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JWR/ 4.1/ Holly Days, 2004
Amy said, ďSo when are you going to do another Rambling?Ē A great question. I hadnít decided. I donít quite know what to write about. I wanted to write about her, but sheís sure nobody wants to hear all that. So, I asked her to suggest a Rambling. She gets back to me later with an original idea about how the holidays suck because of all the shopping and stuff. Oh, no, wait, Iíve done that one already. So, we got into this huge fight about how her idea wasnít original at all and now she thinks Iím, and I quote, ďa fucking assholeĒ and I think sheís a bitch.
But sheís right, you know. Perhaps a Rambling about how holidays blow can have some fresh insight and after all, itís not like you actually remember my holiday rambling from last year which was only week 3:40. Iíve done thirteen Ramblings in the past year. Thatís piss poor, so youíll also hopefully excuse me when I announce that I am renaming Johnís Weekly Ramblings to Johnís Worldly Ramblings. See, this way I can keep the initials the same: JWR. Pretty clever thinking from a fucking asshole, no? Or, for short, instead of calling them Ramblings, weíll just call them ĎBlings. Thatís right, suckas! Iím fly as an artificial hip joint.
I was just kidding about the fight. Weíre still at the point, when if we donít talk for more than a day, I get all pissy to everyone I come into contact with and then we find out we didnít call each other because we thought the other didnít want to hear from us. Itís incredibly stupid. If she wants to hear from me and I want to hear from her, letís do this thing. I just have a hard time believing she wants to hear from me, I guess.
Even though Thanksgiving is later this week, as I write this sentence, Iíve been thinking about Christmas gifts for a while now. Iíve even gone ahead and bought a couple things already. But it bothers me that shopping is so difficult. It bothers me that the physical act of shopping after Thanksgiving is so tough. It bothers me that internet shopping is so easyóexcept for the tracking and returning. It bothers me that Word thinks internet should be capitalized like itís a city. It bothers me that I have a difficult time shopping before a monthís advance so people can return their gift if they want.
I have to resist the urge to buy everything online this year despite my utter distaste for holiday shopping. What really bothers me is how some people are useless in helping you decide what to get for them. (Iím one of them, I guess, but still.) It also bothers me, the people who donít want you to get them anything. What bah-humbugs. Those are people you want to force into the holiday spirit by getting them something really nice, then you feel stupid because they got you nothing and it is as much about receiving as it is giving, donít let anyone tell you differently.
I like being forced into a spirit. I like being bombarded by wintery, snowy landscapes in a town that hasnít seen snow on the ground for Christmas in years. Oh, the coldís there, but not the snow. I like being lambasted by thousands of crappy, ugly ornaments hung on trees in every department store. I like being looked at like a douche by the annoying Salvation Army bell ringers because I donít carry cash.
I actually donít like it at all. It gives me the red-ass. I feel bad for the checkout clerks who have to hear that ringing all day long.
If youíre one of those lucky people who gets to go to sleep with the person you love next to you in bed, be grateful. If you get to turn over and sling an arm over their body, if you get to nuzzle your nose into the back of their neck, say a thank you. If you wake up and roll over and kiss the person you love, I envy you so much. How fortunate you are to be able to share the warmth with that other person.
I donít know, maybe thatís why the holidays suck. I mean, in previous years, I knew there were reasons for it sucking, but I had a hard time pinpointing exactly why. Shit, I know exactly why now.
But of course, itís not all bad. I canít be, otherwise, Iíd kill myself. Right? It only makes sense; if itís all bad, then kill yourself. Logic. Nice.
I donít know why Word thinks ďall badĒ should be hyphenated.
I donít necessarily believe that someone out there, and by out there I mean out west, wants to spend time with me as much as I want to spend time with her. After all, Iím not an especially well-liked person. I say really dumb things all the time. I constantly get into arguments at work with all kinds of people. Some people think Iím arrogant, even. Which is such total bullshit, I canít even get started. And moody. Whatever.
I have wonderful friends who accept the way I act.
So, Thanksgiving has gone now. Which is cool. That means we can all get on with the inane preparations for Christmas. Then again, a funny thing happens around Christmas, like a couple days before, I get into the season, kind of. Iíll start cheering up and looking forward to spending a day with my family and another day with my friends. Exchanging gifts that I picked out so carefully. Drinking some fucking booze and eating some good food. Maybe smoking a nice cigar outside in the cold. There would be just one thing missing.
They say you canít have everything, which is fine because I donít want everything. Although, they say a lot of things. They talk a lot. They like to make you think their way. They are very bossy and very annoying. They are also wrong a lot of the time. They are arrogant. Not me. I miss my baby.
So, obviously Iím not in the holiday spirit just yet. It seems like Iím not even in a Rambling spirit. And while I think this is a pretty weak subject because Iím censoring myself in some ways, letís see you do one hundred fifty-six Ramblings and still come up with new and intriguing subjects with no pay. I donít think you could. Thatís okay, I didnít really, either. I plagiarized more than half of my Ramblings from essays by G. Gordon Liddyólike the one about the Dick Stick.
Sometimes I wonder when Iím going to grow up, people.
Well, maybe I donít want to grow up. Maybe, just maybe, Iím a Toys R Us kid. You know thereís a million toys at Toys R Us that I can play with. From bikes to trains to video games, itís the biggest toy store there is. Well, in that case, I donít want to grow up, after all. Because, if I did, I wouldnít be a Toys R Us kid. ÖThey sell condoms at Toys R Us?
ďDo any of us, except in our dreams, truly expect to be reunited with our heartsí deepest loves, even when they leave us only for minutes, and on the most mundane of errands? No, not at all. Each time they go from our sight we in our secret hearts count them as dead. Having been given so much, we reason, how could we expect not to be brought as low as Lucifer for the staggering presumption of our love?Ē -Stephen King
Copyright © 2004 John Lemut