Good King Wenceslas – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

For years I worked at a theatre where we did an annual holiday revue filled with as many holiday numbers as we could fit into two hours. We did the classic and the not so classic holiday songs and the perfunctory one or two songs about Hanukkah. Between being in choir in school (where we sang Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus every year for the holidays) and years of Christmas shows at the theatre where we did everything from your standard carols to the Chipmunks classic where they tweaked our voices so that we would sound just like them, suffice to say, I know a lot of Christmas music. But when I was singing about, “sidewalks busy sidewalks” I always knew what I was singing about. What cracks me up are the people who are all about Christmas but have no idea what the songs mean that they sing every year and I for one think that they should know what the hell they’re singing about and their holiday. You want an example? Look no further. Good King Wenceslas – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

Now my family has a history with this song, the Good King Wenceslas song was the song that caused my brother to give up the piano for good. We’re not really sure if it was the first song that he was actually going to have to really practice to get right, that didn’t just come easy for him so he was done or if he had something against the Good King himself. We still tease my brother to this day about King W getting the best of him. I should take a moment to point out here that my musical instrument career while not as abundant as my brother’s that included piano, drums and the electric vibes; my guitar teacher did leave town without any notice. It’s true, one week I was waiting and he just never showed up, being me, I could only assume that I had played so badly that the guy left town without any forwarding address just to get away from me and my horrible playing. I was always so busy trying to sing and play at the same time that I would finally get my fingers to create the chord, strum and then just sing the rest of the song, forgetting I had a guitar in my hand, changing chords or even strumming for that matter. You know, a little like Charo.

 

But ever since my brother didn’t play Good King Wenceslas on the piano, the song (or at least the first line) has always been in my head. “Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the feast of Stephen…” Now I have no idea what this means and one holiday season (when I was still at the theater and living with my pal, Betsy) I decided that as we did our holiday shopping I was going to do some informal survey work to find out more about this guy, King Wenceslas and also see what the ever-loving, ever-so-righteous Christians knew about it too.

 

And so I began, “Hey, what do you know about King Wenceslas and that whole feast of Stephen thing? Do you know what song I’m talking about? You do? Okay, well, what is that all about?” The first couple of people I spoke with knew the song but had no idea who the king was or what that whole feast of Stephen was about. I asked several more people and no one knew but my favorite response was from a woman that was a sales clerk in one of the stores. Here’s my recollection of the interaction.

Me: So, may I ask you a question?
SC (Sales Clerk – not Santa Clause you idiots): Yes, sir?

Me: Do you know the song, Good King Wenceslas?

SC: Yes, I believe so

ME: Well, what is that song really about? I mean, who is this king? Who was Stephen? The whole thing has me confused.

SC: (Very defensive) Well sir, my family celebrates the Savior’s birth and we don’t get involved with a lot of the commercialism that has become Christmas.

Me: (confused) Oh, I see, but doesn’t this song have religious connotations to it? I mean, it’s not like Jingle Bells, it seems to be telling some historical thing about Christmas, right?

SC: (agitated) Sir, I don’t need to know about this song, I know that Christ was born and that is what we’re celebrating on Christmas.

 

I just backed away from the counter and ran out of the store as fast as I could (weighed down with shopping bags and my bulky winter wear) laughing my ass off with Betsy. The thing is, let’s face it, none of you Christians and none of us Jews can put King Wenceslas back together again. You don’t know who he was so just say that, don’t get all defensive about the birth of Christ or anything else, just say you don’t know who the king was or Stephen and that all you know is if you don’t get the right sized slippers for your mother she’s going to kill you. That’s an answer I would accept. Don’t get all defensive about it, people.

 

Now before you all write in and send me the meaning of the song, the king and the feast (Oy, sounds like a Vegas dinner show) let me say that I’m fully capable of looking it up but I don’t want to. I want to ask people every year if THEY know. You know, the people with the fish on their car, the people with their WWJD bracelets and the general idiots who wear “Christmas” sweaters. I want to continue to ask every person who celebrates Christmas about it. And if you want some fun, you’ll do the same. Ask the barista at Starbucks or the person wearing the stupid Santa hat at the store in the mall. Now write to me about those reactions and the fun you have asking people and I’ll cherish it forever. I’m telling you right now it’s some juicy good fun. And when you come across someone who actually does know what it’s all about, be sure and let them know that they are one of the few and the proud. Good King Wenceslas – Don’t Get Me Started!

Don’t You People Have Homes Or Jobs Or Something? – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

Some days I work from home and today was one of those days. The advantage here is that I can run around and do some errands during the not so crowded times of the day. So today I went to the store down the street to get some batteries for my automatic shower cleaner. Okay, I’m busted, before I go any further you all may as well know that almost everything in my house runs on batteries or electrical current (keep your minds out of that gutter). The cats have the automatic kitty litter box and the water fountain. We keep the Sharper Image and stores like it in business. But today I went to the K-Mart at 11:00am and could not believe the scene. There were people as far as the eye could see and I had to wonder, it’s 11:00 in the morning, don’t you people have homes or jobs or something? – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

It was a Tuesday morning, who in the hell is doing all of their K-Mart shopping on a Tuesday morning? The only reason I went there for the batteries was that I went to the Trader Joe’s grocery store in the same parking lot. Even Trader Joe’s with all its fashionable food was not like the big K!

 

Who are these people? Their carts were so full they were overflowing. I couldn’t even get a good look at what anyone was buying because I was standing there in disbelief. Were they giving something away? Was this perhaps the largest “Blue Light Special” in recorded history? Were my days off? Was this really Black Friday and they had switched it to a Tuesday and no one told me? I stood there dazed watching, as the checkout lines became four, then five and then six deep. This was with almost every check stand open. There I was with my eight pack of AA batteries with the free blinky star that was included and I thought to myself, “I can’t do it. I cannot stand here in this line while these (almost all women) are putting their seven hundred items on the counter. I just don’t think I can take it.” And then I turned around and saw one woman at the jewelry counter…

 

I ran over to the jewelry counter figuring I was going to outsmart all the other shoppers with my savvy. I stood there and it only took seconds to realize that the woman standing with the empty cart in front of the jewelry counter knew the employee and they were just chatting. That’s right, all hands were on deck and these two are just chatting away as if they’re the only two people in the world. Woman One: “Oh yeah, I know what you mean, these holidays just wear me out.” Woman Two: “You don’t have to tell me, I stand here all day and you can just imagine.” I stared, I shifted my weight to my other hip, I sighed a little, I tried for eye contact but nothing, nothing would stop these two. That’s right, even when the lines from the checkouts got dangerously close to the jewelry counter these two bitches kept up the conversation.

 

You’re right, I should have cleared my throat and done a big, “EXCUSE ME?!?” but I didn’t, I looked at the people everywhere and suddenly it began to feel like a party where you don’t know anyone and you soon discover there’s no one there you would ever want to know. And so I walked back to where I had originally picked up the batteries and wedged it back into it’s cardboard display and then kept walking right out of the store.

