Biting the bullet...

I'm going to tell you a story that took place December 6th, 2005.  Not really because I so much want  to tell you, but rather I know a few jackasses friends who will inevitably totally blow me in and/or hold it over my head if I don't tell this story.

Okay, along with that above paragraph and because it's my joy to share, I also feel it necessary to disclose all the things I've discovered in a short period of time recently that put to rest the GOOD SKILLS I thought I had left in me.

Such as...

1)  Turns out, I can't be emotionally blackmailed.
It makes me mad and in return, I'll just spill everything because - well, fuck you for even thinking that you can win that way.  You have no power here!  Oh my God...

There is a reason why I will never be allowed to work for a suicide hotline - and it's not unfounded.

2)  I thought I was a good negotiator.
Well, this was just a big fat misconception.

I literally said the following words earlier today, "I don't have to bend AT ALL.  This is NOT a give and take scenario.  I don't care if you don't like it.  This is not a negotiation.  I don't negotiate.  Do it again and see what happens."

I meant every word of it too.

Little Tip:  When your version of negotiation is:  "No." - that's really not negotiating.

3)  I thought I was good at War.
I'm not.
I'm really not.

War implies a give and take.  It's nearly like a negotiation.  You do this, I'll in turn do that.  Then it's your turn to do whatever fucked up thing you're going to do, then I'm going to counteract it with this heinous act.

It's not for me!

What happens instead is war is introduced on one side and on my side it's:  patience, patience, patience because there's something clearly unbalanced about you, patience, eye rolling, patience, small simmer, patience, twitching, patience, seething, patience, indignation, patience - WRATH.

This was most recently demonstrated through a game called Evony that Grant introduced me to.  We're not in the same alliance anymore, but he use to talk about how to build the Army and how many troops of this or that that you need - blahblahblah.

He understands it, that's enough for me.  I trust his judgment and he can take it and run with it and I will always assume he's right about it.  I know he knows what he's talking about, because that's the aspect of the game he likes.

The only thing I like about the game is building the cities.  I can build a city like no tomorrow and I'm careful with my resources and make the most of being self-sufficient in the game, etcetcetc.

Then I got attacked by someone.

I ignored it for awhile.  Whatever.  It's part of the game.  I don't really care.  Then I wrote the guy that was doing it and told him to stop.  Really.  Just, stop.  You're irritating me now.  I get it.  You did what you wanted to do.  I took it.  It's not that big of a deal - but now you're just being a dick.

Grant was very good about coming up with a way to destroy the guy by going to war with him.   It just took one mention of the guy before Grant was all over it.

That's when I discovered that I have to stay far away from that aspect of the game though because clearly telling the attacker that you want to hunt him down like a dog, knock on his door and punch him in the face after handing him the detached steering wheel from the car in his drive way - oh, and would you mind giving me a link to your place from google map too while we're at it -- is not showing good sportsmanship.

And is somewhat illegal.
I guess.
Whatever.

4)  I still hadn't come to terms with the idea that I wouldn't make a good hostage.  Yes, even though everyone has given their opinion on it - in great detail...

My former husband and I were riding to my house together the other day and this topic came up again.  To his complete credit he casually said, "I don't know why you're still contemplating this..." - which I, of course, did not find helpful or insightful in the least.

Then he did his own sociology test on me...

Ten minutes after being in the house I had my back to him and was making coffee at the corner of the counter top in the kitchen when he did something that made me never have to think about this subject again because it was proven beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He quietly came up to stand about a foot behind me.

He's a big guy.
He's just a hair under 6' and 210 lbs.
I'm 5'3" and 118 lbs

I was stuck in the corner by the microwave with my coffee and gut reaction kicked in. I felt my chest get tight and my senses sharpen and focused in on that second solely.  Everything was in slow motion.

I hissed through my teeth and this was all before even thinking about turning around.  A literal split second response and I grabbed the closest thing to me.

I stood up straighter and stared at the cupboard in front of me and said, "What are you doing because every instinct I own is telling me to stab you with a fork and then rip your heart out of your chest..."

Oh, and by the way, Merry Christmas...

...and he said, "Showing you what it would be like if you were ever in a hostage situation..."

I whipped around, grabbed the front of his shirt with both fists and said, "OH MY GOD, GOT IT!  POINT MADE!  I'LL DIE.  WE'LL ALL DIE!  NOW BACK THE FUCK UP...Now!"

He didn't hesitate stepping back, but did proceed with renewed laughter every time I started listing off each thing that ran through my head when he did that - and it was quite the long laundry list.

He would never in a million years hurt me and we genuinely like each other as people, but if he were a hostage taker - one or both of us would be dead right now.  GOT IT!  I got it and it was done so brilliantly that he didn't have to say a word or lift a finger to make me see it.

Full Credit Given.
Motherfucker.

I suppose that what I've learned in the last couple of weeks, we can just chalk up to:  Does not play well with others.  Fine.

Now that that's out of the way, let me repeat myself because you probably forgot what I originally said in the first place...

