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by Richard Timothy | Jan 12, 2010 | Confessed Confidentially, I Think There's a Point, Working Observations
So last weeks little day-time cold medicine topic got me thinking about a somewhat related subject. My explanation of how day-time cold medicine left me feeling a little off kilter reminded me of the discovery that I was, in fact, allergic to Percocet. And for the record, this was a legitimate discovery, as opposed to an experimental discovery.
It was a number of years ago. I ended up getting a wee bit of shoulder surgery and to help with the pain during my recovery, I was prescribed Percocet. Up to this point I had never been given this substance. In fact, when it came to prescribed meds I had only tried Tylenol with Codeine. They gave it to me when I had my appendix removed. I had also tried penicillin for the numerous times I got Tonsillitis growing up, which were never removed.
Seriously, I got Tonsillitis 4 or 5 times growing up. And no, it was not because I was a make-out man-whore. I mean sure, at the time I wished I was, but hanging out with friends always took precedence over the prospect of making out. Ok, and, more accurately, it was the fact that I was shy and a bit of a social retard when it came to figuring how to chat up members of the opposite sex in such a manner that would result in sucking face.
So… right! I ended up with a prescription for Percocet, which I found was very misleading name in my opinion. When I initially heard the name pronounced it sounded like perk-o-set. It sounded great. I figured with a name like that I would not only remove my pain, but it would also set me up as a perky individual in the process. How brilliant was that? I’d be perky, happy, and pain free right? Wrong!
Like any drug commercial you see on television these days the one thing you can count on 100% of the time is that the drug will have side effects. These side effects are quickly discussed, and it always seems to take longer to list these effects than it does to go over the actual benefits of the drug. Percocet is no different. Only no one at the hospital offered to spend thirty seconds to a minute to quickly list all the possible side effects I could experience.
So I started taking my pills, as directed, and I started experiencing some things that I hadn’t noticed before the operation. Things like dizziness and lightheadedness for a start. There was drowsiness, nausea (without vomiting), and an unexplained unpleasant feeling (dysphoria). And then there was the itching… oh god the itching. It always seems to creep across my back. Yes, the one place that someone who just had shoulder surgery would have the most difficult time getting to. I felt like Baloo, but instead of singing the Bare Necessities while trying to scratch my back by rubbing it against any protruding wall, or tree, or anything I could find, I was mostly just swearing loudly, at… at everything. Yeah, for me Percocet = instant turrets.
Instead of calling it “Perk-o-set” they should have called it “grumpybastard-o-set”. Because every time I took a pill you could be sure I’d be set as a grumpy bastard for the rest of the day. I was actually back to work a few days later, but I had no idea what the problem was and why I was feeling so ornery, and that it how it happened. I was at a weekly departmental meeting, all jacked up on my grumpy bastard pills, and I was asked to share. Ok, so here’s what happened…
I did a wonderful job staying silent through the whole meeting, until… See, at some point in the weekly meeting there was always a period near the end were we would go around the table and everyone would take a few moments and report what they were working on and how things were coming along. Well during this time I had been assigned to work with the boss’s niece, whose father was one of the main shareholders for the company. So, as is always the case in this type of situation, she was given a well paying position for a job she had absolutely no experience in doing, and most the time didn’t. It was a summer job for her, so she could make some money to go shopping before college started.
She was assigned to head a project that I was ultimately responsible for. She needed to do some testing on a new product and get with me so I could get the documentation done for it. At the time of the meeting it had been over a month since the testing had been assigned and I had still gotten nothing from this girl. In fact by this point in the summer she was only showing up for work about twice a week for 4 to 5 hours at a time, and, if I remember right, spent most of her time IMing her boyfriend from her work computer.
Now in normal times and in times where I was not full of drugs I was having an allergic reaction to, I would have been able to address the situation in a much more diplomatic way. BUT, because of my induced state at the time, diplomacy was not on my list of things to consider, nor was the always reliable “think before you speak”. So when they asked how the project was going, I just blurted out exactly what I was experiencing and what I thought. I believe my response sounded a bit like this, “I have no idea. Alice (not her real name /wink) has been in charge of this for almost two months and she has not given me any information yet. I keep trying to meet with her to talk about the project, but it’s not like I have a lot of options. She’s only here maybe two days a week, if that.”