 

I have no batteries, I have a dirty shower, and I have no free blinky star thing. I’m bummed. I just can’t have this be the way it’s going to be until after Christmas, okay? Can’t we all agree to just shop in normal spurts and not as if we’ve just been told the largest snowstorm in history is about to descend upon us? I remember when I lived on the east coast and they would predict a huge storm. Everyone would run to the grocery store and get enough milk to feed the orphans in Africa, all the bread and toilet paper was completely gone and then we’d always look for the one odd item that was cleaned out. The item was usually something really odd like all the cabbage being bought out. Because you know if you’re in a really bad storm, boarded up in your house for days on end the one essential is without a doubt, cabbage. (Well, it would explain all the toilet paper.)

 

It’s not December yet people, please, I’m begging you, don’t make me have to set my alarm to go to Wal-Mart at 3am just to get toilet paper and batteries. Remain calm; use the Internet and shop in moderation because half of the crap you’re buying no one really wants to receive anyway. It’s like when I was in the grocery store the other day and a woman was buying all these small brown lunch bag sized bags that had a cinnamon stick attached to the top of each bag. The cashier asked what these were and the woman said, “Oh they’re make it yourself carrot cakes. Everything you need to make one is in this bag. They make a great gift, that’s why I bought eight of them.” Well I know eight people who are fucked this year, getting lousy gifts!  We’re a world that is overpopulated but please let’s be courteous of others (and when I say this, I mean, me)! If you see someone standing with one damn item, offer to let them go ahead of you, don’t be talking to your friend instead of ringing people out and for God sakes, don’t you people have homes or jobs or something? – Don’t Get Me Started!

A Wreath In The Shape Of A Peace Sign Is Offensive? – Don’t Get Me Started!

Not sure if you’ve all heard about the latest bout of craziness but it’s in Colorado about a wreath in the shape of a peace sign (pictured here). That’s right, the homeowner’s association want it taken down because they say that it’s an anti-war protest and/or the sign of Satan both apparently offensive to other residents. Come on, a wreath in the shape of a peace sign is offensive? – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

There are a lot of things that offend me and I consider myself just a little less paranoid than say Woody Allen from Annie Hall who thinks everyone is talking about him being Jewish. He’s walking and he’s telling the story of how someone said to him, “Jew eat? He didn’t say did you, I distinctly heard him say, Jew eat?” But something that has never made me paranoid are the Christmas decorations and calling it Christmas.

 

Growing up in Arizona I hadn’t come across the phenomenon of people and their obsession with their wreaths. When I moved back east and it was time for the first Christmas season there, I saw a car that had a wreath attached to its grill, right on the front of the car! I thought this was hysterical. Imagine how quiet I got when I was telling the story to other people and they suddenly looked at me as if I was the crazy one for not understanding the greatness of the car wreath. Sure enough just a few short days later here they all were, much like Christmas trees, there were some that were real, some that were fake, some that were decorated and some that even lit up. I didn’t get it and to this day I don’t understand how anyone thinks that putting a wreath on his or her car is a good thing to do or even looks nice. I mean, what if you rear-end another car? Think of all the pine needles you’ll be picking out of the paint.

 

But even with the crazy wreath on the car phenomenon, how anyone could perceive a wreath in the shape of a peace sign as being offensive is completely beyond me. I’m sure certain people could find a bible somewhere that says, “Thou shall not create the wreath in a form other than a circle.” And what I can also guarantee is that these complaints did not come from a Jew, an atheist or someone with sense. This could have only come from one place, that’s right, I know it’s going to be hard for you to hear but it could only have come from ex-reverend Haggard’s gay male ex-prostitute, ex-meth dealer, massage therapist. I know, I know, it’s shocking but come on it is Colorado we’re talking about here and besides whom else could it be? The guy who lied about killing Jon Benet? A woman who thought that the symbol long associated with peace was much larger than some war and that it was a reassuring message to be sending everyone put up this wreath. The morons who really complained should be ashamed of themselves. I mean isn’t there something about Peace On Earth associated with this season?

 

Come on people, we have a lot of important stuff to worry about (like where we’re going to get our hands on an Elmo TMX), give the woman with the wreath and the rest of us a break. If you really think that this is some sort of negative symbol, you don’t need a homeowner’s association; you need an association to help you with your paranoia and delusions of Bush grandeur. I know it’s shocking to some people but the world does not revolve around the decisions made at the White House. It’s like when you were a kid and had a friend over and you made a mess, he left and you ended up cleaning it up. We may be cleaning this mess up but we all had a hand in making it too.

 

But please don’t confuse the White House, the war, Haggard or Mike Jones with people’s religious beliefs or their obsession with taking pine trees and making them into the shape of circles. Circles, yes, we must come out against the circle, how can you trust something that has no beginning and no end? Circles are a symbol of unity only holy for the sanctity of marriage and we all know that marriage can only be between a man and a woman, just ask Kid Rock and Pamela Anderson (and they said it would never last). I don’t know, I’ve got eighteen years with the same man without any of the rights and privileges of marriage and do you know what? Although he’s never had one on his car (while I’ve known him), I cringe to admit that he likes the idea of wreaths on cars. But a wreath in the shape of a peace sign is offensive? – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

Michael Richards, Your Fifteen Minutes Have Just Been Extended – Don’t Get Me Started! 

I’m tired, that’s right, I’m tired of the used to be and the currently famous with their tirades that give them more press than they would ever get otherwise. This whole mess with Michael Richards is absolutely ridiculous. You’re talking about a desperate man. Desperate that he has no career and so what happens when he goes on stage and bombs again? He lashes out at anyone and everything and the end result is that he still got on Letterman, Jesse Jackson’s radio show and a million other places that wouldn’t care about what he was doing otherwise. I’m here to tell you, Michael Richards, your fifteen minutes have just been extended – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

Mel Gibson’s rants put him in rehab and eventually got him a prime time audience to talk about his practically defunct new movie which I have a feeling will now see the light of theaters. While I believe that Mr. Gibson’s rant was done purely from his very odd bringing up and deep seeded bizarre current belief system (I have no doubt that he is in fact an anti-Semite) I think the whole Richards tirade is coming from another place entirely.

 

Imagine if you will, everyone standing up and applauding you when you walked into a room for a long time and then its stops. Seinfeld was on for a long time and is still running in syndication. Michael Richards is synonymous with the role of Kramer and his one series he tried to have after Seinfeld failed quickly and silently. I’m sure he has enough residual money to live off of the rest of his life but what’s he supposed to do at his age when no one wants him anymore unless he comes sliding into a room, scratching his head and eating Jerry’s food? In the words of my mother, “Where are you going to take an act like that?” Apparently to stand up clubs but the problem there is that at least on this particular night we know he wasn’t doing so well.

