But Do You Recall, The Strangest Christmas Songs Of Them All

Like any good Christian, I enjoy Christmas. I love the family time, the presents, the food (sometimes the food more than the family ... don't tell my family I said that), the way people pretend they're at an all time happiness when in reality they're pulling the hair from their noses because the holiday stresses them out. But Christmas definitely wouldn't be Christmas without Christmas music; whether that be hymns or commercialized jingles pointing out special savings (Happy Honda days ... really?). 

Today, I want to point out why some of these songs may have the magic of Christmas, but it's a dark magic. 

Baby It's Cold Outside
Can I just say this is one of the creepiest songs in songville in general? There's a man, I'm guessing he's in his mid-50s, probably rocking a pedophile mustache, singing to a girl who most likely is 17 trying to convince her to not leave his den of iniquity because it's cold outside. All her good common sense is combated with responses like "you'll freeze and it's up to your knees out there." 

How is this a Christmas song? I think it may have started out as a Public Service Announcement showing the dangers of My Space relationships and accidentally was played on the radio after a Mannheim Steamroller rendition of "Joy to the World," therefore cementing into the minds of the listeners that manipulation is a Christmas theme. 

Santa Baby
If there's one thing we learn at Christmas, it's seduction gets you the best gifts. Even old fat Santa can't resist a pouty blonde who "innocently" asks for things like the deed to a platinum mine. A platinum mine. There's one thing this girl will never have to ask for: The entrepreneurial spirit. 

Winter Wonderland
"In the meadow we can build a snowman, then pretend he is Parson Brown. He'll say are you married, we'll say 'No man. But you can do the job when you're in town.'" 

A parson is a pastor. I'm guessing this is about a shot gun wedding in which the local small town pastor denied the couple a church wedding, so they had to wander out to the meadow to make their clergy out of snow. Taking their frustrations out on this cold effigy, they then turn him into a circus clown and watch the kiddies knock him down (notice the dual meaning as it correlates to the woman being knocked up with a kiddie). 

Side note: I used to think the lyrics were "then pretend he is sparse and brown." Then again, I grew up in California and our snowmen, made from tumbleweeds, were sparse and brown. 

The Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire)
"And folks dressed up like Eskimos." 
1)Pretty sure the general public doesn't even know how Eskimos dress (think seal skins, animal furs, ivory trimmings. Surprised PETA hasn't banned this song).
2) The only people I've seen dressed as Eskimos were wax figures in an Alaskan museum. 
Conclusion: Folks dress up in gear from Burlington Coat Factory. Sorry that doesn't rhyme. 

My Favorite Things
This also gets the honor of "How In The World Did You End Up As A Christmas Song?" My friend said it's because it has the lyric "brown paper packages tied up in strings." Although in today's world, nondescript brown packages usually contain a bomb. 

But the thing about this song that I really can't wrap my head around is this part: "When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad; I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don't feel so bad."  

You're telling me that you've just been mauled by a rabid dog, your ankle is attached only by a few tendons, blood is geysering from an artery and you have the thought "Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles" and then things magically seem better? 

Granted, I guess I too would feel better if I were on Oprah's episode where she hands out her favorite things, come dog bite, bee sting or the black plague.  

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas
"Dolls that will talk and go for a walk is the hope of Janice and Jenn." 

Well, we do know Santa is an anagram of Satan, and it looks like Janice and Jenn are some devout Satan followers. The top of their wish list is to have dolls that talk and go for a walk; i.e. demons. Corey also asked for a doll that would talk and go for a walk. Here he is with his demon doll on Christmas morning: 

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year
For the most part this song is fine. Except for the line "There'll be scary ghost stories." Wait. I thought scary ghosts were associated with Halloween. 

"And then kids, when the elves found Rudolph, his nose was red. FROM THE BLOOD OF THE REINDEER HUNGER GAMES!!!"  

