My Holiday.
-Christmas Eve:
This turned out to be the most normal evening of the weekend. I met Angela at her work, before heading down to her mothers house. We stopped, and luckily, this little hot dog joint that we enjoy was open. Because clearly, nothing goes better with holiday cheer, then a medley of ground up animal parts. So we go to this hot dog place, and this older gentleman begins to tell us something. After we walked out of the place, my mind spent a good half hour deciphering the older gentleman’s days worth of thoughts that he so loosely dropped into a 10 minute window. From what I understood, and pieced together, I think his story was a good combination of his medical history, job history, and someone’s knowledge of his existence. Here’s a wrap up:
I worked here for 22 years.
Doctors.
Hot dogs.
I’ve had 16 surgeries in X years. (couldn’t piece that one together)
Someone came in and asked where I was.
Babble babble, hot dogs.
Babble 22 years, hot dogs.
After that amazingly insightful interaction, we blew out of Providence and headed down to good ol’ Connecticut, where Angela’s mother, stepfather were awaiting our arrival. We arrive and sit down to a nice traditional Chinese food Christmas eve dinner. (I was not aware of this dinner until post-hot dogs) So in order to appease her family, I picked on the Chinese food a little. But was immediately barraged with “Why aren’t you eating?” questions, which happens to any fat guy looking to salvage a piece of dignity by not eating like this is his first time indoors. After picking at the Chinese food enough, Angela’s mom puts it away. Now comes my favorite part of the night, uncomfortable silence followed up by an offering of alcohol. This time Ron (Angela’s step dad) asked me what my favorite type of liquor is. Lately, I’ve been on a Scotch binge, so once I let Ron know of my growing affection towards scotch, his face lights up as if I had just told him that I’m carrying his child. (Ok, probably not if I were carrying his child, but he got excited) Ron runs to the cabinet, and pulls out a fancy green bottle. He then asks me if I’ve ever had “Chivas” (he pronounced it Ch-ihv-as” and I say “No.” Well, before I got done listing the limited amount of scotches I had tasted, he had a glass poured for me. Then he says “Try this, it’s $149 bottle of Chivas”. I tried it, and smiled, because it was delicious. But as I look at the bottle I realize, this is the alcohol that drove my friend Ryan and I to create a drinking toast out of. “Chivas Regal!” (We pronounced it “Ch-eev-as Regg-al”) I laughed inside, because, just like you reading this, Angela’s family wouldn’t have understood the humor.
Shortly after that Ron felt that we established a bond, and offered to show me his gun collection. I figure “Hell, what’s more Christmassy than a collection of killing machines! Bring me to them!” So we go to the basement where he unveils his collection. Some big, some small, all equally lethal. Or so I thought! He showed me how he makes his own bullets, and then pulled out a gun that I believe is an anti-aircraft gun. Turns out, it’s not. Then he let me hold the gun, and I immediately realized what I can do to relieve stress…so there I was jackin it into his gun cabinet. I don’t know what came over me, apparently, I really like guns. After I finish, and he gives me a standing ovation, we go back upstairs. The rest of that night can be summed up realllly quickly:
James came home
Smoke, smoke, smoke
Video games
Sleep
Christmas Day -
I wake up early. Is it because I’m really excited about Christmas?! Nope. It’s because of a lesson I learned that night.
Fat Guy + Satin Sheets/Pillow Covers + Extremely warm climate + No box spring (Just springs which allowed me to sleep in a U position)= UNCOMFORTABLE
After I wake up, I make myself presentable so I can go home. Why am I going home? Because Angela’s sister was going to bring over her boyfriend…manfriend…..grand-pa-friend. (Andrea 21 - Old Perv 41) Turned out Angela’s family didn’t want anyone saying anything mean to him…so I hop in the Jeep, and make plans to meet up with Angela after she does her thing with her family. I’m driving home on Route 6, which is wide open. Nobody’s on the road but me and other family less heathens, when suddenly out of the corner of my eye, I see a doe! I named the Christmas Doe, Jesus C. Bigguns. I pulled off to the side of the road to take in all of it’s majesty, when it begins to make it’s way over to me. I light a cigarette, and wait patiently as it looks both ways before it crosses. Finally, it’s right in front of me, no more than a foot from my face. I immediately realize that this Christmas Doe is trying to steal my soul. So I wrestle it to the ground, and put it in the sharpshooter. Jesus C. Bigguns taps out, and I get up, victorious! I stand on the hood of my Jeep exclaiming my power to the gods, when the damn Doe hits me with a steel chair to the back. I fall down, off of the Jeep and to the pavement. I look up and there’s the Doe flying through the air trying to land the Macho Man flying elbow drop. I couldn’t do anything, I was frozen in fear. Then I thought “Wait…deer’s don’t even have elbows!” So I roll out of the way right on time, the Doe misses the elbow drop, I run and get in the Jeep, then ran that deer over! “Hit me with a steel chair will ya?!” I said as I ripped apart the Doe using only my teeth, like a Lion in the wild.
So now it’s about an hour later, and I’m just crossing the Massachusetts border. Drunk from the bottle of Vodka I’d been drinking on the way home to help me forget about the massive battle I just finished, I decide that I have to pull over to go to the bathroom. I going #1, but I have this sneaking suspicion that I’m being watched…so I drop my pants all the way, and begin running and peeing at the same time. Once I was done, I sprinted back to my Jeep, and drove off…sweating like a high school girl meeting a Fitzgerald brother for the first time. Yet still…I felt as if eyes were following me.
