Best Christmas Card Ever

There’s nothing like a monkey attacking a Yeti that makes me feel more comfortable and excited about the holiday season.

Courtesy of here

Random, Yet Right

Things that have made me smile this morning:

• Jon Hickman giving Frank Strovel computer tips at Left of the Dial. I really love the blogosphere.
• Wrassling cats. 
• News of happiness 
• People who make me laugh 
• An unexpected thing during a rough time
• Out of this world pictures that are just amazing.
• I miss Monstervision as well.
• Merry Christmas to you as well, as you play Homer’s favorite Christmas song.
• For the love of Sugarface, who is a fine woman indeed and is loved by a fine man
• I love it when Left Wing Cracker calls me beloved, ’cause I’m quite smitten with him as well.

Random, I know.

Annoying Christmas Autobiographical Pause #435

It’s usually happens to me about three days before Christmas every year. I become a bit emotional.

I don’t know why, or maybe I do and then I just ignore it, I then forget about it and then it comes as an annual event and there I am again. Damn cycle of holiday emotions.

I think some of my perceptions of this holiday goes back over three decades when I would spend the Brady Bunch Christmas at my grandmother’s house. We called her Nanny and she was a jovial woman who smoked Salem cigarettes, laughed this deep hearty laugh and could outcook anyone in three states. She read her bible, she went to church but she loved a good Tom Collins and was unapologetic about it. She taught me a lot and I miss her. She was a paradox and a wonderful role model who taught me that kindness was important and to treat people the way I wanted to be treated. She also didn’t believe you had to be one thing.

You just needed to be yourself.

When my grandfather died, she slowly withered away. She is the only person I know, although it was diagnosed as breast cancer, that passed away with a broken heart. There isn’t any way you could convince me otherwise.

We tried to recreate the joyful Christmases we had with her. The truly awful Christmas tree that had wire stuck with some sort of flammable branches on it, the presents that would fill a room, the amazing feast she would cook in her small kitchen that met us each year as we anxiously anticipated Christmas Eve. We tried to find that in which she created.

And each year, we failed.

Because it just wasn’t the same. As I grew older, I have found myself looking for that feeling I had when she was alive. Big Daddy is unabashedly not a fan of the holiday, though he tries (Nanny was my mother’s mom) and Homer gets it closer to my grandmother than anyone. I loved my own mother dearly, but when her mother passed away, she sort of abandoned Christmas. Not the actions of the holiday, but the feelings in her heart.

So, each year I seek those joyous feelings of Nanny’s small house. And each year, I find a few days before Christmas not being able to find it. And I’m disappointed. And it comes out in anger then an emotionally full moment where I realize that some things in our lives we cannot replace.

Now, this is whiny. I get that. And to be honest, this year I’ve had more fun than I’ve had in years. But that feeling struck me yesterday. The longing, that desire to feel.

That need for my childhood passion in which my grandmother was the real Santa Claus.

I am blessed. I have a wonderful life. This upcoming year is the one that will make or break me professionally. I’ve been aggressive in changing some of the things in my life that I want to alter and I’m pleased that I can take one thing at a time now instead of getting overwhelmed by the many distractions that are life. There are so many people in this world that have less than I do. I’m pleased I have love. I may not have a new car or the job I’ve been seeking, but I have family whom I adore and friends who would do anything for me as I would for them.

And yet, I miss that laugh and the twinkling of her eyes that was more about Christmas than any present.

Now back to your regular scheduled programming at Newscoma.

Photo from here.

Christopher Walken’s Merry, Happy Christmas

Oh, dearest Raincoaster, how you make my day. Shamelessly, I steal from you again. I beg forgiveness ahead of time.

Christopher Walken’s “mother” has a Christmas message for you guys. If you don’t like spicy language, go here.

Otherwise, prepare to laugh with glee:

And The Brass Kicks Ass …

For my mom at Christmas because her spirit lives on…

And so does Mr. Coltrane’s, Billie’s and Miles’.

Mom, this one is for you!

Birdland on 53
The street sounded like a symphony
We got John Coltrane and a love supreme
Miles says she’s got to be
An angel

Lady Day got diamond eyes
She sees the truth behind the lies
Angel

Yeah, represent the ones you love at Christmas, even if they aren’t here.

This one is for my mom.

‘Teachers of some of the greatest lessons’

Scout says things I cannot. She is speaking of the annual Community Development Services Christmas party. The person in the picture at her blog is our beloved Patsy, who gives me Christmas spirit even when I try very hard to avoid it.

For them, Santa never dies because they are blessed (not limited) in the ability not to look at Christmas and everything else with a clouded, complicated, calloused and hardened mind, unreceptive to the Christmas spirit, but instead through the simple, sweet and unaffected mind of a child. Their bait for the Christmas spirit is unwavering belief in the good and pure happiness and faith that the good will always prevail. Peeling back the complications, crabbiness and despair that try to break into the holiday season and everyday life, they exude trust, love and support.

