Two months ago, I was watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer with my dad before I went to the movies. It was “The Body,” the episode in which Buffy comes home to find her mom dead on the couch. The episode had always been one that brought tears to Dad’s eyes and whenever we caught it, we would watch in silence. Mom would always ruin it with commentary about how many times we must have seen it and each time, including this time, we would shush her because she didn’t understand the brilliance and realism of the episode.
Dad started watching Buffy with me during the second season. It was just the right mixture of horror, thriller, drama, violence and comedy. He eventually became even more obsessed with it than I did, even going as far as to Google certain producers because he saw their names attached to other things and wanted to make sure that it was the same producers. If you knew my dad, Googling something was a bit of an adventure, since typing a name might take an hour. He would recognize an actor who played a bit part in one episode and joke, “I have no life.” However, if anyone wanted to play “The Seven Degrees of Buffy,” he would slay any opponent.
There is one scene in this episode that always made our silence go from one of attention to one of genuine immersion and relation. The Scooby Gang is getting ready to head to the morgue. Willow keeps changing outfits, trying to figure out the most appropriate, panicking about what to wear. Tara, always the comforting and loving one, doing everything she can to help Willow. Xander is angry and trying to find anyone to exact some revenge upon, whether it’s a supernatural force or a wall. Anya, a 1,000 year old demon who has never had to deal with death on a personal level, is just trying to understand. By the end of the scene, they all calm down and realize their job is to get to the morgue and be there for Buffy. Dad always loved this scene and I always knew it had a lot to do with the different ways everyone deals with death. But, I also knew that someone, if not all of them, reminded him of himself when his parents passed away. I could relate to it somewhat, because I had lost my grandparents, whom I loved very much, but it wasn’t until later that night I truly lived it and understood why it resonated so much with him.
Because, suddenly in the middle of a movie, I got a call that my dad, the most important person in my life and the only person who could sing along with me to every song from “Once More with Feeling,” was dead.
That night and ever since then, the following speech has been stuck in my head. Joss Whedon, I just have to say thank you writing my response for every person who wonders how I’m doing.
"I don't understand! I don't understand how this all happens. How we go through this. I mean, I knew her, and then she's... there's just a body, and I don't understand why she just can't get back in it and not be dead anymore. It's stupid. It's mortal and stupid. And Xander's crying and not talking. And I was having fruit punch, and I thought, well, Joyce will never have any more fruit punch, ever. And she'll never have eggs or yawn or brush her hair. Not ever. And no one will explain to me why."
Unfortunately, the world does not stop when something like this happens, as evidenced by my continuing to write and update this blog. I will not stop going to work, stop hanging out with my friends. I will attend the 3 weddings I am invited to this year and I will celebrate happily. I will take Meg out for her 21st birthday and make sure she has one to remember. (Or possibly not. It is her 21st afterall!) I will pay my bills and drive my car and read books and I will continue living. I will, however, never understand and I will never stop missing him. On the other hand, I will always do everything knowing that Dad is with me, especially when I am singing along to “Rest in Peace.”
And if you don’t get that last reference, look it up. You’ll like it.
Showing posts with label Winter Wonderland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Winter Wonderland. Show all posts
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Your Booty Call Should Take Place in Private
Everyday I am amazed at how private conversations are taking place in public. Here is what happened when I was leaving work yesterday.
There is a fire lane right outside of my Starbucks, where people park all the time. I understand the need to run in and grab coffee, but if you’re in that big of a hurry, you should probably just go to your destination and wait on the coffee. Or, if you’re just that lazy, you should probably just re-examine your life in general. Anyway, not the point…
So I was leaving yesterday and there was a guy parked in his car in the fire lane, facing away from the patio where several people were sitting. He had his window down, and was having a conversation about how this woman he is seeing is treating him like a “booty call” and he was tired of it. In the 3 minutes I stood there to listen to his conversation, he used “booty call” at least 5 times, and each time I wanted to tell him that she probably just didn’t want to have a relationship with a man in his 40s who uses the phrase “booty call.” He also described how even though he enjoyed having a “booty call” every now and then, he really liked this woman and he wished she wanted more. He also didn’t want to seem too insecure by saying anything to her about feeling like nothing more than a “booty call” and thought she might stop talking to him if he said anything. I’m going to assume that when he got quiet, the person he was talking to on the other line was giving her advice on the situation. Hopefully, that person was telling him that he was too old for this and to grow up. But possibly not.
