I find it extremely appropriate that the one tool touted to open all kinds of inaccessible packaging is itself packed in said un-openable nuclear-indestructible plastic.
Sweet, sweet irony.
Monthly Archive for December, 2007
Ah, the holidays.
When nothing says “Happy Holidays” more than men in green tights handing out candy to your children, outfitting your house with lights visible from the moon, and wrapping that $5 gift in $10 worth of boxes, ribbons and tinsel.
We overdo it because we can.
‘Tis the season to be all about me, me, me (and that plastic Jesus in the mall nativity scene).
So here it is, in no particular order, Jay and Dot’s Seven (Non-Deadly) Scenes of Christmas.
GLUTTONY: The Christmas Eve meal that made both my tummies want to explode.
LUST: Those curves, those antlers, those chocolate-covered strawberry mooses.
SLOTH: When watching other people prepare your meal isn’t such a bad thing.
ENVY: Dot’s apple juice on the right is pretty envious of Jay’s white wine on the left. All I can say is, there’s going to be beer in the delivery room.
WRATH: In failing at every table IQ game I try when others succeed.
GREED: It’s not the gift that counts, it’s the number of gifts. So keep ‘em coming. Christmas isn’t over until I say so.
PRIDE: When Jay says he can open a champagne bottle with a knife (like on TV) and actually does it.
Remember last Christmas? When I correctly guessed (to three cents) how much there was in this jar?
Well, since I won the Christmas Coin Smackdown last year, I got to spend Christmas Eve counting coins to prepare a new jar with a new amount for the family to guess at this year’s dinner.
Jay, of course, was NOT ALLOWED TO PEEK.
In my noble attempt to confuse would-be guessers, I went through three different jars, three different methods (including stuffing the jar with styrofoam), before I settled on this jarâ€â€with just a few pieces of styrofoam and knick knacks like a Hello Kitty phone charm as red herrings.
As the jar went around the table, the guesses poured in. $15. $34.90. $22.10.
Jay guessed $27.50.
Do you want to know how much was in the jar?
Do you?
Are you prepared to be BLOWN AWAY?
$27.53.
Jay was three cents off.
The family immediately raised legitimate concerns of Spousal Cheating, but trust me when I say I nearly fell off my chair when Jay made his guess.
So guess who gets to take home the jar and prepare it for next year?
This is an old, old photo, but I think nothing captures the spirit of the season more than when Sweaters and Good Taste collide.
This is how I feel these days.
Bloated. Bloated. Bloated.
I have the urge to open a valve and release pressure from my tummy.
And when I say “tummy,” I actually mean the “area formerly known as tummy” but which now contains another human being.
I have a tummy and I have a “tummy.”
Let me just set the record straight and say, “Dude, it is weird to have something alive and moving around inside your ‘tummy.’”
Jay often asks how it feels when the baby moves.
Honestly?
All I can say is, it started out feeling like I was hungry, because it would feel like my tummy was rumbling; then it moved to little kicks, which were incredibly exciting; and now, in my full blubbery whale state (of which I hope her weight gainâ€â€not mineâ€â€is wholly responsible for), the kicks have morphed into a full-on boxing assault on the “tummy.”
Her stretching and kicking are so pronounced these days that if I watch closely, I can see my skin being pushed from the inside.
It’s like a horror alien movie. Only not.
Baby, all I can say is, me and my bladder are ready for you to be out.
So have you ever heard of the Christmas Game called the White Elephant?
I haven’t.
You’re supposed to look around your house for white elephants  things you don’t really want but they are still new or usable  and wrap them up as gifts for exchange at a party.
Thing is, everyone has to draw a number. If you’re 1, you get to pick first, but if anyone else after you likes your gift, they can steal it, and you have to pick another gift to unwrap.
Easy?
Easy.
Parker was 1. And he picked our carefully-disguised gift of a pair of learner chopsticks, Spam coin box, Singapore fridge magnet, and XBox wrist game (from a cereal box).
Jay was 2. Here he is picking his surprise gift.
Leslie chose the second present we brought over, a box of Christmas cheese spreaders (Can you say re-gifting?), Singapore magnet (Do you sense a pattern?), and a pack of Washington Wines playing cards.
Speaking of re-gifting…
I got something from someone. I thought someone else would like it better than me. I gave it to someone else. That someone else calls me back to say she loves it so much that she would like to get it for someone else, and “Where did I buy that wonderful something?” I panicked and said, “Oh I forgot, let me check with Jay.” I emailed that first someone and told her that I loved the gift so much I wanted to buy it for another someone else and could she please tell me where she got it?
Got it?
Got it.
The best surprises in life come in little packages.
More specifically, little flat envelopes mailed from New York City containing just one thing.
A portrait of Sam Waterston  a.k.a. Jack McCoy, Executive Assistant District Attorney on Law & Order to all you non-L&O fans  with my name on it.
WITH MY NAME ON IT!
Oh, be still my beating heart.
I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again: Kevin is da bomb.
May this talented photographer now meet that crazy detective Robert Goren. Kevin, I expect nothing less than a lipstick smooch on that photograph.
Since the basketball-sized lump appeared in my tummy region, I have found it increasingly difficult to bend over; put on socks; and of course, I can forget about shoes with laces, zips, or any other paraphernalia.
Unfortunately, in this cold, wet season, ALL my winter shoes are laced, zipped, and occasionally festooned with unnecessary ties and sh*t.
To help overcome my Chunk Disability (and I suspect so he doesn’t have to put on my shoes for me anymore), Jay has recommended I get an easy, slip-on slip-off pair of shoes, or what he calls the “old school, original, classic Vans”: The Chex.
I obsessively trolled the Internet for the EXACT color combination I wantedâ€â€please be warned they come in 427,919 designsâ€â€and found it in this glorious pair.
I happily clicked and added my size to the Shopping Cart…only to be prompted, “Sorry, but that combination is not currently available.”
What? Are Santa’s Elves out of blue canvas? How many women with a shoe size of 7.5 who adore blue and brown Chex are out there? Couldn’t you have ordered the green and yellow Chex? Huh?
Huh?
When you have a whopping budget paid for by crazed shoppers’ dollars in downtown Seattle.
When you have a welding-crazed husband who uses an open flame and inert gas to fuse together recycled steel.
When you have plush-crazed Dot who would really like a real tree, but is too lazy to get one because she doesn’t want to deal with cleaning it out later.
I am tired, grouchy, exhausted, and out of brain cells.
People tell me it’s the baby sucking it out of me.
Case in point: Dot is told to bubble wrap a fragile plaque in a box so it would not get damaged in delivery. When handed the cardboard box with the plaque in it, this is what Dot proceeded to do.
Without any intention to be funny.
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