 

Michael Richards talks about being “shattered” and I believe he is a shattered man, looking at his life and career as though it may be over and so he lashed out at everyone and everything that night. Was it wrong, absolutely but I believe we’ve just seen a comedian go “postal” or “Columbine” if you will with words instead of a gun. He’s frustrated, has a shattered career and life so he’s taking it out on the only people who will listen, the audience at clubs where he probably once packed them and now plays to a handful of people who came to see someone else and would rather chat among themselves than listen to him. What we need is an online re-education class for these people who can’t really transition to another career and at the same time can’t revive the ones that they once had on television. Oh wait, that’s what just happened isn’t it?

 

Think about it, I don’t think that he did it deliberately for publicity but with this one tirade he has managed to generate more interest in himself than he did since the last time we saw him on Seinfeld. What will happen next? Look for a Barbara Walters exclusive interview (Oprah probably won’t touch him), a book deal and eventually he might even turn the head of a studio exec thinking they can make a show about him now being a landlord in a predominantly black apartment building that houses the likes of other ex-tirade stars you know like say, Gary Coleman and Todd Bridges as the Ernie and Bert of the building. My point is that when we put someone on a pedestal so high based on one character or performance, they’re bound to fall. But if a celebrity falls and no one is there to take a video with their phone, does it still make a noise? You may be upset and I may be upset but somewhere late at night, the “people” behind Michael Richards (publicist, agent, etc.) are thinking, okay, good boy. Michael Richards, your fifteen minutes have just been extended – Don’t Get Me Started!

Hi, It’s Adolph – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

If you’re like me, the amount of “spam” email you get in just one day is staggering. I’ve been courted by the Christian singles, I’ve been told I can “shoot like a porn star” and several times a day I find that the loan I never applied for has in fact, been approved. I never really open them because like everyone else, I live in fear of a virus from my spinach, sex and my computer. However, there’s a new rash of spam that cleverly use a name that might be familiar to you in the subject line to try and get you to open them. It’s starts out with “Hi it’s…” and then the name. I get it if it’s like Mike or something but a recent one really had me thinking when it came and said, “Hi, it’s Adolph” – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

I don’t know if this spam mail is generated by a computer or there are Botswana children who moonlight sending these when they’re not making fake Fendi bags or what but I know I get a ton of them and none have intrigued me as much as Adolph. I suddenly started thinking, “Do I know anyone by that name?” The only person I know named Adolph was Hitler and although some of you may find this shocking, I didn’t know him in person. My mind began to race, what if this really was THE Adolph? What if part of his penance in the after life was that he had to send emails of apology to all the Jews of the world? What would he say? Maybe he would say, “Here’s how I would have killed the Jews, if I had done it.” Oh wait, no, that’s O.J. Or maybe he would write in a bunch of email abbreviations like, LMAO (Laughing My Adolph Off) or KYA (killed your ancestors). I mean what could he say? And why does my mind think this way?

 

The point is that I don’t understand what the whole spam email thing is about, really. And as much as I’m on a computer and consider myself bitechual, you’d think I would know but I don’t. I know it has something to do with putting cookies on your computer or something and then they can track you down or something. Now, I don’t know why they named them cookies but there’s nothing I love more than chocolate chip cookies, I don’t care if they’re even the weird tasting ones from a bakery, love the chocolate chip cookies more than cake, candy or anything. But I digress. My dear friend Betsy would say that it’s the government and they’re tracking our every move and if that’s the case, where do I apply for that job to just sit on the computer all day tracking the whereabouts of never was beens like me? “Hey Charlie look, Helen from Des Moines really did order that mallard decoy for her brother in Chicago. Gee, that’s going to go right back considering I saw her brother order from the International Male catalog the other day!” 

 

Here’s the deal, we all get the spam mail and we hate it. Then why oh why do “friends” think it’s perfectly swell to send jokes, chain emails and the dreaded, “A true friend – I’d better get this back!” emails? I immediately delete all of the above. You are truly NOT my friend if you send these types of emails to me, you are the enemy and you are Adolph Hitler! Well, maybe you’re not Adolph Hitler (I tend to exaggerate). All I’m saying is that we have enough junk in our life; we don’t need additional email junk. That is of course unless there’s an email one day that says, “Hi, it’s Judy Garland.” I think I might open that one just to see if Judy is trying to contact me from the Palladium in the sky. But unless you’re dating someone with the name, don’t open an email with the subject, Hi, it’s Adolph – Don’t Get Me Started!

  

Blech Friday – Don’t Get Me Started! 

Since the invention of the Internet, I have not gone to a mall or store on the infamous “Black Friday” and frankly I really don’t understand why others put themselves through all of it. The crowds are enough to counteract any bargain that might be out there. There seemed to be less of the crazy ads this year, you know the ones that promise 6 plasma screen televisions for $6 at Wal-Mart if you get there first. You know those items that make people line up and have their Thanksgiving dinner in the line just so they can be the first person to run to the electronics department when the store first opens? It’s enough already, considering that people are all ready killing each other over Play Station 3s (and those are certainly not on sale). But for me, the only sale I was interested came in an email from my salon; Blech Friday – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

That’s right, the email came telling me that all of my favorite Bumble and Bumble hair care products were going to be on a 30% off sale for one day, Friday! I know you’re shocked, I couldn’t believe it myself. There I ran, arms outstretched, tears in my eyes to load up on the products. The good news, there was no line, no craziness, just a bunch of people trying to build their self-esteem they’d lost from putting on that 6 pounds in preparation and having Thanksgiving. (You know you’re supposed to make any dessert items at least four days in advance, to make sure the recipe is right and eat all of it yourself and then make it again before the big day for everyone else, right? What? Doesn’t everyone do that? Eat an entire pie or batches and batches of cookies before making the “real” ones for the guests?)

 

But back to the shopping…I guess it’s another one of those things that people look forward to every year and I certainly would be the last person to try to destroy anyone’s shopping high. But honestly, you see these places on television on the news, the people ripping Elmos out of one another’s hands or the parking lot stalkers driving up and down waiting for someone to leave so that they can get in and I just don’t see any enjoyment in it at all. Plus some of these places are now opening at 3:00am just to get a jump on the competition and more sales.

 

And is it just me or how about the fact that there are so many places open on Thanksgiving anymore? Didn’t it used to be that if you didn’t get things the night before Thanksgiving you would have to make due with the last can of Spam from a 7-11 and shape it into a turkey? This Thanksgiving I saw everything from supermarkets to dollar stores open for business. Shouldn’t there be at least one day a year when everyone just sort of stops and is forced to deal with their family? You know, one that doesn’t have any religious connotations to it, just a day to say, “Thanks for being my family. The loan I never paid back in 1986, the time you came when I got a flat tire and didn’t want or know how to change it myself?” I realize I live in Vegas where a lot of people don’t have families here locally but even if you have to spend the day on speakerphone listening to your family’s Thanksgiving while you eat your cold cut turkey sandwich, there seems to be some better alternatives than roaming the dollar store aisles. (Including helping out at a shelter or something to help make someone else’s Thanksgiving and yours.)