I walked away laughing as pointedly as I could to ensure he knew I was listening to his conversation.
Now, before you get all “well you shouldn’t be eavesdropping and why are you being so judgmental,” I beg to you hear me out. First of all, this man was parked illegally and in my way. Anyone who is going to block the walkway on my way out of work is already subject to ridicule. Second, he had his window down and was making no attempt to be quiet about what he was saying. I talk loudly so I know how it feels to sometimes be louder than intended, but if I’m having a conversation about being a booty call, I’m going to be a little more conscious of my volume. Lastly, DON’T HAVE THE CONVERSATION WITH YOUR WINDOWS DOWN UNLESS YOU WANT PEOPLE TO OVERHEAR YOU. If you want people to overhear you, then you had better be ready for judgment and mocking.
So, let this be a warning to everyone, if you are going to have a conversation in any public place, I will mock you in my blog. Unless I’m feeling particularly ballsy and mock you to your face when you hang up.
(On a side note…as I was writing this Wilmer Valderrama walked in and was talking on one cell phone, had one in his hand and another on a holster on his hip. I don’t know why he needs to many phones, but at least he was only having a conversation about when his friend was going to get there…Now that’s the kind of conversation appropriate for public places! Way to go, Fez)
There is a fire lane right outside of my Starbucks, where people park all the time. I understand the need to run in and grab coffee, but if you’re in that big of a hurry, you should probably just go to your destination and wait on the coffee. Or, if you’re just that lazy, you should probably just re-examine your life in general. Anyway, not the point…
So I was leaving yesterday and there was a guy parked in his car in the fire lane, facing away from the patio where several people were sitting. He had his window down, and was having a conversation about how this woman he is seeing is treating him like a “booty call” and he was tired of it. In the 3 minutes I stood there to listen to his conversation, he used “booty call” at least 5 times, and each time I wanted to tell him that she probably just didn’t want to have a relationship with a man in his 40s who uses the phrase “booty call.” He also described how even though he enjoyed having a “booty call” every now and then, he really liked this woman and he wished she wanted more. He also didn’t want to seem too insecure by saying anything to her about feeling like nothing more than a “booty call” and thought she might stop talking to him if he said anything. I’m going to assume that when he got quiet, the person he was talking to on the other line was giving her advice on the situation. Hopefully, that person was telling him that he was too old for this and to grow up. But possibly not.
I walked away laughing as pointedly as I could to ensure he knew I was listening to his conversation.
Now, before you get all “well you shouldn’t be eavesdropping and why are you being so judgmental,” I beg to you hear me out. First of all, this man was parked illegally and in my way. Anyone who is going to block the walkway on my way out of work is already subject to ridicule. Second, he had his window down and was making no attempt to be quiet about what he was saying. I talk loudly so I know how it feels to sometimes be louder than intended, but if I’m having a conversation about being a booty call, I’m going to be a little more conscious of my volume. Lastly, DON’T HAVE THE CONVERSATION WITH YOUR WINDOWS DOWN UNLESS YOU WANT PEOPLE TO OVERHEAR YOU. If you want people to overhear you, then you had better be ready for judgment and mocking.
So, let this be a warning to everyone, if you are going to have a conversation in any public place, I will mock you in my blog. Unless I’m feeling particularly ballsy and mock you to your face when you hang up.
