Tag Archives: Christmas

Here comes Santa Claus…

Sometimes people will send a note to my email address (notreallyalibrarian@gmail.com), asking: Dear Madame Librarian, Why are you so great?  Or sometimes: Dear ML, That last post really affected me. 

Or most commonly: Dear Madame, What are you wearing?

Tonight, the answer:

About sixty seconds ago, I was standing in my bedroom thinking, “I want to sit down and write on my laptop, but I’m a little cold.  Only, I don’t really want to put on a sweatshirt.  It will feel constricting.  A blanket would be nice, only my arms will be exposed and–”

It was at that exact moment that I remembered that my grandmother had given me a Snuggie as an early Christmas gift and it was not two feet away.  So I sit here, telling you this, wearing my brand new vibrant pink Snuggie.   It still smells like the cardboard box and the plastic bag.

Sadly I have no dashing, matching male companion tonight, but otherwise I look very much like the woman above.


As I mentioned, my family had an early Christmas gift-exchanging celebration today.  My pink Snuggie, as an added bonus, came with a free book light, which made it even more ideal.  I used it on the three-hour drive home from Grandma’s to read Prozac Nation, “…one girl’s journey through the purgatory of depression and back.”  Even still, I’m feeling almost giddy tonight.  It’s not just that I’m clad in Pepto Bismol goodness–it’s also that I feel the holiday spirit quite profoundly this season.  To be honest, I think it has to do with the fact that I’ve been unemployed.  It’s given me so much time to do seasonal things!

It started on November 30th when I happened to be reminded that the Tree had been lit in Rockefeller Center that evening.  Instead of going home, as planned, I battled a throng of people on 49th Street and saw that marvel, choosing to focus on the prettiness of the lights instead of the electricity they were using and the soon-to-be brown and dead branches they were strung upon.

I also had time to bake a gingerbread house!  Unfortunately, before I had time to construct and decorate the house I had to leave town due to a family emergency…but the baked pieces are on the counter waiting for me should I make it home any time soon.

What else.  Oh!  I had a chance to battle a different throng of people (or perhaps some of the same throng) and see Santa Claus at Macy’s.  Of the five other Decembers I’ve been in New York, this is the first one I’ve had the pleasure.  Sure, he was one of maybe eight other Santa Clauses serving Macy’s that day, and sure he didn’t actually look like Santa Claus, but I received a free pin that reads “Santaland at Macy’s 2010” that I will never wear AND I did not spend the $18.99 to receive a photo of myself and a spritely, trim man in a suit.

I list all of these things to explain that I truly am “in the spirit” this year.  Sometimes the holidays come and go so quickly that you wonder if they’re related to that man you slept with a few times in college.  (I never actually experienced such a thing in college, I just wanted to make a reference to sex.)  Anyway, the thing is, of all the beautiful and wondrous things I’ve seen and done this year, there is one thing I’ve encountered that has really pissed. me. off.  It also relates to Macy’s.  And it’s this:

Ew.  That’s disgusting.  It’s horrific and it makes my stomach churn and that’s not because I ate too much crap at Grandma’s, it’s because this advertisement is TERRIBLE!  Macy’s has spun one of the most beloved, wholesome, iconic figures (next to Jesus Christ) into an adultering, Cialis-popping, cradle-robbing doo doo head.  (There’s no other way to put it.)  Santa Claus in this ad might as well be Bill Clinton saying, Ssshh, don’t tell Hillary.  Santa is supposed to consider what little girls want for Christmas, not want little girls for Christmas!

Okay, okay, you might say, but Madame Librarian, Santa is just receiving a peck on the cheek from that newly pubescent young woman.  Nothing sinister is about to happen when he locks the door in the office adjacent to his workroom as the sound of elves using little hammers drowns out whatever noises he and that spritely, trim thing might make.

But I’m not buying it.  And guess what, Macy’s?  I’m also not buying from you.  I’ve got my free pin.  Take the rest and shove it.

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(The Inevitably Vagina-Related) Search Phrase Free Write!

I don't know who this is. It doesn't matter who this is. He is pretty cute, though.