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
Dear son, I know you saw me kissing Santa Claus last night. He is only one in a string of lovers I have. I'm surprised you didn't see me kissing Principle Jones on the porch swing or fondling daddy's boss Mr. Matthews in the laundry room. I realize you also thought I was tickling Santa Claus. It was a type of tickling, but a tickling only grown ups do that you'll understand when you're older. And no, daddy would not be laughing if he knew. 
Love, 
Your Mom Who Gets Around

In conclusion, there are some messed up Christmas songs out there. But at least we have Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas Is You," restoring faith in humanity's ability to write good Christmas songs.

Merry Christmas y'all.

I'm With Child/s!

Many of my friends have kids, have a singular kid, have just been through labor to have a kid, or ripening with pregnant bellies.

Alas, I cannot fit any of those descriptions at this time. Okay, sometimes it does appear that I'm ripening to moldy fruit stage when I'm unmotivated to shower, but that's about it.

No, I'm not complaining. Sure, sometimes I feel like my eggs can be categorized under "fine wine," but it's not like I'm going to rob a sperm bank.

Let's just pretend I didn't type that last thought.

I'm the oldest of 6 kids, so I always felt like I was the second mother. Heck, I was babysitting by the age of 5. Oh, I know that probably shocks some of you, because apparently most people think it's highly illegal if not outright bad-parent-of-the-year worthy.

But you have to understand. Anytime my mom or dad would leave the room with both my sister and I in it, I would consider it babysitting. Had I been able to get my hands on a taxi meter, I probably would have started charging my parents, but there is that obnoxiously great quality of saintliness that I do tend to possess -- so I chalked it up to charity work.

I did a lot of charity work as a child.

But I digress. I wanted to dedicate a post to the things in my life that I treat as my babies, so I can feel included in the mommy and daddy club (obviously I haven't reached Platinum Umbilical Cord Member status).

Baby #1 -- My Nails (totes sounds like a card from Apples to Apples, doesn't it?)
Lately I've given birth to an obsession with finger nail polish, specifically on my fingers. I decided clothes can shrink or you can become too fat for them, but finger nail polish lasts forever. Like diamonds. So technically, diamond finger nail polish would last forever ever, but not in the Taylor Swift ever ever sort of way.

I've purchased lots of new colors to feed my growing habit. It's progression is incredible. The great thing about it is when it's really annoying me, I just take a cotton swab of acetone to it. I don't recommend taking a cotton swab of acetone to real babies. Cotton swabs of breast milk are adequate.

Baby #2 -- Reading Books
People say there is something special about cradling a new baby. Babies even have this "baby smell;" somewhat like a new car smell, although I have yet to see a tree shaped air freshener featuring the new baby scent. Well, holding a book close to your bosom can also be special. And books also have their own great smell, unless they're e-readers, then it just smells like China.

What I'm trying to say is -- there's that moment when you look down on a page of text, getting lost in a world of magic and mystery; and you know, without the cooing noises, that this book loves you back. Until it becomes 5 weeks overdue, and then you want to treat it like a redheaded step child. Which I slightly take offense to.

Side note: just finished reading Brandon Sanderson's The Way of Kings. Uber long, but uber amazing.

Baby #3 -- Television Shows on Netflix
Let's be honest, the movie selection on Netflix leaves something to be desired. But what Netflix is great at is having this insane collection of television shows. So many different choices to get addicted to, so little time. It's exactly like these high tech baby monitors where you can watch your baby as he slumbers. Except for these shows are way more exciting and plot driven than the monotonous in and out breathes that a baby takes during sleepy sleepy time. Oh, excuse me. I forgot to mention the occasional drool.

I spend just as much time, if not more, watching shows on Netflix than a parent does watching their baby on a monitor. Whose a better parent now?

Additional side note: just finished Sherlock on Netflix. Big fan.

Baby #4 -- My Bed (another great Apples to Apples card)
Go on any parenting website and you'll find hundreds of forums and advice/debate about getting babies to sleep. You would think that babies never sleep the way everyone goes on and on. But my bed, my Baby #4, it does just the opposite. It puts me to sleep. And I slumber so nicely. What new parents and I do have in common is that horrible separation anxiety thing. Seriously, each time I have to leave my bed, I just want to throw a fit.