 We all work an awful lot of hours anymore, don’t we? And with Satan’s (no, I didn’t mean Santa’s) helpers, we now take our work everywhere with us on our phones and blackberry devices so it should be a good thing to take some time with the family but we simply don’t know how anymore. I had three marathon days of family and you know what? When all was said and done I was very thankful for it. I was also thankful that I had the sense not to fight the crowds of people supposedly filled with holiday spirit but really just a cart full of crap that they got for 10% off because they camped out three days in advance as if the Grateful Dead were alive and playing again for gifts they’ll give relatives that will be re-gifted to their least favorite co-worker because who doesn’t want a reindeer that makes the farting noise? Especially if you managed to get it for $19.99 when it’s usually $29.99! And don’t forget the batteries! Well, I guess we should just all be thankful we made it through another Thanksgiving and we’ve also made it past another blech Friday – Don’t Get Me Started!

Why You Should Still Be Thankful (even with your family)

When you look at things historically (or as I understand them) it was pretty amazing that the Indians were so gracious as to have dinner with the pilgrims altogether that first Thanksgiving. This just goes to show what every Jew knows, whether there’s going to be good or bad news, great or troubled times, “Eat, bubbeleh, eat.”  Breaking bread, as it were, is one of the few civilized customs we have left in America today.

 

I know it may be difficult to gear yourself up for family holiday interaction but just remember that there’s nothing easier then when you finally get to the table and all you really have to say is, “Would you pass the gravy, please?” I’m convinced this is why everyone eats so early on Thanksgiving, everyone is thinking, if we can just make it to the meal it will all be okay.

 

The arrivals happen (so far so good), then a little chit chat and catching up on one another’s lives (manageable and you discover what a good liar you are), suddenly a heated conversation starts about politics, religion or Rosie on The View and your mother (seeing her watch says one o’clock and she planned to serve at three but trying to avoid the confrontation) screams, “Dinner is served!” Food is the great equalizer and brings us together (it’s also what makes us the fattest country in recorded history) but there’s no time for thinking about that on this day of Thanksgiving, after all until you put the gravy on it, turkey is very lean.

Whatever your family is (and no matter how much therapy you’ve gone through to avoid becoming them) those people you’re cringing about are part of you and what made you who you are today. The cliché about nothing in life worth having is easy to get holds true. It also goes for you and how you choose to react and relate to other people. That difficult relationship with your family, friends, mate, date or trick may just be the thing that makes you a stronger, more loving and giving person (if only by way of you overcompensating to not become them). So when your cousin says that Jerry Falwell has it right say to yourself we got Rick Santorum out of office. When your brother says marriage is between a man and a woman, say to yourself, you can get married in Arizona. And when you look around the room on Thanksgiving realize that these are people just like you’re a person and ask yourself what Shakespeare’s Shylock asked, “If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?”

 

We’ve come a long way, babies. When I was eight years old I played Tiny Tim in a college production of A Christmas Carol, “God bless us, everyone.” Other than when I was at the theater I didn’t feel very blessed. I was one of the “unfortunate ones”, the effeminate toddler that was a “Momma’s Boy” then in grade school, “A Sissy” and finally in high school as I was beaten and slammed into lockers more than once a day I graduated to, “A Faggot”. The thing is, in talking to friends, I guess I was fortunate to be effeminate because I never had to doubt that my family loved me for me regardless of the names others hurled at me because this is all I could or knew how to be, just me. I always knew I was gay and being in theater and dance from six years old, made it completely normal to me. It was the outside world that didn’t get it and even from an early age I knew I was right and they were wrong but that doesn’t count when you’re walking down a hall trying to get to that next class, desperately hoping you’ll make it to this class, this time, just once without being called a fag. Although it was obvious to everyone, things weren’t like they are today and while I know everyone in my family knew deep inside, I didn’t officially “come out” until I became involved in my first relationship at twenty-one.

 

Things are different today. Think about the fact that high schools now have gay-straight alliances, think about the fact that there are gays on television and representing us in congress and then think about the different world it’s going to be for the next generation of gays. When you look at all of that how can you not be grateful for the people who opposed and supported you to make you who you are today? It’s Thanksgiving so do yourself a favor and remove the chip from your shoulder (no matter how many years it’s been there) do me and yourself a favor, look around at your family and just say, “God bless us, everyone.”

  

A Very Beige Thanksgiving Dinner!

Our Thanksgiving meals have always looked like Calvin Klein’s collection from the 1970’s everything on the table was beige, not a green vegetable in sight. I think that growing up we all think that whatever is done in our home is pretty much what everyone else is doing. (Unless of course you’re doing human sacrifices for Thanksgiving) Our family’s philosophy was always that the more starch you could put on the table, the better for all involved (this is also good for your table cloth).

 

But here’s the deal, I didn’t know that this wasn’t normal until my guy pointed it out to me. Here’s a quick briefing on my guy and me – we are the poster children for hate crimes. He’s a six foot black man that was an altar boy and I’m a short Jewish guy who was bar mitzvah. On paper there’s no reason this relationship should work but it does and has for the past eighteen years (I was six when we started dating – not really, what do you think, my guy is a congressman?). We’re still madly in love and have bucked the odds by being in a completely monogamous relationship (which I believe translates to something like 8,000 years in gay years because monogamous gay years count like dog years, right?) and my heart still goes pitter-pat when he walks in the room.

 

The good news about being in an interfaith relationship is that holidays are never a problem. You’ll never hear my parent bemoaning the fact that we’re not spending Christmas with them. Oy vey, someday I’ll tell you what it was like the first time I went to Christmas breakfast at Michael’s parents house. Now I’m not Kosher by any means but I had no idea that there were so many parts to a pig or that they were all edible. The jury is still out for me on some of the exotic delicacies derived from Porky Pig. Tha, tha, tha, that’s all folks. (for now)

 

So after one of our Thanksgiving meals Michael asked the question as to why there didn’t seem to be any green vegetables on the table. Immediately defensive I said, “What do you mean? Didn’t you see the green bean casserole?” I hated to but had to admit that this green vegetable had met a beige fate in my mother’s hands. You know the casserole I’m talking about, the one with the mushroom soup and Durkee crispy onions on top, cooked to within an inch of its life? 

 

I started thinking back and really couldn’t place a fresh green vegetable involved anywhere with the Thanksgiving dinner or any other meal for that matter. Growing up the vegetables we had on a regular basis were creamed corn, frozen French cut green beans and LeSeur peas from a can. Not a vegetable, I know but I do remember that somewhere in the late 1980’s there started appearing cranberry “something” on the Thanksgiving table. It wasn’t sauce exactly, it was simply a can of some cranberry mixture that would be taken out of its can and if you could get it all out in one piece it retained the shape and markings of the tin can around it. I don’t recall anyone ever slicing a piece off of this traditional gelatinous cranberry log but I remember how odd it was to see something that wasn’t beige on the table.

