Ah yes, Christmas morning at Berea-Rose. In addition to all the Legos, sweatshirts, and Nerf artillery there are the battling tanks. Thanks to Guido and Kay, Da Chimpz now have tanks that not only blast each other, but send an electrical jolt through the remote control of the tank that got blasted.

Here's Cookie not learning any of the lessons of Kursk:

Here we are, at the north pole. Which can't possibly be melting: I just checked the local weather and it's a frosty one degree at Berea-Rose. That's messed up.

The wind started whipping last night. I got up early this morning and saw that our giant inflatable nativity scene was having some, er, erectile dysfunction as the frost had collected on the uprights and the wind held the top-heavy structure down.

I went out and stood it up a few times, and by late morning went out to stake more guidewires.

The temperature has plummeted throughout the day. But that was okay: we were inside with Dan and Laura eating meatballs and drinking Big Ass Cab wine. Then we had some massive chocolate cake.

Yum.

Got a third controller for the Wii, specifically for the shoot 'em up games that we now (unwisely) let Da Chimpz play. We go head to head trying to gun each other down. Parent of the year? I'm disqualified.

Well, Steve and I learned a very valuable lesson as well in regards to christmas trees....Christmas trees and pets (particularly very playful, young pets) do not mix..

Steve bought a beautiful pre-lit tree (we do live in South Florida after all and both of us do not have the energy to tend to a real tree especially after a long work day and early mornings)..We decorated it with red and gold balls (some innuendo can be inserted there) and a sparkly red star....(Thank you Target!)...

I didnt want to spend that much money this year on the tree considering it is Bentley's first christmas, Bruno has mastered an amazing high jump, and I had to buy gifts for three birthdays, Hanukkah, and Christmas...I also figured our house was quite festive considering I had my own little tree for the counter, a menorah, two packs of white lights to string around the condo, and as we all know Steve has quite a few items as well...

Anyways, all things considered, I knew the pets were going to do some serious damage...I just didn't know to what extent...Steve and I were betting on which animal would be the first to knock down a ball or damage the tree .

(We bet more often than most couples I think---btw I need to have it stated in writing, that due to the results of the November 4th election, Steve still owes me a yoga retreat! If Obama would have lost, I would have had to cook a Thanksgiving dinner (and for those of you who don't know---I don't cook).)

Anyways, I was quite disappointed when the next morning, we caught Bentley with a red ornament in his mouth, like a pig with an apple..Bruno has been no angel either mind you...He has knocked down his fair share of ornaments...Steve and I reacted as most people would do..move all the ornaments up..so now our tree looks bare on the bottom..

Most animals would move on to damaging another item in the house--but not Bentley..He is determined to cause serious damage...Let's just say he has acquired a taste for christmas lights..Because naturally it is a skinny rope with little chew toys...And no matter how many times I scold him, put obstacles in his way..His mission remains the same: to attack and destroy the tree...

Needless to say, our tree now no longer lights up on the bottom.....quite sad looking actually....which has me thinking if this dog is out to get me, is trying to tell me that he is Jewish, or if he is just "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas"......

Tonight, Alane and Da Chimpz decorated the Christmas tree. And what a tree... The moral of the story: never select a tree when it's raining and all you want to do is get in from the cold.

I dragged the tree into the house last night and fetched the big steel tree stand we've been using for years. The trunk did not fit into it. So I got a wood-chisel and hammer and made wacky totem-pole carvings into the base until we could work it snugly into the upper steel ring of the stand.

Then we stood the tree upright.

Well, "upright" may be an overstatement.

The friggin' tree is bent. The trunk is bow-shaped and the branches don't do much to hide the deformity. With the trunk barely squeezing into the stand there wasn't much we could do to adjust the pitch or yaw of our hunchback tree... all we could do was tighten the bolts and rotate the slope-shouldered monster so it was "lunging" at you head-on, making the slouch somewhat less noticeable (until you look at it from the side, which at a quick glance might make you feel like you've stepped into one of the bad guys' hideouts on an old Batman episode).

Anyway, Cookie and I strung the lights onto the tree this afternoon, and now all the ornaments have been hung. It looks pretty good, our nodding, goosenecked Christmas tree. It'll be like celebrating the holidays in the fun-house.

Then again, pretty much every holiday is like that around here.

Only two words can describe our annual Pork & Vermouth Christmas Lighting last Friday: Epic Fail. So the festive scene pictured here is nothing like the meager light-work we accomplished in Tuckahoe on that cold dark night.