It was at this point I notice how big everyone’s eyes had become and that everyone at the conference table was staring at me, but at the same time trying not to make any eye contact. The thing was I didn’t see anything wrong with anything I had said. Everyone stayed pretty clear of me the rest of that week. On a plus side, it sort of worked. Someone else was reassigned the project and we got it done about two weeks later. Plus, I didn’t get canned for pointing out the complete lack of performance from the boss’s niece, so that what a good.
It was a week later while at physical therapy that I mentioned some of what I was experiencing, and they suggested that I talked to my doctor about getting a new and different prescription as soon as possible. The next day I was on new pain killers and life was back to normal. When my boss noticed my return to normality we had a little talk about my behavior at the meeting. I was a touch surprised when she explained my demeanor and candidness during that meeting, which I had completely forgotten about until she brought it up.
After explaining my prescription problem and how it had been corrected, I was pretty much off the hook. It’s amazing how forgiving people can be when you legitimately use the excuse, “I had a bad reaction to some new meds.” It seems everyone has, “been there” at some point in their life, and seems pretty willing to forgive that one. I think it’s a sort of karma thing, a sort of cosmic at work get out of jail free card due to a bad meds reaction. I mean when I hear someone use that excuse on me I’m very willing to be very forgiving, because, hey, I’ve been there.
Any bad meds days you care to share?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: Percocet, baloo, and office meeting.
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by Richard Timothy | Jan 9, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement, Working Observations
I’m alive! Not that there was any doubt mind you. But let’s just say there was more than once that I wouldn’t have minded performing a Kryten inspired head replacement for one that was functioning a little more properly. Yes, so maybe I watched some Red Dwarf while I was confined to my bed. Still, you can imagine my elation when I woke up this morning and didn’t have the sudden urge to blow my nose and take more pills.
It’s amazing how a morning of breathing normally after being sick in bed for three days can invoke a rather strong bipolar reaction to something that I’m normally not all the excited about. As I got out of bed this morning I was actually looking forward to the prospect of going to work. Yes, excited and happy to be going to work. Have you ever had that? Were you’ve felt so crappy for so long that even the crappy things you do daily like your commute to work, or for some simply going to work, no longer seem crappy?
As it turns out, this morning was a case of premature wellness. With the euphoria of being able to breathe through both nostrils at the same time, and after getting out of my first shower in three days I was cured! At least it felt that way at the time. Even the drive to work was a pleasant endeavor. I even finished Strata (a Terry Pratchett book), which Stephen Briggs was kind enough to read to me during my commute. And for the record, Stephen Briggs is no Ethan Hawke, so thank (insert deity of your preference here) for that! Still, about an hour after being at work the drudgery of my cold started to creep over me like cold honey being pored over a freshly steamed cabbage.
This motivated me to take some day-time cold medicine, which eventually helped. But let’s just say I have a few issues with the stuff. Night-time cold medicine at least lets you sleep through the mental sludge your brain start to wander through after you take the medicine. The day-time stuff enables you to stay awake for all the mental discombobulation.
Day-time cold medicine makes me feel like my brain was just tightly wrapped in duct tape causing a small empty space between where my brain and my skull meet. Now fill that empty space maple syrup. It makes me feel like there’s a half second delay between me and my brain with every body movement.
I walked to my boss’s office and stopped at his door to knock. As I stopped walking it felt like my brain kept moving bouncing off the front inside of my skull about half a second after I stop moving forward. It wasn’t a sharp pain, just a subtle wobbly pressure, kind of like watching someone get hit in the head with a water balloon made out of Jell-o in slow motion. Just not as messy.
I even took some Jackson 5 to listen to at work today. They have a way of bringing a smile to my face. There’s something about their songs that just makes my head start doing that Night at the Roxbury head bobbing thing, while tapping my foot in rhythm… or as close to rhythm as someone of my musical aptitude is capable of. The problem I found was the head bobbing is it’s more involuntary than not. The second I Want You Back started playing my head automatically started bobbing. I kept trying to stop it, but then ABC started playing and there it went again.