 

Well over the years Michael has tried to convert my family to the way of the fresh green vegetables and fruits. I remember the year he made homemade cranberry and orange relish. My mother’s response, “Oh good, you got here before I opened the can of the real stuff.” My sister-in-law is also a green vegetable eater so when she joined the family it was even more of a reason to join the green vegetable craze. Although my mother still has no idea how to cook vegetables unless they come frozen in a bag and you can microwave them. I remember when she discovered broccoli in the late nineties, she said to me, “Guess what I ate? Broccoli! Have you ever had it? Well, I hadn’t but let me tell you it’s just delicious if you put enough butter on it.” It’s not my mother’s fault, it’s her mother’s fault, no just kidding. Our vegetables were always potatoes and if we were feeling crazy, sweet potatoes in so much brown sugar your teeth hurt. But thanks to Michael, the man of my dreams, he brought color to our family pictures and to our Thanksgiving table!

Relative Preparation - A gay man's survival guide for dealing with relatives at Thanksgiving in one blog!

Preparing yourself for Thanksgiving is so much more than shopping for those holiday foods, picking which sweaters to pack and trying to get that Prozac prescription refilled and covered by your insurance even though it hasn’t been thirty days since you last had it filled. You must prepare yourself emotionally as well as physically and this goes for those of you who self medicate by crunching up and snorting anything you can get your little hands on. That’s right I’m talking to all of you.

 

The trick is that no matter how much you talk to yourself prior to arriving or your guests arriving, “I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks!” (See The Wizard of Oz if you’re confused) There’s no stopping this freight train that is coming your way. Now you can say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I looove the holiday and having my family around me.” But I would say to you, “Yeah, right.” I love my family too and if you ever Google the word, “co-dependent” you’ll find our picture but when you’re forced to be in the same house with one another for an extended period of time there’s no way you’re not going to get on one another’s nerves.

 

Here’s the deal, start your workout now. I’m not talking about lifting weights kids I’m talking about getting prepared like you would if you were going on Jeopardy. My family is a small one but if you’ve got a larger family you must prepare yourself for the questions ahead. Here’s where if you’re out to your family there’s one set of answers and if you’re not there’s another. Allow me to provide you with some stock answers to shut up any prying relatives and/or a way to finesse (change) topics too explosive to really discuss in mixed company.

 

Category – The Company You Keep (usually a relative that will never ask you anything directly but will interpret it to suit their needs and tell every one of you relatives that are living or dead)

Question: So, where did you meet your “friend”?

Out Answer: Oh Aunt Ida, you’ll never believe this but we both reached for the same box of condoms and the rest is as they say, sex. 

Not Out Answer: We met when we were both waiting to get our oil changed and we discovered we both use the same lubricant.

 

Category – Job Security (If you’re a doctor or lawyer or in my doctor’s case, dating a lawyer then you are a Jewish mother’s wet dream so just skip this question)

Question: How long have you been working there? And what is it you do exactly?

Out Answer: Well, I’m still working in the mens department at the store but I’m hoping to be in better dresses right after the first of the year.

Not Out Answer: I’m still working retail but I’m taking a correspondence course and I’ll be a neurosurgeon if I just pass my next online exam.

 

Category – Current Affairs (yes, I’m talking about “those” kinds of affairs.)

Question: What do you make of all these gay scandals in the news these days?

Out Answer: Well, it’s a recipe for disaster much like Aunt Dotty’s cheesecake. You take one part holier then thou and mix it with two parts piety and you’re bound to get a rise out of someone.

Not Out Answer: I can’t discuss it I’m still verklempt over the fact Oprah’s putting the weight back on. 

 

 

Here’s the given, much like life and Mel Gibson, some you can take for longer periods than others. The real trick to holidays is maneuvering ways to spend time with the people you can stand and making the ones you can’t feel insanely jealous that they aren’t included in your circle of fun. No, let’s face it, there’s really no avoiding any of your relatives on a holiday where you’re all trapped in a house and the closest you can get to aromatherapy is the smell of turkey. (I’m just waiting for the Yankee Candle Company to come out with that scent) So do what you can to prepare yourself because as we all know the best defense is a good offense or is it the best offense is a good defense? I don’t know the coach in seventh grade gave me an “A” for NOT showing up for the entire year. The good news is that I know it’s a football reference that you can throw around if your in the “not out” category or trying to butch up the fact that you just squealed when you cracked open the Pillsbury rolls on the counter! And if all else fails, convince yourself you’re on a reality show and spend the holiday looking around trying to figure out who you would vote off!

Brothers & Sisters and A Promiscuous Gay – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

Some shows that I watch I’m very proud of (Dancing With The Stars, Project Runway, Oprah, etc.) some I’m not so proud of and others I get hooked into after watching an episode and before you know it I’m crying every week with Sally Field and I don’t know why. I’ve watched Brothers & Sisters from the first episode mainly for the cast. I was thrilled to be seeing Sally Field every week on television (especially without that ridiculous habit she wore as The Flying Nun) and Tom Skerritt, (who knew he was going to die in the first episode? Don’t worry they manage enough flashbacks to make him a regular). The family depicted on the show is a large one and a little too pretty to be believed but I haven’t missed an episode. I’ve liked the conflict of the brothers and sisters and been pleasantly surprised by the handling of the gay brother who is an attorney, that is until this week when it turned into Brothers & Sisters and a promiscuous gay – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

The show was created by Ken Olin who you may recall he and wife Patricia Wettig from Thirtysomething. (what a coincidence that she managed to get a role on this show, hmmm, funny how that works) You may also notice that this show looks and feels so much like Thirtysomething that you almost have flashbacks to it. Everyone is just a little too perfect in his or her stereotypical character. The exception this time around was with the gay brother. He had a somewhat unbelievable relationship with a cater waiter but all in all you sort of believed this character could exist in real life. That is except for the fact that just about every fifth line out of the character’s mouth to someone is, “Well, I’m gay.” This became irritating but there was still plenty of drama provided by Sally Field and Rachel Griffiths fighting her natural accent to sound American to keep you watching this show.

 

I Tivo it so I don’t have to put up with commercials. Imagine my surprise this week when what seemed to be a character to go down in history, a gay who was not all that histrionic became every cliché of a gay all in one episode. First the car broke down and to prove he wasn’t the gay stereotype, he poured water into the engine of his BMW instead of the radiator. That only received a raised eyebrow from me. What happened next was in an “Army bar” where there were nothing but service men and lo and behold our gay brother snags one of the soldiers with his classic line, “Well, I’m gay.” Yes, in a room filled only with military men, two brothers and a sister stranded with no hotel for the night, our gay brother finds the one gay guy in the military who’s not afraid to flirt with another guy in front of his peers (to be fair the director, Ken Olin, made sure the military men were always looking the opposite direction – sound familiar – when the flirting was taking place). What happens next is a scene so ingrained in the gay culture it’s almost comical. Fade up on the next morning, the non-gay brother and the sister get out of the car holding their backs talking about having to sleep on the floor all night while the gay brother does a huge sprawling stretch to signify he got the bed and the military man the night before.