(On a side note…as I was writing this Wilmer Valderrama walked in and was talking on one cell phone, had one in his hand and another on a holster on his hip. I don’t know why he needs to many phones, but at least he was only having a conversation about when his friend was going to get there…Now that’s the kind of conversation appropriate for public places! Way to go, Fez)
Friday, January 21, 2011
I Officially Hate Christmas, Part 3: Taking it All Down
10 Reasons Putting Away the Christmas Decorations was Worse than Putting Them Up:
10.) Broken ornaments made Mom cry, even when it was only a few of the cheap, colored bulbs.
9.) Laughing hysterically at the fact that she was crying over broken colored bulbs and how funny “colored bulbs” are only made things worse.
8.) Climbing up on the old, unsafe ladder was not a good idea in the first place, but became an even worse one because it had been raining and the ground was not solid. Therefore, it sank about 3 inches with each climb, in addition to wobbling like a weeble.
7.) I don’t know how one of the strings of lights became wedged between two roof shingles, but getting it out of there was like an extreme sport. Yanking the damn lights off while on the old, unsafe ladder, was indeed, unsafe.
6.) While on the old, unsafe ladder, there was a preying mantis on the window screen, daring me to make a move so it could attack. I jumped off the ladder, missing the last 4 rungs. It can have the house...and some of my dignity.
5.) Nothing fit into the box it originally came out of, even with a significant amount of brute strength.
4.) Even though no new Christmas stuff was purchased, there seemed to be twice as many boxes as when I brought them down.
3.) Dragging the tree outside and then taking off the $11 stand was more work than putting the damn thing up.
2.) Tied to the roof on the way to the park for recycling, I prayed: “If the tree falls off, please let it be somewhere that will not hurt anyone and where there is no one around so I can just drive away.”
1.) After putting everything away, cleaning up, and getting dusty, sweaty and gross, but feeling overall accomplished for a job well done, I realized that the $11 Christmas tree stand was still on the front porch. I threw in the garage and hope it’s still there next year when someone else puts up the fucking decorations. I’m done.
10.) Broken ornaments made Mom cry, even when it was only a few of the cheap, colored bulbs.
9.) Laughing hysterically at the fact that she was crying over broken colored bulbs and how funny “colored bulbs” are only made things worse.
8.) Climbing up on the old, unsafe ladder was not a good idea in the first place, but became an even worse one because it had been raining and the ground was not solid. Therefore, it sank about 3 inches with each climb, in addition to wobbling like a weeble.
7.) I don’t know how one of the strings of lights became wedged between two roof shingles, but getting it out of there was like an extreme sport. Yanking the damn lights off while on the old, unsafe ladder, was indeed, unsafe.
6.) While on the old, unsafe ladder, there was a preying mantis on the window screen, daring me to make a move so it could attack. I jumped off the ladder, missing the last 4 rungs. It can have the house...and some of my dignity.
5.) Nothing fit into the box it originally came out of, even with a significant amount of brute strength.
4.) Even though no new Christmas stuff was purchased, there seemed to be twice as many boxes as when I brought them down.
3.) Dragging the tree outside and then taking off the $11 stand was more work than putting the damn thing up.
2.) Tied to the roof on the way to the park for recycling, I prayed: “If the tree falls off, please let it be somewhere that will not hurt anyone and where there is no one around so I can just drive away.”
1.) After putting everything away, cleaning up, and getting dusty, sweaty and gross, but feeling overall accomplished for a job well done, I realized that the $11 Christmas tree stand was still on the front porch. I threw in the garage and hope it’s still there next year when someone else puts up the fucking decorations. I’m done.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
OMG! It's SOOOOOOOO Cold...at Least According to my Clothing Choices...
I feel a rant coming on….
I frequently complain about LA because there are a lot of things wrong with this place, namely, the people. I will be sitting in a café and hear people talking rather loudly about rather private things and then they will look at me like I’m the crazy one when I’m staring at the girl with the “strange itch.” I will be at work and have guys coming straight from the gym ordering a nonfat, 110 degree white mocha with extra whip. I won’t even get started on all the aspiring filmmakers and actors who tell me about all their projects like I actually care. Yes, it’s fantastic the you are working on the most amazing film ever and it is going to change your life, but when you tell me about it 5 seconds after I meet you, I officially want to smack you. (And would if LA weren’t all about lawsuits.)
