Christmas Meme

Blame Bev.

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?
Depends. Single gifts get wrapped. Multiple gifts get wrapped AND bagged.

2. Real tree or artificial?
Okay, now starts the rant on indoor safety. GET THAT FIREHAZARD OUT OF HERE. Artificial.

3. When do you put up the tree?
Put it up? Didn’t I do my part by merely buying it? Now you want me to put it up? The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

4. When do you take the tree down?
If it’s in the box the day before, it’ll still be in the box the day after – n’est pas?

5. Do you like eggnog?
Darn tootin’! Unfortunately, booze is out, and so is cholesterol. Bye, bye egg-nog.

6. Favorite gift received as a child?
Erector sets. I loved ‘em.

7. Hardest person to buy for?
My ex was the hardest person to shop for. Actually, anyone who is passive-aggressive and won’t come right out and tell you what they want. I HATE people like that. I theorize that the only reason people really have for not telling you what they want is so they can blame you later for the crappy gifts you give 'em.

8. Easiest person to buy for?
Me. Ask me what I want and I’ll fax or e-mail you a list to choose from. Better still, just check my name on Amazon.com. I have a wish list there at all times.

9. Do you have a nativity scene?
Nah. While I love the message Jesus delivered, I believe it’s a crime that we deified him.

10. Mail or e-mail Christmas cards?
Christmas cards. Nothing says lovin like a card. I try to pick cards with a message that conveys how I’m feeling that year. This year’s card was a sort of Zen message about “being that which the world is missing.” It made sense when I bought them.

12. Favorite Christmas movie?
A Christmas Carol – the 1951 English version with Alistair Sim.

13. When do you start shopping?
Right after Thanksgiving.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
Yes. Booze. Booze gifts get re-gifted.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?
Turkey, stuffing and pumpkin pie.

16. Lights on the tree?
The tree is pre-lighted. Thankyewverymuch.

17. Favorite Christmas song?
“Santa Baby," the Eartha Kitt version.

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home?
Every year I drive to my sister and brother-in-law’s place in Delaware. That’s where my father’s clan gathers for the holiday. I love it. It's not that big a schlep -- about an hour and a quarter each way, turnpike driving all the way.

19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer?
You’re kidding, right?

20. Angel on the tree top or a star?
A fancy-schmancy ornament I picked up about five years ago at the Museum of Modern Art store on East 54th Street.

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning?
Morning. It’s more “Christmasy.”

22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year?
Crowds and holiday commuters on the trains. They all walk around the east side of Manhattan, especially around Rockefeller Center and it’s ubiquitous tree, with both feet planted firmly in mid-air and totally unaware of how they’re blocking traffic.

23. Favorite ornament theme or color?
I got a collection of great ornaments at the MOMA store that are pretty gay. Glass red ruby slippers, a Kodak camera, etc. Tchotchkes like that.

24. What do you want for Christmas this year?
Got it. I stayed sober for another year and got drenched in love every day.

25. Describe how you would celebrate the holidays if it was totally up to you and money was not a factor.
Fly my family and friends overseas and celebrate ‘CHRISTMAS IN TAHITI’! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.

12 Years A-Sober

I just leapt (like the Lords in the song) through my 12th Sober Christmas. This week, God willing, I'll squeak through my 12th Sober New Years.

Not bad, considering I thought my life was over except for the dying part, 12 years ago.

That first sober Christmas was a scarey time. My friend Bev sent me an Advent package of little toys and goodies -- which meant the world to me. Every little thing in that package said "somebody cares" to me. This, at a time, when I didn't even care for myself. Bev and I have known each other since 1994 -- when we met on-line in CompuServe's Issues forum. She was a Section Leader and, later, a SysOp. I thought she was a nice lady.

She was. She is.

By the time my second sober Christmas came along, I was able to spend the day (mostly) with my family.

And now, I look forward to spending the day with them. They don't push any buttons. That's mostly because this family, which is not my family of origin, has no ideas where my buttons are -- they didn't install them.

This Christmas was the best yet. The former kids have all grown up, gotten married, and had kids. The grand-nieces and grand-nephews are at the perfect age (4-10) and still enthralled by the magic of Santa Claus.