People don’t get tired of searching the net for vagina stuff, and I have not yet gotten, nor anticipate getting, tired of writing about vagina stuff.  Today’s search phrase free write, courtesy of two aspiring ornithologists, is: “bird vagina”.

The closest I’ve come to seeing two birds having sex is the male pigeon’s courtship dance.  Beyond that, it’s easy to forget that birds are sexual.  It’s kind of like when you see your mom and dad flirting.  Or Santa and Mrs. Claus giving each other eskimo kisses.  “Oh yeah,” you think to yourself. “They have urges, sexual and otherwise, just like the rest of us. Weird.”

Hey, remember how last year my dad bought my mom Predator on DVD?  He accidentally did that again this year. 

Other noteworthy Christmas gifts: our cat (my dad) bought the entire family a copy of Terminator: Salvation.  My dad let me open it.  When he handed the present to me I asked him why the tag (To: Family, From: Critter) was taped onto the back of the gift instead of the front.  And my dad said, “It’s from the cat.  He’s stupid.” 

So, bird vagina.  One of my favorite things about home is that outside of our big kitchen window, right in front of the sink, my mom hangs a bird feeder and suet from the tree.  So it makes this perfect bird-watching spot!  In the comforts of the kitchen!  It’s really great.  Sometimes I can see their vaginas.

Some people are probably sexually attracted to birds.  I started to write more on this idea, but decided it wasn’t worthy of anyone’s time.  One of the sentences may have posited: “Women like a nice beak.”

Anyway.  I’m thankful for a lot this holiday season.  I’m pretty ecstatic about where I am, who I am, and the people who are surrounding me.  And I’m especially ecstatic about bird vagina.

And so this is Christmas…

Faith Hill’s new Christmas song is on the radio every time I go to the laundromat.  It’s called “A Baby Changes Everything,” and it’s all about Mary and the Immaculate Conception and her and Joseph’s trek to the manger. 

Teenage girl, much too young
Unprepared for what’s to come
A baby changes everything

The man she loves she’s never touched
How will she keep his trust?
A baby changes everything

My original intention was to criticize “A Baby Changes Everything.”  Okay, that’s still the intent, but just for the record, I do feel a little guilty about it.  This is, after all, the Biblical event that serves as the excuse for us to have drunken holiday parties, buy stuff we can’t afford, receive stuff other people couldn’t afford, drink limited time festive lattes at Starbuck’s, etc, etc.  Blatant Christian messages are just jarring for the ears, even for my ears that were raised on the stuff. 

Anyway, while Faith’s song doesn’t particularly put me in the holiday spirit in the same way that, say, Wham!’s “Last Christmas” (Faith Hill is almost as beautiful as George Michael), and it doesn’t get stuck in my head while at the same time making me terribly sad like John Lennon’s “Happy Christmas (War Is Over)”…it might convince teenage girls to practice abstinence.  Or, they might just think (especially if they’ve received an abstinence-only “education”), fuck it…Joe the future Plumber (or carpenter, whatever) is going to think I’m a whore if I don’t let him touch me and just my luck something immaculate goes and happens. 

The whole nativity thing really is a nice story, though.  I love those Three Wise Men.  I went as one of them to a Halloween party this year along with two friends and I taped a sign that said “I went to Bethlehem and all I got was this stupid t-shirt” to my t-shirt.  That was my favorite part.  Along with the fake beards and the blow-up camels pinned to our crotches.  Actually, we couldn’t find camels so we used blow-up giraffes from the 99 cent store next to the strip club. 

But I really am in the holiday spirit this year.  Or maybe not the holiday spirit, per se.  I’m happy and it happens to be the holidays, so yeah.  And a snowstorm is hitting here at 9am, which is almost as exciting as being impregnated by God.  (Even if I’m sleeping until 3pm these days and will miss the first round of it.)

Googling God is fun! (The blog I got this from might not appreciate my using it.  But, hey, its Christmas!)

Googling God is fun! (The blog I got this from might not appreciate my using it. But, hey, it's Christmas!)