TOP 10 REASONS IT DOESN’T FEEL LIKE CHRISTMAS

Okay, so it’s time to blog about Christmas I suppose. I don’t really feel like it. It doesn’t feel like Christmas. I think that’s the problem. Here’s why:

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1) I’ve spent the last six weeks going out of my way to avoid Christmas carols on the radio, the television, in the stores. It’s impossible. You have to try though because if you don’t you will go insane before December even begins. I used to like Burl Ives’ song Holly Jolly Christmas, but that was before the radio put it on heavy rotation between Halloween and Christmas Day as if it were the National Anthem and every fifteen minutes a ballgame was starting.

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My Christmas ‘party’ was here.

2) Last night was my work Holiday Party. My wife looked stunning in her dress. The in-laws were prepared to take the kids overnight. All that was left was for me to get dressed. Then the eight year old came home from school in tears and with an earache and a 101.9-degree temperature. Instead of the party, we spent the night at the Immediate care center, then in line at Walgreens getting coughed on by strangers. Instead of a pasta bar, fresh salmon, and free beer, I dined on some bland bowl of something from Chipotle, or as I like to call it, the place with $7 flavored rice.

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3) I live in Chicago and it’s going to be 40 degrees tomorrow. They’re calling for rain on Christmas Eve, which should turn to snow. In other words, slush is going to fall from the sky. I’m dreaming of a slushy, sock soaking Christmas, just like the ones I used to know. The really pretty snow, the kind we associate with Christmas even though we rarely have it which is why Bing Crosby had to dream of it will come. We will get snow. We will get that pretty, heavy blanket of white, but you can bet it is going to fall after Christmas, just in time to bury the decorations my wife will want me to take down, now.

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This is what kids who don’t believe in Santa Clause get for Christmas.

4) The kids are getting older. My eldest is in high school and what he wants is either high-tech, too expensive, or it’s clothing. The other two are at the point where the clothes and the toys are about even and Santa is something they either aren’t quite convinced of, or haven’t the heart to tell mom and dad that they don’t believe anymore. Once that magic is gone, the whole thing becomes something else entirely.

5) I won’t be spending all-night, and I mean all-night, putting together little flimsy plastic toys with instructions that would make the people at Ikea scratch their heads in their complexity. ‘This was supposed to be Barbie’s Dream house, why does it look like a Pepto-Bismol factory post-apocalypse?

6) Of course it doesn’t help that right now my house is a cluttered mess and the whole place smells like chili.

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7)   It ain’t like it used to be. I don’t have to go into detail on that. If you grew up in the 1940’s, it ain’t like it was in the ‘40’s. If you were a child of the 80’s, it ain’t like it was back in the day. If your formative years were the 1990’s, it’s not like that anymore is it? Our place of reference might be different, but when I say ‘It ain’t like it used to be’, we all get it. We grew up and so did the world. What a shame, huh?

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8) Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Charlie Brown are On-Demand. It used to be that those shows were Specials, events to be watched all together at the same time, and only one time each year because once it was over, it was gone. If you missed it, you were shit-out-of-luck. Now you can watch them all day any day as many times as you’d like whenever, wherever, nothing special, no event, just another damn show to choose from of the thousands on that digital jukebox of television and movies. Play it again, Sam. No need for a quarter, just hit ‘enter’ on the remote.

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9) I’m lucky. Sounds strange but, it’s a reason. So much of secular Christmas is wishing and getting. Well, there isn’t much I’m wishing to get. I mean, at least not material things. My wife and I make a decent enough living that if there is something we really and truly want, we buy it. So, there is no excitement for that gift I’ve been dying to get. Nor is there much excitement for the gift I can’t wait to give, because there is nothing special on her list either. ‘Let’s get through it without getting the flu’ seems to be at the top of the wish-list this year. Can’t circle that in the Sears catalog.

