thehefner: (Me: White Background)
Henchgirl and I saw this at the Safeway:

Okay, look, I understand the "Team Edward" and "Team Jacob" stuff, I do. But "Team Bella"? She's not a team! She's the ball!

Eh, it's not worth worrying about. Not tonight, on this holiday's eve, which has somehow also become a holiday in its own right. It only today occurred to me how weird that was, as I realized that all the banks were closed. It's like how the college students in The Rules of Attraction throw a "Pre-Saturday-Night-Party Party."

Still, Henchgirl and I are getting into the spirit in our own way:

Now, in my defense... while the idea had certainly occurred to me while we were shopping for fake trees in the Target, it was my Henchgirl who suggested we actually do this.

Have I mentioned how supremely lucky I am to have found her? She actively encourages me to be as flagrantly geeky as I'd never allow myself to be in public. The decorations were her idea too. I love how the silver works on both sides. Really, all that's missing is a giant coin tree-topper.

Have a good one, folks. No matter what you do, no matter what you celebrate, stay safe and stay sane.

Well, at least until I pull together the Hugo Strange New Year's Eve post for [ profile] about_faces. Funny how the next post in my series actually ties into the holiday. Go me, accidentally!
thehefner: (Scott and Barda are US SO SCHMOOPY)
Henchgirl's mother was a strict Jehovah's Witness, which meant that she never had a single Christmas. When I heard this, I told Mom, and while depression and laziness kept us from ever doing much beyond a Jewish Christmas (Chinese food and a movie) in the years since Dad died (I always did Christmas with him, as was his demand), she agreed that we needed to give this girl a fucking Christmas. The whole thing: a tree, presents, stockings, nutcrackers, eggnog, IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE, cookies, and, of course, horrible family drama!

You see, my grandmother's in the hospital after having had a stroke. Or two. Or five, I'm really not certain how many she had, or has had since, but things are just kinda up in the air right now. And for those who don't know, Mom's relationship with her mother is a little strained. Put it this way: Mom's relationship with her mother was pretty much my relationship with my father: we both would take care of our parents who were invalids by choice, taking their abuse and buying their groceries, then coming back home so that Mom and I could look at each other and ask, "So, what did your parent do today?"

So Henchgirl has arrived smack-dab in the middle of this. But regardless, we had a Christmas. A real Christmas like I haven't had since I was, like, five. Hell, I didn't stop there! I was so determined to give Henchgirl the full experience, we spent Christmas afternoon getting Chinese food with the Jewish families in Potomac, then went to see THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG, which was excellent, by the way. I totally didn't get choked up at the end, are you kidding, of course not, no, cough.

That night, we had a full ham dinner with mashed potatoes, veggie stuffing, corn pudding, and white chocolate macamadamia nut cookies Henchgirl made that were made of naught but pure glorious fat I love her so. It was amazing.

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: the best fucking Christmas e-ver!

Actually, I nearly ruined the whole thing by insisting that we sat down to watch my favorite Christmas move, Akira Kurosawa's IKIRU, which Henchgirl didn't care for, but Mom and I still loved it, so whatever. Still one of my favorite movies ever. I cry every damn time.

The next day, Henchgirl and I planned to head to the beach house in Rehoboth, to finally get some private time, bow-chicka-and-all-that, before New Year's Turkeymas dinner with the Rudes at Chez Duda. And as she descended the staircase to leave, that's when she got the phone call. She had to sit at the bottom step. I sat down next to her, even though we were next to the basket of pet leashes, and the area smelled like dog. And then told me that her mother was dying.

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: two dying mothers, and the best fucking Christmas e-ver!

Come, join us for a totally non-depressing-we-swear sing-along about alcoholism, dying mothers, and nervous breakdowns! WHEEEEE!!! )

By the way, you know the best part of typing an LJ entry while your technologically-inclined girlfriend watches? It's when she laughs her ass off would you put it, dear?

(--when she realizes the Boy has to cut and paste HTML code and doesn't even know the keyboard shortcuts, the poor stunted darling. From this day hence, the Henchgirl vows to do all the coding.)

