The Fam Came Out West!

So yes, the whole fam, brothers and all, came out west to visit me over the holidays.

It was great having them all out here…for the first five minutes.

My family is uberly sarcastic and competitive with one another (there was a code orange situation between my brothers over a bet to see who could name the most Samuel L. Jackson movies) and when we are forced to cohabitate tight quarters with one another for extended periods of time, such as hotel rooms and tiny rental cars, the mood is often tense and hostile.

(Side note: why is it that practically every guy I know secretly lusts after Samuel L. Jackson? I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the almighty Shaft was the surreptitious star of many a chicken choking fantasies. Let’s not forget that this is the man who brought us the film Snakes on a Plane. Wince.)

But no, all in all, I had a great time with the fam and we got to do a lot of fun-filled family activities. The most sock rockin’ of which were going to L.A. for a day, spending an afternoon south of the border in Tijuana, and lunching at the Kansas City Barbeque, a.k.a. the Top Gun Bar.

While I uncompromisingly publicly deride the lofty level of fromaginess of what is quite possibly Tom Cruise’s most immortalizing of movies, the truth is that my mockery serves as a flimsy shroud for my covert adoration of Top Gun and all things Cruise related. As far as I am concerned, Tommy boy can spring a crazy leak on as many of Opera’s couches as he likes and I will always support him, even in his choice to rob the cradle of Mushy-Face McHolmes.

Spending the day in L.A. was so fantastic! My body was peppered with goose bumps the entire time. Mostly at the thought of having a close encounter of the celebrity kind (Unfortunately, however, we did not see a single celeb…not even a double D-list star like Anna Faris), but also because I think L.A. is going to be my next life pit-stop after my Sandy Eggo coach turns into a pumpkin.

The greatest part of going to L.A. was visiting the Kodak Theater (for those of you who don’t know what that is, the Kodak Theater has been the casa of the Academy Awards for the past 7 years). It was magnificent. The entire time I was there, I was fighting back the urge to either burst into tears or defecate my pants, like an overly enthused, pants-wearing monkey. During the tour, I sat in the front row, 4th chair from the right (if you’re facing the stage) and now, I so can not wait for Oscar night to see whose caboose is parked in my seat!

Starry eyed sigh. No matter how many times I brush my teeth, I can’t seem to get the taste of Oscar ambrosia out of my mouth. Mmm minty fresh pipedreams.

Christmas Eve Eve Eve

I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas! It really does not feel like it. I have been pretty devoid of Christmas spirit this year…scroogetastic. I guess that’s mostly because being in a warmer climate, I have been in denial that it is in fact winter and Christmas time. I mean, San Diego has definitely decked its halls with plenty of fuh-la-la, but it just never sank in for me. Plus, I’ve been stressed out.

So yes yes, instead of going back to Beantown for Christmas, my family is coming to visit me in San Diego! They arrive around 7:30 PM west coast time on Christmas day. I am just as pleased as holiday spiked punch that they are making the trip out. I really wasn’t looking forward to having another family-free Christmas like last year.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, celebrating Christmas in Prague last year was definitely beyond fantastic and an entirely unforgettable experience (nothing says holiday cheer like a Christmas Eve ghost tour regaling tales of a gentile-slaying, claymation golem), but ya just gotta be with your family on Christmas…it’s a Yule rule.

So yeah, 3 more days! Can’t even wait!

P.S.

Here is my preemptive new year’s resolution: achieve electrolightenment and become a practitioner of verbal eloquence, not diarrhea.

Just told the cashier at Food 4 Less that he’s probably schizophrenic.

Of course, out of context that sounds a lot more abrasive than it actually was. He laughed (albeit awkwardly) after I said it!

But still, I shouldn’t be handing out DSM diagnoses in jest to strangers. Especially around the holidays.

No one likes a stocking full of bipolar disorder or a gift card to OCD.

http://www.nbc.com/Saturday_Night_Live/video/clips/twas-the-night-monologue/866361/

…Why John Malkovich is amazing.

Thanksgiving Back East

I had the pleasure of going back east for a few days last week to spend some quality time with friends, family, and my monster puppy. I even got to see the dirty Jerz, Italian fam-clan, who never fail to put on a good show.

My grandma Lucy has always been a bit…uhh…how shall I say…mmm…eccentric.

She was in rare form this visit, however. But ya gotta admit, her ridiculous antics do make for some top-notch grandma theater.

It is a well established fact that my grandma carries the heavyweight champion of the world title when it comes to Debbie Downering.

Using her prowess for pessimism, my grandma could morph a pile of rainbows and teddy bears schmeared with baby laughter paste into a suicidal heap of arthritis, crumbling economies, and tumors.

Pretty much every story that she told concluded with one of the following three endings:

1. And then he died (classic grandma).
2. And then she grew a tumor.
Or my favorite…
3. And then he was trampled to death (this one was a new addition to the repertoire of gloom).

Grandma is always the life of parties.

Oh, I also made the mistake of mentioning to her that I had been sort of dating someone in San Diego.

Normally, I am a strict minimalist when it comes to all forms of relationshippy conversations with family members because awkwardness and discomfiture are always soon to follow.

But, an uncomfortable pause transpired in the conversation, somewhere after either John Smith was trampled or Jane Doe grew a tumor, when I had absolutely no idea how to respond, and quite frankly, couldn’t handle another ultra depressing story.

So yeah, in a fraught attempt to change the subject, I told grandma about the sailor boy, Marc, that I had been dating. I told her that he worked as an engineer on a battleship and that he did a lot of traveling with his job.

Without skipping a beat, grandma’s response to this information was, “He’s probably got a different girl in every port, you know…pass the lasagna.”

Good talk, grandma. I wish only the best for you too.

Moving on…

All in all, my trip back east was delightful. Although, also somewhat strange.

The first night I spent back in Walpole, I had the Garden State realization that the house that I grew up in wasn’t really my home anymore. It was just like in the pool scene when Andrew says to Sam…

“It’s like you feel homesick for a place that doesn’t even exist…and you won’t ever have that feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself.”

Weird. Realizing this, made me feel sad - and kind of hollow. But at the same time, I recognized just how much I do like being on my own out in California - I’m so happy to be back.

Oh and p.s. I decided that I do indeed like that sailor boy. Probably not the best idea, however, considering he’s gone now, back to Maine until sometime in January…

Dum ti dum ti dum.