Come to think of it, so am I. Santa brought me sobriety. Santa brought me Bev. Santa brought me hope. Santa brought me 11 years and 9 months of continuous sobriety. Santa brought me love.

It's good to be alive and to still believe in magic.

Christmastide - 2009

I used to blog regularly -- well, fairly regularly. Owell. I've posted this before, but it never hurts to see it again.

Merry Christmas to all.

And, on a lighter note....

Blechh. I'm fed up with the elections, PropH8 and who accidentally voted for what because they never thought that it would actually "affect" anybody.... It's time to move forward into the holidays!

And since it promises to be a Pretty Crappy Christmas, economy-wise (thereby forcing everyone to actually look for reasons to be grateful to spend time with their families) I decided to go in search of my absolutely favoritest holiday treat, the Drifters singing their Doo-Wop version of "White Christmas" with Santa and the animated reindeer.

Only I found this instead. I don't know who actually had the lamps made and then took the time to program and sync the lights to the music and then to drag out the videocam to capture the whole thing on video tape... but whoever they are, they are either from a) Queens or b) New Jersey and in either case, they have entirely too much time on their hands, so I instantly fell in love with it.

Do hang on until Rudolph finally chimes in... it's absolutely worth it. Enjoy.

The Rains of Ranchipur

Well, it's high monsoon season here in the east and while the rest of the nation is digging its sorry ass out of neckdeep snow, we here in lovely, tropical New Jersey are enjoying the 60 degree temperatures and 90 mile per hour winds. Not to mention the 4 inches of rain per hour. And thunder and lightning (which are "Donder und Blitzen" in German, in case you didn't know that.)

I had to travel on the Turnpike last night, to an from a gay 12-Step meeting I attend in Pennsylvania, and the traffic, even at those late hours, was horrific as every university student in the east who lives in Boston traveled home from DC and vice-versa. Don't they have universities for hometown kids in those cities?

I thought about going to the malls yesterday and today until I saw the traffic reports. Fuggeddaboudit.

Tomorrow afternoon I have to drive to my sister's in Delaware where I'll be in hiding until Wednesday. Ordinarily I'd take the turnpike but I have a sneaking feeling that this time I'll be taking the best kept secret in the Garden State, I-295, which runs parallel to the turnpike for about half it's length AND IT'S FREE!

It's not a perfect solution, it gets quirky at times, but it's better than sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for 60 miles on Christmas Eve.

I saw "Atonement" yesterday. I thought I was on the verge of becoming bored with it, but it turned out that I loved it, cheesy ending and all.

Other than that, nothing much to report except that I'm looking forward to being OFF for the next week and a half.

So while I think of it...

MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE! (whether or not you believe that some teenage virgin got inseminated by a dove 2000 years ago and had God's son, which I don't personally believe, but hey, it's a free country until the fucking THEOCRATS take over and slam all us queers into concentration camps, but hey, that won't happen this week, so what the fuck, enjoy yourselves, eat too much, be nice to each other, buy some presents for OTHER people for a change and DON'T DRINK (too much) and drive.)

Love,

JoyZeeBoy

Where the F*ck Have I Been???!

Well, nowhere actually. Last week I was a cranky bear. I blamed it all on a sponsee who is in rehab. I had a telecon with him (and his counselor) Wednesday morning and all I could think of, for the rest of the week, were the things I wish I'd said, but didn't.

Then, of course, there were all the things I should've been getting done in time for Festivus, but wasn't. Oh, I'd bought cards and made labels, but they sat on the living room floor like so many paint samples for Jake & Justin's dining room.

I could feel the clock ticking all late last week, the self-imposed pressure mounting (gee, I love being an adreneline junkie!) until I thought I'd explode by Sunday afternoon.

Then I did it.

I pulled the bag up onto the Ottoman and got the labels out of the manila folders.

A measly two hours later I was done (I don't go ape-shit with the cards --- mostly my nearest and dearest family and friends). I had two which were going overseas. The rest were domestic and I actually had enough "Holiday" stamps for those.

The cards all got mailed this morning, including the two to Europe.

I have a real sense of accomplishment today. It won't last, but it feels nice right now.

