SAA Ep.# 57: Christmas Brain

Ah, Christmas.  It's the magical time of year when everyone's brain turns to mush.  I like to call this phenomenon the "Christmas Brain."

Do you remember that old movie with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan?  No, no.  Not "You've Got Mail."  The other one.  Yeah...wait, no.  Not "Sleepless in Seattle."  I mean the OTHER one.  "Joe VS. the Volcano."  Yeah.  That one.  You don't remember it?  Okay, well never mind then.  I mean, the movie is awesome, although completely impossible to understand.  But Tom Hanks' character (Joe) is diagnosed with an imaginary "disease" known as a "Brain Cloud."  I am of the opinion that a "Brain Cloud," if it were in fact a real disease, would be a lot like the "Christmas Brain."  Only Christmas Brain only takes place during the holidays, and the Christmas Brain isn't usually fatal...and also, no one has to jump into a volcano, although sometimes the Christmas Brain makes you want to do crazy, crazy things.

Christmas Brain is the reason why every single December, I trick myself into believing that I can successfully make 1000 cake truffles/chocolate covered pretzels/pieces of biscotti, etc. etc. in a single evening.  After realizing that I can't make all that stuff and still keep my sanity, I choose to forfeit my sanity.  This loss of sanity leads to an even greater case of Christmas Brain, which leads to all sorts of what I like to call Christmas Fails.

For instance, the preschool where I work is a Christian preschool.  We're not allowed to discuss Santa Claus or any of the secular aspects of Christmas, and I completely agree with and support this rule.  There's nothing wrong with flying reindeer, but a Christian preschool isn't the place for it.  Anyway, the last day of preschool before the Christmas break, one of the other teachers brought in "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" for the kids to watch.  I remember filtering the situation through my brain, as I often do when confronted with a situation that might be against the rules.  I thought, "Rudolph.  Flying Reindeer.  Nothing against the rules there.  It's Rudolph!  Of course we're allowed to watch that."  Now, if my brain were normal, and not a Christmas Brain, I would have come to a different conclusion.  I would have thought, "Rudolph.  Flying Reindeer.  AND Santa Claus.  We can't watch this here.  Let's watch VeggieTales."  Fortunately, the preschool director caught us just in time and made us turn it off--all the while looking at us like we were crazy.  I think we all had the Christmas Brain...which led to an epic Christmas Fail.

I've noticed the Christmas Brain/Christmas Fails in a lot of people, but I think Walmart workers have it pretty bad.  It's not their fault, bless them.  Long hours, cranky customers, busy, busy, busy.  It's easy to get upset with retail workers, but I think it's just a lot more fun to just laugh at them and move on.  And when I'm laughing at them, I'm really laughing with them, because I've got the Christmas Brain, too.

I had one Walmart employee try to help me out by directing me to a "20 Items or Less Line."  I figured she was telling me that one of the lines was open, so I left my spot in a reasonably short line and went to the checkout she indicated.  Only the line she directed me to was significantly longer than the line I left.  And by the time I realized the problem with her "help," I'd lost my place in the shorter line.  So I stood there, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.  Otherwise, I might have been crying. 

Speaking of crying, the Christmas Brain leads to a complete loss of emotional control during the holidays.  I found myself in Target the other day, staring at the Christmas decorations on sale, and I started crying because I just love Christmas so much, and Christmas was almost over, and I just love Christmas so much, and I'm not ready for it to be over...and I just love Christmas so much.  And I had a serious case of the Christmas Brain.

The great thing about the Christmas Brain is that it continues even after Christmas.  I went into Walmart a few days after Christmas, trying to get a soda and some money on my gas card, so I could drive a few hundred miles from KY to NC.  I instructed the lady to put $25 on my card, and handed her the soda so I could also pay for that...or so I thought.  She scanned my card in order to put the $25 on it...or so I thought.  She handed me my soda, my gift card, and a receipt, and I hadn't paid for anything...or so I thought. 

It took me a few seconds to realize that she had used my gift card (which already had a few dollars on it) to pay for my soda.  I said, "No, I wanted $25 put on my gift card."  She looked at me for a few seconds, then smiled and said, "You know what we can do?  We can put $25 on your card."  Um....

