Fireworks and Christmas Lights - two big light ups that really get me down

If there is one thing that Christmas and New Year have in common, it's big lights, both of which I generally find really annoyingly expensive and a waste of money and energy. Yeah, I'm the New Year and Christmas Grinch, rolled into one.

I saw an article on the news recently about this Australian house thta has about a million household lights and decorations outside it. The darn thing looks garish and it makes me sick. What I find repulsive about this is a) the expense and b) the wasted energy.

I'm not a rampant greenie by any stretch of the imagination, but heck, why do you want to blow out your bill like that? What's even more stupid is the way I bet you that Today Tonight will run one of those feel good stories abotu how much Christmas Cheer this guy has - it would be un-PC to suggest anything else - and then pretty soon afterwards run a story abouthow we can all energy save around the house. Tip No. 1 - turn off all those bloody lights!

Then the guy admitted that he spent $100,000 on Christmas decorations. What? He could have bought another house for that much and instead he opted for some tacky light-me-up talking reindeer?

But $100,000 on decorations is a drop in the ocean compared to NYE fireworks. Fireworks have to be the biggest waste yet. I can't see the point of them, the best place to watch them is on your TV screen and that being the case they ought to hire some graphic designers to do a cool display using CGI or something and save a whole heap of money.

No, instead we have to spend millions each year stringing stuff up on the bridge that gets blown up in a few seconds and goes up in pretty colours and then disappears. Its only use is to attract people in droves outdoors so they can piss and get pissed and leave broken glass and urine all over the place. Not to mention that fireworks are rather dangerous too.

Later on someone will complain about how we don't have enough money for this or that and you can go back to those pics you have of fireworks on NYE and watch how those millions of dollars got blown up. Wouldn't it be nice if the govt could say instead they were going to do something actually useful with the money, like we decided to buy books for schools or donate it to research or looking after a museum or something instead of blowing it up over a bridge?

And if they did announce that, it's very likely people would whinge about the Mayor not having the right New Year spirit.

The Christmas Jitters!

Christmas means lots of things to many people, but for me, much of it has to do with meeting up with extended family, overeating, and playing lots of games. It also has to do with watching Dancesport and some terrible free-to-air Christmas movies, but those are avoided if possible, especially the latter.

Food was in abundance, and so were games. And relatives. Which meant playing in teams. We pulled out the first two games we could find, and wiped off the thick layer of dust which had acccumulated after possibly over a decade of neglect. One was Pictionary; the other Jitters.

We decided to try Jitters first.

Division was in four teams of two, and Mr Coffee and I were a team. Though most people found they were teams in name only, and much of the game was spent criticising each other's strategy and screeching at their teammate.

The game Jitters is thus named for its Jittery nature. You get a timer and have to make words with dice on cards - the more you make before the timer goes off, the better. And each card has a score according to difficulty. When you have decided you have completed as many as you can, you lock your point score in by switching off the timer. But if you take a card and don't finish it before your timer is up, you lose all your points for that round, including any cards you may have successfully completed.

Jitters was very successful as it was not only fun but brought out our character traits.

For instance, my cousin lazily let his fiancee do most of the work, but when she had finished a card, often frustrated her efforts, even though they were on the same team - which caused her to screech almost every round. Mr Coffee accused me of being bad at rolling dice and hiding cards from him (who, me?).

Now, perhaps that's not quite as deep as showing the relationship we all had with our mothers, but Jitters is on to something. Should be a compulsory accessory to every counsellor's kit.

They Were Such Big-Spirited Reindeer, Weren't They?

I never quite related to the Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer song.

There's Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, see. And then there's Rudolph, see. The Classic odd one out. The school nerd. The one with the big fat red nose, the one who gets kicked around in the playground in the playground and teased by all his peers.

That part I get.

Then one day, according to the song, Santa comes along and says Rudolph is actually fantastic, and won't he be the Captain of the team and lead the other reindeer around by the nose, so to speak?