Just about everything went wrong. It started at Stew Leonards, where the icy wind nearly cut us in half as we eyeballed Christmas trees and light strings -- especially the light-strings, which needed to be strung end to end to reach around the hedge. We bought about ten boxes. And a couple racks of ribs (what, no grill? yeah, this was destined to flop).

So we got out the vermouth (Martini & Rossi? how could the wine shop not have Cinzano?). And we ate. Then we went back out into the cold to start.

And we hardly got started before we realized the lights were all wrong. Meaning, even though the box described lights that could be strung end-to-end, these did not. Furthermore, they were chaser lights. And even though they could be set for steady-on, unplugging them set them back to chasing.

So we changed gears and turned our attention to the giant wreath that gets hoisted above the front porch. We hoisted. Guido tied it into place and then we remembered we hadn't tested the wreath lights -- sure enough, half the lights were out. So we un-hoisted. Then fumbled in the basement with the old light strings to find one that could be salvaged. We re-wrapped the wreath with the frankenstein light string and re-hoisted. Guido tied it in place and we stepped back to look. Most of the lights were facing the wall, leaving much of it dark.

We declared Christmas ruined and went back to the house to drink wine (we were out of vermouth by then).

Okay, here's a bailout I think I can get behind. From today's WSJ:

SALSOMAGGIORE TERME, Italy -- The world is bailing out banks and car companies. Italy is coming to the rescue of parmigiano cheese.

In an effort to help producers of the cheese commonly grated over spaghetti, fettuccine and other pastas, the Italian government is buying 100,000 wheels of Parmigiano Reggiano and donating them to charity.

Better yet, that's a government cheese distribution worth waiting in line for.

I think I'll hit the market and buy a few bricks of the stuff -- talk about an industry that's too crucial to fail!

Even the name...Rod Blagojevich, the greatest fiction writer could not have made a name up that damn good. So, I bought the NY Post today to read in more detail about the Chicago Macy's One Day Senate Seat Sale and discovered on page 29, that according to astronomers, the north star which guided the original 3 Wise Men was actually only visible in early June, making Jesus a Gemini! See that...Bazzuka Joe, Dr. Sfingi, and I do have something in common with the big J.C....well aside from having a lotta Joes in the family.

No sooner does Frylock ask why a Chicago hack would pay such big money for a federal office than another Chicago hack answers the question with precision: federal office is apparently "a fucking valuable thing you don't just give away for nothing."

I don't know why the networks even bother to produce and air sit-coms anymore. Truth is so much more entertaining than fiction. And funny as hell.

Anyone unaware that the song reference, "you could get the finger...the middle!" was Kriss Kross circa 1991-1992 should be dipped in spoiled ricotta and then forced to grab the heat-pipe at Castle 1526 with both hands. I had a small size rock-band party on Friday night, there was definitely a man in a chicken mask playing drums to Tom Sawyer by Rush....sometimes I get the feeling my house is a strange and surreal place. Put up the Christmas tree on Sunday, and it took only a day for the pets to believe I installed them a personal jungle gym to swing and play on...I need to invest in a tazer. I been watching the news and I realized why a man would spend 750 million to win a job that only pays $400,000...because Holy Cow, you can spend trillions!!! Stop chanting U.S.A. and begin chanting A.T.M.....you now, I've overdrawn my bank account at the ATM many times, those overdraft fees can be real killers. I toast GM, Ford and Chrysler, they finally convinced someone to buy American....Nancy Pelosi. OK, enough of that I'm going to Orlando next weekend to see Janine and Joe Fatone Sr. star in a production of Annie...indeed I'm laughing already.

And then there's this: the Pogues with Kirsty MacColl. I've heard this track a few times over the last few holiday seasons and for some reason I wanted very much to dislike it. But each year I give it more personal airtime. And here I just found the video:

Ah, these YouTube bits sure bring back memories. Like this kick-ass video from the Minutemen. Yeah, I remember it well... in 1985, right about this very time of year I was hunkering down in my psycho-single there in basement of the E wing of the SUNY Purchase dorms. Somehow, that little POS b&w television of mine got reception for U68 and whenever I wasn't having a financial/academic/emotional crisis I'd pile into the UHF and pretend I was getting my MTV.

Here's one of my other favorites from that station... apparently it didn't take much to create a music video in those simpler times. Mega-cool track tho:

Went to the mall today. Talk about putting one's life at risk -- it wasn't due to crowds, it was the slick snow on the roads getting there and back. That Jeep does some serious fishtailing when it's not in 4x4.

Speaking of which, I'm sitting here drinking Pesce Vino. Already polished off half the bottle. In a little while I'll be sleeping with Luca Brazi. Got the curtains wide open so I can see the snow.

