Que Sera Sera

This must be the place

It isn’t a Brown family Christmas until someone’s taken a cigarette burn to the eyelid and someone else has told you about their near-death experience in the hospital while they carve the turkey. We just finished opening presents at 3:30 in the afternoon, all the while listening to the Talking Heads and eating cream cheese straight from the brick. I’m about to settle in for a long winter’s watching of Shaun of the Dead with my brother. (Movies my brother has watched in the past 48 hours: Deer Hunter, Roadhouse, Gremlins 2, Swing Time.) I have not changed out of my pajamas yet and have no intention of doing so. I very sincerely hope that every single one of you is as happy and content as I am right this minute. Merry Christmas.

Cringe Army: Christmas Mission

Do you want to be in the Cringe book? Okay, then here’s what you need to do:

When you go home for the holidays, go find your old teenage diaries and notebooks, and bring them back with you. In a few short days, the official Cringe book submission site will go live, and there will be detailed instructions as to how to send me your stuff. (I need the original material, handwriting and all. Drawings/doodles/spiral art strongly desired.) And don’t forget, because the deadline for getting stuff in for the book is going to be February 1.

But for right now, here’s your mission: go home, eat a lot, maybe go to the bar, drink with friends, run into an ex you are so glad you are no longer with, get a ride home, watch Nick at Nite in your parents’ darkened living room while your dad snores on the couch, then wander upstairs to your old bedroom and find the box or drawer full of your old notebooks. You can either read through them then, all half-drunk and dry-eyed, or you can bring them back to your current home and read them there, but no matter what, be prepared to be tapped. Things are going to start happening to you now.

Of malt liquor fame

“For an unprecedented sixth straight year in row, the winner of the worst Christmas present is a big popcorn tin divided into caramel, cheddar, and butter… except the caramel and cheddar are already eaten and in their place is a used VHS copy of Mississippi Burning.”

I didn't manage to get Christmas cards out this year, but I did pick out Christmas presents for Lloyd Dobler, Billy Dee Williams, Mayor Bloomberg, and Crispin Glover over at Gush Party.


Just found this little heartbreaker in my search stats:

how to make a 2nd place spelling bee person not cry anymore


Okay, I’m assuming you’re in elementary school. First of all, right after you read this answer, get off the internet and don’t come back until you’re 18. You can make it through with plenty of notebooks and markers and blank tapes and college radio. It’ll be fun.

But anyway, about your sweet little predicament.

Option A: Be nice to them. Maybe offer them whatever treat you have in your lunch. Pick them for Red Rover. (Do kids still play Red Rover? Do kids still eat lunch?) But then, after a day of this, stop. Go back to normal. They need to learn to suck it up and deal. If they’re still moping after this, stop hanging out with them altogether. They’re going to grow up into a miserable self-loathing little whiner who constantly reminds you how brilliant they are in misspelled emails while you’re trying to get work done. You don’t have time for this bullshit, Dakota! You have things to accomplish!

Option B: Is it too much to assume that you yourself are the winner? You little darling, smart AND easily guilted! You’ll make a great spouse someday. My advice is act like nothing’s happened, because no one honestly likes a graceful smartypants. You’ve got a tough road ahead of you, little friend, so your best move right now is to act normal for as long as possible. Don’t worry; they’ll sniff you out by sixth grade. Ohhh but you’re in for some shit, Dakota. But your late twenties should be awesome.

Option C: Is this your mommy or daddy? Tell them to sober up and stay away from pub quiz, at least on school nights.

Mama, we're comin' home

Cringe is tomorrow night, Freddy’s, 8:30 pm. Back in Brooklyn, all new readers. Also I hear my parents’ across the street neighbor will be in the audience. What’s up, Mrs. Foley! Beers are on me! But let's discuss why you ratted me out for that front porch funny business when I was seventeen.

Also, if you like, you could vote for my photo in JPG magazine:

Ray, do you believe in God?

Dear person who was searching my site for “what are the full names of the ghostbusters,”

Please, let me be of assistance!

Does this count as good karma, or just being a dork?

P.S. Dear person who knows the traditional response to the title of this post,

I will marry you. Unless you are my brother. Who is the only other person I’ve ever met in my life who knows what to say back when I say this. So far. I’m young yet.

Stuff and stuff

1) One thing that never fails to make me laugh really hard is when someone says “I don’t want / your life,” like James Van Der Beek in that football movie.

2) If I could make one law for America it would be that anyone who says “McDreamy” gets slapped in the mouth.

3) Whenever Brian Brewer posts pictures of his beagles on Flickr, I get hummingbird heart and my brain goes “guh-guh-guh-guh!” like Peto & Flek.

4) Erin just sent me an email that said “I just found this foxy priests calendar and it’s safe to say that I am in love with this guy,” and my immediate response was, “Whoa, how is that kosher for them to do that?”

Copyright © 2001–2012 by sb
Powered by Movable Type