You know, writing this makes me feel so much better about life. I may not have my own bundles of joy, but I  have four of my own unique beautiful babies that I get to enjoy. I'm even considering throwing myself a shower and registering at Amazon. Maybe you'll be lucky enough to get an invite.

Joe and Wife

I have a math word problem for you:

Joe and his wife are retired and decided to go on a fabulous trip to Alaska. Because they are retired they're a little closer to relocating to the cemetery than most of us, but they have years of wisdom behind them. Joe and his wife attend a popular tourist attraction in Fairbanks, Alaska, where they are dropped off by a 45 ft. motor coach.

There are 21 other large motor coaches in the vicinity. All of them either coming or going. If Joe and his wife walk directly in front of a motor coach without bothering to
a) look to see if the coach is about to move
b) look to see if there's a driver frustrated that dumb tourists won't move out of her way or
c) notice that they are, in fact, in front of a 46,000 pound metal beast; how long will it take before Joe and his wife relocate their retirement home to the cemetery?

 There are actually 3 possible answers for this question (I didn't say this was normal math).
1) Joe and his wife will not die because the bus will hit Marge and her husband who are closer to the front of the bus than Joe and his wife.

2) Joe will die, but not by being hit by the bus, because the bus driver is responsible and courteous and doesn't feel like having a death on her hands. Joe will die because he ate too much salmon at the Salmon Bake the night before.

3) Joe will almost die, but be saved by the cushioning of his billowing nose hairs. His wife will almost die, but the motor coach will be stopped by the absurd amounts of souvenirs that say "Alaska" (but were made in China).

Thank you, Joe and wife.

Hunting for the Elusive Job... Again

It's that time again! Where I get to play "who wants to be a millionaire slightly above average hourly wage earner?"

I found an ad to be a copy editor/page designer for the local newspaper in town. This is my email to them:

Once upon a time, Elissa Stewart, a woman from Rancho Cucamonga, Calif., decided to move to the greater white North (Fairbanks, Alaska, to be most accurate). There she towed around guests from the world over in 40 foot motor coaches, teaching them about the great state of Alaska and the historic city of Fairbanks. After many moons and hundreds of guests later, the leaves began to change and ice started forming on car windshields -- and she knew her driver guide days were about to come to an end.

Being one for adventure, she felt the call of the old sourdough miners, beckoning her to join the ranks of those who had survived a winter in Fairbanks. Despite her father's worries of staying in an increasingly darkening place, she journeyed through the internet looking for jobs that would keep her brain active and her heart beating.

When she came across the job listing on Journalismjobs.com for copy editor/page designer, it was as if she were Felix Pedro, finding her own creek rich in gold.

"I'll be able to use my bachelor's degree! The one I got from Brigham Young University - Idaho; where I majored in graphic design and minored in journalism" she said. Not to mention she obtained all the qualities any employer is looking for, so she did not bother to include cliche phrases that average job seekers list. 

It just so happened that at one time in her life she did page design for a newspaper, River City Weekly, in Idaho Falls, Idaho. Unfortunately, that paper contracted the dreaded newsprint influenza, and like so many other papers in the last few years, went out of business.

Hopefully, this paper experience would be different. She sent an email with her resume, as well as some examples of her design experience. And so she waits, hoping that like Felix, her much needed boat will come up the Chena.


I'll let you know when they send the looney bin to get me.

Move Over Edison (in your grave!)

I was at my friend's house and she introduced me to this show she's obsessed with. It's called "Shark Tank" and it's about people with random inventions or business ideas pitching to uber rich entrepreneurs. The inventors need funds to mainstream their products and the rich people are always looking for new ways to make money. The rich peeps might offer them money in exchange for shares in their companies.
 
