Holiday Sesason brings mix of pleasure, pain

Well, it is once again upon us. We are now flung head-first into the time of year that is absolutely the most stressful thing we ever have to go through. Our teeth are chattering, our nails are chewed to nubs, our nerves are shot, and it’s all we can do to choke down one more cup of hot chocolate to take the edge off of the tension. We’re up late, we’re tired, our eyes are baggy, we’re irritable, and we snap at people who are, under normal circumstances, considered our close friends.
Merry Christmas.
There aren’t very many times of the year that rank higher than Christmas in my book. September 30 is a pretty cool day, what with it being my birthday and all. On a related note, HU Box 14613.
I like being home for Christmas. I like driving up the driveway and seeing our tree lit up in the window in front of the house. I like coming in to find a fire crackling in the fireplace with our stockings hanging on the mantle. I like going outside on Christmas Eve to watch the crazy family next door shoot off fireworks and then listen to their slightly slurred rendition of “Happy Birthday” to Jesus.
It’s always a nice feeling when I drive home and start seeing all of the Christmas lights up through my hometown. Of course, living in the thriving metropolis of Bon Aqua, Tennessee, right on the northern end of Hickman County (where the people truly live up to the county name), those same Christmas lights are usually still up when I drive home for spring break.
Since I do live in Tennessee, and not in the mountainous part of the state, either, you can probably guess that I don’t get that much snow. It’s a shame, really. I don’t remember having a White Christmas in the past 5 years. But that’s not so bad, honestly. It’s still easy to have winter fun at the house, even if you don’t have any snow. It’s amazing how willing my little cousins are to skip over snowballs and just go straight to throwing whole frozen chickens at each other. Ah, memories.
Christmas is a season for love and gifts and blah blah blah, but you know what I think we’re missing out on? Sheep. Not enough sheep involved in my Christmas season.
I hate to pick on family members… well, OK, no, that’s a dirty rotten lie. I don’t mind it too much, especially when they get me lame-o-la gifts. An aunt of mine who shall remain nameless (she never had a name, she was simply referred to as “girl” until age 21, and then “woman”) once gave me 20 cases of cat food, gave my sister a can opener, and gave my parents a spare key to her house and told us she was going to Key West until February.
I’m always excited for the Christmas movie season. I always like renting old favorites, such as the “Muppet Christmas Carol”, “It’s A Wonderful Life”, and “Miracle on 34th Street”. The theaters are normally filled with a few holiday surprises as well, focusing on movies that remind us of the love we have for our families, like in the recent Ben Affleck movie “Surviving Christmas”. Other movies remind us of the joy we take in the traditions and legends of Christmas, which is what “The Polar Express” focuses on. And no Christmas season can be complete without “Blade: Trinity.” Nothing gets me into the gift-giving and loving mood like seeing Wesley Snipes hack up some vampires. God bless us, every one.
A lot of people complain about the over commercialization of Christmas, which I personally think is a load of hooey. I think that a great deal of people in this country still remember the words of Christ as quoted by the apostle Paul, “It is better to give than to receive,” and to that end, I am willing to bear the terrible burden of doing all the receiving this year, just so all of you can be blessed with the marvelous opportunity to just give until it hurts.
As silly as this article may be, and as silly as this column consistently is, I would like to take a brief moment to be serious.
And now that the moment has passed, I would honestly like to wish a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you, your family, and your little dog, too…
Here’s hoping that 2005 beats the stuffing out of 2004. I’ll see you in January, same Big Guy time, same Big Mouth column.
Well, OK, so it will be a little different. I don’t really think I’d be able to keep my loyal fan base if I kept reprinting the same article over and over again.

Running on empty

OK, I’ll be entirely honest with you.
I am straight up dry for inspiration for this article. I have no idea what to write about. I’m completely drawing blanks.
Have you ever had just a great big mental emptiness where you feel like ought to be all sorts of creative, clever, insightful, witty, sharp things? I’m there right now.
What to do, what to do, what to do…
I don’t know what made me think of this right now, but I’m remembering when I took a trip to Albuquerque, New Mexico, with my friend Matt last year for Spring Break. That was a lot of fun. We drove, so it took some 13-plus hours, but we made it in one piece. We did have a nasty run-in with a homeless man, though.
We had stopped to get a drink and hit the can and whatnot in Tucumcari, New Mexico, which is a nice little town on Route 66. We're at a Texaco next to a Holiday Inn, and I went inside, used the bathroom, grabbed a Dr. Pepper and some chips, and headed back out to where Matt was waiting in the truck.
Well, there was this homeless man who had been over at the Holiday Inn asking for a handout or something, but he'd struck out and wandered over to the Texaco. I didn't have any change when he asked me, since I'd just used it paying for my snack. So he sees my Dr. Pepper and my chips and gets all peeved and says "Well, you could afford a drink and some chips, but you can't give a poor old man any change?" I was kinda feeling bad, but all I had was some 20 dollar bills. I'm sorry, but I'm not about to give a homeless man a twenty. So he's getting more ticked off at me and he rears back and kicks me in the shin.
So I guess I got my kick on route 66.
On a completely related subject, I like Hawaiian shirts.
I’ve got a rather impressive collection of Hawaiian shirts. I think it’s numbered into the mid 20’s now. I know it’s big enough that I can wear a different Hawaiian shirt every day for 3 weeks straight without repeating (or doing laundry).
I went into a store back home a few years ago and grabbed a shirt off the rack that I thought looked pretty cool. The tag said it was a 2X, which normally fits me, so I just paid for it and walked out, not thinking anything about it otherwise. I got home and what do you know, doesn’t fit. So I drove back to the store, and somehow on the way my nose started bleeding. I was really prone to nosebleeds back when I was a kid, so I wasn’t too surprised to just have one start up, as unpleasant as it might be. I shoved a napkin into my nostril and went along about my merry way.
So I walk into the department store, bag in hand, bloody rag in nose, and I walk into the women's intimate wear section door, of course... I walked over to one of the service desks where a girl was busily avoiding eye contact with customers and I plopped the bag down in front of her and said I needed to make a return. She acknowledged me and then looked up and actually saw me, nosebleed and all.
Well, her eyes got all wide and she said "WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?" And I very calmly just said "Just a nosebleed."
She then asked what caused it, and I said "Well, I came in the store over by the lingerie and I guess I just got a little too excited."
Her eyes then got even wider and she said "Are you SERIOUS?"
I replied "You'd better hope I’m not."
Well, that took up some space.
I’m still stumped as to what I could write about. I’m just staring at the screen, beating my head against the keyboard, coming up with things like: yk9nkcfhjy768 906y5312flh76n hjyufmjhcgfru aNJn78kgldos ml;cv iponhjgfv inhj;p, and while that’s fun, it doesn’t really do too much for my chances of a book deal.
What is it about our minds that makes them so astoundingly creative yet so confoundingly stubborn?
Oh, and while I’m thinking of it, Gary Pickle is the most underappreciated artist of our time, or of anytime.
So, back to that… other thing I was talking about… What was it?
Ah, yes! Not knowing what to talk about.
I am still clueless.
I’ve got an idea! I’ll write about not knowing what to write about!

Aaron Rushton is a humor columnist for the Bison and he can be reached at AaronRushton@gmail.com