Archive for the ‘Holiday’ Tag

“S#*% My Wife Does That I Don’t Understand” Vol. 2   4 comments


As this is the second installment of “S#*% My Wife Does That I Don’t Understand”, I must preface this entry by again saying that I love my wife and that if she ever had time or the desire to write anything like this about me, she would have enough material to fill a 12 volume set.

A few nights ago my wife and I were peacefully asleep when I woke up to a low growl coming from our dog at the foot of the bed.  I assumed she was dreaming and thought nothing of it until I felt her stand up in bed.  I looked up and she was standing over me growling at the main entry door to our bedroom (there is a second door that goes through the master bath…that’s important for later…).  At the same moment I began to hear a faint rendition of the creepiest Christmas song of all time (click here and listen before continuing your reading).  A wave of terror swept over me but promptly left as I decided that the cat must have hit a Christmas decoration that played that song.

Then the song got louder.  And louder.  And louder.  I realized we had no decoration that played that song because, no matter how nice the words were, I always thought the tone and chanting of it were too creepy to be enjoyed during a holiday.  Our dog started growling louder.  And louder.  And louder.  Uh-oh.  That same wave of fear swept over me again as my wife popped up from her slumber to ever-so-loudly yell, “What the $#%@ is that?”  A childhood of staying up late to watch Child’s Play, Halloween, and Friday the 13th movies caused my mind to snap into “there is a psychotic man dressed in a Santa costume with a radio and gun/sword walking down my hallway” mode.  Do most people EVER enter this mode?  No, but it was 3:00 AM and again my formative years were filled with me witnessing indestructable serial murderers killing teenagers for fun.  Also, it didn’t help that a few months back we were informed from a detective from the police department that our house used to be rented by drug dealers.

“I have no idea…I’ll check it out, stay here.”  I put on my glasses and climbed out of bed.  I realized then why my dad always had a 2 x 4 underneath his side of the bed.  There I was in a pair of polar bear boxers with nothing to defend myself with against whatever was coming down the hallway but Jack Johnson and Mr. Tom O’Leary.  Crap…this is absolutely not the story I want in my obituary.  The song was so loud it sounded like it was right outside the door so I ran around the bed and into the hallway ready to be instantly mauled by Satan with a Santa hat.

Nothing.  Not a damn thing.  I crept down the hall and the music started to sound like it was coming from back inside the room.  As the dog started to bark I realized whoever/whatever was out there must have heard my wife yell and went around to the other entrance to the bedroom and was now inside.  That means he/she/it is fast, too.  That’s exactly what a guy who polished off two Whoppers (fine, you caught me, I had onion rings, too…are you happy?) for dinner wants to go up against in the middle of the night.  Super.

I ran back into the bedroom donning my very intimidating polar bear boxers again ready to do whatever it is I am supposed to do in that situation.  Yet again, nothing.  It then became crystal clear what was going on.  We were dealing with some sort of crazy, invisible gremlin creature hell-bent on ruining Christmas by torturing a young suburban couple with creepy chanting music and spells of invisibility.  (Did I mention this took place at 3:00 AM?)

As it turns out, I was wrong on all accounts (go figure).  “Oh God!” my wife yelled, again making me think something is about to jam an axe into my back, “It’s my Iphone.  I must have turned on Pandora radio in my sleep and it went to the Christmas station.  Sorry, baby.”

Sorry??  Sorry, you say??  My heart rate is in the thousands and I get “sorry”.  Thank you, honey.  I may not have died defending the house and your life that night, but those few minutes will most likely end my time on this earth five years earlier than I was set to go before.

Merry Christmas and watch out for those invisible gremlin creatures.  They’ll get ya…

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Post-Halloween Monday: Christmas for Creepers   5 comments


In the movie Mean Girls, or as some know it “the approach to the board before Lindsay Lohan’s dive into the deep end of drugs and dating girls that look more like guys than I do”, Lohan’s character describes Halloween as “the one night a year where girls can dress like a total slut and no other girls say anything about it.” In reality, yes, Halloween is very much that type of night. A day before or a day after, including walks of shame the next morning, if a girl were to be seen walking down the street dressed like J-Woww from “Jersey Shore” she would be referred to by her fellow females as a hooker. However, on Halloween night, their friends and complete strangers are there to say “your boobs look awesome with only that piece of duct tape covering them up” or “Gaga would seriously be jealous of how your ass looks in those tights and thong right now.”

The one point Lohan misses, however, is that GUYS will talk plenty about girls and what they are wearing. To clarify, I do mean ALL GUYS, including the ones that don’t see you in person on Halloween night but that you are friends with on Facebook because you went to the same summer camp twelve years ago and they managed to find you on the site. With the rise of popularity of social networks, the Monday after Halloween has become something of a Christmas Day for creeps checking out girls on Facebook. Sidenote – for those who have seen St. Elmo’s Fire, could you imagine what Kirby (Emilio Estavez) would have been capable of if he had Facebook at his fingertips?

As girls come to out of hangover induced comas and blurs, they post their pictures of themselves and friends dressed as “sexy” versions of just about every late 80’s to mid 90’s female cartoon character or generic occupation/feline animal (construction worker, cop, tiger, lion, housecat, black cat, etc). With each picture post, there are guys chomping at the bit to get a glimpse of the girl they went to elementary school with and somehow managed to find and friend donning a Strawberry Shortcake outfit – tied together by a pair of bright green fishnets – on Facebook. I unfortunately witnessed this for myself yesterday while in the computer lab at school. There is nothing like sitting down to print out an article while the guy next to you sings, “Hey there little red riding hood, you sure are lookin’ good…” while checking out a girl dressed as something that involved a red hooded cape and black underwear. The moment that really sealed the deal on my future daughters not leaving the house on Halloween from years twelve through forty dressed as anything other than real-life nuns was when two guys that resembled Bulk and Skull (pictured above) from the Mighty Morphing Power Rangers show three computers down traded comments about how lucky a couple of gals were that the two of them “weren’t at the party to make Gaga gag” and “give Minnie what Mickey can’t” (although that one did actually made me laugh).

I am in no way advocating a change to Halloween traditions and costumes. By all means, continue to dress up the way you have and let yourself go crazy one night a year as you have probably earned it. Actually, while you’re out there, introduce yourselves to my single friends (you’re welcome, guys). Just be aware of and stop “friending” guys you haven’t talked to in years or don’t even know because they are probably in a dark corner of their mom’s basement looking at a picture of you as Tinkerbell from two years ago.