10)   I’m getting older. Shit, I’ve been through this rigamarole now forty-two times. This will be the forty-third. I have to admit, it’s losing some of its charm. I mean, I get it, Bing sings, we go to Mass, the presents get opened, I eat too much, I feel like shit, and tomorrow is depressing because it’s been weeks of anticipation, a flurry of momentary excitement, and then it’s over until next Halloween when Burl Ives starts singing A Holly Jolly Christmas.

27777393 Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and Happy Halloween too I suppose, it’s all running together now.

http://www.inthesanctityofrevenge.com

If Mark Wahlberg is Yummy, WTF do you call this?

I have heard ‘The Boss Lady” describe Mark Wahlberg as, and I quote, “Yummy”.

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My female friends and family have described Charlie Hunnam as ‘Yum’.

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This is me:

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Images in picture larger than they appear.

Not quite ‘yummy’ or ‘yum’ I would guess.  More like, ‘send this back, it’s not what I ordered’ or ‘Holy shit! Boil some water and grab some salad tongs this hairy man is about to give birth to something!’

Now of course, the reason I got this way is because my definition of yummy is this:

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Beer, wine, hot dogs, cheeseburgers, pizza, beer, wine, cookies, beer, wine, avocado (I do eat some healthy things).  Anyhow, you get the picture.  So here I am on my 42 birthday looking and feeling like a piece of shit because I wasn’t always a bloated man-pig.  A few years ago, I was able to shed the belly and actually, for the first time since high school, add some muscle.

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This is the night I hurt my knee. Aug. 2011

That lasted for a couple of years or so until I hurt my knee.  I never really got back into working out after that.  That was 2011.  Since then, I’ve put on all that I’d lost and more.  And now it isn’t coming off as easily as it used to because now I’m 42 friggin’ years old.

I go to the health club and I see the guys who haven’t sat on their laurels with a hearty beer and can’t help but think, ‘that’s what I’m supposed to look like’.  Then the thought occurred to me, ‘is this what women have been dealing with all these years?  Is this how we’ve made them feel with our SI Swimsuit issues and our Playboy centerfolds and our beer commercial girls?’

SI Swimsuit(Oh my, would you look at her!!  Very lickable, I mean likable.  Anyhow, I digress…)

Where was I?  Oh yeah, is our idolatry of these unrealistic female forms creating a self-esteem issue among women in our society?  Does that make them feel bad the same way Marky Mark and Jax Teller make me feel bad? Is this why the diet industry is a billion dollar cash cow (no pun intended) with most of the marketing directed toward women?  Then I thought, ‘Nah, that’s ridiculous!  And where exactly did I put that Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue anyhow?’

In any event, it hurts.  It hurts to know how much work and sacrifice it’s going to take to try to get a body like Wahlberg or Jax Teller. (Btw, why is it Jax Teller drinks beer on SOA and still looks like the above picture from Men’s Health magazine and I drink beer while watching SOA and I end up looking like Bobby Munson after they tortured him and broke his jaw?)

Bobby Munson SOA

It hurts to think about how many Sundays I’m going to have to spend watching football without eating pizza or drinking beer.  It really is painful.  But there is only one thing to do about it, I guess.  Well, there’re a few options actually, one is to be happy with myself, with who I am and how I look.  Enjoy life and try to be healthy enough to keep enjoying life for a few more decades or I can bust my ass at the gym, eat more vegetables, say no to more wine more often, dine on lean meat, and look at myself in the mirror and say ‘work harder you dumb asshole!’.

Then there is the third option, the one I’ve been following all my adult life.  It’s a combination of the two aforementioned options where I enjoy life and every once in a while look in the mirror, call myself an asshole, and go hit the gym hard for a few weeks until that feeling passes.

Now if I could only figure out which route to take.  I think I’ll pour myself a cold one, and flip through a Victoria Secrets catalogue while I think it over.  What harm is there in that?

[I have a goal to once again participate in the Men’s Health Urbanathalon in 2015.  The journey toward getting there begins now.  I plan to blog about my trials and tribulations along the way.  When I have that set up, I will let you know.  We’ll see if I can actually stick with option two and get this out-of-shape pos working harder and moving again. Time will tell]