However, the one thing that I can never understand is why people in LA insist on dressing like it’s snowing outside when it’s 51 degrees. Yes, that is kind of cold, however from what I have witnessed sitting in a café for 10 minutes and watching people walk in the door, you would think LA was the one having a blizzard right now.
(*Note to self: get stealthier with the camera phone so some of these descriptions can come with photographic evidence)
A mom with her baby strapped to her front. The baby has his head uncovered and appears to be wearing a light sweatshirt. The mom (or nanny or whatever) is wearing a beanie, a North Face jacket, Uggs with wool socks sticking out of the top and GLOVES. Her baby is barely covered and yet she looks like she’s ready to go for that 10 mile hike in the snow uphill our parents always told us. Hey lady, how about you take off a few of your layers and put them on your baby. Then maybe he (or she...I really can never tell) won’t be in therapy in 20 years talking about how his mom never cared enough to keep him warm.
A hipster-ish looking guy comes in with, again, GLOVES on. In addition, he is also wearing a scarf and hat and looks reminiscent of Where’s Waldo. His jacket is leather and has a sweatshirt underneath with the hood hanging out. Now, I’m not a guy, but from what I’ve heard, the bottom half is the one you want to make sure is warm. Although, perhaps the snugness of his skinny jeans keeps his family jewels nice and cozy.
A man in a suit walks in. With a scarf. And an overcoat. And GLOVES. Again, it is not freezing. You are not going to get frostbite. What’s with all the damn gloves? And an overcoat? Seriously? He looks like Mr. Big in the last episode of Sex and the City when he is standing on the bridge in Paris with Carrie, only this guy’s coat is heavier. But I shouldn’t judge, maybe the AC in his office building is broken and therefore he needs all the extra layers of clothing in order to keep warm while doing whatever if it is that he does to be able to afford such a lovely coat.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s me. I do tend to get really hot really quickly and I do tend to be a tad judgmental. However, this is the city where girls wear short skirts and tank tops with Uggs, so I think it’s just LA.
I frequently complain about LA because there are a lot of things wrong with this place, namely, the people. I will be sitting in a café and hear people talking rather loudly about rather private things and then they will look at me like I’m the crazy one when I’m staring at the girl with the “strange itch.” I will be at work and have guys coming straight from the gym ordering a nonfat, 110 degree white mocha with extra whip. I won’t even get started on all the aspiring filmmakers and actors who tell me about all their projects like I actually care. Yes, it’s fantastic the you are working on the most amazing film ever and it is going to change your life, but when you tell me about it 5 seconds after I meet you, I officially want to smack you. (And would if LA weren’t all about lawsuits.)
However, the one thing that I can never understand is why people in LA insist on dressing like it’s snowing outside when it’s 51 degrees. Yes, that is kind of cold, however from what I have witnessed sitting in a café for 10 minutes and watching people walk in the door, you would think LA was the one having a blizzard right now.
(*Note to self: get stealthier with the camera phone so some of these descriptions can come with photographic evidence)
A mom with her baby strapped to her front. The baby has his head uncovered and appears to be wearing a light sweatshirt. The mom (or nanny or whatever) is wearing a beanie, a North Face jacket, Uggs with wool socks sticking out of the top and GLOVES. Her baby is barely covered and yet she looks like she’s ready to go for that 10 mile hike in the snow uphill our parents always told us. Hey lady, how about you take off a few of your layers and put them on your baby. Then maybe he (or she...I really can never tell) won’t be in therapy in 20 years talking about how his mom never cared enough to keep him warm.
A hipster-ish looking guy comes in with, again, GLOVES on. In addition, he is also wearing a scarf and hat and looks reminiscent of Where’s Waldo. His jacket is leather and has a sweatshirt underneath with the hood hanging out. Now, I’m not a guy, but from what I’ve heard, the bottom half is the one you want to make sure is warm. Although, perhaps the snugness of his skinny jeans keeps his family jewels nice and cozy.
