We're Not On Speaking Terms

I'd like to think I'm on at least a couple people's good lists. In fact, I'll be bold enough and say I am on a few (few being more than three). However, that being said, I would like to talk about someone who I am not on speaking terms with. Unfortunately it has been this way for a while.

I am no longer on speaking terms with Santa Claus. I stopped writing him years ago, and, he hasn't really reached out much since then. Come to think of it, Santa Claus has been somewhat of a mute in my life. And, even when we used to have some sort of correspondence (letters and lists from me, and gifts from him), our communication was always a bit strained.

He was considerate from time to time, making sure I was scurvy free every year by placing an orange in the bottom of my stocking, however, there will always remain one distinct communication failure that set the us reeling in different directions.

It was the late eighties. It was the age of He-Man, Thundercats, Ninja Turtles, and of course Power Wheels. It was this last one that I wanted more than anything. As soon as I saw other little kids grinning from ear to ear, flying by on the TV commercials at a blistering 5 miles per hour, I knew I needed one. It was the holy grail of kids toys.

So, every year I would put it on my list at the very top. And every year, without fail, I would get that orange, but the Power Wheels truck eluded me. This continued until the mid-nineties even when I had things that were supposedly better and faster than the Power Wheels truck. But that wasn't the point. For me, it was the principle of the thing. Santa had let me down. And it hurt. To me he has lost his luster. Was he really a Saint? Did he really even visit Africa? Or was it all talk? I just couldn't trust him anymore.

It didn't help that my stocking stuffers got more and more random. It started with innocent trinkets like tic tacs, mini staplers, and the occasional opera CD. Then I started getting random things like midget books (one 5-30 pages long about leprechauns, complete with a little leprechaun figurine), dental hygiene samples, and just staples (apparently he figured one mini stapler was enough).

I guess what really gets me is that my friends have told me they are still on speaking terms with him. One of my buddies went fishing with him last week. He said they talked about me. I feigned apathy as he spoke of his Papa Noel bonding time. I mean I see pictures of the guy all the time doing lewd things online and hanging out with the wrong crowd, so I don't know if I want to get back in touch, but at the same time I want to make amends. My friend said those pictures aren't really him, but are just impostors. I don't know what to believe. I get friend requests from all sorts of creepy Santa types under different aliases like Popo Gigio, Kris Kringle, and "that guy who starred in the Miracle on 34th Street" on facebook, but I just can't pull the trigger.

What's he looking at? She's smashed to his face.

What? I'm not on the list? Well, you were going 37 in a 25 Mr. Kringle.

Where is Mrs. Claus?

So the rest of the A Team are his elves?

If I get a Power Wheels truck this year I might just add one of them.

Bashing the Pencil.

I think it's about time someone told you the truth about pencils.

They're lame.

You want an explanation? Try writing with one. We're talking endless sharpening, graphite on your hands (if you write a lot, and especially if you're a lefty), and splinters if you try to sharpen it without a legitimate sharpener (teeth usually are not, but every mouth is different). Now, I'd like to remind you that I'm only speaking of regular pencils. Don't even get me started on mechanical pencils (worst invention since the solar-powered flashlight). Remember these inventions?

(Yes, these are chocolates in the shape of pencils)

You might think I'm being harsh on pencils, but that's life. And, they're friggin' pencils. They can take it. And, they're not going anywhere any time soon. It's just that I ran out of writing implements the other day so I had to use a pencil, and it was like having the guy with the world's longest fingernails rasp on the roughest chalkboard ever made each stroke I took.

(What the heck is this? Seriously.)

And yes I know there are people who will come to the pencil's defense. Some people use them exclusively for their art. Some people use them to make science projects, obstacle courses, projectiles, and even use them as jewelry. Well, I am not one of those freaks. You might say I'm a different type of freak. The variety that doesn't care for pencils. I'm not an anti-pencilite. I just would rather use a pen. Or maybe a keyboard. And there you have it.

Go ahead pencilites. Convince me to join the ranks of your devoted graphite and wooden cult.

I don't even know what this is.

This however, is obvious.