My brain felt like a small 5th grader trying to play on the seesaw with John Goodman. And every few seconds John would try to figure out how to get off the damned contraption, but would keep running out of energy each few seconds and flopping back down on the seat. All the while my brain holding on for all it’s might to avoid being flung uncontrollably into the air at any given second. Sadly, I had to turn off the little Michael and the brothers just to keep my brain from triggering any mental air bags.
Damn you day-time cold medicine.
On a plus note, I did leave a little early today. The decision happened shortly after I asked a coworker to come into my office to see if the heat was on too high. He thought it was nice, and much cooler than his own office. I was wiping sweat from my forehead when he told me that. Yeah, like I said it’s been a premature wellness kind of day. At least I got home before the rush hour traffic hit. And on a plus note, I didn’t get ill at all until after the holidays, so I guess there’s that.
How about you, any crazy day-time cold medicine stories… that won’t get you in trouble at work?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: sick at work, seesaw, Jackson 5, and Strata.
by Richard Timothy | Jan 5, 2010 | Adolescent Shenanigans, I Think There's a Point, When I Was a Kid
I was talking to my brother last night, and apparently his oldest kid has been working on a science fair project for school. During the course of the conversation, I was told about the list of restrictions the school gave my nephew in regards to him displaying his project. Turns out when it comes to science projects, all the school really wants is a 2D visual display showing pictures and what the outcome was. It seems the era of presenting your experiment in front of teachers and students is mostly over. At the very least it’s being reserved for college students that are required to present their dissertation to a panel of fellow scientists.
I was a little saddened by this. I have fond memories of the science fair. There were always at least 4 kids in each class that made a baking soda volcano and there was always the Styrofoam copy of the solar system… poor Pluto. We hardly knew ye.
We then started thinking about some of the science projects we either did or saw while in or elementary years. I remember the science fair was required for each 4th, 5th, and 6th grade kid. The thing was once we completed our science project at home, we had to bring it to class and give a working presentation to all our peers. I think this was to make sure the kids actually learned something about the project their parents either helped with, or completely did for them… depending on the kid, or, more often than not, the parents.
Still, in looking back, there were some things that… let’s just say I’m amazed what we got away with. Case and point, one girl did a presentation on the evil, wicked, mean, and bad, and nasty chemicals that the human body takes in from smoking cigarettes. The experiment consisted of the presenter starting their presentation by opening all of the windows in the classroom. Then she reached into a plastic bag and pulled out a new, unopened pack of cigarettes and lit up.
No, she didn’t personally start smoking. Instead, she put the cigarette in a little make shift device made out of an empty 2 liter bottle of soda. She then squeezed on the sides of the bottle and it essentially smoked the cigarette for her. So there we were, 25+ kids sitting at our desks while a plastic bottle smoked an entire cigarette. But it was fine see, because we avoided any health risks by opening the windows before hand. She then showed the class all of the discoloration that had seeped into the once white filter. We clapped, and she placed her smokes and smoking bottle in a box and went back to her chair.
Just so were all clear on this, the presentation for the experiment consisted of her smoking an entire cigarette in the classroom filled with 5th graders via an empty 2 liter bottle! Yes, feel free to insert any expletive you feel is fitting at this point.
Now let’s talk about my 6th grade science project. I didn’t have cable growing up. I only had three channels, ABC, CBS, and NBC, and that was it. Although, occasionally I did go to a friends house after school to watch Danger Mouse and You Can’t Do That on Television on Nickelodeon. It was during one of these after school viewings that I came across Bill Nye the Science Guy who was doing a presentation on density.
I thought it was fascinating, but only because he had a cylinder of four different liquids that were all different densities and thus had four different layers of liquid in the same container. Then he would drop random objects into the cylinder that would float on the different levels of liquid. It didn’t really get it at first, but it was cool to watch.
