oh yeah. i’m sorry. that’s christmas.

My, oh my. It’s already Christmas time. That means it’s almost the year 2000. What’s Conan gonna do with his sketch? “In the year 2001” doesn’t really have the same ring.

This also means it’s time to send out my Christmas cards. Last year I had a great time exchanging them with you guys. The bad news? I changed jobs. I lost just about every address you guys sent in. The good news? I want you to send them again. If you want to exchange Holiday Greetings, send me your address. Huzzah!

The Sounds of Christmas

“Oh, and you aren’t allowed to check the mail until next year.”
“Yeah, well, neither are you.”
“Well, who’s going to check the mail?”
“Well, you can check the mail, but do it with your eyes closed.”
“How will I know what’s for me and what’s for you?”
“Just don’t open anything addressed to me. And if it’s addressed to you but it’s wrapped, don’t open it.”
“And don’t be shaking things, either.”

“Cal! Get off the Christmas tree! Get down! Get down! Get! You… dammit… NO! NO! NO! Why don’t you listen?”

“Taylor, stop eating the Christmas tree. Stop eating the rug. Stop eating my hair.”

“Yes, I need a pack of cigarettes and six books of stamps.”

“Oh look, the insurance people sent a Christmas card with the bill. That was nice of them.”

“Tis the season to let me MERGE, fucker! I’ve got my damn blinker on! Slow down!”

“I may buy you a few things that I want for me, okay?”

“I left this Pottery Barn catalog out for you…you know, if you get bored or something. There’s things in there that I circled and highlighted… uh, you know, just letting you know.”

“Have I told you lately how much I wanted the new Beck album? And the Fiona Apple album? And the–”
“You’ve mentioned. You’ve mentioned.”

“Okay. I bought five rolls of wrapping paper, ten boxes, six decorative bags and three bags of ribbon.”
“And a Partridge in a pear tree?”
“Ha.”
“Where’s the Scotch tape?”
“Shit.”

“Every year I buy Egg Nog, drink one glass and then let it mold.”
“And that’s different than the milk how?”
“Shutup.”

“You know what I’m getting you for Christmas?”
“What?”
“A book on how to put away laundry after you clean it.”
“Shutup.”
“Every afternoon I come home to a living room full of your panties.”
“Come on, isn’t that every guy’s dream?”
“Well, I keep looking through the panties, but I never find the naked girl.”
“I guess that’s a key point I’m leaving out.”
“Yeah, I guess.”

“Cal! Get down! Cal!”

“The good news is we still have Christmas ornaments. The bad news is Taylor ate Big Bird.”

“If I just pile the lights in a big ball on the porch and plug them in, do you think people would get the idea?”

“It’s seventy-five degrees outside. It’s December. Friggin’ Texas, man.”

“Should we buy some mistletoe?”
“No! It’s poisonous to cats.”
“Man, they ruin everything.”

“I can’t believe you did that!”
“I’m sorry.”
“No! Why did you do that?”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“But you did it and it almost broke and then you laughed and did it again and then you broke it!”
“It’s not broken.”
“You’re destroying my pretty, pretty home!”
“Calm down. Look I fixed it.”
“That’s not the point!”
“What isn’t?”
“The point is you’re running around this house like Lenny breaking things left and right.”
“Just calm down.”
“No! You tend the rabbits and that’s it. Just sit there!”
“What is your problem?”
“I can’t find anything to buy my sister.”
“So you freak out about the ceiling fan?”
“It makes sense in my world.”
“Well in my world we’d have you committed.”
“Ha.”

“Get out! Get out! Don’t come in here!”
“It’s the bedroom.”
“I’m just fixing something!”
“Oooh. It’s a present for me! I’m coming in!”
“Don’t you dare!”
“It sounds big.”
“You can’t hear what it sounds like.”
“No, but I can see it.”
“Really?”
“No. But tell me what it is and I won’t come in.”
“Go away!”

ring!
“Don’t answer that.”
“Why, who is it?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to talk to them.”

“Cal! Get off of Taylor!”
“Baby, ’tis the season for giving. He’s just trying to give Taylor a hug.”
“No, he isn’t.”
“See? Now Taylor is sniffing his butt. They are just getting in the holiday spirit.”
“I’ll give you a holiday spirit.”
“Ow!”
“Ow!”
“Oww! That hurt!”
“You spit in my eye!”
“You elbowed my special place!”
“You hurt my wrist.”
“You hurt my feeler.”

“What’s that smell?”
“Cal is spreading some holiday cheer.”
“Fabulous.”

“I wrote you a poem.”
“You did? That was so nice of you.”
“Yeah. Wanna hear it?”
“Okay.”
“Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
At Best Buy for fifty dollars
You can find Gran Turismo II.”
“That’s beautiful, baby.”
“I’ve got tears.”
“So romantic.”