Oh, and I still don't know what's happening with the sponsee. I haven't heard a word out of him or the rehab since last Wednesday morning.

I hope they're curing him.

Deck Them Halls!

I resigned from the Codependency Society on Saturday and took myself to the movies instead of driving hours in order to spend hours having the rehab staff give me the thrice-over to make sure I wouldn't be smuggling Crystal Meth into the place when I spent hours on Sunday driving back to spend an hour visiting with my sponsee.

Earlier in the morning I'd spent a fruitful hour having coffee with the sponsee's former boyfriend. Boy, did I get an earful. I got the keys to my sponsee's apartment (which was the original purpose of my visit with his ex), drove over there, picked up the mail, tried to tidy up a little and took out the trash.

I spent a lot of time this past week on the phone with MY sponsor, trying to sort out my feelings, needs, character defects and knee-jerk reactions to needy people which I learned growing up with a bunch of needy people called "relatives" who, incidentally, were alkies like me.

So instead of angrily traipsing off to the wilds of Southern Pennsylvania, I drove to the AMC 24 in beautiful Hamilton, New Jersey and saw "The Golden Compass" which, for my money, was a golden snore. It's so derivative it's not even funny. There's hardly an original idea in the whole thing. It has one or two good effects, and that's it.

Time was I thought Nic Kidman was one of a handful of the most beautiful women in the world. Now I just think she's one of the most heavily-botoxed women in the world. That woman's forehead qualifies for it's own exhibit at Madame Tussaud's Museum of Wax.

The child is utterly charmless and, on occasion, brassy, brazen and more than slightly annoying.

Everyone else was pretty much wasted in their roles.

My opinions were vindicated by less than sterling box-office results for the weekend.

Let's hope that something comes along... and soon... to salvage our entertainment needs.

I spent Sunday reading the NYTimes, shopping, putting away laundry and doing some chores. I clean 1/4 of the kitchen at a time. I found the Faux Christmas Tree and the Genuine MOMA ornament bag and dragged them into the living room. With any luck I'll get the tree up sometime this week since there is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING on television for the next couple of weeks.

In fact, the only bright spot on my television viewing horizon is the fact that Season 3 of "Lost" is now shipping. This is good news since it's highly unlikely that there'll be anything worth watching after the first 8 (new) episodes this year (that's where they stopped shooting when the writers went on strike).

It looks like slim pickens from here on out.

a la recherche du temps perdu

The photo is of the intersection of 8th & Market Streets in the sleepy little burg of Wilmington, Delaware, sometime prior to 1959, which is when they took down the last of the overhead electric trolley lines. I missed the electric trollies because they didn't belch out diesel fumes and they were quiet, unlike their replacements.

The picture was taken near the holidays because the Christmas lights are up, hanging from the lamposts all along Market.

My mom worked in that Kresge's on the corner, before I was born. She worked behind the lunch counter. When I was little my aunt would sometimes take me there for a soda treat. This was back when they actually drew the Coca-Cola syrup from a fountain pump and mixed it with the requisite amount of fizzy soda to make a real fountain Coke. They were far better than bottled Cokes.

Way off in the distance, on the upper right-hand side of the picture, you can see the top of the Hotel DuPont, at 11th & Market.

Market Street was turned into a pedestrian mall in the 70's which killed off what little remained of downtown. To this day they keep trying new ideas to revive downtown, but nothing seems to work because they can't restore the one thing that is irreplaceable.... the era. I grew up in Wilmington in post-war America. Things were good. Jobs were pretty plentiful. There was always meat and vegetables and potatoes on the table. Nobody (it seemed) went hungry. Everybody had a job and was buying a car or a house or a "hi-fi" or a tv in those days. Appliances flew off dealer floors. You could buy things "on installment" in those pre-credit card days. TV sets were as much pieces of furniture as they were something you watched. They had to "match the decor" of your living room.

Bargains were still to be had at places like Wanamaker's or Strawbridge's or (for the real bargain hunters) Wilmington Dry Goods.

And around Christmas time Market Street got transformed.

