Lost in the Translation, Christmas for ‘Po Folks, and Helpful Holiday Dos and Don’ts

I guess “don’t” number one would be: Don’t buy Japanese Christmas cards.  “Chimney” and “Hole” serve similar functions, but are not always interchangeable words.  The nuances of the English language are difficult enough for native speakers, let alone for those who attempt to translate other languages into English.  I know a few native Japanese whose English is at least as good if not better than most Midwestern rednecks’, but these are people who were taught English as well as Japanese from infancy.  However, the most hilarious bad English translations come from the Asian countries, as one may peruse on Engrish.com.

I love the meaning behind the Christmas holiday, but I tend to loathe what our hedonistic society has turned it into.  How much useless crap can one buy for people who don’t need any more useless crap?  How much do I need to reiterate that I don’t need anyone to buy me any useless crap? Now I can use cash and/or Kroger’s or Target gift cards, (help with scripts and groceries is always welcome) but beyond that, it’s really, really OK to refrain from buying me anything.  I don’t need any decorative items, cooking utensils, instructional books, or really anything else that I haven’t already made it a point to acquire or that I can’t afford and therefore don’t need anyway.  I am fussy about clothing and prefer to choose my own.  Many years of wearing my sisters’ old clothes and of Mom picking clothes out for me have made me rather adamant in my clothing choices. I do dress for both economy and comfort, although I like things to fit, and I avoid colors that make me appear jaundiced and/or dead.  This is why I shudder when Mom tries to buy me clothes.  I am not ten years old.  I’m not planning on growing, so I don’t need clothing that’s five sizes too big, and I look hideous in brown, green, orange and/or yellow.  Mom tries, she really does, but sometimes I wonder what she’s thinking when she buys me stuff.  I am still trying to wrap my mind around my mother’s last well-meant, but horribly inappropriate gift to me.  Please don’t buy cookie cutters for a diabetic.  You might as well buy a double amputee a pair of stillettos, or a bra for a rooster.

The commercials on TV are downright disgusting.  Maybe if I woke up on Christmas morning to find a Lexus in my driveway with a big red bow on it, or if I were to unwrap some of that high faluting jewelry with real diamonds and gold that won’t turn me green, I might have a different take on the whole business, but the odds of me receiving either the Lexus or the diamond jewelry are about the same as if I were to wake up and discover that I had been transformed into Demi Moore overnight.  Anyone who knows me knows that the chances of anything listed above actually happening are slimmer than a snowball’s chance in hell.  Knowing Jerry, if he were ever to break down and buy me a Christmas or birthday gift it would probably be a twelve pack of beer, because he knows I don’t drink beer, and I would end up giving it back to him by default.

Radio this time of year is even worse than TV, as the local rock/metal station bombards us with daily ads for the local strip joint’s Christmas party, to be held all day on Christmas day.  It’s bad enough that there are pathetic jackoffs out there who are so morally bankrupt that they would make a conscious decision to spend Christmas day in a strip joint in the company of fellow perverts and strippers, but to make an occasion of it, and to hype it up on the radio, is even more pathetic.  One would think there could be one day for licentiousness to take a holiday, but I guess not.

“Don’t” number two would have to be: Don’t spend Christmas anywhere it is necessary to deposit money in anyone’s underwear in exchange for a lap dance.

Now that I’ve shared a couple of “don’ts,” I probably should include a couple of “dos” to at least sound more positive.  “Do” number one is: Avoid the in-laws.  I made the obligatory appearance at the family holiday party last Saturday night which should exempt me from making an appearance with my in-laws until the same time next year.

“Do” number two is: Do bring activities to occupy the idle hours when the relatives fall asleep.  I have a hard time falling asleep when I am not in my own bed.   Note to self: Bring the charger for the DS, as the battery only lasts four hours.  I already have the car charger for the MP3 player which is right handy as it’s a long drive to Cincinnati.

I haven’t done any Tacky Christmas trolling this year.  Shame on me.  I hope to do a bit down in Cinci- the upper crust does put on some spectacularly Griswoldian tableaux that are worthy of Tacky Christmas status just in the time, effort and dollar amount involved.  I don’t get it but then I’ve never been a person who has had the luxury of money to burn.

I still wish I could find the Bud Light cardboard bimbo display from the west end of Marion that I happened on years ago, but I am sure that after that Christmas (I think it was 2006) it ended up as some Bubba’s target practice or something.

Never leave home without the camera.  You never know what kind of hilarity you will find. (Let’s see if Steve-o ever bothers to read my blog…)

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