Tag Archives: christmas

I’m OK, you’re OK Update!

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In Boston news, it’s COLD. It shouldn’t be surprising, this being, in fact, New England, but every year this is News. Surf’s up, Sri Lanka, in Boston it is COLD! As I tottled to work feeling, well, nothing, I thought it might be about time I learned to drive. Maybe Helen will teach me. Especially as she has not had a use for her beloved riding crop since she sold Mr. Sparkles and Ting-Ting to the dog food factory.

In other NEWS, I am getting my hair done today. It IS the apocalypse, after all. This is the year of Day After Tomorrow, and Locusts! And also, Locusts!

Hrmm, what else is going on in our world? i have lately been enjoying my coffee with a bit of cinnamon in it. And the huge 13 gallon cannister of popcorn in the lunchroom is Nearly Empty! Christmas is over at my building, and I thought this would be a matter of the giant fluffy santa village in the atrium there one day, and gone the next. Not so! It is in stages of dismantling, which means all the cotton is gone, and there are empty “presents” boxes standing around. It gives me a hangover, and I have not even been drinking.

Helen is back from Richmond, and I am sure she will have news of her own, as soon as she is back from her de-worming cure.

Oh, and by the way, Locusts!

-xo

Signs

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We at Vomitola attended various parties this weekend, and one included a “yankee swap.” I had never heard of such a thing, but it turns out this is an exercise wherein everyone gives each other $20, like in Caddyshack. Sometimes this $20 is first transmuted into ugly crap you don’t want in your house. My heart just sank when I saw things like “Mexican tortilla grills” come out. Mr. H and I actually got $20 in cash in an envelope, making a cool $2 over our contribution, a bottle of merlot I grabbed out of the wine rack as we raced out the door. I didn’t even wrap it; I tied a damn bow on it and scraped off the price sticker. Still, it proved popular, maybe because it was not Trivial Pursuit or some kind of oil dipping set. I instinctively prodded Mr. H to grab the lone envelope, thinking that, at worst, it would be movie passes. Everyone was too polite to swap for the cash, but I will re-gift that $20 like damn.

I read a sign outside a little olde-tyme convenience store, called a superette or a spa or something, and it said “LEAN HAM.” Now I take things very literally, and I am compliant by nature. EAT. DRINK. LOUNGE. RESERVE PIE NOW. These are urgent calls to action. If I had any ham, I would have leapt out of the car and tilted it just so. Instead I just spent the weekend saying “LEAN HAM” and laughing.

What else. I switched dry cleaners because the employees of the more conveniently located one are just too unattractive. My fear of ugliness is at a new high, and I recently learned there is an actual term for it: cacophobia. Holy damn. When I was a kid, I was afraid of amputees (strangely, there were a lot of them in the backwoods) and this one tree that had been hit by lightning. Over the years, this has turned into a fascination with obesity (I am now only 362,250 extra calories from morbid obesity!), and a tendancy to see people I don’t know as misshapen trolls. Like David Sedaris said, “Everyone looks retarded if you put your mind to it.” I would bring this up to my therapist, but he is not attractive! Ethicist, what should I do?

peoplewhoamitoargue.com

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Well, today marks some damn hell day in the countdown to Chrismakwanzukkah. We at Vomitola feel it is appropriate to present some holiday memories, and maybe some Top Ten lists as the filthy pagans do like to read those. My sister the moose already started unveiling dirty laundry, so why can’t I?

Let’s see, back when we were just tots, my parents would pile the presents (likely to include collections of Garfield comic strips) on the couch, with a note saying “From ‘Santa.'” That’s right, there was no Santa Claus. We didn’t go in for that. I really don’t remember much else, until a few years later. Then we had a house with a mirrored fireplace, and some poinsettias would go in there. We had this crap-ass navity scene where you mixed up the plaster yourself and molded it and then painted it. Parts of the figures broke off when we tried to punch them out of the mold, so that was one afflicted-looking heavenly host. I don’t know why we even had this since we didn’t go to church. Anyway, that would go on a TV tray in the fireplace with the poinsettias. I have some pictures of that after my sister and I knocked all the figurines over and drew a mushroom cloud on a piece of notebook paper and hung it behind the manger. My favorite figure was the camel.

Then I don’t remember a damn thing for another ten years. Wait, one year I think we had to go decorate a nursing home with tinsel. Lambchop came back to Virginia with me one year during college, and we amused ourselves by seeing the Beavis & Butthead movie. We got Chinese food on Christmas day with my family and some other stragglers, and later my cat had explosive diarrhea on poor Lambie. Oh, at the Chinese place, a giant roach crawled out of the center of the lazy susan that bore the pu-pu platter. We dispatched him with terriyaki skewers and roasted him in the little flame. My dad got a free Heineken from the unmoved owner. My mom also made a chocolate fondue, which consisted of melting a can of Betty Crocker frosting over some sterno. It was uncomfortable to say the least.

A few years ago, Mr. H and I went to Virginia, and my mom had made little construction paper stockings and scotch taped them above the mirrored fireplace. Inside there was cash!

Last year Lambchop came over, and we made a turkey at my house. Then we went to the movies and got nachos and beer.

This year, who the hell knows! Lambchop and I have the heebie jeebies. I am shaking like a leaf. I hope we get to watch some porn.

And I promised you maggots a Top Ten list, so here goes:

Vomitola’s Top Ten Numbers of 2004

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

Yeah, the order just worked out that way.