Christmastime in the Emerald City











{January 2, 2008}   My Lame-Ass Christmas

Okay, you all know the drill. I don’t really like my family all that much. I mean, certain characters are pretty cool (like my grandmother who threatens to crucify children on her lawn and my Awesome Aunt), but generally speaking, I don’t do the family gettogether thing. Not my scene. I don’t like loud shindigs anyways, I have that social anxiety thing where crowds make me panic and I’m not very good at hiding my disdain for people who are acting like total douchebags (ie: everyone during the holidays).

So, here was my Christmas. My mother picked me up on the 23rd, Sunday. This was the day I dealt with that asshole doctor, who tried to tell my that Clonazepam and Lorazepam are the same medication. So I’m already pissed off. I’m also carting along one of my rabbits who may or may not be pregnant. We’re still waiting on that.

We get to the suburbs. I. HATE. THE SUBURBS. HATE THEM HATE THEM HATE THEM. If the suburbs had a face, I would stab it. But I’m here for the fucking holidays, and we still have to get back into the car after dropping off my rabbit and all the other crap at le mother’s house. My mother is a failed perfectionist and highly neurotic. I love her, but she sets me off like nobody’s business. Exibit A: the perfect Victorian Christmas tree.

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Wonderful, great, looks fantastic and the same as every other year, now I need to get to the pharmacy to fill this hard-earned prescription. She says fine, but she also needs to stop at M&M’s meat shop for snacky things. I’m vegetarian, and there’s nothing I love more about the holidays than being surrounded by dead, stuffed birds and shit. But fine, whatever.

By the way, it’s really gut-wrenching to overhear the pharmacists while you’re waiting for your prescription, especially when a barely legal young lad says something to the effect of “but I’ve never done this before!” Jesus Christ.

But, no, we’re not done after M&M’s. We end up at Old Navy of all fucking places. The entire store is a mess and the compulsive clothes-folder in me is going mental. Nobody can find anything and none of the staff care because they’re likely all there on holiday-hire and will never set foot back in that hellhole once high school starts up again. So I’m surrounded by cheap messy clothes and douchebags, AWESOME.

Now, if this were downtown, I could say ‘fuck this’ and hop on the streetcar back to my Charlie Brown christmas tree sitting on top of my fridge next to my mannequin head. (I have a legitimate reason for having a mannequin head, and a legitimate reason for naming her after my ex’s ex-wife, Sally.) But NOOOO, it’s the SUBURBS. Either you walk forty-five minutes home or you wait forty-five minutes for the bus.

Obviously, my mother and I end up fighting at some point on the 24th when I’m just about read to snap, so I decide to just medicate myself and sleep through the day. Wake up Christmas Eve, eat some cheese stuff or something, my mother wants to watch “It’s A Wonderful Life” because it’s, you know, incredibly cheerful. At least my mother’s new boyfriend is Jewish and would rather watch “8 Crazy Nights”.

Sidebar: my mothers boyfriend is five years older than me, and has the same name as the guy I’m-not-going-to-jinx-myself-by-even-using-the-word-dating. This non-dating guy is three years younger than my mother. Awwwwkward.

Whatever. Go to sleep, wake up, glorious coffee and the shredding of the paper begins.

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Clearly we appreciate the meaning of Christmas, and not just all that commercial jazz. My mothers boyfriend admits to being an absolute child, and proceeds to the kitchen to try out his new helicopter toy, which then immediately flies into the ceiling fan and crashes to the floor.

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Fun. So then my dad and stepmother and sister show up. I’m JUST getting back on speaking terms with them. Go Christmas visit!

Then we go to my aunt and uncle’s house where allllllll my cousins and relatives will be. But just the immediate ones. But we’re French-Canadian on that side, so that still means… a lot. Too much. But, of course, I have to be there, because my long lost cousin who lives in Vancouver will be there and goddammit, I HAVE TO BE IN THIS RARE PHOTO MOMENT. This is coming from the grandmother who threatens crucifiction, so naturally, I’m going. But that doesn’t mean I will like it, and it doesn’t mean that I’m not taking enough Lorazepam to turn me into a drooling, non-stabbing vegetable. I don’t have any of those pictures because I didn’t care to bring my camera. I didn’t care to do anything, really. I only went because my grandfather is not that well and I wanted to be there for him. He and I had a great conversation about how medication sucks (he’s on anti-anxiety shit too for his Parkinsons and the fact that he lives with my Grandmother). So as far as I’m concerned, I did what I went there to do, which was to spend time with him. Everyone else can go fuck themselves.

At dinner I didn’t speak because: a) I was exhausted from knitting myself into a coma to finish Grandpa’s scarf on time; b) because I didn’t have anything interesting to say (So Emerald, how are things with you? Oh great, love my job except for the retards…all of you drive me up the fucking wall, but other than that….); and c) because I was fucking stoned. Hello? That was the plan going in.

This is also why I: a) look like a zombie in all the photos; b) did not attend the post UBER cousin and relatives party; and c) escaped to the comfort of my mother’s empty house and my rabbit as soon as possible.

