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So This is Christmas...
Written on 2001-12-29, at 10:23 p.m.
dizboy's disturbing daily diet...

1 Large Hot Chocolate

1 Grilled Stuft Burrito

1 Bag Nachos

2 Cigarettes

John Live*

I can't quite put my finger on it, but something about this picture is very unsettling.

*Not at all live

Well, everything is winding down, and the holidays are almost behind us.

And with that, I'm sure everyone is wanting to know how my Christmas was.

Or, perhaps I'm just being incredibly egocentric.

Yes, I think it's that, but I'll tell you anyway...

On the 24th I slept in till about 2pm, after which I dragged myself from bed, and began my Christmas shopping.

"Wait, back up John...on the 24th?"

Yes, on the 24th.

After hitting the mall, and Wal-Mart, by 6:30, I was ready to roll.

"Roll where?"

Roll on down the road to Tampa, FL, the home of my grandparents, where the entire dizboy clan was to convene for the holiday festivities.

Leaving my apartment at 6:45pm, and arriving at 8, I made it there long before my parents and sister did.

Now, I love my grandparents, but there's something just slightly creepy about sitting there with them as they watch their "stories" (All my Children, and Days of Our Lives). So, after a few minutes of uncomfortable banter about who's who on the screen, I excused myself to the other room to watch television.

And by watching television, as a thoroughly gay man, I of course mean I sat town to take in the Joffrey Ballet as they performed "The Nutcracker", and then the National Symphony and Choir's concert of Handel's "Messiah".

Eventually, the remainder of my family arrived, including my sister who, whooping cough and all, stayed outside to smoke, despite the 35 temperature.

There was something about seeing my sister smoking that made me realize just how stupid people can look with a cigarette in their hand. This, along with the whole idea of not dying painfully, has led me to drastically cut back on my cigarette intake, and try to be totally off the habit sometime early next year.

I was still sitting in the living room watching television when my mother came in to sit with me. Moments later, my father comes in, both obviously driven away by our family's shared ignorance of soap operas. They sit down, and begin to blankly watch the show I'm watching, which, are you ready for this, was "Absoutely Fabulous".

I had no time to change the channel when they walked in, without it looking extremely suspicious.

So there we sat.

My parents...and I...

Watching AbFab.

It was so incredibly surreal, I had no idea what to do, and tried to hold back any laughter that was building.

Until they started laughing.

My parents...

The conservative Republicans...

Were sitting with me, on Christmas eve, watching, and enjoying Absolutely Fabulous.

They eventually left, but as the time drew nearer to 11pm, my mother saunters in, in that way that only she can when she wants something.

"Hi honey..." she says.

"Hi mom." I reply.

"What are you wearing to Midnight Mass?"

Ugh...there's no way out of that question...no, coming from my mother, it's not even a question...it means...

"I don't care if you're a butt-pirate heathen faggot, you're going to goddamned mass with us if I have to tie you up like a rodeo calf."

So, you see, I happily obliged.

Now, I'm not the most religious person on earth, but I enjoy church sometimes, especially when there's singing involved.

Cut to the interior of a Catholic church, where I'm standing, belting out improvised harmony to "O Little Town of Bethlahem". As mass progresses, I realize that there is a man a few rows away, across the aisle, making eyes at me.

I was being cruised.

In a church.

On Christmas.

Now, I may be incorrect, but I think that freely urinating on a crucifix is about the only thing more sacrelidgeous than that.

I tried my hardest not to look at him, as he very much resembled one of the stereotypical gay men that you would see in the early 80's at a bar called "The Blue Oyster".

The only way that I could keep my mind off of him was to make eyes at my parents in a silent allusion to the "pitch-be-damned" nun shaking the rafters with her heavily vibrato laden voice.

After arriving back at home, everyone took to bed, and I resumed my position guarding the Lay-Z-Boy from intruders as I read a book.

Nearly three AM, and my mother appears...

"Hi honey...what are you reading?"

"The Fellowship of The Ring." (Yes, I'm still not done with it.

"Oh, ok..."

"Well, I couldn't sleep, and wanted to come tell you I love you."

Wow...and she didn't even want anything.

It's Christmas morning.

And I'm hiding under the covers.

Gone are the days of waking up at 7am, pleading with my family to allow me to begin opening my presents, or, at the least, striking a plea bargain, and allowing me to open the gifts in my stocking.

10:30, and I'm fighting with my parents as they try to yank me out of bed, since I've held Christmas up for far too long.

I'm not exactly sure when the roles reversed, but they have, and violently so.

The gifts are opened, the results tallied, and the outcome is such...

1 PlayStation 2 - Grandparents

650 Dollars - Parents and Grandparents

3 Pairs of socks - Parents

1 Pair Sleep Pants - Parents

1 Box Fannie May Turtles - Grandparents

1 Candle and Stand - Parents

1 Leather Jacket - Me

1 Toothbrush - Parents

1 Pack of Gum - Parents

The gum and toothbrush I really can't explain, it's this odd family tradition that we have where we give each other toiletries for the holidays.

I recieved a gift from my sister as well, but I choose not to list it.

"Why?" you ask...

Well, because it was a size Large, bright yellow shirt, with, in red lettering, "SeanJohn Threadz" on the front.

Take a moment, then we'll move on.



Afterwards, we watched the Disney Christmas Parade while eating lunch. And while Regis and Kelly were broadcasting from a clear blue day at Walt Disney World, the cold, gray sky covering all of central Florida exposed their vicious lie of a "Live" parade.

Not at all live.

Lunchtime consisted of standard family male showboating, the epitome of which was this quote from my grandfather:

"Just gimme the goddamned thing, when I eat something, I wanna taste it!"

This was said in reaction to my father cutting too small a piece of Hickory Farms summer sausage for him, after which he snatched it up, and proceeded to eat the remaining three quarters of the footlong beef product.

For dinner, I was allowed to drive my grandmothers brand new 2002 Calillac Deville to our Christmas buffet.

We ate at a buffet.


Yes, that's what I thought too...but it ended up being a very frou-frou buffet, with lobster, salmon, and filet mingion.

Though, when it came out that my sister was not going to be going to college, and was presently dating a black man, the taste of lobster quickly turned to the familiar taste of dysfunction.

Ah, the traditional ruining of Christmas by my idiot sibling.

The only comfort I find in having her as a sister is the fact that we're both adopted.

From different sets of parents.

Therefore, I have no fears of the sharing of any type of genetic bond with her.

After dinner, I took my leave, and headed home, eagerly anticipating my 6am shift the next day, the events of which are summed-up fairly well in my previous entry.

Though on my way home, I did pop by Epcot to see Gary Sinise in the Candlelight Ceremony, where I waited in the freezing rain for over an hour.

Which...I believe explains my runny nose, and sneezing as of late.

Well, that was pretty much my Christmas experience, there's plenty more, but waiting so long to update and heavy drug use as a teenager has left my memory quite shot.

Till later,

Be well...


Your Host and Emcee...dizboy.

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