O, Tannenbaum

From the Ghost of Christmas Past comes a classic coversation piece from the dynamic powerhouse duo of Amber Johnson and Sarah Case. May their holiday spirit live forever in the hearts of all children, chickens, Germans, and single women the world over.

Act I:
The stage is set. The lights are dim. The candles lit. Amber begins to sing "O, Tannenbaum" in Genglish with some made-up words, hacking and spitting her way through it. Sarah stares across the table at her in bewilderment, not certain whether she should be laughing or putting her friend on meds. "What was that?" "That was 'O, Tannenbaum' in German ... I think."

Act II:
Amber: "We need to search for a tannenbaum soon."
Sarah: "I thought you weren't going to tannenbaum this year?"
Amber: "I'm not - it's for you ... Cheque, por favor?"
Sarah: "Chicken, por favor? Is that what you said?"
Amber: "CHICKEN FOR THE POOR? What??"

Moondancer

While mostly enjoyable, there are certain perils to social dancing. Unbeknowest to many onlookers, there is always a dance within a dance going on somewhere on the hardwood floor. I twirl and leap and bound with as much grace as possible just to get out of the reach of a certain someone. But no matter how hard I try, after four minutes of ecstasy on the dance floor, I turn around to find him there, hand out stretched. "Would you like to dance?" Damnit! "Sure," I reply. Then I spend the next four minutes waiting for the dance to end so I can twirl and leap and bound as far away from him as possible. Let me explain...

First think "Grandpa" then picture this: Chia Pets growing in both ears, caterpillar-like eyebrows frolicking in the wind, Medusa-like serpents protruding from each nostril, a mountain man beard, and a flood of grey, course hair secured into a ponytail. The man looks like John Brown reincarnated, except John Brown was better kempt! As a common courtesy, it's common to ask, "So, what's your name?" So, I ask this rather hairy old man, "So, what's you name?" And he says, "You can call me Moondancer." Blink. Blink. Smile. That name really does just makes things that much worse.

Sometimes in the course of a dance, my forehead brushes against his scraggly beard and I grimace. Sometimes he'll wiggle his hips as though to entice me into doing the same, but all I can do is close my eyes real tight and go to my happy place far far away. The most traumatic part of the dance, however, and it happens numerous times within the course of just one dance, is his signature rock step. What, may you ask, is so traumatic about his rock step? Shortly after the rock step, he pulls me in so close that our faces are merely inches from one other. His lips form an O and his eyes get so big that I swear they might pop out of his head. It's in that moment when I long for my heavenly home, a place where nose hairs are always trimmed and I can eat all the chocolate I want. If there is one lesson Moondancer has taught me, it is this: _____________________________ (Please use this blank to insert the moral you learned from this blog.)

Nightmare on 34th Street

As evidenced by this photo, I was almost canibalized by Spongebob Squarepants at the Macy's Day Parade in broad daylight. I'm not sure "canibalized" is the appropriate word though, given that he is sponge and I am human. Hmmmm? Spongebob has also been known to date squirrells and I don't know how to categorize that relationship either. Anyhoo, if you are wondering why I look so happy in said photograph, it's only because I know that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. Amen.