I finally arrive back at my house. My first reaction is “I gotta crap so bad!” so I do. There’s just something to be said about being in your own place, crapping in your own crapper. So after my morning constitutional, which I had to hold overnight due to the weak toilet they had at Angela’s mom. (It takes a certain kind of toilet to handle some of my morning constitutionals…and that certain kind…INDUSTRIAL!) I sit down, and finish wrapping the little gifts Angela and I got for my dads side of the family. During this time, I take a little me time. I turn on SportsCenter, and spark a bowl…ahh, Christmas spirit! Once I’m done filling my lungs with Christmas cheer, I head over to my pop’s place.
Going to my dad’s house, is a lot like checking in with a reasonably cool, funny probation officer. I’m still not 100% open with my dad about what I do in my spare time. Granted, it’s not like I’m gonna bring home a handsome fella and tell dad he’s in for ZERO grand children from me, but smoking the good stuff, drinking a bit, he kinda looks down at that stuff. So, I make sure to grab some gum, and bring my cologne. (Helllloooooo high school!) I go in, and there’s the quintessential appetizer selection of crackers, cheese and pepperoni, shrimp, cheese curls, and pretzel sticks. (Top of the Hub, take notes) I goof, but I kid. Sitting down on my dad’s couch makes me a bit timid. See, my dad and I are what you would call…genealogical super sizing. Meaning, I got his gigantor genes, and there ain’t nothin I can do about it. Of course, there’s a moderate amount of sexiness that comes with the genes, so it kinda works out. Not really, but kinda. Ok, not at all, but I deal. Regardless, this went painlessly, except of course that they didn’t get Angela anything. That sucks, because she helped me pay for their presents, and they were still mad at her because she couldn’t make their Thanksgiving celebration…a week before Thanksgiving. Who knows? My family will make up holidays, and if you don’t make it to their celebration, you’re dead to them, so this didn’t necessarily come as a surprise, but more of a disappointment. So back to the story. We finally got to the gift exchange part of the morning, which was great. I got some shirts, a hunting knife, pants, a framed picture of Bob Barker, a small bicycle with the training wheels, a midget, some shoes, a sickle, sickle cell, aids, the cure for aids, a ham, and some socks. It was fun, until dad started beating my step sister and step mother with the mediocre gifts they purchased for him. Which I joined in on, I mean, after all, it IS Christmas. After the beatings, I headed back to my house to refresh my holiday cheer.
On the way to my house, I received a call from my brother asking where I was. I said “I’mz on the moon bitch!” he hung up disappointed, assuming I couldn’t make it to my mom’s house from the moon in one day. I received a call about 2 minutes later telling me that I’m “a tricky one.” I told him I’d go home to get their gifts and be right over. After I hung the phone up with him, no more than 2 minutes later, my mom called and told me to get to the house, before “The gang” leaves. I hung up and I thought, “Shit, I better get my red clothes on so moms “bloods” friends don’t kill me.” So I called her back to ask her which of her gang friends are there. She says “Nooo, they already left. I mean, Kim’s family is here.” I said “That’s a pretty weak ass gang.” to which my mom replied “I’ll shoot you in the fuckin face if you ever say my gangs is weak, you hear me bitch?!” I said yes, and then she reminded me to bring over Eggnog. I get back to my house for some more Christmas cheer, and I get a call from Angela asking what I was up to, and telling me she’s on her way home. I then told her about my mom’s gang at the house. Angela says “That sounds like a weak ass gang” I said “I KNOW RIGHT!” Then I forewarned her about my mom’s dedication to this gang, and the whole shooting in the face bit. Angela got mad, and she screamed “I hate that gang! They’re bitches. I’ma F them in the A.” So at this point, I realize this Christmas is turning out just like last Christmas where we skip over Christmas turkey and have an all out gang war. So while I was at my house, I made a shank out of an old spoon from my kitchen. I ain’t goin out like no punk. Angela asked me to stay at the house, so when she got to my mom’s no-one could sneak up on her and shank her on the way in. I thought that was a smart move. (That’s why we’re in love really. I know no matter where I go, nobody’s gonna shank me. As long as Angela’s there.)
Angela shows up and we get our presents and shanks and go to my moms house. We show up and Angela see’s someone hiding behind the fence. She says “Hey, Merry Christmas bitch!” Then throws her shank at what appeared to be a fence…that was until a body dropped on the ground with a spoon stickin out of his head. Damn I love that girl. We go in, and it’s the normal rigmarole of giving hugs, pouring out 40’s and hittin the crack pipe once for Ol’ Bubba. Then my mom says “The gangs in the living room opening gifts.” So while my mom tried introducing me to the group of them, Angela sealed up all the windows and connected my exhaust pipe to the air conditioner hole, sealing it in. Soon as I left, I took my duct tape and sealed up that door, then Angela turned on the Jeep. A half hour later, Angela and I are swimming in gifts! Most of em weren’t even opened. That’s when Jesus C. Bigguns came strolling through the door.
I said “Bitch, I ate you!” Jesus opened his coat and showed me how she sewed the hole back up and told me how she replaced her liver with an empty pack of cigarettes I left behind. Amazed, I invited her to sit down for dinner, so for the night, we let bygones be bygones, and enjoyed Christmas together. Just Angela, Bobby, my mom, Eddie, Jesus C. Bigguns and myself. It was truly a glorious Christmas…of course I have no idea where that deer is.
…to be continued.
READY….