I said, "Yes, that's what I'm asking you to do."  She looked at me another few seconds, then said, "I know.  I'll just put $25 on your card."  I was tempted to grab my card out of her flustered fingers and run to another cash register with an employee who wasn't suffering as strongly from the Christmas Brain, but I decided to give her one more chance.  She put the money on my card, handed me my soda, and said, "There.  Now you have your $25 on your card, and you also have your soda," as if this were news to me or something.  I just nodded, smiled, and made sure she gave me the proper receipts, just in case she still wasn't sure about the transaction that had just taken place.

It's things like the Christmas Brain that make me almost glad that this time only comes once a year.  ...but then there's always the Valentine's Day Brain, the Easter Brain, the Halloween Brain, and the "I Just Feel Like Going Crazy for No Apparent Reason" Brain.  All of them help make life more interesting.

SAA Ep. 51: Cleverly Disguised as a Responsible Adult

I just watched "Finding Neverland."  I watched the entire movie.  I've only watched it once before (my roommate owns it), and honestly, I didn't like it very much, which is surprising.  I love Johnny Depp.  I love Kate Winslet.  I love Dustin Hoffman, although it was strange seeing him in something Peter Pan related where he wasn't playing the best Captain Hook EVER.  On a related note, I also thought I liked Peter Pan.  I actually read the book for the first time a few weeks ago, and I was underwhelmed.  It wasn't all bad, of course, but after seeing a gazbillion different adaptations of Peter Pan, the book wasn't very magical anymore.  And I suspect J. M. Barrie was a better playwright than he was a novelist.

Playwright?  Is that wright?  Shouldn't it be playwrite, since a playwright is someone who, you know, writes plays?  ...I'm getting off subject.  Actually, I was already off subject to begin with, and I've gotten further off subject.

I liked "Finding Neverland" better the second time, though I still can't say it's one of my favorite movies.  So, why on a Saturday evening, would I be watching a movie I don't like?  I mean, I'm socially awkward and don't have a swingin' social life or anything, but I could always just go to sleep.  The older I get, the more exciting it is to go to sleep.  Maybe that's why I don't like "Finding Neverland."  Maybe it's because I've grown up too much understand it.

Only, I haven't grown up.  And that's what this post is actually supposed to be about.  I'm getting there.

See, I watched "Finding Neverland" in its entirety because I was looking for one of the quotes in the film.  I couldn't find this particular quote online anywhere, and that bothered me.  But I really really wanted to get this quote, so I watched the movie.  The quote wasn't in the movie.  I flipped back through the scenes, thinking I'd just missed it somehow, or perhaps just forgotten which film it was in.  Then I remembered.

The quote wasn't actually in the movie.  It was in the deleted scenes.

Fail.

I watched an entire hour-and-a-half long movie that I don't even like when I could have watched a minute long clip from the deleted scenes menu.  Fail.  Fail. Fail.

No wonder I couldn't find the quote online.

Well, now maybe someone can find the quote online, because I'm going to post it:

Michael (small boy): Why haven't you had any children?
J.M. Barrie: Well, that's a very good question that I'm afraid I don't quite know the answer to, but I suppose it's because only grown-ups can have children.
Michael: Oh.  All right.

Though I didn't care too much for the film, I remembered this scene (and sort of wish now that they hadn't edited it out).  I can relate to this scene.  To the innocent bystander, I look like a responsible adult.  But I suspect that one of the reasons why the good Lord has not allowed me to (get married and) have children is because...well...maybe you really do have to be a grown-up to have children.  And I'm not really a grown-up.

For example, sometimes, when I see a kid I really like (this typically happens to me about 38 times or more in the course of any given day), I start acting a little silly.  Kids like that, see.  And then the kid starts acting silly.  Then I start acting a little sillier.  Then the kid starts acting ridiculously silly, and the parent starts fussing at the kid. 

And I exit.  Stage left. 

Then there was this one time a bunch of people I knew met at a park to walk or run.  I ran past a family I know pretty well, and the kids suddenly decided they were gonna start running with Miss Ruth instead of staying with their mom. 

I admit, somewhere in the back of my mind, a little voice said, "Miss Ruth, maybe you should make sure that the mom knows her kids are with you and that they're safe.  That would be the responsible adult sort of thing to do."  Then the kid in me said, "Nah!  They'll be fine! Let's just RUN!" 

And I proceeded to literally run off with her kids.

A few minutes later the kids' dad ran up to his kids and said, "Your mom doesn't know where you are.  You're supposed to stay with her." 

Oops. 