I have never forgotten the year I wanted a toy so badly I could taste it. I kept asking and asking if "Santa was going to bring it" and I got shot down every time. It was some sort of "Astro-Lander" thing that had lots of flashing lights and a side door that opened so a lunar rover could be lowered to the ground and then it would run around. Look, don't knock it. It was the cat's ass when I was a kid.

Anyway, on a snowy December night, I left my grandmother shopping at the Wilmington Dry and started walking up Market Street, through the crowds (I was all of 9 or so). Suddenly I stopped. There, in the window of a novelty store or drug store or something was the toy of my dreams. I RAN back down the street, slipping on the snow-covered sidewalks, to tell my Nana that I'd just saved Santa a lot of hard work and that I'd found it myself.

That good woman just sighed. I knew right then, in that brief moment, the truth about Christmas and Santa. Selfishly, I clung to the illusion, resolved to hang onto it long enough to get my wish.

Nana was not a rich woman, you see. And this toy was not cheap, probably more than $10 (1959) dollars.

But that present was under the tree come Christmas morning.

Of all the toys I got in my childhood, from American Flyer trains to Erector Sets, I have never forgotten that one because for the first time in my life I knew just how much someone who loved me was willing to sacrifice in order to give me a few, brief moments of happiness.

My Nana passed away in 1968, a few months before I entered the Navy. I was 19.

She may have been a drunk. Her alcoholism probably consummed a lot of my childhood and made me the co-dependent ACOA I am today. But when push came to shove, my Nana loved me.

And I loved her.

It's Beginning to Look...

like it's about 4 weeks until Christmas.

Not that you'd know if from my house. I gotta get me a digital camera so I can show you all how I really live. If I posted a bunch of photos of that here I could die in peace. Well, maybe not in peace, but certainly of embarassment.

My fellow blogger, Jake from Chicago and his boyfriend Justin, have just returned from spending Thanksgiving week in Orlando at DisneyInc. and the first thing they did when they got home was to put up TWO trees (the bitches). Check 'em out here. And while you're at it, don't forget to take a look at that chandelier they have in their dining room. It gives new meaning to the word "FABULOUS."

I have a little fake tree I bought at Home Depot a couple of years back. I put it up that year and it's been in the box ever since. I blame it on the real foliage in the living room, which has now taken over the big picture window I have there and, occasionally cries out "FEED ME" after which I have to toss a dentist or several small children into its gaping maw in order to placate it for a while. It's making a guest appearance on Larry King next week. With any luck it'll eat him. Now if I could only get it booked with Bill O'Lielly or Mann Coulter.

Christmas has gotten to be an expensive proposition now that I have grand-nieces and nephews. Before they came along, and back when I was newly sober and didn't have two dimes to rub together, life was simpler. And cheaper. Now people expect gifts. Worse, I expect ME to be able to give gifts.

Luckily, most gifts fall into one of two categories. 1. Cash. 2. Cash equivalents (such as store gift cards). Any idiot can manage these, except they do involve not only getting the cash or cash equivalents but then finding some sort of suitable "container" to put them in, which can then be gift-wrapped to look as though it actually contains something other than money or a gift card.

For those of you who absolutely insist on something substantive in the way of presents, I heartily recommend creating a wish-list for yourselves on Amazon.com which you can then happily disperse amongst family and friends for them to visit prior to shelling out real money for some crap you have zero interest in owning.

That way you'll have no one to blame but yourself for that shitty multi-DVD set of Norma Shearer's Greatest Motion Pictures that you just couldn't live without.

But for those relatives or friends who don't create a wish-list, you can always fall back on that old, reliable, standby.... Entertainment. Get them a gift certificate to the local AMC, Regal or whichever theater chain runs the local goo-goo-plex in your town.

That way they have no one to blame but themselves when they waste your gift on a lousy afternoon spent yawning while watching "No Country for Old Men."

But enough about that. There'll be plenty of time to shop, come Christmas Eve.

Meanwhile, go put up a tree.

========================================
BONUS Christmas Present

The rumor mill is churning. It's been alleged that Larry Flynt is investigating rumors regarding Trent Lott which prompted the latter's hasty announcement of an early retirement by year's end.

The rumor involves a male prostitute.

Thank you, Jeebus.