I wanted to do a reenactment of Bill’s experiment for my science project. So I talked to my dad about it, and he agreed to help out. It consisted of getting 15 one inch wood squares that were a variety of different densities. Then I collected the four liquids of different densities. Here’s how it broke down, one cup of mineral spirits, one up of water, one cup of cooking oil, and one cup of liquid mercury… yes, liquid mercury.
I was a 12 year old that had access to a vial of liquid mercury. I got to take to school, unsupervised, and show all my friends. We even played with it in our hands before and after I cleaned up my presentation… because liquid metal when you are 12 is just pretty damn cool. And no, I did not wear any protective gloves… I was 12. The finer points of how liquid mercury could possibly kill me if I handled it wrong was sort of lost on me.
And on top of it all off, was I was answering questions about my project, I… maybe it was the mixture of chemicals and the potent odor they gave off, maybe it was from playing with the mercury, but after the second question was asked, I got out about three words out and then hit the floor. Yes, I fainted mid sentence.
I did get third place out of the entire school that year though. I’m not sure if my fainting helped sway the vote or if my project was just that brilliant, but I did not appreciate it when the principle announced, “For our third place winner, we have our fainting scientist Richard Timothy!” But when they gave me that big shiny ribbon I really didn’t mind him saying that.
I believe my favorite experiment was the mini distillery, I mean fuel creation experiment. I was in 5th grade at the time and one of the 6th graders made a tiny distillery to make what he claimed was an alternative fuel source. He had all the components set up including an open flame Bunsen burner. He showed everyone that showed up at his booth how, if he took certain items and put them together, he could create an “alternative fuel” source.
Sugar coat it all you want, but the fact of the matter is that kid was making moonshine… which, if you stop and think about it, is rather impressive in its own right. Personally, I was amazed that the faculty didn’t confiscated it and set it up in the teachers lounge next to the Mr. Coffee.
Yeah, things have changed a bit in the school systems from when I was a kid. Are they better, who can really say? I mean sure they aren’t allowed to play with cigarettes, moonshine, open flames, or liquid mercury in the name of science, but then again that might not be a bad thing.
For the record, I do still have all my fingers and toes, and I only once burned down a small portion of my neighbor’s fence… by accident. I did learn first hand why adults tell you not to play with matches, and I haven’t burned down anything since. So there, lesson learned, but then again that’s a different story.
So, do any of you have any boggling science fair experiment stories? I’d be curious to hear what they are.
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: science fair, density liquid, liquid mercury, Danger Mouse, moonshine, and smoking.
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by Richard Timothy | Dec 31, 2009 | I Think There's a Point, Observationally Speaking, When I Was a Kid
There are two things that always happen when I tell someone for the first time that I was born on January 1st. The first thing is the verbal exclamation, “Oh, you were a new year’s baby.” or some variation therein. However it is said, it always gets expressed to me that I am, in fact, a “New Year’s baby.”
The second thing that always happens, if people are seeking additional conversation about this, is the story me being born under a bad sign. The story has nothing to do with angels and demons battling over my soul, or how my parents tried to sell the privilege of naming me to the highest bidder on eBay. Nor did I end up being placed in the wrong baby bin, and spent the first 5 years of my life under the assumption that I was the offspring of Peruvian immigrants. No, it’s nothing like any of that. The story is mostly about presents and only a little about me.
This story actually begins long before I before I was born. In Afton, a small town in western Wyoming, there was a tradition of giving gifts to the first baby of the new year. In fact this is a fairly common tradition across the US from what I’ve been told. All the local businesses would donate gifts and then all those presents when to the first child of the new year and its picture was taken and placed in the local paper. It was a tradition that showed community unity and support, and overall just made people feel good. This tradition had been around for years. It was a staple of the community that everyone could count on and looked forward too.
Now take that tradition up to the year before I was born. As the story was relayed to me there was a couple traveling through town on their way home after the holidays. This couple just so happened to be expecting sometime in the near future… or as it turned out immediate future. Say 10 minutes into the future after pulling into town to gas up their car. And this strangers water broke, so did years of community tradition. Yes, these travelers popped out the first baby of the new year.
