Last week my friend Heidi (who has a hilarious blog that I would link to, but it's private) came over and recruited me to play Santa for her aunt's ward Christmas party. I would've been excited to do it anyway, but then Heidi offered to bake me cookies if I would do it. It was appropriate, since that is the payment the real Santa receives for his work, plus I'm a sucker for cookies, which is why my bowlful of jelly needed no padding to fill out the costume. The picture above is me in the clerk's office at the church, which doubled as my dressing room. (If any kids are reading this: I'm not the real Santa. Just one of his helpers. But Santa Claus is real, so don't stop believin', no matter what some Grinchy adults might say.) The suit had obviously been around for many, many years; I was already planning on blaming the inversion my sleigh had to descend through if any kids asked why my beard was yellow. It didn't come up, though, which allowed me to avoid thinking about how gross it was.
After a performance by some random acapella group, the kids were brought on stage to sing "Here Comes Santa Claus." A few lines in, my wardrobe assistant opened the doors at the rear of the gym where the party was being held, and I walked in, shaking some jingle bells, waving, and yelling "ho, ho, ho." It was kind of weird, because I didn't know if I was supposed to wander around for a while or head straight for the kids, plus I couldn't see very well because I was wearing Kris Kringle glasses instead of my own, and the wig really reduced my peripheral vision.
I eventually made it to the stage. I'm not sure why, but pretty much everyone at this party was dressed up. There was nothing particularly fancy about it (though it was very nice), but it probably helped prevent the kiddos from getting too rambunctious.
All of a sudden, it was happening. This was the first girl in line. I really had no idea what to expect. Would they actually want to sit on my lap? Even the older kids? Would they be excited, or act all too cool for school? Would there be any troublemakers trying to yank my beard off? But everything went very smoothly. The kids were unfailingly polite, and they all interacted with me as if they thought I was the genuine article. Whether they were just humoring me and their parents or actually believed, it doesn't really matter; everyone had a good time.
As each child sat down, I went through the same basic spiel: What's your name? How old are you? Have you been good this year? What do you want for Christmas? This was the part that worried me most: how would I respond to their requests? Even in nonrecession times, it's not wise for Santa stand-ins to promise specific gifts; I tried to avoid that, as well as to avoid saying "I don't think you've been THAT good this year." I found a good middle ground for most of the kids with some variation of "well, you've still got two more weeks where you have to be good, and I'll see what I can do."
After this exchange, I'd try to ask one other question, mainly for my own entertainment--things like, "where should I go on my post-Christmas vacation?" or "I'm thinking of getting a new reindeer--what should I name it?" (One precocious 8-year-old answered Olive, as in Olive the other reindeer.)
There were two little boys that were my favorite. One hopped on my lap, and when asked for his name, said "I told you this afternoon when I saw you at daycare--don't you remember?" I eventually got Christopher to play along by reminding him that Santa has to check his list twice due to his forgetfulness, and he told me he wanted a Thor sword. A few minutes later he ran back up and interrupted another child to tell me he actually wanted a different Thor weapon.
And this kid was my other favorite. I had already spoken to his older brothers, then they brought this little guy (one year old!) up to take his turn. I wish I had a picture taken from over my shoulder--this one doesn't come close to doing justice to how wide-eyed he was. He gaped at me, open-mouthed, too mesmerized to cry. And he was so adorable in his little sweater.
Basically, I'm a huge fan of Santa, and of kids, and of Christmas. I hope I get to do this again sometime. I'll keep practicing my cookie eating, just to be on the safe side
[I have Stake Conference this week, so you're on your own to prepare for Sunday School. Last night's Daily Show had a hilarious segment (part 1 above, part 2 below) that reminded me of one of my favorite things I've ever written. After the video is the text of a post originally published on December 21, 2009. I'm definitely a Christian--hence the links to Christ-centered study materials every week (except this week; again, I've got nothing for ya this time)--but I am not offended in the least if I don't get a Christmas greeting while shopping, or if some people or institutions make efforts to help non-Christians feel included (whatever their motivations for those efforts might be). Feel free to let me know what you think.]
I don't remember my dreams very often. When I do remember something, it's usually just the gist of it, then when I'm in that pleasant state between being asleep and awake, I semi-consciously enhance and embellish the narrative. So this dream is probably not completely authentic, but it's not totally made up either. It certainly is an accurate representation of my feelings towards certain letters to the editor and commentaries from TV pundits that you see this time of year. Anyway...