Disabled? They are the teachers of some of the greatest lessons.

Well said, Scout. Well said. 

Not Food Porn, Not Even Close

Today is office potluck/Christmas/Festivus/Baby Jesus Celebration Day.

I am embarking on attempting to be all Laura Creekmore/Cook Eat Fret/Home Ec 101. I made a vow that this year, I will make homemade goodies while keeping the fire department at bay.

The plan, in the next two and a half hours, is to make some sort of pickle ham cream cheese thing, some cream cheese/sausage casserole concoction and sammichs. I might even use cream cheese on the sammichs just for the hell of it.

Cream cheese tends to hide the ineptness of my culinary skills, which of course, I do not have anyway.

Homer finally coughed up the recipe for the chicken salad thingie so I got that going for me.

Squirrel Queen thinks I’ve lost my mind but I’m feeling all domestic. Dammit, I wish I had an apron.

If it is edible, we will all win.

If it isn’t, it’s Squirrel Queen’s fault because she didn’t believe. It’s like Santa, you know. You have to believe.

Dessert will be Alka-Seltzer.

And then, my cyber friends, I am taking a few days off from work.  We can only hope I won’t be visiting any of the staff in the hospital with food poisoning.

Not Sharing The Secrets Of Chicken Salad

An actual Christmas conversation with Homer:

ME: How do you make that chicken salad thingie you make?

HOMER: I use chicken.

ME: Killa wants it because she told me this today. She likes it. I bought it. How do you make it?

HOMER: I get chicken. I put stuff in it.

ME: What do you put in it?

HOMER: SweetTarts.

ME, sighing because Homer does this to me: And Skittles?

HOMER: No. Pay attention. You aren’t listening.

ME, sighing again because my little sister can drive me to drink … : Do I put Gummie Worms in it for Christ’s Sake?

HOMER: No, that goes in the Tuna Salad.

The office party should be interesting tomorrow.

Umm, help.

To Cheer Us Up …

If you haven’t ever seen Creature Comforts, you can now …

A Christmas version. It’s pretty long, but it’s fabulous.

Send A Recovering Soldier A Card

A message from Kathy T.

From my LaVergne blog… If you’re mailing Christmas cards this year, here’s one more you could send:

A Recovering American Soldier
c/o Walter Reed Army Medical Center
6900 Georgia Avenue,NW
Washington, DC 20307-5001

Go here instead. Kathy T. made a clarification about it all:

We Support You During Your Recovery!
c/o American Red Cross
P.O. Box 419
Savage, MD 20763-0419

Thanks for straightening out, John “The Man” Carney.

The soldiers didn’t ask to be over there. It’s 41 pennies to send a nice thought. She makes a good point and she and I are on the same page here.

If you are so inclined, next time you are at the post office, send out a card. Letters from citizens meant a lot of my grandfather when he was serving in Saipan. I’m sure it would mean a lot to a recovering soldier injured during the war.

And, heck, it doesn’t have to be Christmas to do this.

Thanks.

A Little Bit Of Christmas Lennon

Homer’s favorite Christmas Song.

Now This Is What We Are Talking About

Brian Setzer, oh how you make me shake my cute yet ample hiney. How brilliant that I get to hear Stray Cat Strut combined with Your a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.

Yup, shaking my butt.

Wooooo.

And The Christmas Anxiety Sets In

I’m having a bit of a panic about Christmas. In less than two weeks, we will be eating roast beast, opening presents and passing out from exhaustion from the holiday frivolity.

I have one problem.

Ummm, presents? I have a few purchased and that, campers, is about it.

I’ve been a bit busy and then it hit me this morning that I have to really get cracking. My dilemma is that I hate discount chains and in the past I’ve been able to actually put some thoughts into what I was getting for everyone. This year, I’ve had something scheduled or just normal stupid work crap slamming me into the wall. Then, when I do have time I’ve sort of just passed out.

And, I’m like Scarlett O’Hara who said “I’ll do it tomorrow, dammit.” (Didn’t she say that? I’ve never read the book and I’m not going to so don’t harass me about it. I know, it’s good, but, umm, no.) Well, I’ve put everything off until tomorrow then tomorrow comes and I see something bright and shiny and forget that gifts must be purchased.

So, now I’m scrambling. SQ told me some things she wants but I swear I can’t remember a thing she has told me as I’ve been having some sort of Alzheimer’s this year.

So, in the spirit of being fair, the guys are getting toilet paper and the ladies will get lip balm and I don’t even have to go to Wal-Mart to pick these things up.

I keed.

So, today, if I can manage it, I’m going to sneak away as soon as I’m done at work and go piddle around in an effort to do the gifty thing.

At least I hope I will. Good Intentions tend to fall to the wayside for your friendly Newscoma.

Can you say “PANIC!”

I knew you could.

***sigh***

I Want My NPR

So, we’ve been all holiday oriented here at Chez ‘Coma and my liver is not in love with me right now.