I'm going to tell you a story that took place December 6th, 2005.  Not really because I so much want  to tell you, but rather I know a few jackasses friends who will inevitably totally blow me in and/or hold it over my head if I don't tell this story.

It also helps that I don't own any shame to speak of.
That and it's the beauty of being out of your 30s. 
You lose whatever cells that make you care about who knows what.

Just for the record though and as a personal warning; I really don't see this as a bonding moment you and I are sharing.  The truth also is, is that if you laugh - you're going to Hell with me and I will NOT feel bad for you.  You've been warned.

On with the Christmas Cheer!

A couple of years ago, my girlfriend Colleen was driving down the street by her house and in her defense, it was windy out and the Knight's of Columbus probably could have done a better job securing their nativity set to the top of their roof.

Through no fault of her own really, and during the course of the...
...incident, event...SIGN FROM GOD...
A baby Jesus hit and bounced off the hood of her car......... 

THIS IS A MUCH FUNNIER STORY WHEN YOU CAN USE HAND GESTURES AND SOUND EFFECTS!

Colleen proceeded to tell me about mowing down a couple of life-sized members of the wise family.

That statement doesn't do it justice.

Maybe I should just leave it at this:  The Knight's of Columbus are not going to be extending any Christmas invitations to Colleen anytime soon.

Some of you know how good of a friend Colleen is to me...

which is why she called me up and ruthlessly made fun of me after the whole waxing experience I had a couple of years ago....that's what we do!  Good friends make fun of you when you do something stupid.  We're VERY good friends.

In true form, when this happened to her, she told me and -- as you can well imagine, MANY comments were made. It's been a great source of material for a lot of years.  It really never gets old...

Well............................................

To set the scene for you, my dad gives me a nativity set when I moved into this house.  He told me it would look great on the built in shelf of the fireplace.

Fine.

I set it up, but I had taken down the clock I had on the shelf to set it up.  I looked at my daughter and said, "Think Jesus will mind if I put the clock back behind him?" and she said, "Of course not, then he'll know when his birthday is."

She was 12 at the time.

I looked at her to make sure she had all her marbles in tact after that answer and proceeded to put the clock behind Mary.

I took a step back to make sure everything was in place and that's when it happened........
twitch...
...baby Jesus...catapulted himself off of the mantle.

blink

It was total disbelief.

Colleen flashed through my head and all I could say was, "WHAT WERE THE FUCKING ODDS?!" - Seriously!

I guess the look on my face was just enough to throw my daughter into FITS of laughter.

The more I said, the harder she laughed.

Then she started with the comments...."You might want to consider becoming a Pagan - OR SUFFER THE WRATH OF BABY Jesus!" - She could NOT contain herself.

I can hardly believe she didn't pop a blood vessel.

In the meantime I'm freaking out and yelling, "Who the hell makes a nativity set where Mary is holding Baby Jesus up!  HE BELONGS IN A MANGER!"

Meanwhile, my daughter is turning bright purple.

I stopped just to stare at her, "IT IS NOT FUNNY THAT BABY Jesus PLUNGED TO HIS DEATH OFF OUR MANTLE!  WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

......................................believe it or not, it gets worse.

The set is ceramic.
great...

So, baby Jesus didn't just drop - he SHATTERED.

I found his legs, an arm, some fingers..............AND NO HEAD!
YES, you read that right - NO HEAD

Where the fuck could the head have fucking gone?!
I checked EVERYWHERE.

THAT'S JUST PERFECT!
I've decapitated Baby Jesus...

I put the Baby Jesus Pieces on the mantle next to Mary and then my daughter lost her mind again and HAD to point out that apparently now, instead of one of the wise men looking at Mary and the baby -- he is now looking at 9 broken pieces in awe.

I thought about choking my daughter at this point.
This went on for three hours...

I was horrified to think that his head might be in my fireplace. So, I took all the ceramic logs out and sifted through all the crap under them - to no avail.

I seriously had no freakin' clue where his head went.

My then husband came home and I went out to the car to see him. I looked at him and thought, "I should just not tell him - I bet he'd never notice..."

I finally broke down and told him what happened and when I finished the story, I just stared at the ceiling in the car and braced myself for the inevitable.

And that's when he started..........
...because, like my daughter, he couldn't contain himself either...
He's been laughing on and off at me since.

I heard a lot of sentences that started with the words, "YOU and Colleen..."
I tried to tune him out.

Before he left the car he offered me his palm pilot and said, "I'm giving you a chance to write about this before I do."

So, I punched him in the arm.
...and then called Colleen

In all fairness, she needed to hear it from me so she could take her shots for all the years I capitalized on her mowing down Baby Jesus and his Wisemen Buddies...

While I'm on the phone with her, she tells me I'm going to have to go kill my husband - and proceeds to read me the following:

"You may or may not have heard a few years back I had an unfortunate accident on a cold, snowy night in upstate NY. I was minding my own business when this giant wind gusted from a high speeding car (driven by a resident from here by the way). It blew me clear out of my manger where I was resting comfortably. It swept me up and right in front of her vehicle, smashing into me violently. 
 