 

You can say I’m a romantic but I was still hoping for a happy ending with the cater waiter that kept putting the lawyer gay in his place but no…we can’t have that happen, we need to ensure we can have all gay stereotypes explored and exploited. Why am I outraged? Because just when I thought we were going to get one of the few representations of gay men right this season on television, they have to make him the gay promiscuous stereotype. Oh I’ll keep watching and crying with Sally Field but I sure do hope that someone somewhere gets the gay character back on track. I hear their ratings haven’t been great and that does disappoint me, as it’s rare to have a drama on the air that doesn’t involve violent crime, a hospital or mediums. But please do us all a favor and let the show be what it started to be, a show about brothers and sisters and not Brothers & Sisters and a promiscuous gay – Don’t Get Me Started!

Note: Faithful readers of my blog will realize this is an edited version of an earlier post but as it has to do with travel for the holidays, I decided to post it again for outzonetv - Don't Get Me Started!

Thanksgiving Travel 3-1-1

As most of us know, Thanksgiving is the busiest travel time of the year, I know that you’re all shocked it isn’t Passover, God knows I was but I want to help all of you world weary travels avoid a carry on calamity this holiday season. I’ve taken the liberty of being your Jewish mother and reading all the Travel Security Administration rules in legalese about liquids in your carry on and I’ve translated it here in Gayman’s terms.

 

3-1-1 - Now you’re going to have no idea what these numbers stand for or why they’re choosing them for their new campaign to supposedly educate and make security lines go faster. Prepare yourself – the 3 stands for 3 ounces, the first 1 stands for 1 quart sized clear plastic bag and the other 1 stands for 1 bag per person. Like a basement sale at Filene’s as many 3 ounce bottles as you can cram into that quart sized bag is just fine just don’t let any individual bottle be more than 3 ounces. They go even further to say the bag has to zip at the top (enter the marketing tie-in with Ziploc).

 

I’m not proud that it takes several products to make me look the way I do every day but I’ve also resigned myself to the fact. I used to love shopping for all of those “travel sized” products but now I just find them expensive and never the real products I use. However, for the sake of 3-1-1 and your benefit, on a recent trip I decided to sacrifice my brand of designer shave cream (among other things) and go for the drugstore equivalent due to the fact it came in a 2.5 ounce size. All told I think I had a total of 32 ounces when all was said and done in my bulging baggie.

 

I was standing there in line at security with my shoes and belt off, my laptop under my arm and now my baggie, I felt a little like this was prison or showering in the dorm. Is it wrong to feel “exposed” standing there in your socks, trying to juggle everything that has to go in a bin or on the belt by itself? Not to mention, any time you get a Jew in a line with all their belongings in their hands and make them walk through something, there’s bound to be an ethnic flashback of epic proportions. “Yes, I have my boarding pass still on me and I’m hurrying, Mr. Himmler! Thanks for the yellow star and pink triangle!”

 

You need to be prepared for the attitude you’ll get about what goes in a bin or the belt by itself. That is a whole other scene. I love when you dump everything in the first bin you see just to get organized, uncrimp your arms and immediately you hear, “UM, THE SHOES HAVE TO GO ON THE BELT BY THEMSELVES NOT IN A BIN! <<big sigh>> And nothing else can be in the bin with your laptop, sir <<said with so much sarcasm, you think Jon Lovitz is now working for the TSA>>”

 

As I was putting all of my things on the belt and in bins, I see a TSA person walking quickly around holding something almost at shoulder level from him, going from station to station like he was holding a bomb. What was it, you ask? It was a Mother Freakin’ Snow Globe!! That’s right you read correctly. This was no small snow globe either, we’re talking full coffee table sized snowstorm here. Meanwhile there’s this forty-something-should-know-better woman walking behind him as if shocked she couldn’t bring the damn thing on the plane with her flailing her arms in disgust. Okay, now I may be too much of a rule follower having been on the web site and adhered to every single policy to the letter but come on, at this point shouldn’t we all know that you can’t bring something like that on? (Especially if it plays, “Music of the Night” or “Memory”) I was prepared to bring the whole airport to a halt if they let the bitch through security with that thing but they were still looking for a supervisor and she was now on her cell phone screaming about the TSA guy as she’s walking right behind him (subtle) as if it’s his fault for her stupidity. Meanwhile my seventeen hundred things were whizzing down the belt system at me so I decided to just move along.

 

As my items were careening toward me down the belt and I’m trying to get everything back on and in my bags like Ethel and Lucy wrapping chocolate, I had to wonder if I had really “saved” myself time, energy or anything else by not checking the bag with my “life sized” brand named liquids and gels. But I won’t give the bag handler terrorists the satisfaction of ripping my luggage and bending the wheels for a short trip.

 

And so there I was - one of the few who dared to follow all the rules and have carry on luggage. It made me proud and sad at the same time. (I was totally elated that there was so much less fighting over overhead bin space!) The TSA thinks they have it all figured out and as someone who travels a lot, I am confident that once again, they have no clue what they’re doing and their new restrictions will not keep us safer. The new campaign? What does it really stand for? 3 people per day will kill 1 TSA person or 1 other passenger over this dumb campaign. My advice to you is to put it in your checked luggage. I know you’re saying, “What if I get to Ohio and my exfoliant goes to Tangiers?” Well, it’s still better than going through security trying to be a performer for Cirque Du Soleil, juggling everything you own AND a quart sized zipper locking baggie.  3-1-1- Don’t Get Me Started!

Orvis Gifts For Men – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

In a previous blog I discussed the deluge of catalogs that are arriving daily to my home for this holiday season. Well yesterday one arrived that has surpassed all the others for the least likely to have me order anything from it. Orvis Gifts For Men – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

Let me say that I have no idea what Orvis is or how the catalog even came into being. I have received it before but never was there one specifically for men that I recall. So, I figured, I’m a man, let me see what gifts are in this catalog that will make my “must have” list. It only took opening the front cover to see the handpainted toy soldiers from the civil war to understand that not only was this catalog not for this man but it wasn’t for any other man I know either. Even the models in this catalog look confused. They all look like James Denton from Desperate Housewives in about ten years. And they look desperate to get out of this catalog.

 

Am I wrong to think that this catalog is for a man that doesn’t exist? I must be because I’m sure that the following are at the top of your list for this holiday season…

• The bright red or green embroidered holiday cords – these feature wreaths on the red pants and candy canes on the green ones. Think about those repulsive pants with the ducks embroidered on them and then add the texture of corduroy. Hmmm. Sexy!
• The bronze mallard bottle opener for $79 – don’t get caught without one of these babies
• The bison fringed gloves for $85 – that’s right, made from genuine bison
• And of course, the limited edition pheasant carving (we used to call them decoys and only non-Jews have them in a study on a book shelf or something) for $249

 As a choreographer I used to work with used to say when we weren’t getting it and she didn’t understand why we weren’t getting it, she would look to the heavens and ask, “Is it I Lord?”  