I ended Christmas with a drive home from my dad with all my gifts from them in the back. I opened them by myself without them around, which is just the way I like it. They were nice and thoughtful gifts, I called them to thank them, then I smoked a hell of a lot of pot and went to bed.

THE END.

Next year, sorry, but I am a grownup and I will start my own traditions, ie: spending Christmas with my friends who are like a family to me and don’t stress me the fuck out!

Highlights: my Awesome Aunt had to call me the next day to tell me that I took way too much medication. I don’t think anyone gave a thought to the ‘exhausted’ and ‘couldn’t care less about speaking to anyone’ possibilities. No, no, Emerald just took too many pills. Yeah.

Also, best gift of the year. My other grandmother got me some cat toys (awesome), a sweater (decent) and a calendar. Her calendar. Yeah, she’s a real estate agent. She wrapped up one of her calendars, complete with all her business contact info at the bottom. It features nice houses around Toronto. Except for some reason, it’s all Thornhill and Oakville. Right.

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Because we all know how much I love those suburban houses.

Merry Christmas to anyone who isn’t a douchebag!

(Oh, and before you ask about New Years, I just went to Crafty Friends house for some wine, cigarettes, knitting in of the new year, failed taxis and a bus ride. No pictures, so I won’t bother with a full post. But there are other funny things up ahead including porn references, sexy shoes, and an Optimus Prime mask. Stay tuned!)

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soverydomestic says:

Stay tuned indeed!! The Optimus Prime mask pics kick ass and I had a wonderful New Years Eve with you! 😀

Boo for too many relatives you don’t want to hang out with, but yay for coming home in one piece!



greenmetropolis says:

Thanks May! I lub you so much for Auntie-ing me into your family! Nothing I can think of that I’d rather do than knit in the new year with you. To hell with all these fancy clubs and shit, I want my friends and a glass of wine!

(By the way, Nikki took a HILARIOUS video of me hobbling through the snow like an immigrant nanny in your shoes which were slightly too big. HI-larious.)



talea says:

‘Hobbling through the snow like an immigrant nanny’!!
OMFG. I am DYING. Literally laughing out loud. People who come in to reception will think I’ve cracked.
Best line EVER.



nahole says:

Was at least a fucking 2008 calendar?



greenmetropolis says:

Ha! I didn’t keep it long enough to check. Talea, I think it was actuallly Nikki who came up with the line. She’s like “you look like a homeless person. Or an Eastern European immigrant.” We laughed our asses off.



so so so sorry. I hate doing the family thing.



greenmetropolis says:

I KNOW. Oh god. Thanks for the sympathy cowgal, trust me, I’m not doing that to myself again. I like my Charlie Brown christmas tree! It’s staying up (maybe, the LED lights are busted). I like the idea of FedExing gifts to family and not actually seeing them. Is this so wrong people? That I love my family, I just don’t want to see them?



Red says:

Okay. Your family sounds worse than mine. You win. Hands down.
And for that, I am incredibly sorry. . but hey, at least you had the happy pills. Me loooves the pills.



Hmmm…Sounds like you need some Valium.



greenmetropolis says:

Hey, I loves the happy pills too, though I’m staying away from Valium because I don’t have a mountain of bleach blonde hair, fake nails and a permanent martini in my hand, nor do I have a rich but sexually useless husband. That’s…that’s just the image that first pops into my mind.

Actually, I’m getting off the meds soon because I figured out how to just avoid things that piss me off (ie: don’t care if family thinks I’m being selfish, I’m staying the hell away from family gatherings) and I already had a nasty dose of withdrawal type symptoms after a bout with Celexa. WRONG!

Upside: I can now officially use The Far Side’s “Classic Conversation Stoppers” when I say “That’s it! As of today, I am no longer taking my medication. Homicidal tendencies be damned!” Sweet.



Josh says:

I live in the suburbs, it’s not that bad. Mostly it’s close to the city and the country, and the houses are just far enough apart to never have to talk to any neighbors ever. Maybe it’s just the yankee suburbs you are used to. Or maybe it’s just that I kick so much ass that where ever I live is cool vicariously through me.



Josh, if you want to come up to Canadia and introduce your cool factor to Ajax, or better yet, the dirty dirty ‘Shwa, you are more than welcome. I’m thinking you’ll fail, because it’s the dirty dirty ‘Shwa, but you can always try. Suburbs, at least in this neck of the woods, are completely lacking in a: culture b: access to culture, ie theatres, interesting community functions, etc., and is just plain unsightly. For a complete rundown of what happens to people who stay in the dirty dirty ‘Shwa, see my post “Why I Do Not Give A Fuck That I Wasn’t Popular In High School.” Many amusing pictures.



Josh says:

I vaguely remember reading half of that before I got interrupted by something. Probably work or sleep or a BM. I’ll try and find it again. In fact, I might do a post about the pros and cons of life in the suburbs around my neck of the woods. It actually sounds somewhat similar to your own, but also a lot different.



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