Music Choice: Sounds of the Season #6

Is that why they call it a "fireplace poker?"

The Shirt - Never Forget

"I'm as old as my tongue and a little bit older than my teeth."

This quote is credited to Jonathan Swift, who we all know, was also into eating babies. I always attribute this quote to the film Miracle on 34th Street. Edmung Gwenn (who I swear is the REAL Santa Claus) writes this as his answer to the question, "how old are you?" on that dickhole, Mr. Sawyer's psychiatric evaluation. 

Dickhole.

That line has ALWAYS taken me out of the movie. Upon hearing (or seeing) it, I start to over analyze it's true meaning. "How soon does the tongue develop within the embryonic state?" I pondered as a small child...probably in slightly difference language. As an adult, I can simply Google it to find the tongue starts to develop at week 4 according to Indiana University. 

CLICK to learn more than you want to know about the tongue.

This is quite the blow to Pro-lifers, to find that even Santa Claus doesn't recognize life's beginning at conception.

Must be a "mall Santa."

As for the bit about the teeth, a recent post by CollegeHumor.com (among others), reveals a photo showing that the teeth form much earlier than we had once believed.

CLICK if you don't plan to sleep tonight.

Today is June 5, 2014. More importantly, Thursday. Meaning that it's #tbt or "Throw Back Thursday" on all of the popular social networks. AKA "Show us a picture of you from when you were younger."

"Every picture of you is when you were younger. 'Here's a picture of me when I'm older.' Where'd you get that camera man?"

-Mitch Hedberg

Every week, my aunt Patti seems to comb through her vast amount of photos to find that perfect family portrait to embarrass us all. Today was no exception. 

The Cousins

I am in the back row, 4 from the right. My arms are folded in a slightly "stand offish" manner, but I'm smiling, so there's no need to read too much into my body language. The photo is from June 2, 2001. That's 13 years ago this past Tuesday. 

Other interesting facts about the photo and it's participants:  

• not one person in that photo was married when it was taken. 
• This was my engagement party. 
• Today, 8 of the 14 people in the photo are married, with another one getting married at the end of this month. 
• 7 children have been born to this group, with another one on the way in September. Meaning, if we were to recreate this photo today, Patti would need a wide angle lens. 
• Two cousins now live on the west coast, one in Chicago and one in a foreign country referred to as, "The Glistening City."

As I look at this photo, I think of how many things have change in 13 years...I also think of the one thing that hasn't.

This morning, as I opened Facebook, I was met with this "blast from the past."

Not this Blast From The Past

It took me all of 5 seconds to notice something odd. Not the fact that I actually had hair (though I did notice that too). Not the fact that I was smiling (I don't tend to smile in old photos, because I always say my mouth goes "out" not "up." And not the fact that some people are looking in a different direction (meaning there is probably another version of this photo out there)...but rather the fact that today I am wearing the same shirt I wore in this photo over 13 years ago.

Notice the smile?

Seriously! My shirt is vintage! It's older than ALL of our marriages. ALL of our children. ALL of the hopes and dreams, which which eventually took family members to various parts of the globe...or at least the continent. 

It's older than 9/11! Meaning I could have worn this shirt on a plane, taking shaving cream AND a straight razor aboard to "gussy" myself up before landing. Which I assume my brother Brian did right before this photo was taken to get that sweet, pre-Robert Downey, Jr., Tony Stark look. That's right, the shirt also predates RDJ's drug rehab (which was July 2001).

They say, every 7 years, you reproduce every one of your body's cells and completely changed your body chemistry, becoming almost a whole new person. I guess that doesn't include wardrobe.

Egg Nog

I have no problem putting this up as there are few people who read this...not that it's embarrassing but I am likely using it as a monologue for a new sketch show I am working on...

"Egg Nog"

Recently I had egg nog for the first time in my life.
I'm not exactly sure how I made it to 35 without ever having tried the stuff.
Growing up, however my family never drank it.
So I suppose I saw no reason to search it out.

Egg nog is a dairy based beverage, thicker than your standard milk product.
Made with milk or cream, sugar and beaten eggs. It is flavored with ground cinnamon & nutmeg.
Various liquors such as brandy, rum or whiskey can be added to give it a more "adult kick."
It's a staple for many during the winter holidays, especially Christmas

Perhaps it is this reason my parents have always referred to it, as "Elf Cum."
Also probably the reason it never found purchase in my family's icebox.
"You expect me to keep elf cum next to the meatloaf?" Dad would ask.
It was a rhetorical question that could only be met with the aversion of one's eyes and a slight giggle.

As I got older I wondered, did my parents really believe a magical, midget's masturbator expulsions were the ingredients to this traditional holiday drink?
Clearly the masses, who find same sex marriages to be against "God's plan," wouldn't stand for actual "elf cum" to be sold by the gallon at their local Walmart's comfortably nuzzled between fabric softener and Trisha Yeargood's new album.
Would they?
I assume my parents were strictly using hyperbole to describe their lack of affinity towards this winter concoction.
While adding the "elf" part to give a more festive feel to the description.

Otherwise, why reference an elf at all? Why not just simply, "cum?"
Are they under the belief that an elf's cum would taste differently than that of a regular person's?
I'm sure dietary differences could influence the flavor of the fluid.
Such as the difference between someone of Irish decent's cum tasting like Bailey's versus say…an Italian's tasting of Alfredo sauce.
But I believe, having never had elf, human or any other brand of cum mind you, that there isn't much difference between them.

Unless you take into account the magical qualities possessed by an Elf.
Still, if one had magical powers, I think the last thing they'd care about is the taste of their cum.
Seriously, if you're trucking around with flying reindeer and have the ear of the king shit elf himself, Santa Claus…
…I'm thinking you can get your dick sucked, even if its widely known that your cum tastes like battery acid.

So this holiday enjoy a delicious glass of yuletide egg nog safe with the thought that it is neither elf nor anyone else's cum.
But, you might want to add rum to it just in case. Cause after all, once you've had 5-6, who gives a shit what's in it!

Merry Christmas!