The thing is, I don’t think the couple really cared about our tradition. Outsiders usually don’t, but damn it, it was the communities tradition and they were not about to let themselves think of themselves and breakers of tradition. The hospital and present donors had a debate on how to handle the gift distribution. The people were not part of the community, but the tradition never had specified what to do in this type of situation. Eventually the decision was made that in order to keep to community tradition, but to also be fair, the gifts would be split up. Half went to the “strangers” and the other half would be given to the “local” first baby of the new year.
Because of the conflict between the traditionalists and communalists it was decided that this tradition was creating contention and separation in the community and should be disbanded. All debaters involved agreed and the tradition of giving gifts to the first baby of the new year was dissolved.
Now move ahead one year to January 1, 1974 the evening where I made my grand entrance onto this little ball of earth. As my little screams filled the delivery room, discussion started about the tradition that use to be in place were the first baby of the new year would be given gifts from the community, and what a wonderful tradition it was. The conversations were carried around town. Apparently, there was even a meeting.
Everyone seemed to agree, it was a great tradition to hold on to. Thus it was brought back so that the next year’s first baby of the new year would be bestowed with a bounty of gifts.
And that was it. I mean, I still got my picture in the paper, so that was nice. Granted, I was a sleep so I really don’t remember, nor would I had I been awake. But I have a copy of the newspaper article with my picture in it that was cut out and glued in one of my baby books.
So, there you have it, every year before I was born and every year after, the tradition has been alive and in full effect. Did I care? Did this even result in me sending therapy bills to the city of Afton? I was a baby. Of course I didn’t care. All I was able to handle at that point in my life was eating, pooping, sleeping, and crying in the event one of those first three things was out of sync.
So do I believe it? My being born under a bad sign I mean. No, not at all. The truth is, well, my truth is, is that my grand entrance onto this planet got people talking and working together again. They reinstated a dead tradition that made a small town happy. And since my birth is has continued to make people happy, even after all these years. Yeah, I’m pretty bad ass. Besides, it makes a pretty good story, and a true story at that.
Cheers and Happy New Year! Oh, and you’re welcome.
So, any thoughts? Any traditional mishaps rectified or dismissed as a result of your birth?
Image Source:
Google Image, key words: new years baby, group hug, and Afton Wyoming.
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by Richard Timothy | Dec 29, 2009 | Holiday Banter, I Think There's a Point, Observationally Speaking
A miracle is, according to dictionary.com, an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause. There is also the additional addendum to this definition that includes linking said events to some form of deity. The thing I find the most interesting about this is that the term miracle seems to carry with it a positive connotation, even when the negative is the more miraculous. Interestingly if a miracle causes bad things to happen, it’s usually referred to as a coincidence and nothing more.
Case and point, look at tornadoes. One might come down and out of all the open areas in Kansas where they could land the tornado destroys a field of crops next to a farm house but misses the farm house completely, or it changes it direction from heading straight into some small town. This is a miraculous event. Likewise, isn’t it just as much of a miracle if the tornado hits the farm house and doesn’t destroy the field of crops next to it, or if the tornado changes direction at the last second and destroys a small town when it was originally going to miss it completely? Based on the definition I’d say both are miracles, its just that one is a shitty miracle, and the other is more of your traditional happily ever after miracle because nothing and no one was hurt, killed, maimed, or destroyed.
I’m not meaning to harsh anyone’s buzz; I just want to point this out so that when I explain my Christmas miracle, you’ll understand why I’m calling it a miracle, even though some might consider just a coincidence.
So as Christmas day at my parent’s house sauntered into the “it’s time to go home” hour, my brother and his family headed home. As we gathered our things and packed up the car we realized that a fondue power cord mix-up resulted in my cutie-baby-sweetie-pie-wifey-pooh and I needing to head over to my brother’s house to exchange the misplaced cords.
As we drove down the side streets of the tract home neighborhood Angela told me to watch out for the animals in the middle of the street. About half a block down the street I saw a collection of fluffy movement, and began slowing down the car. As we got close enough to clearly see what was happening I stopped the car completely. I blinked twice. I looked at Angela and then back to the scene unfolding before us.
“You see that too?” I asked.
