"Nothing Compares to…"-Paramore

If the groundhog crawls out from his hole and sees his shadow, he make's silhouette bunnies with his little paws. They're pretty good really; he can't do butterflies without opposable thumbs, but hey, we all make do with what we have. That's how I survived the holiday.

I poked my head out from the holiday rubble yesterday. I really wasn't a groundhog, I was a scared survivor crawling out of a bomb shelter. Pushing away my downed fence, I looked around. I'd spent the first half of the month stocking my bunker with blinking lights and edible rations, before hunkering down for the defcon 1 holiday. Now it was time to evaluate how I did. Was spring coming, or was I in for a long cold half-life of nuclear winter?

Everybody knows holidays suck for the divorced, right? Standing in the smoke and ash, I performed my cursory check for all limbs and discovered something: The holiday didn't suck. Oh, and maybe I should get out of the fireplace; smoke and ash isn't good for you.

I lived through Christmas. It wasn't as cool as when I was a kid, but when has it been? I don't know about you, but my adult Christmases haven't been nearly as cool as my childhood ones. Since I turned 18, and moved out, I have not received one Stretch Armstrong, or Six Million Dollar Man. Not even a He-Man. Ok, anyone else notice I'm tossing around guy names? Let's try this: I didn't even get one Easy Bake Oven. Good, now I feel secure in my masculinity…

Still, being a kid during Christmas was great, even with divorced parents. Actually that made it a little cooler. I had 2 families trying to buy my affection and one-up each other.

"I got Robby a Lego Village."

"I got Robby a real village. It's just outside of Quartzite. It's more of a Hamlet really…"

And when both parents remarried, it rained grandparents from heaven! Who knew that each parent came with a set of grandparents? And if the grandparents are divorced…it's like…like…like…It's like Ali Baba finding the treasure cave! WOO FREAKIN' HOO! It's a toy downpour!

As an adult, you find that these are all people you need to send gifts too. Not to mention visit…what the hell? No, being an adult at Christmas isn't the same. I was worried that I'd find the transition from married to divorced would be the same yule tide ebb and transitioning from kid to adult. I didn't think I could afford another emotional tug like that.

It wasn't the same. I've been single before. Yeah, I know this isn't the same as that either, but it's similar, and that similarity makes all the difference. It's like finding a sweater that smells like mom. I can't toss it in the kitchen and expect it to make me a bowl of soup and a sandwich, but I can smell it and remember the times she did. This Christmas is about times I did, and survived. Smell my Rob-sweat stink and tremble, you unbelievers!

So I made it through. I've got one Christmas under my belt, and I'll do just fine. I just need somebody to come over and clear out this rubble. Do you know any good groundhogs I can lash to a debris-sled, and call them by name? Well If they don't come out until February, I think I could find a few chipmunks instead.

"On Alvin! On Simon! You too Theodore! Dash away! Dash away…!"

"Wanna know the rest? Hey, buy the rights…"-OMC

One hit wonder. That's what they call me. No, not really, I need a hit for that. They don't call me anything. I call them "they." Who is this "they?" This "they" is VH 1. They're talking about one hit wonders. That's what's on TV now. You know, I swear, the reason holidays suck for us--the divorced--is because we don't get tons of cool gifts to play with, and all the televised "theys" play nothing but crap.

If they're not playing series marathons of programs they can't sell during the prime viewer window, they're rehashing shows older than my dad, and he's old. He used to tell us he watched TV by candlelight. Yeah, we didn't find it funny either, but we laughed, it's old Dad humor. He may be old, but we love him. And he could pick better programming than these TV monkeys. Why don't programmers love the divorced? We're a demographic. We may not spend money like the married parents of 14, but we still eat and clean our houses and buy cars. I can do without all the engagement ring ads though. The next person going to Jared, get's shot with diamond dust loaded into shotgun shells. Just a holiday warning.