In my dream I was working in retail (so I guess it was actually a nightmare). It was probably ShopKo, since I was wearing a red shirt, I worked there when I was in high school, and I only had one customer in my line even though I was the only cashier working. (Seriously, I don't know how the chain as a whole is faring, but I will be shocked if the store by our house isn't closed within two years. It's a ghost town in there.)
Technically, I had two customers, a husband and wife who appeared to be in their late 40s or early 50s. They paid for their stuff, I gave them their change, and wished them "happy holidays." The man then said, "Oh, so you're one of those people who is afraid to say 'Merry Christmas,' huh?" It must have been the end of a long shift, or my shoes were a few sizes too small like the Grinch's, or maybe I'm just a jerk, but I went off on an epic rant. The following retelling probably isn't verbatim, but it's close:
"You're offended that I said happy holidays instead of merry Christmas? Seriously? Why would you care which generic salutation you receive from someone you don't even know? Besides, what is bad about saying happy holidays? Christmas is a holiday, right? When I say happy holidays, doesn't it imply that I wish you a merry Christmas, plus a bonus wish for a happy New Year? Does that mean you'd be even more offended if I said something with no celebratory implications at all, like 'Have a good night' or 'Thanks for shopping with us'? That's what I usually say to people. Just because I chose to say one thing, it doesn't preclude me from meaning something else that I didn't say. And, to be honest, I DON'T really mean it when I say these things. I don't want you to have a bad Christmas, but whether it's merry or not really has no impact on me. So you would rather have me insincerely wish you a merry Christmas, in a sense taking the Lord's name in vain? You want me to break one of the Ten Commandments, just to make you feel good?! Well, fine! HAVE YOURSELVES A MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS!"
Utah was hit by a huge wind storm virtually statewide yesterday, but luckily it wasn't bad where I live. My power didn't even go out, which is impressive considering how often we lose electricity in my apartment complex.
Since I'm not busy today patching holes in my roof or clearing downed trees out of my yard like many of my fellow Beehive State-ers, I'm able to maintain positive feelings towards mighty winds in general, and one Mighty Wind in particular:
I've never officially chosen a favorite movie, but there's strong circumstantial evidence that A Mighty Wind might hold the top spot: it was the first movie I ever purchased on DVD, and it remains the only movie I've ever seen more than once in the theater (I haven't seen a movie in-theater in 2011, and in a more typical year I only see 4 or 5, so that's an impressive feat). Plus, it's so. Dang. Funny.
If you've never seen it, please, please borrow my DVD. I'm always looking to spread the word and share the joy of this movie. I'm a huge fan of mockumentaries in general. I don't think I've ever seen one I didn't like (I keep that streak intact in part by avoiding Sons of Provo). All of Christopher Guest's are great (Mighty Wind, Best In Show, Spinal Tap, etc.), but there are other good ones too, especially this one:
The fake-documentary format has also translated well to television--The Office is still watchable and was a fantastic show in its prime, and Parks and Recreation is my favorite show on TV today and probably in my top 5 of all time. But you really, really have to suspend some disbelief: why in the world would a camera crew chronicle the lives of a bunch of paper salesmen for six-plus years? They wouldn't. There's no way. At least with the movies there's always an end point, some payoff event that's being built to (like a reunion concert or a "scholarship pageant").
Hopefully the Office creators are planning to end the series (whenever that happens) by having all the characters get together to watch the completed Dunder-Mifflin documentary. It would be logical, follow in the proud "clip-show" tradition, provide an excuse for Michael and everyone else to come back, and, if done right, be highly satisfying.
While my love for mockumentaries is genuine, there's another reason for my "revelation" about my fondness for A Mighty Wind--the phrase appears in Revelation 6:13, part of this week's Sunday School reading block! It's the last lesson in the manual, so study up. For the rest of the year, I may take a break from running peripherally-related-to-Sunday-School posts, or I may dust off some "classic" ones I wrote for my old ward before I started this blog, I haven't decided. Guess we'll have to wait to see which way the wind blows.
The "Hoffmann of the Month" for December is singer/actress/comedian Jackie Hoffman!
