Giving and Deceiving
Judging by the date on my 365 Cats-a-Year Calendar (what, and I suppose you’ve discovered a less fluffy-and-adorable way to measure time?), in two more days it’ll be December 25th, which means there’s only 48 hours until I have to save Christmas, again. (You guys have no idea what goes on behind the scenes, do you?) Oh, and also that out in the stores, all the moms and the dads are out buying gifts so their kids won’t get mad (because it is better to give than receive, and miracles happen if you just believe – see, I don’t think your Christmas poem actually has to be good, as long as you include those two sentiments, in there). And…I know that the shopping is supposed to be this Thing We Hate, but honestly? It’s never much bothered me, outside of the usual “I should’ve left my coat in the car.” Maybe it’s because I don’t have a bunch of kids to buy for (upon which it’s nice to know that the shopping won’t be much bothering me for a very long time). Or maybe it’s because my main responsibility, on most of the trips, is to hold the bags, which means I mostly get to stand around and drink Starbucks and take in the scene, like, “Whoa. Christmas.” Or maybe it’s because I’m from New Jersey, and the mall is, like, our natural habitat (a stereotype which I always hated, by the way – but then I met some kids from the South over the summer, and when they asked what we did for fun in New Jersey, I replied honestly and without thinking: “We’ve got malls.” Oops. Sorry, guys.). But, for whatever the reason, the lines and crowds are the least of my holiday worries. In fact, the most exhausting part of the holiday season happens after the buying – because sort of a side-effect of all the generosity and giving are, yep: the secrets and lies. (LIES!)
For one thing, I’m not too good at it. Well, actually, I do the improv okay – it’s the keeping the straight face that gets me. So, unless it’s over the phone, you might want to keep our Christmas conversation centered around “What is figgy pudding, anyway?” and “Wait, is Santa bald, I forget,” because, otherwise, you’ll be like, “You know what I really want? One of those Roombas,” and suddenly I’m sticking my tongue out and crossing my eyes and hopping up-and-down on one foot with one hand on my head while the other one’s doing the alphabet in sign language, and you’ll be all, “Thanks for ruining Christmas, jerk,” while getting gingerbread crumbs all over the floor because, thanks to me, you know you won’t be cleaning up that mess!
Plus, talking to someone who might just be keeping the element of surprise isn’t any easier, resulting in conversations in which no one is saying what they mean, and everyone’s walking away feeling just a little bit conflicted. For an example of which, I give you this year’s Christmas pageant, in which I ask you to remember that every line is a lie:
FADE IN on ME, wearing a Santa hat and baking cookies. MOM enters, with a shopping bag behind her back.
a lot of them had glitches
and…I’m not real excited about
any of the games, anyway,
so…don’t be sorry, I mean, I don’t
even want a 360!
get you one! Because I didn’t!
As Mom and I exit with our heads down, we FADE OUT.
And, while I said I don’t mind the shopping, I’d suggest you don’t rely on the “let’s go to the mall and split up” method unless you don’t mind making with the Metal Gear at the Garden State Plaza, sneaking around and backing stealthily out of stores as you walk in on everyone picking out your gifts, after which you’re forced to pretend, for the next few weeks, that you don’t know what you’re getting, which at least helps sharpen the acting skills that you’re now going to need, since they expect you to be surprised on Christmas day. Unless, of course, you don’t back away, which only makes things worse – I give to you Part II of this year’s Christmas pageant:
FADE IN on ME, in the bag (“pocketbook?”) section of Macy’s, trying to figure out how the heck to pick these things out, while also trying not to look like I need the help of a sales assistant. MOM enters, confused.
shopping for a purse?
I mean, it’s not, I just…need a
place to put my stuff, is all.
this after Christmas.
Mom exits, with her head down, as we FADE OUT.
I mean, I’m all for surprises and I’m glad we don’t do it any other way, but I’m just saying – for a season that’s supposed to be all about spending time with friends and family, there seems to be just as much misleading and avoiding and looking the other way.
And I think I’ll just never have kids, because I have no clue how I’ll last ten years pretending not to know that (SPOILER ALERT) Santa isn’t real (END SPOILER).
P.S. Don't worry, Mom, I don't think I'm getting an Xbox 360 for Christmas. And also, I don't think you read this.
For one thing, I’m not too good at it. Well, actually, I do the improv okay – it’s the keeping the straight face that gets me. So, unless it’s over the phone, you might want to keep our Christmas conversation centered around “What is figgy pudding, anyway?” and “Wait, is Santa bald, I forget,” because, otherwise, you’ll be like, “You know what I really want? One of those Roombas,” and suddenly I’m sticking my tongue out and crossing my eyes and hopping up-and-down on one foot with one hand on my head while the other one’s doing the alphabet in sign language, and you’ll be all, “Thanks for ruining Christmas, jerk,” while getting gingerbread crumbs all over the floor because, thanks to me, you know you won’t be cleaning up that mess!
Plus, talking to someone who might just be keeping the element of surprise isn’t any easier, resulting in conversations in which no one is saying what they mean, and everyone’s walking away feeling just a little bit conflicted. For an example of which, I give you this year’s Christmas pageant, in which I ask you to remember that every line is a lie:
FADE IN on ME, wearing a Santa hat and baking cookies. MOM enters, with a shopping bag behind her back.
MOM
Sorry, but I couldn’t get you one
of those new Xboxes, this year.
of those new Xboxes, this year.
ME
That’s fine, because…you know,a lot of them had glitches
and…I’m not real excited about
any of the games, anyway,
so…don’t be sorry, I mean, I don’t
even want a 360!
MOM
Well…then…good thing I didn’tget you one! Because I didn’t!
ME
Yeah, I’ll say! Stupid Xbox!As Mom and I exit with our heads down, we FADE OUT.
And, while I said I don’t mind the shopping, I’d suggest you don’t rely on the “let’s go to the mall and split up” method unless you don’t mind making with the Metal Gear at the Garden State Plaza, sneaking around and backing stealthily out of stores as you walk in on everyone picking out your gifts, after which you’re forced to pretend, for the next few weeks, that you don’t know what you’re getting, which at least helps sharpen the acting skills that you’re now going to need, since they expect you to be surprised on Christmas day. Unless, of course, you don’t back away, which only makes things worse – I give to you Part II of this year’s Christmas pageant:
FADE IN on ME, in the bag (“pocketbook?”) section of Macy’s, trying to figure out how the heck to pick these things out, while also trying not to look like I need the help of a sales assistant. MOM enters, confused.
MOM
Matt! What are you doing, shopping for a purse?
ME
Wait! It’s not what it looks like, I mean, it’s not, I just…need a
place to put my stuff, is all.
(Pause)
We should probably talk about this after Christmas.
MOM
(concerned)
Yeah. I think we really, really should.Mom exits, with her head down, as we FADE OUT.
I mean, I’m all for surprises and I’m glad we don’t do it any other way, but I’m just saying – for a season that’s supposed to be all about spending time with friends and family, there seems to be just as much misleading and avoiding and looking the other way.
And I think I’ll just never have kids, because I have no clue how I’ll last ten years pretending not to know that (SPOILER ALERT) Santa isn’t real (END SPOILER).
P.S. Don't worry, Mom, I don't think I'm getting an Xbox 360 for Christmas. And also, I don't think you read this.
posted by Matt at 1:31 PM
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