And the song says "Then all the reindeer loved him, and they shouted out with glee, 'Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, you'll go down in history!'"

That bit I don't get.

If the bullied school nerd goes one second from nerd to teacher's pet and gets to lead the popular kids around simply because teacher says so, do you reckon the popular kids would be loving him and jumping for joy?

I think not.

I think the popular kids would dump on him even more, and call him Mr-Suck-Up, and plot evil ways to do away with him. But no, the song goes, they loved him.

Such big-hearted reindeer.

Osama Got Run Over By a Reindeer

Inspired by TimT's post on Christmas Carols I thought I'd add a carol I'd heard on radio recently.

Usually I'm not big on carols that are Aussified versions of the original carol. Mostly they aren't that well sung, and not very witty.

On the other hand, this was a modern American version of a carol, and while it doesn't bring the "Joy to the World" that "Silent Night" or "Jingle Bells" does, the lyrics are worth a peek, I think.

(chorus)
Osama got run over by a reindeer
Walking out of his cave Christmas eve
You can say there's no such thing as Santa
But as for we in America, we believe

He'd been blowing up too many buildings
So we said he had to go
But he hid in his cave in Afghanistan
Defiant as he was, he said, "Hell, no!"
When we found him Christmas morning
It was clear he'd been attacked
There was a note stuck to his forehead
It said, "Either give up now or we'll go bomb Iraq!"

(repeat chorus)

Now we're all so proud of George Bush
He's been taking this so well
See him in the Oval Office
Knowing that Osama's really going to Hell
It's not Christmas with bin Laden
Nor for Saddam in Iraq
And we just can't help but wonder
Should we go bomb Baghdad in a sneak attack?
(Bomb Iraq!)

(repeat chorus)

Now the cards are on the table
See George W. dance a jig (Ah!)
And the red, white, and blue candles
(Gore thought that the election had been rigged!)
I warned all you stinkin' terrorists
Better watch out for yourselves!
They should not make hijacking weapons
Out of stuff that you would find upon the shelves!

(repeat chorus)

Sing it, George W.!

(repeat chorus)

The Philosophy of Shopping: Need not Greed

I have done my Christmas shopping, and I'm kind of proud of myself, but it doesn't stop me shopping, especially when it comes to books.

I once read an old maxim "Need, not Greed" ought to be applied to shopping. Funnily enough, I can apply this to many things, food, clothes, whether to really pay uni fees or not. I manage to go about in unfashionable clothes - or fashionable clothes, so long as I wait 10 or 11 years, and fashion does the full circle, and pyjamas with holes in the knees, convincing myself that it's greed to lash out on more because the legs are still good. Or at least there is still a bit of fabric that covers me, anyhow. Or a bit of me.

However, the same maxim doesn't apply to two things: boooks, and useless odds and ends found in markets and discount shops. If there's a cool ceramic turtle going for a few dollars, certainly, it can be bought. Need? I just do. And besides, it's only a few dollars.

And books. Well, everyone needs three copies of their favourites, and besides, several bookcases of books you haven't read yet just makes you feel smarter.

Frostbitten Mittens

I have recently taken to singing Christmas songs, and it's driving Mr Coffee crazy, not just because I can't hold a note to save my life, but because I'm really early or really late for Christmas, depending on whether you're a cup half-full-or-half-empty type of person.

But it's not my fault, it's because of all those mulchy Christmas symbols with snowmen wearing Christmas caps and houses covered in white. My hands are getting frostbitten, and I'm beginning to think it's a whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite Christmas. I'm also wondering at how I'm actually going to get to the end of this post. Every so often I have to sit on my hands and hope this warms my hands up just so I can type a few more letters, otherwise there would be no more post.

I don't know how the Eskimos can stand it. They say they had 42 words for snow or something, but what's the use of them if your fingers are so frozen you can't write any of them down?