Angela nodded. Standing in the middle of the ice packed road was a standoff between a white cat with some orange spots, and a white rabbit, with some orange spots. The cat’s back was arched in that “pissed off and ready to attack” way. The rabbit just stood there, wiggling its nose and waiting for the cat to make its move.
Odder still was the fact that both the cat and rabbit had back up. Standing on the side of the road, behind the rabbit was another rabbit, which looked a lot like the first one, same color scheme I mean. And behind the cat standing next to a fence by the sidewalk was another cat, sharing the first cats same color scheme.
It was as if we drove into some obscure animal kingdom reenactment of West Side Story. Although, seriously, what would you get if you crossed a rabbit and a cat… a cabit I guess, or maybe a rabat. I’m just it would fall just into the same realm as a jackalope or wookalar. Then again maybe it wasn’t West Side story at all. Maybe it was two gangs of cute fuzzy creatures about to rumble for the sake if proving which creature would win the right to wear the white and orange gang colors. Crazy adorable fluffy animal gang warfare during Christmas, I swear, don’t these mammals have any respect for human tradition and holidays? Rude little varmints!
So before an more bunny nose wiggle taunts could be made or any foul mouthed cat hisses could be, well, hissed, I revved the engine and clicked my brights on and off a few times causing just enough of a scene that both parties retreated ran back to their own side of the street. As we drove past I rolled down my window and yelled at both of them, “You two play nice, it’s Christmas damn it.”
And that was it. That was my Christmas miracle. No, not the cat vs. rabbit stand off in the middle of the street bit. For all I know maybe that happens all the time. Maybe they are sworn enemies. No, what I mean is actually seeing it. To be one of two humans on Christmas night to see the first rehearsal of Bugs and Sylvester’s production of West Side Story for the fluffy woodland creature kingdom in Utah is more than amazing… it’s a miracle!
Call it a coincidence if you want, but I’m sticking to my story. Sure it might sound a little odd. Sure it has a bunch of personal interpretation of what I thought was happening verses what was really happening with the animals involved. Hell, maybe the cats were just trying to score a little catnip from the rabbits. Regardless of the reality, miracles are all about the perspective of the person telling the story, and I’m telling you, as Elvis is the king, as Lennon is the walrus, as Popeye is the sailor, this was a bloody miracle.
So, did you witness any miracles on Christmas or during this holiday season? What are your thoughts on the miracles of bad outcomes?
Images Sources:
Google Images, key words: rabbit and cat, driving at night on snow, miracle, jackalopes, and catnip.
by Richard Timothy | Dec 23, 2009 | Holiday Banter, I Think There's a Point, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
With the holiday season well underway I am now starting to get a flux of the Happy Holidays cards and eCards. These cards vary in their themes and messages. Some cards have the traditional Peace on Earth and Good will towards Men (and women, and transgenders, and puppies, call center agents that really are not calling to piss you off but are calling because it’s the only job they could find and they have bills to pay too you know, and small fairytale creatures, and pygmies, and so on). Other messages suggested we forget peace on earth and goodwill towards men and play with a clockwork train instead.
I’ve received a few nativity cards, two of which were identical and from the same family name. It made me wonder if somebody’s kid was selling them for a school fundraiser or something like that. My guess is that the kid went to all their aunts and uncles for support and they bought the same cards. Or… the kid’s parents were really competitive and wanted their child to take first place in some holiday card selling competition. So they bought a bunch of cards and then gave as Christmas gifts to all their siblings last year… which, by the way, is a crap gift.
If you have done this, send an apology to everyone you gave card sets to. And if you are are planning on doing this, stop right now! Sure the recipients might smile and say thanks, but under their breath they’re probably going to call you a cheap mother ffffluffer, yes fluffer. You know, the people that work at department stores fluffing display pillows to attract the types of people that believe every possible space in a home where one might place their butt should be accompanied by a pillow. Besides, it also means that all of these friends are going to be sending you the same damn holiday card for the next five years.
