Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery






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Tuesday, December 21, 2004


It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I don't, strictly speaking, have the time to be writing tonight. A more dedicated, driven man would be continuing his tireless efforts to get done what needed to get done instead of sitting at a keyboard, pecking out funnies about politicians and rectums. But I needed to get out of our hot, hot kitchen for awhile. I suppose I could have done this by cleaning the bathroom, but I wasn't feeling it, y'know?

My family is coming to town. They're spending Christmas away from home for the first, I think. My grandmother passed away last February (my last remaining grandparent) and so her children have broken the celebration into little yuletide fiefdoms, forming smaller groups of their own. It's enough to make one feel old. Anyway, my folks decided to come to New York this year, to spend the holidays in the land of burnt street pretzels and subway rats. I kid.

New York is, as I've written before, a fantastic place to be during the Christmas season and I'm very excited to show my family around. The problem this presents me is that I just finished my last grad class last night and so am only now getting around to cleaning. Additionally, I'm making a big ol' meal for Christmas Eve dinner and preparing Christmas breakfast as well, which means I'm spending all my free time this week doing prep work.

I spent tonight peeling pearl onions. They're these little, tiny things. They make you cry eensy weensy tears. And I'm nowhere near finished. I hear our toilet calling me even now. "Scrub me! Scrub me! Rid my base of the unmentionable filth that you've let go for months because nobody ever stops by to call you on what a slob you are!"

It's really enough to make me want to call in sick to work. Because I need more reasons to not want to be there. I'm completely sure my students wouldn't mind an extra day off from Mr. Shouty, the grumpiest theater teacher around. Seriously, I think I'm going to drop some ecstasy before I go in tomorrow. That way, when all of 'em refuse to take their seats for the first ten minutes of class, I'll want to hug them instead of wanting to drop kick them.

All right. Back to the kitchen. Or the bathroom. Or wherever the hell I wind up. "It's the most wonderful time of the year!"

Dude, I believe your bathroom does get clean because a mysterious person whom you LIVE with cleans it.
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