The Week In Review VIII, "Home for the Holidaze…

The Week In Review VIII, "Home for the Holidaze…
Tuesday, December 5, 2006

I started writing this when I was very hung-over last Friday. There really is nothing quite like sitting in a cubicle, hungover. Add mortified to that. Hung-over and mortified, in a cubicle. I can't tell you the story b/c I don't remember enough of the night to know specifics. I was out sans babysitter, with co-workers I've only known for five weeks. I'm sure they have an excellent opinion of me now considering I have the mentality of a 20-year old frat boy when I drink. I can only imagine that I said something inappropriate, tried to make out with any male that walked by, and then passed out at the table. I know for sure that the night involved lots of wine, no dinner, me boasting/proving my ability to chug lots of beer at an impressively fast rate, not being able to open the front door to my apartment which caused me to stumble through the Italian restaurant downstairs, go through their basement and up the elevator to my floor, and finally, waking up around 6:20am, in my full set of clothing – shoes included – from work the day before, lights on, door opened. I've since realized that chugging beer is an art that ought to be learned, perfected and retired in college. It was fairly miserable Friday.

While on the subject of misery… in the grand tradition of bland, fattening food, another Thanksgiving came and went a couple weeks ago. It's good to be back in New York, even if there are approximately 50million tourists here right now. I sometimes feel guilty (for 15 or 20 seconds) for getting happy chills coming off the plane in NY and sighing when I get off the plane in Jacksonville. Then I remember this is the center of the universe and Florida has strip malls.

For so many reasons, going home for the holidays gives me severe anxiety. I'm a girl who doesn't call home but once a week on a good week. You can imagine that actually spending five or more days in close proximity to the parents is a potential disaster. They play nice on the phone for the week leading up to your homecoming, and then lightning flashes, the switch gets flipped and I find myself in a nightmare of a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde situation where I'm constantly getting lectured, given a suggested curfew, and forced into activities I have no interest in doing.

I don't have a brother or sister to help defend either. There's no man to man coverage of the parents; it's two on one. And when you add in extended family for holiday gatherings, all attention is focused on the kid who moved 1000+ miles away from home. However I could probably get a life-sized cardboard, cut-out photo of myself, a tape recorder and field their questions Ferris Bueller style. After they comment on the way I'm dressed or have styled my hair, the questions are always the same:

1. How's New York? Great, I love it. I'm really happy there.

2. How's the job? Until recently, I would tell them that I'd rather scrub the bathrooms at Yankee Stadium with my own toothbrush and I was certain that my AMD bore the mark of the beast somewhere, but now it's: I actually just started a new job and things are going well. I'm working with great people, and I haven't idly threatened suicide once in over five weeks on the job.

3. (I bet you can guess what follows the moronic giggle I need you to imagine) Are you dating anyone? Which really means, are you going to get married and start popping out babies? No, no I'm not. Maybe one day I'll meet someone of an appropriate age, who I'm actually attracted to, when my BAC level isn't 1.0, maybe. Until then, don't hold your breath on grandchildren…in fact, just don't hold your breath on grandchildren.

4. When are you moving back down South? Remember when you asked me if I liked New York? I'm pretty sure that I told you I'm happy there, so please tell me why I would leave? I'm a terrible driver, I can't even imagine what sushi would taste like if I were to get it delivered, and I think I'm switching my political party affiliation, so I'm probably not welcome here anyhow.

Food is another key factor in me being less than thrilled with the holidays. Christmas food is better than Thanksgiving, but as far as I'm concerned that's like saying drinking sour milk is better than a fried turd. I find it all bland, fattening and fairly disgusting. Think about it: there's a reason people only eat cranberry sauce in the shape of a can once a year. It's gross. And honestly, if I am to ingest that much fat and that many calories, I'd just assume it not be from green bean casserole. Gag me. I'd rather it be from something both worth it and delicious, like dipping lobster in butter sauce… or pizza… or McDonalds.

I get it though. Tradition is important, but please, at Christmas, tell me truthfully how many of you go crowd in a manger and watch a live birth take place. In fact, please tell me where to find a manger. You can't. The land has been sold and a strip mall has gone up in its place.

Now, I know everyone talks about this in apparent "disbelief," but I'm genuinely bothered by the fact that the second you wake up Friday morning after Thanksgiving, you can't do anything without stumbling across cheesy Christmas displays, decorations and music. Why do people lose all sense of style when it comes to holiday decorations? Perfectly normal people will put light-up, plastic crap in their yard and wire their homes so that they flash. Some don't stop till their property resembles Times Square, a place I'm pretty sure is representative of Hell on Earth. Why anyone would want to replicate that in their front yard is beyond me. If I worked retail, I'd kill myself listening to holiday themed music on repeat. Come live in my apartment, right off 5th Ave between Rockefeller Center and the Park, and tell me what about the 94589673984793845793576 tourists outside right now makes this the most wonderful time of the year. Maybe that's why I'm so attracted to those of the Hebrew following. They don't do this crap AND they get eight nights of gifts. Plus they've got Adam Sandler and a song that references OJ Simpson to represent them. We've got something about Mommy kissing Santa, a song that when you think about it, is pro-adulterous relations through the eyes of a young Santa-believer.

On top of everything I've mentioned so far, add in the cost of getting back home for the holidays. For Thanksgiving and Christmas, on an advertising salary, I spent just under $1000. Thank goodness it's not just acceptable but more like a code of behavior to drink your way through the holidays. Otherwise, instead of straight up with two olives, I'd need my martini shaken with straight up rat poison.

Don't be fooled by the pearls.

GO GATORS,

Venn