As a fourth grader, I had a recurring role in the famous Crystal Cathedral's Glory of Christmas pageant show as a shepherd child and the incense bearer for the Gold King. The smoky incense made audience members choke, but my carpool ride was almost the girl who played Claudia in The Baby-sitters Club movie. Almost. My one moment in the spotlight was when a real live camel kicked me as it exited the stage, taking out my left ankle and knocking me flat on my face. Right into a pile of sheep poop. All of three people noticed and applauded.
I'm not allergic to the holidays. I just throw up a little in my mouth when I think about the yearly trial of seeing aunts, uncles, and cousins who ask me, "What are you doing with your life? I thought you said you were going to be a lawyer?" I only told them that to get them to stop nagging, as they were planning my future for me before I'd hit puberty. Oh, and I really liked John Grisham novels in middle school. (Don't hold that against me.) My extended family consists solely of medical professionals (four dentists, an OBGYN, four doctors, and three pharmacists with their own stores within two blocks of each other, which would be great if I was addicted to painkillers) who can't fathom why anyone would want to be a 23-year-old writer without a 401(k). There's no way I could successfully explain what recapping is (in Vietnamese, no less), let alone assure them that TVGasm is not a porn site. It's not whoring if you do it for free.
A sample of the questions I face each Christmas Eve:
"But you went to the Ivy League of the West! Are you depressed again? Do you need some Prozac?" [Guess my alma mater]
"Your parents are as poor as church mice. What were you thinking, not being pre-med? Don't you want to be RICH? LIKE US?"
"A smart girl like you doesn't need a career. You would give it up once you got married, anyway. Why don't you settle down?"
These are the same people who once told me, "You're really artistic, you're so talented at painting and designing. You'd be successful as an orthodontist with those steady hands!" So this year, I'm going on strike and protesting my relatives' ChristmasFest in the OC by staying home. I'll just let my parents defend my inability to get on the fast track to success. Let's hope that my dad gets mad enough to bust out the immigrant American slang: "You are the suck!" You know who didn't have any annoying relatives? Frosty the Snowman, that lucky bastard.
We're greeted by falling snow and an animated Jimmy Durante, better known as Schnozzola and the man who sang "As Time Goes By" in the opening credits of Sleepless in Seattle and "Make Someone Happy" at the end. Schnozzola is also the man responsible for introducing catchphrases such as "Ha-cha-cha-chaaaaaaaa!" He's got a fancy chapeau and shoes that probably have lifts in them.
Must all these noses in this Christmas classic resemble flaccid or semi-erect penises? It's making me uncomfortable.
Schnozzola walks into the unnamed town and points his nose towards a man selling Xmas Trees. I bet his sense of smell is off the charts. He informs us that it all started with the snow, a very special kind of snow. "One that makes the happy happier, and the giddy even giddier." It makes coming home homier, and natural enemies friends. Doesn't that inexplicable euphoria suggest one thing?
Snowflakes that fall on my nose and eyelashes...these are a few of my favorite things!
When the first snow is Christmas snow, something wonderful is bound to happen. You mean, Obama will win the Iowa primary and Jamie Lynn Spears will give birth to a baby Cheeto-Puff? Schnozzola points to a red-brick school, where we see kids trying to draw dirty pictures on fogged-up windows and failing miserably. However, these are the short bus kids.
They clearly missed the lesson on cock and ball drawing.
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Comments (1)
Awesome recap T.Vo! You'd think cause of the writer's strike there'd be nothing to laugh at on tv but your recap made my day.
PS love the pepperoni nipple bit
1 of 1 | Posted by bone | Posted on December 26, 2007 7:27 PM