A man in a suit walks in. With a scarf. And an overcoat. And GLOVES. Again, it is not freezing. You are not going to get frostbite. What’s with all the damn gloves? And an overcoat? Seriously? He looks like Mr. Big in the last episode of Sex and the City when he is standing on the bridge in Paris with Carrie, only this guy’s coat is heavier. But I shouldn’t judge, maybe the AC in his office building is broken and therefore he needs all the extra layers of clothing in order to keep warm while doing whatever if it is that he does to be able to afford such a lovely coat.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s me. I do tend to get really hot really quickly and I do tend to be a tad judgmental. However, this is the city where girls wear short skirts and tank tops with Uggs, so I think it’s just LA.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
I Officially Hate Christmas, Part 2: The Stupid Tree
Oh Christmas tree…how I hate thee.
We got a tree from ABC because they give them out to the employees and, since my dad passed away, they saved one for my mom. One of my dad’s coworkers said it should be pretty easy to put up, all I had to do was saw a bit off the end and then just put the stand on and, boom, Christmas tree is up. Sounds easy enough.
I should have known better. Especially after the debacle with the damn lights.
First of all, the tree itself is about 8 feet tall, therefore very heavy and annoying. Trying to take it out of the bucket we had put it in was a total comedy. Then trying to saw off the end…well let’s just say I would have been at it all day if my friend Josh hadn’t come over. See, my dad doesn’t have a wood saw, only ones for metal, so Josh decided the easiest thing to do would be to take an axe to the end of the tree and then use a saw to just even it out. Imagine a black Brawny paper towel guy going after the end of a tied up Christmas tree and you have the image of my front lawn that morning. Possibly not the best way to get it done, but hey, it was faster than the alternative.
With the tree now evened out on the bottom and Josh successfully sweaty and feeling manly, we pull out the tree strand. That is metal. And has no instructions. And has pieces missing. And doesn’t actually fit together anymore because it’s from 1960 (or possibly older). And apparently is no longer legal because it is a fire hazard.
After about an hour and a lot of frustration, we gave up and Josh went home. I tried Chad to see if he knew how the hell to get this thing working, but, after realizing that my dad probably just nailed the Christmas tree to the stand itself, Chad told me to just buy a new stand.
You would think that a week before Christmas, tree stands would be pretty much everywhere. But if you think that, then you would be completely wrong. (Insert annoying game show buzzer noise here.)
I went to Target, where I was informed that they had sold out but would I be interested in a lovely fake tree instead? Let’s see: would I like to spend an exorbitant amount of money on a fake tree when I have a perfectly fine, real tree at home that I didn’t pay for? I think you know the answer, red shirt and khaki pant wearing jerkface.
At both Lowe’s and Home Depot it was the same story, only at those places I was merely laughed at because who the hell tries to buy a tree stand a week before Christmas? Oh yeah, the girl who just lost her dad and is now trying to make her mom feel better by putting up all the damn decorations. Keep laughing, smock-holes.
A Christmas tree lot was next on my list and guess what? They had stands! Only, the stands they had required a hole to be drilled into the bottom of the tree and I need a special bit and I should just bring the tree in and they will happily put the stand on for me. So now, instead of just putting a stand on a tree, I have to strap a Christmas tree to my car, drive it to the lot, and then strap it to the car again and drive it home? No thanks.
At this point, I’m beyond frustrated, I’m crying like a little kid who has just learned that there is no Santa, and I’m ready to just give up on the whole thing. I still had some Christmas cards to buy, so I decided to go to CVS, buy some cards, then go home and take out my frustration by doing what my dad did and just nailing the stupid tree to the stupid stand.
One of my other friends, Andrew, said that CVS might have some and, turns out, they had stands! And, since I’m an idiot and waited until the week before Christmas, it was only $11!!! Woo hoo!! Go me!!!
