Part II: On my drum

Here is the highly anticipated Part II of the Christmas special. Maybe you could even call it a Christmas retrospect at this point; things could get very exciting. Christmas is mostly about the anticipation, wondering what is in the presents beneath the tree: is it a Barbie? I hope so, I hope its not one of those craft kits. Do you remember those? There was time during the birthday party era when that’s all anybody ever got; or rather, you knew that if so and so was coming to your party you would probably get a Make-Your-Own-Perfume kit—something like that. Right after thanksgiving, New York starts getting itself ready for Christmas like a woman in a Tresemme commercial who doesn’t realize she can get the same hair treatment without going to the salon; Christmas trees go up on Park Avenue, chopped up Christmas trees are lined up in really inconvenient places like right by the subway or other normally crowded areas, shops start putting the color red in their windows, and really obnoxious Christmas carols come on the radio. I cannot fucking stand it. I don’t mean the Christmas atmosphere; I mean the pop carols. It’s out of control: NSYNC Christmas and I don’t even know what else. I was in a shop and this

R&B remix of the drummer boy came on but it started to sound super dirty. I don’t remember what the actual main guy was singing but then in the background you just hear “ooon my drum, ooon my drum.” On your drum? WHAT is that a metaphor for? What exactly going on “on your drum”? I thought the little drummer boy was just hitting up the stable without anything to show for it but now suddenly something else is happening here.

Speaking of the stable and manager and things like that, I actually went to church on Christmas Eve. I was listening to the sermon given by our priest who has a Bigus Dickus speech impediment, if you know what I mean, and, as it turns out, she views this as a challenge. Instead of avoiding words with the letter “s”—as she fucking should—she uses as many as possible. MOVING ON, obviously this isn’t reeeaally important, she starts talking about how everyone in the congregation is like everyone who was visiting little baby jesus that night. Here’s one comparison that—you know what I let it speak for itself first. She goes, “I’m sure some of you were inn keepers this year and the inn was full and you had to turn people away when you fired them from their jobs.” Ok, so let me get this right: when you fire someone, it’s like turning away Christ. “I’m sorry you can’t work here anymore and also I hate Jesus.”