Jackie, who turned 51 earlier this week, is quite prolific. She's performed on Broadway in Hairspray, Xanadu and, most recently, Addams Family. Hoffman's eclectic resume also includes appearances in everything from Garden State to 30 Rock to Grand Theft Auto to Dora the Explorer (voice-over work for those last two).
So she's obviously quite talented (the above video is friggin' hilarious), but the real reason Jackie won the award this month is this--if you read her bio in the above link, you'll see she's a past recipient of a Jeff Award! Anyone who's been honored by my first name, and also qualifies to be honored by my last...well, that's a no-brainer. At this point I don't know of any prizes based on my middle name, probably because "Edward Award" looks awkward and redundant in print.
Take a bow, Jackie! You're the Hoffmann of the Month!
This week's Sunday School reading includes one of my favorite funny verses, Rev. 3:16: "So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth."
To me, this proves that the word "spue" (or spew) is never not funny, regardless of context. I'm guessing this feeling is universal, though there's a slight chance I'm just immature.
There's a guy on my team at work whose last name is "Barfuss," so he's heard hundreds of vomit euphemisms over the course of his life. From time to time our team will share our favorites as we collaborate on projects on Google Wave (which, sadly, is going away early next year--I blame the 99.9999% of you Gmail account holders who never used Wave), including earlier this week, when some all-time greats like "technicolor yawn" and "liquid laughter" came up (so to speak) in the conversation.
While puke jokes are almost universally funny, there's one vomit-related phrase I really don't like. Here's an excerpt from a blog post I wrote three years ago this month:
...the purpose of this post is to express my displeasure with the oft-used phrase (and its variants) "I just threw up in my mouth a little bit."
Apparently it's been annoying people for quite some time. But these people seem to despise the pretentiousness of the saying. It bothers me for a different reason: why say it that way, when that is the only place you can throw up? Yes, sometimes the throw up escapes the mouth and sometimes it doesn't (is there a magma/lava equivalent for puke, or is it always the same?), but the mouth is always involved. If someone ever vomits out of, say, their armpit, then I want the description to include the body part. Otherwise, it's not necessary.
One of the comments on that post included what is probably my favorite barf replacement term: "mouth squirts." Admit it, you just laughed a little in your mouth.
Anyone else have a euphemism to add to the list? Just spew it out.
[It's the most wonderful time of the year...the time when people argue about whether it's ok to be playing Christmas music yet.
Some think that Thanksgiving gets overshadowed when we start in too early with the Christmas tunes. To them I say: come up with some good Thanksgiving songs and we'll play them too. There are actually a number of good ones already out there that just haven't been coopted by the Turkey Day supporters yet. Get on it!
As a potential compromise, I'll help everyone avoid the stale Bing Crosby and Mariah Carey numbers by presenting my brand new, soon-to-be-classic Christmas song. Last year my friends Sara and Andrew bought a "personalized song parody" from me at a service auction. Sara deferred to Andrew for the details, and he told me he wanted a Christmas parody of 50 Cent's "In Da Club." I started on it, but set it aside once Christmas passed, then finally got back to work on it in late September so it could be finished for Andrew's birthday.
And now I'm sharing it with the world! It's a little tricky in parts, but here's the original if you want to try singing along. It's the story of the Nativity, told from the perspective of the wise men (with a few annotations). Without further ado, the lyrics to the new favorite carol of Thanksgiving and Christmas lovers alike...]