After that, getting the tree up was fairly easy. It is probably one of the nicest tress we have ever gotten from ABC, with no holes or missing branches. It may be a little crooked because when I was bringing it in the house, I may or may not have knocked the stand on the door frame and been too lazy to try to straighten it out, but at least it’s up and I even put the lights on it with no additional drama.
However, I refuse to do any more decorating, such as putting up wreaths or putting ornaments on the tree. The only dealings I would like to have with any of these things again is when I take them down and get to shove them back up in the attic until next year, when I can pay someone else to deal with them.
We got a tree from ABC because they give them out to the employees and, since my dad passed away, they saved one for my mom. One of my dad’s coworkers said it should be pretty easy to put up, all I had to do was saw a bit off the end and then just put the stand on and, boom, Christmas tree is up. Sounds easy enough.
I should have known better. Especially after the debacle with the damn lights.
First of all, the tree itself is about 8 feet tall, therefore very heavy and annoying. Trying to take it out of the bucket we had put it in was a total comedy. Then trying to saw off the end…well let’s just say I would have been at it all day if my friend Josh hadn’t come over. See, my dad doesn’t have a wood saw, only ones for metal, so Josh decided the easiest thing to do would be to take an axe to the end of the tree and then use a saw to just even it out. Imagine a black Brawny paper towel guy going after the end of a tied up Christmas tree and you have the image of my front lawn that morning. Possibly not the best way to get it done, but hey, it was faster than the alternative.
With the tree now evened out on the bottom and Josh successfully sweaty and feeling manly, we pull out the tree strand. That is metal. And has no instructions. And has pieces missing. And doesn’t actually fit together anymore because it’s from 1960 (or possibly older). And apparently is no longer legal because it is a fire hazard.
After about an hour and a lot of frustration, we gave up and Josh went home. I tried Chad to see if he knew how the hell to get this thing working, but, after realizing that my dad probably just nailed the Christmas tree to the stand itself, Chad told me to just buy a new stand.
You would think that a week before Christmas, tree stands would be pretty much everywhere. But if you think that, then you would be completely wrong. (Insert annoying game show buzzer noise here.)
I went to Target, where I was informed that they had sold out but would I be interested in a lovely fake tree instead? Let’s see: would I like to spend an exorbitant amount of money on a fake tree when I have a perfectly fine, real tree at home that I didn’t pay for? I think you know the answer, red shirt and khaki pant wearing jerkface.
At both Lowe’s and Home Depot it was the same story, only at those places I was merely laughed at because who the hell tries to buy a tree stand a week before Christmas? Oh yeah, the girl who just lost her dad and is now trying to make her mom feel better by putting up all the damn decorations. Keep laughing, smock-holes.
A Christmas tree lot was next on my list and guess what? They had stands! Only, the stands they had required a hole to be drilled into the bottom of the tree and I need a special bit and I should just bring the tree in and they will happily put the stand on for me. So now, instead of just putting a stand on a tree, I have to strap a Christmas tree to my car, drive it to the lot, and then strap it to the car again and drive it home? No thanks.
At this point, I’m beyond frustrated, I’m crying like a little kid who has just learned that there is no Santa, and I’m ready to just give up on the whole thing. I still had some Christmas cards to buy, so I decided to go to CVS, buy some cards, then go home and take out my frustration by doing what my dad did and just nailing the stupid tree to the stupid stand.
One of my other friends, Andrew, said that CVS might have some and, turns out, they had stands! And, since I’m an idiot and waited until the week before Christmas, it was only $11!!! Woo hoo!! Go me!!!
After that, getting the tree up was fairly easy. It is probably one of the nicest tress we have ever gotten from ABC, with no holes or missing branches. It may be a little crooked because when I was bringing it in the house, I may or may not have knocked the stand on the door frame and been too lazy to try to straighten it out, but at least it’s up and I even put the lights on it with no additional drama.
However, I refuse to do any more decorating, such as putting up wreaths or putting ornaments on the tree. The only dealings I would like to have with any of these things again is when I take them down and get to shove them back up in the attic until next year, when I can pay someone else to deal with them.