Is it I that I simply don’t get it? This catalog is filled with items that are for the mythical stereotypical male that doesn’t exist. The only man I could see using half of this shit is the Marlboro man. Who walks around with a leather hand tooled “quick draw cell phone holster”? And who are these people who have an entire catalog dedicated to the stereotypical representation of the straight man, it’s not like us gays have anything like that. Well, hmmm, sure there is the International Male catalog but a lot of misguided straight guys sport some of those “fashions” too (unfortunately for them). The only gays who might possibly be wearing any of the crap in this Orvis catalog are the ones that didn’t get the memo that last year was the year to walk around looking like Brokeback Mountain, not this year.

 

I know it “takes all kinds” as my father says and that I need to be more tolerant but it just pisses me off to see another tree give its life to the likes of this catalog. Desktop cedar canoe, $179, single gun case, $139, “The Gift Of A Lifetime: The Orvis Fly Fishing School”, priceless. Well, not to me dammit. Orvis Gifts For Men – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

Pontificating People – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

In the movie Annie Hall, Woody Allen and Diane Keaton are standing on line waiting to get in to see a movie. There’s a guy behind them pontificating about the director of the movie they are about to see. Woody Allen turns to the camera and says something like “What I wouldn’t give for a sock filled with horse manure right now.” Mr. Allen, I couldn’t agree with him more. Pontificating people – Don’t Get Me Started!

 Yesterday morning I went to the chiropractor and it was crazy busy so I decided to just wait out in the hall. As I’m standing there making sure my phone is turned off and my Blackberry is on mute (I’m so polite, ain’t I?) I start hearing this elderly gentlemen talking. At first it’s just about general chit chatty things but then I find that I suddenly know that he’s retired from a Strip hotel here in Vegas, has five children and then the pontificating really started. He goes on to tell the world that his mother died when he was five and his father died when he was eight. He goes on about how to raise children and what you have to do to make gentlemen and ladies out of them. He’s now telling everyone what is wrong with society, cable television and supermarkets. Suddenly I realize that I know more about this guy than I do about half of my friends. I’m not sure if it’s an age thing or not, but does he not have a volume knob? Wouldn’t it be great if we could install volume knobs on people who talk too loud? 

Starbucks seems to be the worst for the pontificators. They stand in line on their cell phones screaming at whoever is on the other line with, “I’m telling you right now, he is not worth your time, you need to move on. I know, I know, so what I’ve been on Maury fourteen times and I don’t know who the baby’s daddy is on any of my eight kids but listen to me girl. I will straighten your life right out.” Or Barry Businessman, “No Steve, I need the numbers today. That is completely unacceptable. Let me tell you, I didn’t get to be the Vice President (probably the Vice President in charge of finding the right lids to his mother’s Tupperware) by not getting the numbers in, that much I can tell you.”

 

And the ultimate pontificators…the religious people. <my head bowed and tilted on a slight angle and my eyes downcast to the floor> God love these people (because no one else does). I don’t care what religious beliefs you have just keep them to yourself, please. I can’t stand to listen to them go on and on. I had some Mormonians come to my door once. You know the drill, two boys on bikes with white shirts, black pants and a skinny black tie. All accented beautifully with their colorful bike riding helmets and their backpacks full of sh…well, let’s just say they’re full of something. So I answer the door and they lead right off with the classic, “Hello, Jesus loves you.” I’m like, “Great, I live to be popular. Now did I sleep with or date this Jesus fellow or what?” No actually I was really respectful and just used my classic line, “Thanks, but I’m Jewish.” As I’m trying to close the door, they start in, “Jesus doesn’t care that you’re Jewish, he loves you.” What followed was about five excruciating minutes that I believe were as painful as having your gums scraped by a raccoon with rabies. On and on they went about the teachings of Jesus and why I needed to accept him into my heart. I tried everything, I played the Jewish card, the gay card, I even tried the “I’ve got something in the oven” (what did I think I was Donna Reed?) card and finally the “go fish” card (figuring they like the whole fish on the car thing – read that blog…People With THE FISH On Their Car - Don't Get Me Started!) and nothing would stop them, they were relentless. 

 

We all know I’m very opinionated, just ask me. But I don’t go around trying to convince everyone to see things my way very loudly in public places, that’s what this blog is for people! So please, even if you’ve figured a way to solve the world energy crisis or you’re the only one Jesus called to tell he’s making a comeback soon, just keep it to yourself. No one likes to hear another person go on and on acting like an expert in everything from relationships to how to suck helium properly so that your voice stays funnier longer. I’ve found that the cliché to be true, the people who do the most talking know the least. So please pontificating people – Don’t Get Me Started!

Nuke The Gay Baby Penguins – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

 

 

I don’t know how many of you have heard about the two male penguins in the New York zoo that found an abandoned egg, hatched it and have raised the baby as their own. Well, now there’s a children’s book about the real-life partners raising their adopted baby and some parents in Illinois aren’t asking for the book to be pulled from school library shelves or burned as one might think, no they just want the book to be segregated into a “special” section so that parents can choose when their child is ready to hear about the “special” penguins. Oh please don’t stop by just segregating the book, let’s go all the way, shall we? Let’s get really ridiculous and cover all areas and nuke the gay baby penguins – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

Here’s the deal, I know that a lot of people say that you aren’t born gay and that there is no homosexuality in nature. Okay, maybe these two penguins are just pals, you know like Ernie and Bert from Sesame Street who are now in their forties and still living together or Hall and Oates (made you think, didn’t I), or maybe even Ponch and Jon from C.H.I.P.S. (okay, maybe that last one was just me dating myself and revealing too much about what I thought about when I watched the show as a kid).

 

I guess my question is whether or not these parents think they’re being politically correct or worse yet, “gracious” by not asking for a full on ban of this book but just segregation? Frankly I almost wish that they would just show their true colors and ask for the ban because we all know that deep down that’s what they really want.  It’s like this person I used to know (get the “used to”) who said to me once, “I don’t think that gays should be allowed in the military because they have to be in such tight quarters and well, you know. But then I think about you and what if you wanted to be in the military? As your friend I would want you to be able to be in the military. I’m just torn.” Well, it wasn’t long before I tore myself away from that friendship. You see, I can take someone not liking me because I’m gay or Jewish or the hundred thousand other things I am if they just say it to my face but don’t try to act as if you’re my friend or you’re doing me the favor of tolerating me because you’re such a good person. Please just go ahead and be hateful to my face. I’ve dealt with it before and I’m sure that I will again.

 

The thing to remember here is that this is not some Lifetime Television For Women And The Gays (the gay part is just implied by every piece of programming on that network). It is real life, it’s what happened and IS happening, these two penguins didn’t see the twelve million interviews about Rosie and Kelly about their kids or Melissa Etheridge and say, “Gee, that looks fun! Let’s do that too!” It just happened, a lot like it does for a lot of us. I didn’t ask to be born gay and I also knew that my life was going to be different because of my gayness but I never thought for one moment of putting myself on a separate shelf away from everything that wasn’t gay.