We're so goddamned adorable, I could drink bleach.
thehefner: (Applause)

Henchgirl and I are sadly eschewing Halloween festivities and costuming for the all-important task of reorganizing my entire comic collection, watching Herzog and Marilyn Monroe films, and sharing as many other... similarly important activities before I have to drive her back to Tuscaloosa.

It's a shame not to bust out our Gomez and Morticia as planned, or even to hit up Six Flags FrightFest, but we only have a limited amount of time before we're separated again, which is gonna suuuuuuuuuuuck. So yeah, this trumps even Halloween.

Have a good one, folks! If you go in costume, post photos! Sorry if that video gave you a seizure!
thehefner: (Bill the Butcher: Reflective)
Me, I've never liked New Year's Eve. Even when I had parties to actually go to, it always left me feeling nostalgic at best, and at worst, it... well, it's never been good. I imagine it's that feeling between what single people feel on Valentine's Day and what some old people (not all, but bitter ones like my father) would feel on birthdays.

That said, these songs help:

Also, this is only tangentally appropriate, but close enough (and contrary to the confusion of the video-maker, who clearly didn't listen to the actual song, it's called "Open Eyes"):

So yeah, those help. But hey, any excuse for more Oingo Boingo is a good one.
thehefner: (Ghostbusters: Ray w/ Cigarette)
Bonding with my sister-in-law's father.

Watching GHOSTBUSTERS for the first time in several months, and approximately the twenty-third time in my life.

The best goddamn duck I've ever tasted, courtesy of my brother. Marinated in Marsala wine, roasted with pecans, dates, little onions, and more. Including a side of brussels sprouts cooked in butter and bacon, thereby making brussels sprouts officially awesome.

Getting drunk on wine and bonding with my sister-in-law.

Introducing said sister-in-law to John Carpenter's THE THING.

Suffice it to say, the Christmas Blues were conquered just when it counted. Now if I can just face down the New Year's Eve Blues without feeling like a sad lonely champagne-buzzed sack, we'll be golden.

Seriously, though. For most of my life, Christmas meant spending an awkward few hours with either my stepfather's extended family of Norwegian manic depressives or (more often) with my father, at the family of the only friends he had left. This was the first time since I was little--too young to be aware and subsequently be bothered by Dad's behavior, with my childish wonder still intact--that I finally had a Christmas that like the kind of experience you can't tell other people about without sounding like a goddamn Hallmark card. The first time since the wonder of childhood faded and the struggle with pained adult cynicism began that I had a Christmas that felt... like Christmas.

If Christmas always felt this way, it actually might edge Halloween out as my favorite holiday. Stories often lament how people don't act to each other year-round the way they act around Christmas. Frankly, I'll just be grateful if I can get this once a year from now on.

Now as long as I can get to sleep without fear of my brother's dog sprouting tentacles and trying to assimilate me, we'll be all good.

Bum-bum. Bum-bum. Bum-bum.
thehefner: (SEXLEXIA)

Also, thanks to [ profile] themadhatter26 for pointing me toward this:

8-BIT JESUS: Christmas music in the style of classic NES games. My favorite may be "Carol of the Belmonts."

Oh hell, two more of my favorites from's photoshop contest, Worst. Christmas. Ever.

And for some reason, this one hits a special place in my heart. Must be the wine.

Have a good one, folks.
thehefner: (We Don't Need... Rhodes)
I wanna be this guy when I grow up:

Just bike into town, go up to random people, and say, "Doomed! You're all doomed! Just, y'know. FYI. ... DOOOOOOOOOOOOMED!"

I'm told there may be a party or two tonight. Keep me appraised, folks. I'm tempted to be a hermit, but avoiding children will be a fine excuse to make me social.

In the meantime, maybe I'll compile my favorite horror movie moments. Or not. If nothing else, have a bit of this:

Hey, at least I didn't post the last minute of SLEEPAWAY CAMP. I watched it on a whim and now I can't goddamn sleep.
thehefner: (Doom: Coming to DINNER!)
When Santa Claus passes out in Latveria, who oh who will be able to take over and save Christmas? SANTA DOOM, of course!

Seriously, though this just sank in: this is the first Christmas I'll have spent with my mother since I was five. I always spent it with Dad, since he didn't have anyone else, and because I didn't want to ruin Christmas by provoking his fury.

Jesus. It's been nineteen years since I last spent Christmas with my own mother.

September 2012

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