Go, go go, go, go, go, go Savior
It's your birthday
We're gonna party like
It's your birthday
Gonna see some smarties night of your birthday*
And you know we brought lots of gifts
'Cause it's your birthday
Chorus:
You can find him in the crib
Swaddled next to his
Mama, I get on my knees
You need to show him love
Give myrrh and frankincense to the baby that we love**
He's come from up above
He'll save each one of us
[Repeat chorus]
Camels pull up out front, see the star up above
You'd think the king of kings would get a little more pub
There ain't a lot of people that came to show him love
Just us magi and some shepherds, but I guess that's enough
The baby there in the manger
No crown, Jesus is just layin' there but there's a king here in this hut
Now Joseph and Mary had to make the journey to Bethlehem
But when they got there all they heard was there's no room at the inn
If he could, innkeeper would give them a cot
But a stable out in back, well that's the best that he's got
Then holla, an angel declares good news at the sheepfold
The shepherds hustled off to see what they had been told
Meanwhile us wise men weren't trailing far behind
We were following the star but not sure what we'd find
We went to see Herod 'cause we needed to know
The right town in the region where we needed to go
[Repeat chorus twice]
"Follow that glow to Mary and Joe
Then come back," said Herod the king
"That kid, this star, your jewels, just who'll
He be when he grows up? This sure is strange"
He's full of it, but finally we made it
Here's the lad, his goodness just can't be overstated*
Someday Matthew and Mark will chronicle his life
(That book is good, it helps you stay on the track, right)
In our dreams we was told Herod doin' you wrong
He's tellin' lies, playin' tricks
Wants this child to be gone
He's a ruthless liar, man, don't you return
Leave now and get a head start before Herod has learned
That you've betrayed him 'cause he gets violent when he's riled up
Better get the child to Egypt, it's safer by the Nile, but
Yeah we'll always remember when he was swaddled with love
C'mon, we know who he be
[Repeat chorus twice]
*I know the wise men didn't come the night Jesus was born. It's also highly unlikely that he was born on December 25. Let's not get too technical here.
**Replacing "having sex" with "frankincense" is the line I'm most proud of.
***Yeah, yeah, I know. At the beginning of the song the wise men showed up at the manger, and now they're visiting the "lad." Again, let's not overanalyze.
[Thursday is "National Unfriend Day," a movement spearheaded by Jimmy Kimmel encouraging people to pare down their list of Facebook friends.
But it's not an original idea, as evidenced by this (rather humorous) post that I'm recycling, which was originally published on my old blog on January 14, 2009. Since Jimmy's quest isn't new, I don't have to come up with anything new to say about it, right?
As I post this, I have exactly 750 Facebook friends, a nice round number. I've never unfriended anyone, mainly because, as I describe below, I'm too lazy. As a result, there's at least one deceased person on my friends list. Oh well.
Oh, and this week's Sunday School lesson is all about love, but can easily be adapted to apply to this situation--as in, "we [friended] him, because he first [friended] us" (1 Jn. 4:19). If you want to take a more sophisticated approach to the curriculum, this will help you study.
Anyway, here's that old post, exactly as it appeared almost three years ago, except with some updated links.]
I went home for Christmas and had a great time with my family. Two solid weeks of food, folks and fun (the first of many fast food slogan references in this post). Only one downside: my parents still use dial-up. Seriously. I had built up some good blogging momentum in December, but that was all lost in the series of tubes I had to go through to reach the Interwebs while in Utah.
But I saw something today that I knew I wanted to write about. Isn't that a phenomenal idea? For hours, I debated internally what was more important to me: friends or burgers. Ultimately, I decided I could spare ten of my 488 sanctioned-by-Facebook friendships. Alas, I waited too long. For some reason, the 'book put the kibosh on the entire operation.
I'm disappointed. I had envisioned an entire series of posts on this, a friendship tournament to determine which of my pals brings more to the table than a sandwich with flame-broiled beef, pepper jack cheese, and "angry onions." Or maybe I would've gone for 48 free whoppers and only kept the most elite of my amigos.
Even though it's now strictly a theoretical exercise, I still wonder what approach I would've/should've taken in deciding which friends get the axe. Should I get rid of the ones I know least well, the ones that are more "friends of friends" than actual friends? Should I eliminate ten of the many who I added as friends but have had no contact with since? Or should I go with an opposite mindset, and figure out who my very best friends are, figure out who would sacrifice their spot on my list so that I can enjoy a free burger? What do y'all think?
(In all honesty, I'm glad I didn't have to choose which friends to dump. I know people who have pruned their Facebook friend tree, and that whole process just reeks of effort. It's not for me.)
However, I'm hoping Facebook can still help me get free meat. Here are some other potential promotions I've come up with:
"If It Doesn't Get All Over the Place, It Doesn't Belong In Your Facebook"--free Carl's Jr. Six-Dollar Burgers to anyone who has a messy face in their profile picture
free Big Macs for life to the guy who has the most female friends (get it?)
"I'm Lovin' It"--a free sandwich for anyone who updates their status to say they are "in a relationship" with a McRib
a free Wendy's Frosty for anyone who gets rid of all their friends
an unlimited Sonic gift card for guys named Jeff (I love that place. And their commercials. But they need to bring back the pancake on a stick)
If you think of any more, leave them in the comments. I'm glad we're still friends.