I'm making Christmas CDs. So watch out.

Admit it: when you read the news accounts of auto makers demanding a vig from your paycheck, you start hearing that ancient song lyric in your head...

You can get the finger -- the Gettel...

Bonus points to whoever chimes in with where that comes from.

Sez GM: "Warm it up Chris!"

Sez Dodd: "I'm about to!"

Alane is out with her mother this evening, leaving me here to control Da Chimpz for the evening. After getting them from the after-school we stopped at the Giant Beagle to buy some food. They're getting very picky, these gorillas. I went to the refrigerator section with the prepared entrees but there was nothing they wanted. So we sidled over to the hot food counter. Not a very elaborate selection there, either. In fact, all they really had in the steam trays were some fried chicken parts, macaroni and cheese and mashed potatoes.

Eh, how bad could it be? Cookie and Mojo agreed: we'd get the meal offer, with the eight chicken parts, the two sides and the corn bread. She even put a cup of gravy on the side!

We got home and dished the stuff out. The chicken wasn't bad. But everything else was bad. Bad indeed. The mac-and-cheese was bland to the point of offensive. The potatoes had the consistency (and taste?) of sealing compound. And the gravy was outright yecho. Even the cornbread (individually packaged!) tasted strange.

As we sat at the table pushing the food back into its containers the three of us agreed: it had looked pretty good in the case.

Which reminded me of the episode of Unwrapped I saw on Food Network last night. It was all about mail order food. Cool, I thought, I do lots of purchases that way. So I watched. And they had the usual suspects: Harry & David, showing happy migrant workers picking plump native-born pears (oddly no mention of their truly horrendous shipping service); Omaha Steaks packing red meat into dry ice caskets; William Sonoma with all their groovy gourmet victuals; and some Vermont candy place that I'd never heard of...

Then they showed a photo shoot -- a team of marketing-types trying to get that perfect snapshot of a delicious food spread for a catalog cover.

Some would call it art; I call it disturbing.

They used plastic putty to hold the food in place, and to fake the look of morning dew on the glossy sides of fruit they dabbed the outside with glycerin water. Outside the frame of their camera lens (and without the soft focus) the scene looked like crap. They showed the finished cover. Yeah, nice.

But the damage was done.

I was crestfallen. Don't they know how many gourmet food catalogs I've sifted through, building in my mind some borderline erotic utopia of perfectly-arranged portions of culinary delight sliding from the copper-clad bosom of high-quality cookware? Those weren't faux kitchens in drab studios I was fantasizing about -- those were real Atlantic salmon, with authentic grill marks, stylishly garnished with freshly-picked sprigs of dill, sans the glycerin.

It was all, in my head... it wasn't hurting anyone.

And then they show me... that. It was like finding out how they airbrush the photos of the glamor models. Or when I learned the WWF matches were scripted. Or that Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin didn't really like each other.

"Disenchanted" doesn't even start to describe it.

They haven't just taken away my innocence. Those buzzkills at Food TV have taken away my food pr0n.

Yeah Joe, Slick Nick is indeed a classic. Last year I came into possession of these tracks, and am only now finding some background info. Kay Martin & Her Body Guards. Got a sound kind-a like if Rusty Warren did a holiday album (wonder if she did?), but not so over-the-top bawdy as some of the other tunes I've trafficked over the years.

The album is named "I Know What He Wants For Christmas... but I don't know how to wrap it!" Wonder if Big Vin ever heard of it.

Those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones...or walk around with their yodel hanging out, but regardless I am not the only member of the Mastandrea clan who either misses calls or has a crapp-ass cellphone. In fact, I would argue my welfare phone is the only one who's pricetag almost excuses its shitty service. Old Silent J has a hand held laptop she talks on that should be able to direct the shuttle for landing, and yet it takes me on average about 40 calls before I reach her, and Mr. Bazzuka is sniffing way too much nailpolish in the Sephora stock-room if he believes I am harder to reach than he. I had a customer with the last name Colonica today, I kind of think it sounds like a musical instrument you can play with your ass. I also wanted to mention this weekend not only did we play Balderdash, we did so in very, very bad sweaters. The best part of a bad sweater party is the size fitment, I believe mine was a childrens small and Ree's must have been an adult jumbo.
Important news: after two years of toying with me, I have signed a peace treaty with the USPS. They changed my mailbox, and delivery has been spot-on ever since. In acyuality it took Silent J's arrival into my abode for me to take more assertive action, it took some calls, visits and a little arm twisting, but no more Christmas cards returned to sender with WTF scribbled at the top. In celebration I'm going to send out Christmas cards myself this year...and at the top of each envelope I'm going to scribble WTF...so you all feel more comfortable.
So the best Christmas song to sing along to is the final refrain of Andy Williams "Its The Most Wonderful Time of the Year" (and I know your all going to accuse me of an un-natural fondness for Andy Williams), when he really tears it down "...its the most wonderful time OF THE YEAR!!! Damn, that songs good. And the final moments of Auld Lang Syne when Bobby Darren wishes everyone "Have a Merry Christmas everybody and Happy New Year". Anyway, I'm gonna get running here, I have a few phone cellphone calls coming in that Im going to ignore.