It has been many years of therapy for me to really speak about this, and now...just when I thought things were getting better... 
 
So, I thought I would take up residency someplace else this year. I heard R&V had taken up first place in the holiday decoration contest in her village this year, and in her brand new house! I figured it would be a warm safe place indeed, and full of holiday cheer...Until I got there. 
 
On the mantle I sat with all my manger friends, peaceful at last…forgetting the horrors of the past. It was not to last. 
 
R&V stood back a few feet and just watched me plummet to the floor head first! Yes, you heard me right…Not Colleen, but R&V!
 
I’m all broken up over this because apparently they can’t find my head! What is a poor baby Jesus to do!! I can see many years of therapy ahead….many years of repentance from a couple of ladies too…"-Jesus

I came in the house and did another search for the head, glared at my husband [who has the audacity to write as JESUS and it's STILL not as bad as what happened] and tried to come to terms with the fact that I'm going to hell.

Really....WHAT WERE THE FUCKING ODDS?!
..............................at least I'll have Colleen with me.

Now, the follow up to this story for those of you that want to bask in my sins:

I was talking to J.D. on the phone the day after the incident. I didn't so much as want to tell him what happened, but I knew if he found out through other means, it would just be worse for me.

That's when he did the unexpected. He told me that what Colleen did was way worse because she at least had to aim. I should have just shut up then. I was ahead of the game! However, instead, I told him I had been thinking about it all day that day and I came up with two theories:

1) Maybe it was just a reaffirmation that he did die for me... since every time I turn around I see the 'Born to Die' pamphlet that the Fire & Brimstone Baptists gave me. 
 
2) I think maybe Mary PUSHED him. Trust me, there are times I'd like to push my teenage son off of a mantle...

At the time I had a 15 year old boy and the more I thought about it, the more I thought it was a possibility.....

I had J.D.'s support up until that last comment.

I told my then husband my theories when he came home from work and against his better judgment, he laughed....then he got up, mumbled something about Hell and walked away quickly....so as not to be associated, I'm guessing...

I was sitting in the living room at the time and the further he walked away, the louder I yelled,

"IT'S PLAUSIBLE!"
"HEY!.......COME BACK HERE!"

Even a guy I knew that went by the name Heretic online laughed when I told him and then was kind of nervous about it...for a lack of a better way of putting it....and he walks around with the name Heretic.

So...
Maybe I shouldn't write all this out after all.

As self-imposed penance I did, in fact, get the new Baby Jesus that I found at the dollar store. I didn't go there to shop for a new Baby Jesus, but I saw it and I needed a new one and - I am not even going to go into the topic of someone selling Baby Jesus for a buck. I have enough to make up for as it is.

Besides, I got to hear about it all the way home in the car.
That was plenty.

After I wrote my original post, I got a response from another friend saying she wanted to see pictures. Heathen. Then I had a conversation with her about why I still had Baby Jesus Pieces (which for some sick reason I like saying really fast - BabyJesusPieces) on my mantle.

I explained to her it was because I didn't know what to do with it. I can't just toss it in the garbage, can I?  What do I do?  Bury it?  Fine!  When I'm dead, I'll have someone toss it in the casket with me.  What does the person I've known for ten years say to me?

"Then 200 years when they dig you up,
notice you're buried with some sort of artifact,
piece it together and notice it's a headless Baby Jesus
....they will think you were some sort of Satan worshiper" 
wtf...
Was that necessary?
What's worse is...I think she had a point.

J.D. informed me a week or two later that I wasn't going to be forgiven by God until I found the head. Now, I've been looking for this head ALL OVER THE PLACE since December 6^th. On Christmas morning after the kids went to their father's house, I walked over to the fireplace and looked down. What do I see in the far right corner? THE HEAD!!

I walked promptly over to my husband and told him to hold his hand out. I dropped it into his palm and announced,

"IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!"
I can't tell you how many times I've rummaged through all the crap in that fireplace. AT LEAST a dozen times. Nada. And yet there it was.

Let me find out that my replica child placed it there before she left and you'll be reading a future entry about me choking her...

There it was in all its ceramic glory, laying right on top, out in the open. I was stunned. Baby Jesus has returned to me! This tells me two things:

1) I'm forgiven and not going to hell after all. 
2) God doesn't mind that I purchased his son for a dollar. Even though, in all likelihood, it fell off the back of a truck...come on, it was a buck...

I still have no idea what to do with the other one. It's still on the mantle. I don't even want to touch any of the pieces for fear of something else breaking. I also found my old, childhood Baby Jesus, IN A MANGER. It's sitting on my desk next to my computer. I think my additional penance might be to keep it on my desk until next Christmas.

All that said and the story neatly tied up and all being right in the world again.
... I still think Mary pushed him.

I still have Baby Jesus by my desk in the Florida room and the BabyJesusPieces are still hidden on my fireplace mantle because I can't bring myself to throw them out...