It's an interesting show, if nothing else to see what people come up with. This one lady came up with the "show no" which is a poncho towel that covers you up so you change from your swimsuit into your clothes on the pool deck. In other words, it's a slit in a beach towel.

But, she got like $40,000 from one of the "sharks" in exchange for 25% share. Crazy stupid, right?

So I thought, man I need to think of some ingenious idea that will get me mad capital and make my bank account look more like thousands of fish in an aquarium and less like a dying goldfish in a teacup. Doesn't everyone liken their bank accounts to fish?

And I came up with an idea. I'm going to share it with you because I trust my blog readers and random strangers and spammers from the internet. To explain my ingenuity, I'm going to do it in true late-night-TV-infomercial style.

Black and white scene of frazzled-over-weight-frumpy woman tip-toeing between shoes, toys, general crap, and a couple of cats.

NARRATOR: "Are you tired of tripping over your son's soccer cleats? Have you dislocated your your kneecaps one too many times from colliding with the stray cat your daughter brought home from day care?"  (Sound effect: cat screeching)

Frazzled woman with casts on her kneecaps looks up and nods. 

NARRATOR: "And I bet you've tried all those other silly organizational devices found at your local Bed Bath and Beyond."

Frazzled woman nods more earnestly. In the background, husband stubs toe on one eyed doll lying on floor. This leads him to lean forward and be impaled by toy light saber. Blood spews everywhere. 

NARRATOR:  "I thought so! You need the latest and greatest clutter-gutter out there: Magnetic Ceiling! Instead of having to constantly be picking up and putting things away, just throw them away. No, not into the trash, but onto the ceiling! Our exclusive patented design covers your entire ceiling with a magnetic shield. (Show burly ex-cons bolting metal sheet to ceiling. Have one put a light fixture in his pocket). We then supply you with powerful adhesive magnetic strips that you attach to anything that is tripping you up.

Scene now in color, woman still looks frazzled, but happy as she applies black magnetic strips onto a pair of red high heels. 

NARRATOR: Then, take the magnetized piece of crap and throw it to the ceiling. The patented designed Magnetic Ceiling instantly bonds to the item, keeping it out of and above your hair!"

Frazzled woman starts throwing books, jewelery, blocks, dirty laundry, empty pizza box, and stray cat into the air (cat screeches again). 

NARRATOR: Wow! You sure do clean up nice! It's like you've doubled your square footage! And that's good news in the real estate market!

Frazzled woman no longer frazzled. In a sparkly flash she changes to a super model wearing a cocktail dress, stilettos and pearls.  

NARRATOR: And don't forget, Magnetic Ceiling adhesive strips also work on humans. If your bratty kid is destroying your house, apply the adhesive strips and throw him up! Kids love gaining a different perspective!

Bratty kid smiling and waving down to mom down below. Mom winks back at him. 

NARRATOR: This amazing, one of a kind product is doing a limited edition run before Homeland Security denies it further development based on undisclosed uranium content. So, call now and order your Magnetic Ceiling today! Be the envy of your neighbors and hoarders everywhere!

Super model mom starts dialing on phone. 

NARRATOR: But wait, there's more! If you call now, we'll throw in Outdoor Magnetic Ceiling... FOR FREE!!! Used like an easy-up, you'll no longer have to worry about finding the nearest trash can while in Jellystone park. Just attach the strip and throw! (*NOT RECOMMENDED FOR USE DURING LIGHTNING STORMS).

Screen shows super model mom talking on the phone, shrinks into a box in the corner of the screen while the rest of the screen goes blue to show phone number, price and website. 

SPEED TALKING NARRATOR AT END OF INFOMERCIALS: Not for purchase in the District of Columbia or certain counties of Idaho. Do not use any electronic devices in same room as Magnetic Ceiling. May cause birth defects and symptoms of the Black Plague. All legal matters will be handled in the country of Luxembourg pursuant to the safety codes of the Screen Actors Guild (SAG) union. No refunds or exchanges, except if you're relatives to Krying Karl of the Russian Mafia.

