss of their loved ones. I hate wakes. I always seem to never know what to say. So after the wake last night for George a bunch of us from Forest Hills, many of whom I haven’t seen in years, gathered together at a local haunt called Gibbons on Woodhaven Boulevard.
We got there around 10:00pm… and didn’t leave until around 3:00am. Needless to say I was intoxicated, inebriated, and ossified. I made it home to find one of my brother’s friends parked in the driveway. I didn’t completely lose my mind… but I strongly suggested he vacate the spot… and he did so.
So… in my drunken state… in between downing my Black and Tans and throwing back shots of Jeigermester… I came to the revelation that the truth of the matter is it may be in front of you but you can’t grab it… and that sucks… and I suck… which is why when I die… I’ll die alone.
It’s actually a depressing revelation… once again riding the line between being alone and loneliness. Of course… not realizing it… I sent it as a text to The Nick. She ended up texting me back when I was already in an unconscious stupor… but at least she texted me back. Of course… she turns around and says “Call me if you want to talk…” I guess she just doesn’t understand… these are things I have the greatest difficulty talking about… hence why instead of talking about them… I write about them.
So the funeral was this morning… and yes… I made it. Standing in the church brought back some memories (I worked in that church for 10 years)… and the cemetery did as well (I worked in the cemetery for 2 summers as a landscaper)… and of course the fact I was in those same places just last week for Kenny’s mom didn’t help the fact that this time I was there for his dad.
The thing is… I know he’s in a better place… but its one helluva trip to get there.
I’m not afraid to make that actual journey when the time comes… I’m just afraid of doing it feeling as empty as I do now. Time will tell…