Monday, December 20, 2010
I Officially Hate Christmas, Part One: LIGHTS
Note to self:
Hanging Christmas lights on the house sucks and you should never do it again. Here’s why:
~You will get covered in dust and dirt while bringing the boxes down from the attic. Said dust and dirt will make your contacts dry and irritating for the rest of day, thus making you dry and irritated for the rest of the day.
~You will take 10 minutes to figure out which lights should be used (traditional big bulbs, white icicle lights, colored icicle lights, or go all out and use all of them) and then spend the next 45 getting them all untangled from each other.
~You will waste 15 minutes fiddling with the ladder because it is old and probably not safe to climb on.
~You will get cut by rose bushes while climbing on the old, unsafe ladder and have dried blood on your leg for the rest of the day.
~You will almost fall more than once from the old, unsafe ladder because it is, indeed, old and unsafe.
~You will keep using the old, unsafe ladder because you are too lazy and cheap to go buy a new, safe one.
~You will realize, after all the lights have been strung, that you have no way to plug them in because you did not think about making sure you are able to plug them in before you starting putting them on the house.
~You will then have to climb back on the old, unsafe ladder, get cut by many more rose bushes, and nearly fall many more times in order to get the lights in the correct order to plug in.
~You will finally get them plugged in and walk away.
~Mom will come home, look at them and yell at you for getting on a ladder when no one else is home because you could have fallen and gotten hurt.
~You will argue back that you could have fallen and gotten hurt with her home and she wouldn’t have been able to do anything anyway, so it doesn’t matter.
~She will then look at the lights and say, “That’s not how your dad used to do them.”
~You will then slam a door and tell her she can do them herself next year.
~She will eventually say thank you.
~Finally, that night, when you turn on the lights, you will see that there is a foot long section that does not work. When you are retelling this story, everyone will ask you in disbelief, “You didn’t test them before you starting putting them up?” To which, after this year, you may no longer reply, “I’ve never done it before and I didn’t know you needed to test them before you put them up!”
Hanging Christmas lights on the house sucks and you should never do it again. Here’s why:
~You will get covered in dust and dirt while bringing the boxes down from the attic. Said dust and dirt will make your contacts dry and irritating for the rest of day, thus making you dry and irritated for the rest of the day.
~You will take 10 minutes to figure out which lights should be used (traditional big bulbs, white icicle lights, colored icicle lights, or go all out and use all of them) and then spend the next 45 getting them all untangled from each other.
~You will waste 15 minutes fiddling with the ladder because it is old and probably not safe to climb on.
~You will get cut by rose bushes while climbing on the old, unsafe ladder and have dried blood on your leg for the rest of the day.
~You will almost fall more than once from the old, unsafe ladder because it is, indeed, old and unsafe.
~You will keep using the old, unsafe ladder because you are too lazy and cheap to go buy a new, safe one.
~You will realize, after all the lights have been strung, that you have no way to plug them in because you did not think about making sure you are able to plug them in before you starting putting them on the house.
~You will then have to climb back on the old, unsafe ladder, get cut by many more rose bushes, and nearly fall many more times in order to get the lights in the correct order to plug in.
~You will finally get them plugged in and walk away.
~Mom will come home, look at them and yell at you for getting on a ladder when no one else is home because you could have fallen and gotten hurt.
~You will argue back that you could have fallen and gotten hurt with her home and she wouldn’t have been able to do anything anyway, so it doesn’t matter.
~She will then look at the lights and say, “That’s not how your dad used to do them.”
~You will then slam a door and tell her she can do them herself next year.
~She will eventually say thank you.
~Finally, that night, when you turn on the lights, you will see that there is a foot long section that does not work. When you are retelling this story, everyone will ask you in disbelief, “You didn’t test them before you starting putting them up?” To which, after this year, you may no longer reply, “I’ve never done it before and I didn’t know you needed to test them before you put them up!”
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