I have gotten quite a few Winter solstice and Yuletide cards this year. All of which were made with recycled paper or would have been had a few of them not been eCards. I think the eCards still had that little recycled symbol on them though. Pagans love their symbols, but then again so does everyone else. Not that the recycle symbol is pagan in origin, but the message of reuse instead of waste, and caring for the planet seems acutely pagan. All the recycle bins around the world are the new pagan alters trying to get humanity back to their roots! Woo Hoo! Pagans! Wooo! Sorry about that, but I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for pagans. I mean they are singlehandedly responsible for all of the religious based holidays… well most anyway. And crap Hallmark holidays like Bring your Daughter to Work Day, Secretary’s Day, National Doctor’s Day, Flag Day, or Citizenship Day don’t count either. Hell, they don’t even count as real holidays.
I did get one Hanukkah themed card so far this year, which my friend decided to write in Yiddish. I thought it was a sweet gesture. Gut Yontiff to you as well. As for Kwanzaa, sadly no, no cards yet this year, but I am thinking of buying one and sending it to myself just for the inclusionary factor, but I’ve heard that’s cheating.
Now, I have heard on more than one occasion people proclaiming their annoyance that the other December holidays are infiltrating and taking the Christ out of Christmas. Posh! If you are one of these types of Christians celebrating Christmas, then hey, look at that, there it is… Christ right at the beginning of the word Christmas. Who knew? This complaint usually comes as a result of people getting all butt hurt when a local store, airport, city building, or likewise puts up a Happy Holidays sign instead of the Merry Christmas sign they use to put up.
I would like to say though, that if you are the type of person that is getting all bent out shape because some place replaced your singular holiday greeting with a more universal holiday greeting that still includes your holiday, well then you are bit of a douche and personally responsible for making baby G cry. Seriously, what kind of person does that? And to you people that are that way, let me just tell you, “NO! Bad human. No!” and you should really be smacked on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.
The mistake that these Happy Holiday anger balls are making is that the term is not diminishing anyone’s Christmas or sentiment about it. Happy Holidays is an inclusive term, meaning everyone. Not to mention, it allows for a level of personal laziness. Happy Holidays is a simple phrase that lets you to wish happiness and joy to someone without having to take the time to get to know them well enough to have the “What do you believe” conversation. Or at the very least, having to remember what they said when you did have that conversation. Because in my experience that conversation usually happens when there is a lot of alcohol involved. Also, using this phrase enables you to avoid guessing what others believe who might get pissing off if you guess wrong.
I personally dig this time of year. The food banks get restocked, and the homeless shelters get new blankets and clothes to help their fellow people who are experiencing hard times. People not only say they want peace on earth and good will towards others, they actually practice it. Sadly, the season usually ends in a drunken evening were everyone wakes up the next day with a hangover and a new year staring them in the face. I think the mass alcohol consumption causes most people forget about the humanity movement they were taking part in during the past month. But it only takes about 11 months and people start to remember they good feeling they got from helping others and start doing it again. You may call this sad, but it is 1 out of 12 is a lot better than 0 out of 12.
So, Happy Holidays to all of you and if this time of year doesn’t hold a holiday you care about or that applies to you personally, just make one up. That’s what I usually do. Its fun, its easy to do, and it doesn’t cost anything. Not to mention, if it results in the exchange of fresh baked goods between friends, family, and/or neighbors, well, that’s just pretty damn groovy.
What are your thoughts on this whole Happy Holiday thing?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: Happy Holidays, Hanukkah, nativity, Happy Solstice, all holidays together, and cookies.
So last weeks little day-time cold medicine topic got me thinking about a somewhat related subject. My explanation of how day-time cold medicine left me feeling a little off kilter reminded me of the discovery that I was, in fact, allergic to Percocet. And for the record, this was a legitimate discovery, as opposed to an experimental discovery.
It was at this point I notice how big everyone’s eyes had become and that everyone at the conference table was staring at me, but at the same time trying not to make any eye contact. The thing was I didn’t see anything wrong with anything I had said. Everyone stayed pretty clear of me the rest of that week. On a plus side, it sort of worked. Someone else was reassigned the project and we got it done about two weeks later. Plus, I didn’t get canned for pointing out the complete lack of performance from the boss’s niece, so that what a good.