I prefer Slick Nick by Fish Bone. Its got some great lyrics. Lately we have been trying to make it through the entire Christmas play list but it has yet to happen. Yessica does not let it get past Bootsy. I must admit i have a hard time when it comes to the answering machine song. We must however listen to the dogs bark jingle bells at least 4 times before i allow it to change. This is law. Peewee has learned the ways of the ipod and can now change it on her own. as well as use the t.v. remote. The little man is very impressed with all of the animated christmas dolls we own and now copy's them. Thank You Uncle Vee.

Steves phone.......wow. He called me yesterday and wanted to know why i always know whats going on before it happens. I guess because i answer my phone. We have come to accept Steve's phone as somewhat of an alarm. It just lets him know we were looking for him at about 7:30pm on Saturday. Weather he chooses to use this information or not is than the question. It could be that he gets home from work after 6pm and must be in bed by 8pm . Maybe i am wrong.......Silent J should be able to verify. On several occasion's Steve's phone has randomly called me and i got to enjoy the music he was listening to in the car. There is hope john. So steve changed his ringer.......I think maybe he should buy like a fire truck siren ringtone or maybe something obnoxious. When we had nextel he always answered or i would begin discussing which hemorrhoid cream worked best or my last breakout....until he answered.

So we got our tree today. No room for the angel so we e=will have to figure something out. 8ft Douglas fir that must be barricaded so The little man does not pull it down. We will decorate it on sunday.

I just sent Mojo into the shower because he had popcorn feet.

I noticed it after I got off the phone with Elna -- we were discussing the lack of Amish-built wood-stoves in Siberia. I hung up the phone, came into the living room, and wrestled Mojo to the carpet. Then I noticed the stale popcorn stink.

Alane is at the mall. This gives me the opportunity to blast Christmas music. Real Christmas music. Got Fishbone's Iration on right now.

Ah yes, the macaroni dish once again overflows with another delicious serving a whup-ass.

This is a great day. I'm going to call Steve on his cellphone and tell him how happy I am!

Since Steve has joined the wonderful stalker-filled world of facebook (as himself and not as a cartoon character), it is only fair and right that I am no longer the silent shadow of Steve. No longer an enigma..but indeed a real person..I understand by departing from the shadows, I make myself open to all members of the family--and I think I am strong enough to cope..I did survive the first Thanksgiving after all..And to be honest, it was not as intimidating as telling my Jewish mother how Steve and I have decided to split up the holidays...The Jewish guilt is a much stronger force..BELIEVE ME..and yes I am allowed to make such statements as I am still a Jew by heritage..I think of it as a birthright..I paid my dues: I was batmitzvahed and confirmed in the Reform faith of Judaism (which is no easy task and not for the faint of hearts)... And although I no longer practice Judaism and have converted to the dark side of Catholicism (according to a few relatives), I cannot deny my heritage..

And to be honest, I think a part of Steve wishes I still was Jewish...although his reasoning is he just wants to break the glass by stomping on it or in his case stomp and punt like a football. This desire is quite peplexing to me considering his complete and utter distaste for anything remotely heterosexual in terms of sports..As we all know....The sad thing is---I don't have the heart to tell him this tradition only happens once in a lifetime...at a Jewish wedding ...

But I stray from the reason of this response to John's entry...I am happy to report, that after months of complaining, I have finally gotten Steve to change the ringer on his phone...A great accomplishment to say the least..I could compare such a sound to an infant crying for well over 24 hours or nails on a chalkboard...In comparison, these sounds would be pleasurable.I thought changing the ringer, Steve would be more likely to pick up.But alas, I was very wrong,he can no longer hear his phone...I should know, my phone calls are the ones he ignores most...Moral of the story, I wouldn't take Steve not picking up your calls personally...He chooses not to hear the phone....If the sound of tetris cannot prompt him to do so, I do not know what will....