To all those who read this,
It’s Xmas morning, and right now I just want to flip off the nice sunny (albeit brisk) morning brewing outside. My lazy-ass mom (who I visit for the holidays) is hollering to have shit hauled out to an already brimming over trash can after being force to wrap various little chotchkeys, my stepfather is doing what he does best, slaying in bed making Terri Schaivo impressions (though looking strangely like Saddam Hussein in the process), and his home health aide is doing her best to be blissfully unaware.
In a few hours, the relatives are all coming over. There’s the aunt and uncle from Ohio who’s two oldest kids keep overtly trying to bring me back to that fucking fraud ‘Jesus’, along with (hopefully) the 3 younger ones only; the other, more local aunt and uncle who bitch at each other and their two little hellraisers; my stepfather’s mom who’s coping mechanism is obviously busted, and all the drama associated thereof.
The last few years, the one good thing about this day (presents (sorry, but in my family, the phrase ‘Better to give than to receive’ has been proven quite false)) has to be orchestrated several months in advance, not at all unlike what takes place in the Philippines. As they string up lights in the Mall of Asia, I start leaving ideas around. By the time Columbus Day (Canadian Turkey Day) rolls around, they either know what I want, or I’m getting clothes (which I’m pretty sure I have more of than Imelda Marcos).
Well, the sounds of all the Xmas cheer (not to mention holiday noise from the radio) is coming in the room, so I’m going to put on some real music before I go all emo on the family.
MERRY FUCKING XMAS AND A HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR! (*shudder* can’t believe that’s coming up…)
-Biafra
