You know that great Christopher Durang monologue about a children's theatre production of Peter Pan where everything goes wrong, the crocodile is real, the ropes the actors use to fly through the air keep breaking and Tinkerbell friggin' dies because "Peter" doesn't think that the kids in the audience clapped hard enough to prove that they believed in fairies?
Well, take that idea and apply just a little bit of it to How the Grinch Stole Christmas and you'll have some idea of what my family had to endure during my holiday visit.
I wasn't a complete Scrooge McAsshole (Was I, Jeff? I hope not), so I wouldn't have stolen an entire city's Christmas gifts, trees, decorations and roast beast. I was more of the "indirect asshole" kind of Grinch.
There wasn't really a specific reason, but I was just feeling... not sad, or depressed... just melancholy, I guess. Whatever the Hell that means.
So, bless my family for loving me while I stood outside the circle of Whos with my arms crossed, smirking at and silently mocking their musical "Fah Hoo Forres."
They showered me with great new books, new movies, new collectibles and even new glasses. My first new pair in 9 years.
My new glasses are slightly hip, black and rectangular. I really like them. I mean REALLY like them. I actually wore out in public today. Something I haven't done since the 6th grade.
That was the year that I received my first pair of specs to go with my new fat ass and pimply complexion, changing my social standing from "faggot" to "fat, pizza-faced, four-eyed fag."
Since then, wearing glasses makes me feel like I'm that kid again, so today was quite an accomplishment for me and my low self-esteem. We'll see if I make it over the next hurdle and actually allow someone to take a picture of me wearing them.
That said, if I get laid this week while I'm wearing them, I may never take them off. Just sayin'...
Oh, and by the way, Santa knocked the Grinch completely out of me with a little surprise gift that I found in my carry on bag while I was waiting for my return flight to Chicago. After an hour flight delay, I was desperate for something else to read, so I opened up a back section of my bag that I almost never use. I didn't find anything to read, though. Just something to listen to...
Yep, I found the friggin' iPod that I thought had been either lost or stolen on the bus a few months ago. It was in my bag all this time.
So for the record: One Homosexual + Two iPods = NOT Smarter Than a Fifth Grader.
Sometimes there's God, so quickly. Helping me find what once was lost, while simultaneously using me to prove that obviously, Darwin is wrong.
Note to Java: Since I was more than a little Grinchy, did the holiday spirit hit you? I hope so.