A Christmas Story

I know you’re dying to know how I spent Christmas. I mean, other than at or around 11:55 a.m. and 3:47, 5:27, 7:16, and 10:46 p.m.(s). Well, I’m just dying to tell you. So you see how that works out? It’s all about give and take. It’s all about sharing. Isn’t that nice? (No, it’s revolting. Just get on with it.) (OK, I will. But don’t rush me.) (Oh, just go back to bed.) (Be quiet. Don’t tell me what to do!)
OK … where was I? Oh yes. Yes. Christmas festivities in the Jewish household. Although the DOG isn’t Jewish, the other three of us — Taxi Taxenbaum, Mewy Mewstein, and your fabulous hostess, Jodi Greengoldsilverbergmanbluthrosebloomowitz — are.
The apartment was redolent with the mouth-watering aromas of a Christmas feast … being cooked in someone else’s apartment. (Actually, since the French people moved in downstairs, I’ve been treated to a dizzying parade of fantastic aromas, including what I think is actually French toast.) “Show-offs,” I said with a disdainful sniff. “Bigshots with their turkey and their fixin’s … or accoutrements.” And then I whipped up a bag of microwave popcorn and popped open a can of Diet Coke avec lemon.
I fiddled (on the roof? no) around with the computer and my beautiful new scanner (no, I have not and will not scan my ass! please!), and after a while, I got the feeling something was missing. I couldn’t quite identify what it was. Gifts? No; we don’t do that. Relatives from far and wide, converging on our palatial digs, wearing heinous Christmas sweaters and bearing hideous concoctions? No; we don’t allow that. Figgy pudding? Frankincense? Frankenstein? No, no, and no.
Then I realized what it was: Chinese food. I mean, really! After all, what’s a good old-fashioned Christmas without the traditional Jewish feast? So we called for delivery. Or, rather, the DOG did. (Please. I don’t call.) And in less than half an hour, our table was laden with a bounty fit for royalty. Or at least the kind of royalty that accepts vegan wonton soup.
More computer fiddlation, more scanner admiration. Email. A few “chats” via AIM. Quite a bit of quizzical attempts at Bezier curves (a graphics thing). And I’m sure some TV so bad that I can’t even remember what I watched.
And some TV so good that I can’t believe I haven’t watched it before. It’s a British show called “Coupling” that’s probably been wildly popular since its inception but that I will now treat as if it’s my own fresh and new discovery. (I did the same thing with Macy’s Herald Square. “Say, Gerald, have you heard of this marvelous new store that opened up around, oh, I’d say 34th Street? It’s called Marcy’s … Macky’s … I don’t remember. But it’s a huge place. Great stuff. You really should check it out sometime!”)
And that was, well, that. Or it.
It was a magical day!
Next: New Years Eve!