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Tuesday, December 19, 2017

You Don't Know My Life: The Holidays

AAAAAHHHHH!!!!! I FINALLY remembered the story that I wanted to post two weeks ago. Unfortunately it is a relatively short story, so that's unfortunate. At the same time, I have fodder for three short stories. What does that mean? It means that you get the good fortune of one longer post. And with that, let's talk about the holidays. 
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Holidays are weird as fuck, this year. Maybe it is the fact that we have a kid now. Maybe it is the fact that they came at the end of a hard-ass push at work. And maybe it is because the world today is weird as fuck. Regardless, I was not into the holidays. Now let me explain something, before I dig much deeper. The holidays are typically thus: Thanksgiving, my birthday, Chanukah, father's birthday, Christmas, New Years, wife's birthday, Valentine's day, son's birthday, mother's birthday, Easter. 
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This year was weird. It started with Thanksgiving. My dad started feeding our son from the table. That would not be an issue, except the boy is no nine months old and refuses to eat anything other than grown-up foods. He hates Gerber, and will only drink milk/formula when he is ready for bed. Otherwise my son wants to eat real food, and with his own two hands. That would not be an issue either, except he is missing teeth on the top of his mouth. Do you have any idea how hard it is for a baby to eat, when they only have two teeth on bottom? He will gobble the food into his mouth, and accidentally gum it right out. 
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No, that is not the weirdest part of the holidays. On Thanksgiving evening, we put our dearest son to bed. My folks were tired, and my wife and I wanted to experience adulthood. So we naturally went to the outlet mall to walk around and shop. We ended up walking into a Swarovski store. They had beautiful jewelry for ridiculous prices. While they were ridiculous to begin with, the discounts made for ridiculous savings. I decided to buy something at that store, at which point my wife said, "You don't need to buy that for me."
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Before I thought, I hollered back, "You don't know that I am buying this for you! I could have a mistress! I could be buying it for my side-chick! You don't know me. You don't know my life!"

It should be noted that I do not, in fact, have a side-chick. And after yelling that across the store, I am surprised that I still have a wife. 
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Now we will fast-forward to Chanukah. In case you are not aware, we just time-traveled three-ish weeks into the future, in the past. I will wait for that to sink in. Caught up? Good. With the holidays being the mess that they are, my folks and I had a family Chanukah on Night 5. We decided to go ahead and give all of our respective gifts, since we knew it would be the only night that we were all together. 
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As we were opening gifts, by which I mean that we took them out of the trash bags that we carried them in, my wife begins laughing hysterically. As it turns out, my folks found a copy of the book, Five Chinese Brothers. Now it should be noted, this book is relatively racist. It comes form an era that was less politically correct. This is further proven, when the first page discusses how the five brothers look exactly the same. My wife, who is Chinese, laughed her ass off. She thought it was the funniest shit she had seen in a while. My folks shared a look of relief, before laughing their asses off, too. 
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My laughter came when we gave them some Yankee Candles for my father's birthday. My folks were in the process of mocking us for giving something called "Yankee", while we live in the south, when they notices that the glass jars were engraved with pictures of them with their grandson. They literally stopped in mid-sentence, nearly dropped the fucking candle, and started fawning over the gift. I simply asked, "how 'bout dem Yank's?"
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ON an unrelated note, I bought my wife some Shun knives, not realizing that they are gourmet restaurant caliber cutlery. I have given her two knives for each night of Chanukah, and test their sharpness by shaving my arm. At this rate, I will be completely manscaped by January. 
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Moral of the Story: My wife reads my stories and no, I do not have a side-chick. Gifts this year have been with a side of laughter. Oh, and my arm is as smooth as my baby son's bottom.

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