 

Having just written that I’m thinking about all of the gays who DO think that they can only live in a gay neighborhood, shop at gay stores and have gay friends. I don’t get these people at all. I mean how can you hold the word “diversity” in everyone’s face and then say, “I knew a straight person once.” Believe me, these people are out there but I have to think and hope that they are the minority. Much like when my friend converted to Judaism, she was a lot more Jewish than me for a long time. Or my cousin when he came out, he couldn’t get through a sentence without it featuring the word, “gay”. (I let him know in short order that I was the Gaytriarch of the family and that he didn’t have to include the word “gay” as every forth word to keep his membership card).

 

The thing is that we’re all going to hate something or someone. I, for example, hate the men with well-defined arms and six pack abs. I know you’re going to tell me that I’m being too narrow-minded but I’ve gone ahead and admitted it. I’ll even stare at them when I see them at the gym just to let them know where I stand but come on, how can you hate the penguins? They’re so well dressed and they walk so cute! How about when Dick Van Dyke pulled his pants down (before it was cool) and danced with the animated penguins in Mary Poppins? It’s a children’s book, it has illustrations (that don’t look like The Joy of Gay Sex) and what these parents really don’t like and won’t tell you is that what really bothers them is the page that says the baby penguin has “two daddies”. Putting the book on a different shelf isn’t going to solve this problem; we have to get rid of those real-life deviant penguins! Nuke the gay baby penguins – Don’t Get Me Started!

  

Please, Thank You And Turn Signals – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

My guy of eighteen years, Michael has always said to me that the world would be a different and better place if everyone said, “Please, thank you and used their turn signals” – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

Where IS common courtesy anymore? Does it exist? I try to hold doors open, say good morning to people when our eyes meet and generally do the right thing but what gets me is that this is just me in my normal everyday life. Can someone (anyone) explain to me why when I purchase something at a store, that nine times out of ten, I’m the one that says, “thank you” and NOT the person behind the counter, whose salary I’m helping to pay? I don’t care if you work in a grocery store or if you’re working at Armani, I expect a little please and thank you. Is that really so much to ask? I think not but more often than not I’m treated like an inconvenience or that I should be thankful the person behind the counter has managed to acknowledge me let alone take my money. I’ve heard all the excuses about it being generational and all the other crap and frankly I’m just not buying. You see whether humans or monkeys raised you, by the time you are old enough to get a job you should know about some elementary manners. It always amazes me how grateful I feel when I DO get good guest service. Sure there are exceptions, go to Nordstrom and they’ll please and thank you all day but I’m sure you’ve all experienced what I’m talking about it most stores and until Nordstrom carries groceries, we’ll have to shop other places for certain things.

 

Now onto the next Mr. Gay Manners issue for today…turn signals. I understand that I live in Las Vegas and I’m convinced that if you’re license has been revoked or you’re just a lousy driver, a welcome kit to move to Las Vegas appears automatically at your door. I’ve driven in LA and New York and nothing compares to the crappy driving I face every day in Vegas. Accidents are the norm and they are largely due to the fact that when a light turns red in Vegas you had better wait at least three seconds before entering the intersection because the people who have the red light seem to feel that it’s like the rule you had as a kid for eating something that landed on the floor, if you pick it up within three seconds, it’s okay to eat. Apparently the same thing applies with drivers and red lights here in Vegas, if the light turns red you have an additional three seconds to still “make it”. I’m convinced that no one actually has working turn signals on their cars because I never see anyone actually use them. The first year we lived here around Thanksgiving the anchor on the evening news, with a completely straight face, said, “And please remember folks, that if you’re planning on driving in another state this holiday season, please use your turn signals and remember that you shouldn’t go through red lights.” This was not some “reminder” it was almost an actual plea to follow the rules when you’re somewhere else so that no one will find out about our horrific drivers.

 

I know that I can be demanding but I really don’t think that I’m asking for too much when looking for a little common courtesy. I’m not asking for Oprah and Bono to team up or for Michael Jackson to update “We Are The World”. All I want is a little please, thank you and turn signals – Don’t Get Me Started! 

Wrap It Up! – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

Not many people know this but I am a professional wrapper. That’s right, I was employed at one point in the gift-wrapping department in a major department store back in the day. I call myself a “professional” because they always came to me when it was time for the oversized or oddly shaped packages. I never met a package I couldn’t wrap and to this day, I do all the wrapping at holiday time for family and friends. But today I was in a store and I saw that the Dorito’s bag has a festive holiday wrap. Give me a break and wrap it up – Don’t Get Me Started!

 

Now believe me when I say that I get the power behind putting a wrap on things. My parents once owned a drugstore and instead of getting new Russell Stover’s candy in for the holidays, Russell would just send the plastic “holiday” wrap for the old boxes and we’d simply slip it over the end of the box. (always check the date on everything) If that box of candy didn’t sell, the wrap came off after the holidays and you waited to see if it was getting the Easter wrap. However, that’s candy, a suitable last minute drugstore gift for someone you don’t know well or just got invited to their house for dinner. I get why Russell and the rest of the candy people would create wraps for their boxes but come on, chips?

 

I can just see it now; you arrive at your boyfriend’s parents for the holidays and you’ve brought them the bag of chips with the red bow drawn on the front. Well, that’s bound to impress them and endear them to you. Even at the office party, don’t the chips go in a bowl? I don’t feel the need to have wrapping paper drawn on my chips or my soda thank you. I mean, come on, what’s next, luncheon meat?

 

And don’t try to tell me that it makes it nicer when you arrive at someone’s house to have the fake wrapped chips. Is that supposed to be a gift? Some gift, “Here Helen, I wanted to give you this extra ten pounds around your waistline and clog some of your arteries, Happy Holidays!” Chips and sodas just aren’t gifts, this I can tell you. Even if you’re helping the homeless or those less fortunate do you really think that the wrapped soda is going to give them that warm and fuzzy feeling? “Sorry, I didn’t get you a turkey that you could eat off of for a week because I just couldn’t take my eyes off of this six pack with the red bow imprinted on it! It’s so festive, don’t you think?” No, I don’t, I think it’s an illness that manufacturer’s have thinking that anything even remotely associated with the holidays will sell more than your every day product so they’re going to start mock wrapping everything. It won’t be long before your motor oil goes festive and the Quaker Oats guy has a Santa hat on!

 

The thing is that I get it, we all like pretty things but I can’t help believe that somewhere along the line we’ve crossed the line and there’s no going back. Maybe this is just my high cholesterol talking but I don’t want the things that are so horrendous for me to be wrapped up with a bow. Here are things I do like to see wrapped, new cars, diamond jewelry, anything electronic and chocolate covered pretzels. I know, I broke my own rule but come on, how can you possibly resist chocolate covered pretzels? And they should only be for special occasions as they are way too yummy to have on a regular basis. I even get the small sized toiletry products havin