Archive for the ‘Santa Claus’ 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…

Jealous? You will be…   2 comments


We are getting a new furnace put in this Friday because we used Mr. Magoo as our home inspector and he failed to notice the almost 40 year old furnace in the house was shot and spewing out chemicals like a freshman at his first frat party.  I find it weird I get excited about things like new home appliances now.  I remember as a kid I would look at toys and video games in Christmas catalogues and Sunday newspaper ads and get excited about how cool they looked and how much I wanted them.  I used to rummage through closets and drawers and even crawl around in our attic and crawlspace looking for presents each December.  I used to get so excited when I found the presents that I once opened a bunch of Power Ranger action figures and played with them anytime my parents would leave the house and then re-packed and resealed them in their boxes only to put on one of my best acting performances on Christmas morning. 

Now a heating contractor hands me a flyer with specs for my brand new Rheem 95% Efficiency Upflow Gas Furnace and I shoot right back into kid mode.  In-shot burners with a 24-volt slow-opening valve!?!?  Get outta here, I would totally trade my Shaq rookie card for that!  Integrated Furnace Control WITH Standardized On-Board Diagnostics!?!  I’m not sure, but I think the Millennium Falcon had one of those!

The thing is, I have to talk myself into things like this for a couple of reasons:  First, as an adult, the cool presents are just not as plentiful.  I really like to cook and all, but if I told my 9 year old self that I would one day get excited over a spice rack as a Christmas present I would have probably kicked myself in the nether regions and ran away crying.  Secondly, I have to figure out a way to justify spending that much money on something as unfun as a furnace.  “What are you doing this Saturday night, Joe?”  “Oh, its going to be awesome, I am staying in and saving up for my direct spark ignition furnance!”  That just doesn’t sound quite like going to Sluggers’ piano bar and batting cages, does it?  Finally, I can blame my sleepless nights on the pure excitement of a freshly cleaned air conditioning coil getting thrown in for free instead of my wife waking me up just to let me know the temperature in our house just dipped below 45.

So if anyone is looking for an exhilarating experience, give me a call this Friday night and I will gladly let you come out and tell me how jealous you are of my brand new furnace.  If I get a solid enough head count, I will even make a zesty dinner filled with some, but not all of, the 36 spices neatly organized on the metal and wood rack over my oven.