The other thing they're playing is family movies. It's a Wonderful Life. Yeah right kiss my- Asthmatic Santa, A Christmas Story, The Christmas Shoes, why would I watch these? What would possibly make me feel good about being divorced over the season? Gimme the Red Rider B-B Gun. Somebody needs their eye shot out. Where are Tombstone, or Highlander when you need them? Not in my cable options; I'll tell you that!

The night of the wind storm, I rented Live Free or Die Hard! I get to the point where they're about to explain why they're killing hackers, terrorizing the public, and bombing with a poor use of Kevin Smith, when my power goes out. I can guess the rest of the movie, but the convoluted plot--that surely has something to do with stealing money--I need a road map to find, and everything's just gone black.

Tune in tomorrow…

GAAAAHHH!

I've given up on everyone else. I'm on VH 1, they're focusing their night on one hit wonders. It wouldn't be too bad, but I'm hearing phrases like "…the young taco…" I think all tacos should be young. If they're old, throw them away. That's apparently what happened to the guy who sang "Putting on the Ritz" too.

Maybe that's why I'm watching this. I'm commiserating. These people were considered disposable. A whole generation said, "You are the weakest link. Goodbye." Every subsequent generation just goes,"Who?" A whole generation! I'm in great shape! I've only had MyUnwife do that! These guys are worse off than I am. Dude, that sucks. Thanks for making me feel better, young Taco. God speed you through obscurity, mi amigo.

One thing I have learned watching late night TV. According to the ad I just watched, buying a Trojan condom transforms any man from a swine into an emo god. Yeah, I know, emo god: oxymoron. But I think it could happen, Trojan promises it will. It also promises other things won't happen, but that's another story. We're talking oxymorons and emo gods. The emo god would use his powers to bring world pity.

"Kneel and pity me mortal!"

Those emo kids, they're wacky. They'll be one hit wonders soon. Me, I'm still waiting for my hit. I've had my day in the park; I just struck out. That's ok, there will be another at bat. Another chance at success. All I need is one hit, so long as it's good. I don't need to knock it out of the park; I just need to get through this holiday of crappy TV.

The Gentle Hand Of Christmas

On the 1st day of Christmas, nature gave to me: Wind, in the trees. Oh and...

My front fence.
Interesting note: My dog will not leave the yard.

If you look in front of the RV, that's my neighbor's tree lying in the street. He'd rather you look at his Christmas toys in the lawn.

This is the fence on the other side. One half lying in my yard, the other half lying in my neighbor's. The side with the dog poop is his, the dog poop is mine. No, his gate isn't open, it's laying on his lawn. If you look at my gate, you'll notice it's locked, so that nobody get in.

Tumbleweeds: Nature's Christmas tree. Think of the sand as desert snow. Except I don't live in the desert, so it's blown pretty far...

It's raining trees!

So the power is still out. I called; they were too busy to answer the
phone. I did listen to the recorded message guy. He even wished me a
merry Christmas. What spirit! He listed off map locations like he was
playing battleship, and yeah, he sunk mine. My neighborhood is
adrift, powerless, in the sea of a Christmas blackout.

They're not sure when it's coming back up. I think they're hoping
Santa will bring it. According to the chipper voice on the phone, the
wind's blowing trees down everywhere. Everywhere but his house; he's
still got power.

So, that's the Christmas story thus far. I'll update you as the day
creates news. Stay tuned; There's a storm a-brewin'!

Wow!

That's either a really bright candle, or my bathroom's on fire. Santa
probably used the bathroom and din't put out his butt. Cigarette,
not his--nevermind...

So this is Christmas…

Well, it's only 2am and the funs already begun. I was in the middle of watching a movie. It's been really windy tonight. I think I just saw Dorothy's house blow past. And that wasn't part of my movie. But then all the power went out. So I went and grabbed a flashlight. The whole neighborhood is down. Something's blown down somewhere. As I was grabbing my light, I noticed that the lines aren't all that's down, my front fence is down now too. I'd go out and stand it up, especially since it's actually brighter outside right now than it is inside, but I'd never stand up against that wind. Oh look there goes a tree… So I thought I'd just jot this short note before my UPS goes down. I'm on battery power right now. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

The latest Christmas net catches