Blue screen disappears and we see the super model mom waving at us, while a piece of cheese from the old pizza box drops off the ceiling and onto the impaled dad.

AND...SCENE.

Morbid Cleaning

If you didn't know I came up with strange things before, you will now.

 Morbid Cleaning

Otis was defrosting the refrigerator, but unlike a normal person who gets ice chests to keep the misplaced items cool, Otis was using the mortuary’s coffins. It’s not like his uncle was going to be desperately searching for it. In the whole history of the mortuary, no one came running in, out of breath, and in short gasps of breathes said “I need (gasp) a coff (gasp) in (gasp) stat (gasp).” Although, if dying people were more considerate they would help out the living by plopping themselves into their eternal boxes before someone else had to do it. He should propose this to his uncle. Maybe he'd design a neon star-burst catchy sign that said "Fifteen percent off total bill if you participate in our 'self-help' program!"

The coffins made for great food containers. They were large, insulated and had a lid to trap the cool air. Actually, coffins really were non-electric refrigerators when Otis thought about it. He doubted people showcased children's art with business card magnets on top of coffins, but maybe that was niche he could cash in on. His mother would have freaked out if she saw what he was doing, but he figured that as long as he didn’t spill ketchup on the light blue padded satin interior, there was no reason to panic. Then again, what if he did spill ketchup? He doubted the next occupant would mind very much. 

The cat, Mr. Reaper, would sometimes try to hide in one of the plush corners for a snooze, but Otis would quickly shoo it out. He didn't want cat hair accidentally getting in the jello salad. Or to have to explain to his uncle why strange cat noises were scaring customers in the coffin show room. That would be a pretty funny prank to pull, thought Otis, but it could lead to the cat meeting his namesake. 

Crossing the Road

I've decided that besides grocery lists and e-mail correspondents with my lawyer, I should start writing more. I got this fun thing called The Writer's Toolbox, by Jamie Cat Callan, which has writing exercises to help you loose brain atrophy weight. Because part of my plan is to take over the world (and then hand that job over to someone else so I can enjoy being world leader), I thought I might bore you with some of the results of those exercises. The below example is called "first sentence." You pull out a stick, and whatever sentence is on that stick becomes your first sentence and you then write for about 3 minutes, more if your microwave oven has less wattage power. 

 Crossing the Road
Michael sat down in the middle of the road and began to cry. He was just a baby chick, not yet a chicken that could complete something so mind boggling amazing that humans would question it for years to come. His father had crossed the road. His father before him. Chicken genealogy records only go back two generations, so he wasn’t sure if his father’s father’s father had also done it. But he liked to think he also had.

His plump and juicy legs hurt. His thighs were marinating in sweat and defeat. And his tender ribbed breast sunk deep down into his chest. This is it, Michael thought. They’ll grill me back on the farm. “Just why couldn’t you cross the road, Michael? Are you chicken?” they’d ask.

When things boiled down to it, Michael decided he’d rather cross the road than receive the golden nugget of humiliation award. Might as well wing it, he thought. And so, even though he felt like a chicken with his head cut off, he lifted up his foot…

And was immediately pounded to a one-fourth inch filet by the street sweeper.

There's An App For That

I'm going to share something with you. I don't have a smartphone. Please still be my friend. But if I did have a smartphone, these are some of the apps I would make for it (and then I'd sell them and make $$$millions$$$; but I'd give them to you for free, of course). 

Pregnancy App: Pee on your phone. If it still works after you've done that -- congrats, you're pregnant. 

 

Dumb People Alert: Alerts you as you approach dumb people. Going into public may cause it to work too hard and eventually break. 

 

Get You Hired App: Writes meaningful cover letters targeting future employers. *Must be prepared to show extraordinary skills (like nunchuck skills) to said future employers during interviews.

 

Scratch n' Sniff App: In beta version; works best for things that actually smell like glass or plastic. 

 

Ironing App: Shirt wrinkled before big meeting? This app overheats your phone; press phone to shirt and voila! *One time use app. 

