The birth of Jesus Christ

I always get writer’s block around holidays.

What am I supposed to write about? Do you think I got a new car and jewelry for Christmas, and I’m going to take the time out of my life to post a million pictures of it. The only time when I take time out of life to post a million pictures of something is if it involves my tits, my lover, or anything generally with me in it and I’m looking half way decent. I’m a lazy photographer and a lazy writer on most days.

I got a blanket and a black and white stripped shirt for Christmas. Nothing picture worthy, but I’m not upset about it at all (except maybe the black and white stripped shirt. What am I? A 1950’s prisoner impersonator?). I specifically asked for a blanket for Christmas. My mom walked up to me, pushing her glasses up to her face and sucking on one of those God awful caramel candies, “What do you want for Christmas?” There is no surprise in the matter of gifts in my house hold. You get what you ask for, and I asked for a blanket. I could have said a car. I wouldn’t have got it, but I could have said it.

When my brother and I were little, Christmas was basically a Day of the Dead for my parents. Armageddon. We would rush to the mail box to grab the Toys R’ Us catalog and rip every single thing out that we wanted or even kinda wanted or even just the things we just simply wanted to own, but didn’t want to play with. Our Christmas lists consisted of about 3 construction paper pages worth of Toys R’ Us merchandise cut and pasted unruly in no particular order. And we got everything. Everything. We were spoiled.

So, at the age of 23, I decided to play it simple. I didn’t ask for a blanket simply because it’s soft and I sleep on the floor at night, but I asked for a blanket because I actually collect blankets. It’s kind of creepy how happy a blanket can make me. Blanket purchases go in the order of me examining its width and its length, rubbing it against my face, and seeing if its color adequately matches my room (I’m going for a boho-indian-hippie-nerd- African safari-ish theme… Whatever that is). This blanket was a plethora of green, red, orange, yellow, brown- just about every color meshed into one blanket. It was hideous and did not match my confusing room theme, but I smiled anyway and happily added it to my collection.

I think I have about 10 blankets in total now (yes, I have a Snuggie). I also collect pillows, but my love for pillows requires its own blog post. That wasn’t the excitement of Christmas though. At my age, the excitement of Christmas is being financially able to give back to your parents like they gave to you as a child. I bought my mom an Android tablet and, my dad, a camcorder.

I couldn’t have been happier to see their faces and that, ladies and gentlemen, is what Christmas is about.

Of course, a tablet and a camcorder does not suffice for the horrors my parents went through in my childhood years, but, trust me, there are many more paychecks and many more holidays where that came from 🙂

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