The Story Of An Organic Turkey

This Christmas I will be eating an organic turkey. This is a new experience for me. I usually have the regular turkey, the plain turkey. I wonder whether it will be an emotionally uplifting experience.

We didn't buy an organic turkey for altruistic reasons, mainly there weren't any other turkeys left that didn't weigh the size of a small vehicle and since we had to transport the turkey home in a small vehicle, this did make them a tad inconvenient.

So we went for Mr Organic Turkey.

He's sitting in the freezer ready to be trussed up. Hello. Every so often, I go and have a peek.

"Hello, Mr Organic Turkey. How do you feel in there?"

"It's OK, I guess. I'm getting used to the cold, even in summer. I wish global warming would have hurried up."

"I'm afraid you mightn't see that, you see, we're planning on eating you in a couple of days. But we'll be sticking you in a warm oven before we do."

"How considerate of you."

"Being organic hasn't stopped you being sarcastic, has it?"

"I had to go for years without antibiotics to deal with anything, lady. Do you know how that feels? I've got a right to feel just a little peeved right now."

"Hmmm ... I thought organic food was supposed to be better and happier and more natural. I thought you'd be one pleasant pheasant, you know?"

"When you know you're going to end up tied up on a plate and you don't get a little something to calm your nerves, what do you think? I'm not that kinky! When you see those other turkeys who get the growth hormones looking plump and proud and you're the runty looking one, how would that make you feel ...? Do you know what I go through? Can you feel?"

"Oh dear."

"Do you know what it feels like to be passed over by more than 90% of consumers because you're a bit too expensive and runty and a bit funny looking where the beautiful airbrush-looking, straight out of Vogue Turkey types get plucked off the shelves before you can say "Jingle Bells"? Do you know what it feels like to hear shoppers ask for a 'normal, not organic' turkey? Do you know what that feels like? Do you? It makes you feel like a pariah! An outcast!" *wild strangled cries*

"Uh .... mmmm. There there. If it's anything to you, you look beautiful to me. Good enough to eat. Really."

"Thanks." *still sobs* "I guess it's just a phase. Self-esteem. Image problem. You know."

"Don't worry, you'll be over it soon!" *thinks: damn!*

"Being organic isn't so bad," said my turkey through his tears. "It's just like everyone else, we need to feel loved and appreciated too."

Jolly Good Things About Christmas

I am feeling a little bit inadequate, and no, it's got nothing to do with any involvement in games of Strip Scrabble or for that matter, Nude Twister. Though that was a pretty good guess.

Unlike many of the blogs and websites around, I haven't given much of a nod to Christmas in my posting.

I was told as a young 'un if I didn't have anything nice to say, not to say anything at all, which accounted for that rather awkward silence of about four years, mistakenly attributed by my parents to my inadvertent swallowing of a chicken bone, which they didn't really bother about attempting to fish out.

There are some pretty neat things about Christmas.

More fun even than how much fun it is to be a Christmas grinch and go on about cheesy carols and annoying long queues and expensive presents when people are starving in Ethiopia.

In fact, that is a dumb thing to say. There aren't many people who, if they weren't buying a Playstation for their kid, would donate the money to a starving Ethiopian. They would buy the Playstation for themselves. At least Christmas is that great time where Playstations go to children who can't afford them instead of adults who ought to be working and not having any fun.

Also, Christmas carols can lots of fun too. I happen to love Christmas carols, it's just such a pity that when I threaten to sing I can clear a suburb, so I have resigned myself to listening and a bit of toe-tapping and inane smiling. There is a lot of love going around at Christmas, unfortunately carols have decided not to share that love with me.

Christmas food is always a winner too. Each year we slave over the stove and cook a traditional huge hot family roast and a turkey so big I think it might be declared another planet. And then there is the huge pudding and steaming hot custard. Then someone remembers that Christmas in Australia is in summer.

Merry Christmas, everyone!