So, I've found myself apologizing to parents a LOT for getting their kids in trouble.  The parents always say things like, "Oh, it's not your fault.  They know better."  But my thought is, "Do they?  They're kids.  I don't really have that excuse.  I'm supposedly a responsible adult.  I'm the one who is supposed to know better."

I guess you don't have to move to Neverland in order to stay a kid forever.  You just have to be a socially awkward superhero. 

And I'd wright write more about that, but I just realized there's an old skool Batman rerun on tv!  KAPOW!

SAA Ep. #43: Chivalry Fails

Sometimes I feel really bad for guys--especially in the South.  I mean, up North in Yankeeville (and in border states like KY, where I am from originally), guys aren't always expected to hold open doors or show courtesy to women-folk.  But down here where I live, it's generally expected for guys to show a certain amount of courtesy to females.  This includes opening doors and stepping aside to let them pass.  Some guys like to call this chivalry, and I'm learning to just go ahead and let them.  I mean, if you want to get technical, that whole Courtly Love thing and Chivalric code has little to do with guys opening doors for girls, but that's what people mean today when they say chivalry.  They mean guys opening doors for girls (and guys just generally being polite to girls).  Never you mind that if a girl opened a door for another girl, it would just be called common courtesy and not "chivalry."  Never you mind that a door isn't a Dragon, and by opening it a guy is not slaying it.  But I digress....  I have door issues.

But I feel bad for guys because sometimes they just really don't know what to do.  Even where I live, in the South, there are a lot of transplanted Yankees (yes, we call them that...sometimes...while we're running around barefoot chewing on grass and playing washboards in our jug bands).  So a poor guy might try to be nice and open a door for a female, as is usually expected, and in return for his kindness, he might get a lecture. 

I'm not a feminist.  I don't have a problem with a guy holding a door for me, as long as he's not all smug about it.  Because, as I mentioned before, a guy holding a door for me is polite, but it's not comparable to him slaying a Dragon.  If he expects more congratulations than a simple thank you, then he deserves a lecture.

I think I'm feeling sorrier for guys right now because I've had a couple awkward moments lately.  Both were in the grocery store.  Ok, so technically speaking, they were both in Wal-mart, my home away from home.

I was weaving my way through the aisles in our newly renovated Wal-mart.  That's right.  The Wal-mart I used to know backwards and forwards has been drastically changed so that I actually have to THINK when I shop.  I was trying to find the handsoap.  That sounds like an easy task, right?  Yeah, but for no apparent reason, the Wal-mart gods decided the handsoap would be better located on the opposite side of the aisle.  So I had to wander about aimlessly to try and find it. 

When I finally realized where the soap probably was, I tried to turn around.  But my quest was again thwarted.  A man with a large grocery cart blocked the aisle I needed to enter.  He stood there, smiling, and said, "Go ahead."  I tried to explain that I needed right where he was, but he persisted in a gentlemanly fashion, "Please, go ahead.  I'm only going one aisle over.  I don't mind waiting for you."

"Um, I kind of need right where you are," I said, trying not to be rude about it.  But there really wasn't a way to let the guy save face.  He got out of my way, scowling--not at me, I don't think, but at himself.  Some guys take that fake chivalry thing pretty seriously.

The other situation was similar, but much more fun.

I was trying to get something out of the freezer section.  This guy moved over, thinking he was giving me access to what I wanted.  Instead, he blocked the very door I needed.  And he stood there.  Grinning.  Obviously proud of himself for completing what he considered to be a chivalric gesture.

Again, I had to attempt to not be rude when I said, "Um, I kind of need right where you are."

This guy didn't scowl.  Instead, he played it off rather humorously.  "D'oh!  Chivalry fail!" he exclaimed, and jumped out of my way, making a grandiose sweeping gesture with his arms. 

I didn't bother correcting him (allowing me access to the frozen pizza didn't technically count as chivalry) because it was so stinkin' funny.  And for once I actually had something cute to say in reply.  "It's okay.  You still get brownie points for trying." 

And then his girlfriend came and gave me a dirty look and dragged the knight in shining sports jersey and baggy jeans away.

And then a fire-breathing Dragon appeared out of nowhere and went on a rampage down the bread aisle, and I was gallantly  rescued by a handsome prince steering a shimmering grocery cart.  And he swooped me up and carried me to the check out lane, where we purchased our delicious ware and lived happily ever after. 

I might have made that last part up.