Yeah, these things happen. As I sit in all my post-holiday-evening-morning-after-traumatic glory, there are a few things to tell you.

A.)  A new place opened last night so we took in the sights and sounds. The place was packed and I was pleased to see the whole place hopping and it was a bit different from the regular fare of juke joints in Hooterville. Although I must say it’s always disconcerting to be sitting with new and old friends and look up to see the very tall boss come into the place. I said Hi and retreated as we were raising all sorts of hell and you don’t want to do that within eye and earshot of your boss. He didn’t seem to mind. That was of the good.

B.) I met some friends of Cuppa Joe and The Editor last night. In Hooterville. I already knew them but I didn’t know the Cuppa/Editor connection. I was shocked, SHOCKED I tell you. They said Hi. We shared our mutual love for the dynamic duo. We talked about that we don’t have access now to our beloved NPR. It’s been replaced with a Contemporary Christian rock station. Now, I have no problem with Contemporary Christian music, I don’t, BUT I really want my “All Things Considered” back. I can get it on the Mac, but it’s not in the car when I’m bebopping around. Dangit. I’ve found myself singing “I Want My NPR” to the tune of “Money For Nothing.”

C.)  The term “Sex On The City” in regards to Rudolph Guiliani makes me laugh my hiney off for some reason. I guess it just speaks to the 12-year-old within me.

D.) I’ll be honest, I haven’t thought about this woman for years.

And finally, E.)  You can do like I’m doing, Mr. Wage. Your liver will probably hold out better than mine as I’ve got a few years on you.

With that said, I’m going to go and try to find out why I’m hearing the theme song to “Gunsmoke” which is coming from the other room where Squirrel Queen is as it just doesn’t make sense to me. I wish I was making this up.

Santa Is A Jerk

The beauty of you tube, once again, gives us this video called “Santa is a Jerk” compiled from”Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.”

I apologize ahead of time, but I also laughed as well.

Heh.

A Charlie Brown Christmas Performed By The Cast Of Scrubs

So, you take Charlie Brown’s Christmas and you combine it with the audio of a Christmas episode of Scrubs, make J.D. into Charlie Brown and you have this:

If you are a Charlie Brown traditionalist, I’m thinking this won’t be your cup of tea, but I laughed.

Not So Scared Of Santa This Year

Today is one of those impossible days that I’m actually looking forward to.

Squirrel Queen will be in Nashville today for Mr. Football honors for all of about one hour, Hooterville’s annual Christmas parade is scheduled, there is a tree-lighting ceremony, all of which needs my attention. I’m looking at a very late night.

The tree is pretty groovy by the way. I think it will come out nicely.

You may be wondering all the Christmas frivolity here at Chez Coma. Well, here’s the deal. I want a nice Christmas. I usually am all Bah-Humbug, go screw yourself Santa and that damned sleigh you rode in on, but this year, I decided to do something different.

I decided to get over myself.

Now, I may be going overboard, but I even watched bad Christmas movies yesterday on Lifetime. I didn’t know we had Lifetime, but I did it anyway to take one for the team. (Incidentally, it’s a mistake I won’t make again. Feh.)

I’ve always done the reverse ego sort of mentality about Christmas. Grouse about it, but secretly I think I waited for something magical to happen. I have no idea what I was seeking, but it was a game that I played with myself, without knowing I was playing it with myself, if that makes sense. Expect the worse and then be pleasantly surprised. However, that didn’t work. I expected the worse and then, by God, the worse thing that could happen would.

With all of that said, I decided to act like the optimist I think I am (doesn’t sound like it though, does it) and just be one with the holidays. I am eager for it, oddly enough, this year.

In my life, the next 12 months are crucial on a personal level. I’m trying new things, hoping for new adventures and I know that these moments will never happen again. I can make myself miserable and, if you can believe this, I was all goth 20 years ago before emo and goth were even thought about. Money is tighter this year than it has ever been, but that’s not what this is all about anyway. Yeah, my family may be getting Lik-Em-Sticks as their main present, but on the other hand, we do have each other. And that’s a good thing.
So, I’m trying to celebrate the positive this year, and there is plenty of it I just haven’t been paying attention in the past. Yeah, I get tired of Capitalism Christmas as much as the next guy, but it is about friends, family and having faith in things that are bigger than ourselves, right?

So, I’m trying to toss out the negative and find those hidden treasures that I know are out there.

But no more Lifetime Christmas movies. Blech. I don’t think I’ve ever been covered in such a sugary mess that seriously made me go seek an Alka-Seltzer and a shower.

I’m trying, but there is only so much of that I can take.

Feh.

Photo from here.

A Patrick Swayze Christmas

You will never know much I miss MST3K.

From the fabulous Tits McGee 

Yup. Chez Bez Finds Joy In The Holidays

Go right here right now, hit the play button when you get to Mike’s house.

Don’t argue with me. I’m right on this one.