 

Paranoia App: Lets you know when someone's watching you. Then again, we're always watching you. 

 

Hebrew Word App: Translates every word in the bible into Hebrew and tells you how to pronounce it correctly. You'll be the smartest (albeit most annoying) cat in Sunday school. 

 

Happy Bird Game: Colorful birds help green pigs build fortresses while cheerfully singing their birdy songs. Bambi and his alive mother make an appearance.

Seriously, Hire Me

I found a receptionist position for an optometrist office on Craigslist. In the job description they said "please send your resume along with an email telling us about yourself. In your email help us get to know you better!" This is my email to them: 

Hello! My name is Elissa Stewart, and I'm interested in the receptionist position. I have red hair, a warm demeanor and am able to help those around me feel comfortable in any given situation. Unless we're in a falling elevator -- there just wouldn't be enough time to approach a comfortable vibe.

I do not wear glasses, but both of my parents do, so there's a good chance in the future I'll need them as well. What better way to prepare for my future than to work in an Optometrist office. There I go, preparing for my future. I like to be ahead of the game, even if that game is called "life."

I'm a multitasker at heart, as I can breathe and have my heart beating all at the same time. And I don't even think about it. I'm able to copy and answer phone calls at the same time. This will surely impress the patients in the front office, which will subconsciously make them want to come back more than is actually necessary.

Like a falling elevator, don't let the opportunity to meet and interview me pass you by. With my 20/20 vision, I look forward to hearing your response. 

I should be hired by this time tomorrow. 

*UPDATE: Turns out it's a scam to get your credit score or something. Fools. 

As Seen On TV

Have you ever heard the saying "don't reinvent the wheel?" I think it can be attributed to the guy that has the copyright laws to the wheel and is dreading someone making a better wheel. 

I accept the challenge. I am going to remake all reality TV shows. 

"The Amazing Pace" 

Senior citizen contestants must race down Main Street in a small town in this 10 day challenge. 

"Real Housewives of Provo" 

Who is the craftiest, biggest haired, designer dressed, caffeine obsessed, bloggingist mom?

"Project Runaway"  

Contest of runaway children to see who actually makes it to the circus. Winner gets to become emancipated minor.

 

"Deadliest Match" 

Young single adults steer through tumultuous waters of hormones and rejection to find their soul mate. *Intense show, not suitable for...well anyone really.  

"Extreme Makeover: Cubicle Edition" 

Three words -- "Move that chair!" 

"The Biggest Gainer"

What? Super skinny people don't deserve love and attention as well?

"What Not to Bare" 

Because modest is the hottest

"19 Land Before Times and Counting" 

I admit, that's a groaner.

"So You Think You Can Lance?" 

Unfortunately, if you loose, you die.

"Miami Sink" 

Life of a Miami plumber. No tattoos, but plenty of skin. 

"America's Next Top Toddler" 

The stars of Toddlers and Tiaras with Tyra. Say that 3 times fast.  

I Promise to Look After It

I made up a survey to figure out the perfect family pet.

1) Are you a fan of Michael Vick? If yes, get a cat. A dog would get you time in the slammer.

2) Did you watch Steve Irwin growing up? If so, that's really creepy. What were you, his Aussie neighborhood stalker, watching him from birth to fame? Get no pets. 

3) After watching Finding Nemo did you a) flush your fish down the toilet or b) want to join a "Fish are Friends Not Food" club ? If you picked a, get a pelican. If you picked b, find a friend who can talk to whales but forgets your name and call her your Squishy. 

4) When you see someone pushing a stroller, do you shriek with delight to find they're pushing dogs and not babies? If yes, get a bear. You need a reality check. 

 

 

5) Do you like to paint? Follow my friend Bob Ross and get a pet squirrel. 

6) Do you tend to tell stories that aren't true? A dodo bird is right up your alley.

 

7) Are you annoyed with life in general? Then I'm sure you already have plenty of pet peeves. 

 

Maybe I should write surveys for a living. I'd make bank.