Holiday Quizzilla

1. Did you receive any unexpected gifts over the Christmas holiday?
Well, my mother put crucifixes in the kids’ Christmas stockings. That was unexpected. I know she’s fearful for my children’s souls because they live in the house of heathens but she said the real reason was that she wanted to teach the kids that Christmas meant more than Santa. They’re 3 and 2. They know Linus’ soliloquy by heart, that’s good enough for me and it should be for everyone else. To keep the peace, I gently suggested that perhaps a Baby Jesus doll swaddled in some cute sheep pajamas would have been a better route than a gruesome image of the crucifixion. Besides, isn’t that Easter? Fortunately, Nana had many other lovely gifts on hand to distract them from Jesus’ painful death. Good grief.

2. Who was the easiest person on your list to buy presents for?
Vito. I slipped him some chicken jerky and a new stuffed gorilla and he was so happy he was humping throw pillows. While the kids were very specific about what they wanted, many of the toys were so aggressively marketed in the post-Diego, pre-Wonder Pets slot that they were unfindable. And then there's James. I've known him for 10 years so I'm used to his anal, often eccentric, high-maintenance preferences. In the late 90s, he handpicked and pointed out a pair of windpants he wanted. I purchased them and wrapped them up a few weeks later for his birthday. He unwrapped them, only to find upon closer inspection that they had tiny zippers in places he deemed "odd." That said, I've known what I've been up against for many years. But when he requested a new pair of jeans and some ties this Christmas, I decided to go all out. I got him a few Brioni ties and a nice pair of Citizens jeans. He loved the ties. He tried on the jeans and they looked fantastic on him. BUT!!!! While he found the modern cut of the jean "a bit girlish," the barely there swish on the back pockets was the true dealbreaker. They're being returned for a new hockey stick.

3. Your favorite holiday noshes?
JAL’s Christmas cookies. And, as BG put it, an “Eastie Feastie:" a big nosh in EB featuring beef tenderloin & shrimp, proscuitto & stuffed artichokes, tiramisu & Italian cookies, and vino vino vino.

4. Did you send Christmas cards this year?
Yes. Trying to get a photo of the kids and Vito has always been an exercise in futility. Our card this year was supposed to be this photo of the kids running on the beach in Scituate, with an inset photo of Vito sitting on our front stairs. But at the last minute, we realized that Boulos had a big ol’ smash in his pants in the first picture and Vito had a lipstick woody in the second.
Luckily, some genuis at Hallmark created the three-photo option. Thank you.

5. What are you doing New Years Eve?
Chilling. Making the South Shore rounds. Chilling some more. Then banging on some pots and pans at midnight.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Have a ball!

The Pointy Universe will return once I recover from holiday sensory overload and seek treatment for a rampant Purell addiction.

Is Donald Trump 8?

(photo of Trump and his nipple-exposing wife pilfered from Perezhilton.com.)

"You're ugly. You're a fat loser."

I have never been a fan of Rosie O'Donnell's but this guy is a humorless tit. In case you haven't heard, The Donald went on a childish tirade yesterday in response to comments Rosie O'Donnell made on the The View. Rosie made fun of The Donald's morally superior press conference where he granted Miss USA Tara Conner a "second chance" after learning she was not a good role model for young women but an underage-drinking floozy who loves drugs.

Is it really any secret that Trump is less a moral adviser than a creepy uncle who touches? Rosie simply spoke to that point, saying “He’s the moral authority? Left the first wife, had an affair, left the second wife, had an affair, had kids both times, but he’s the moral compass for twenty year olds in America? Donald, sit and spin, my friend.” She also said she expected him to sue her but added “he’ll probably be bankrupt by that time so I won’t have to worry.”

Rosie is annoying and obnoxious. That's her thing. The point here is she was factually correct in her statement and Trump's massive ego can't handle it. Not to mention -- in his world -- women are supposed to be silent, submissive and anorexic. Lesbos are no exception.

Infuriated, Trump ranted to People Mag and Access Hollywood, mostly attacking Rosie's physical characteristics, calling her fat and unattractive. Then he inexplicably added: “She ought to be careful because I’ll send one of my friends to pick up her girlfriend and I think it would be very easy.” This idiot has grown so accustomed to dumb & easy gold digging whores that he thinks he can actually make someone change teams.

As expected the litigious-happy Trump said he's going to sue Rosie. However, it will not be over the remarks about him cheating on his families. Those didn't seem to bother him at all. The comment about bankruptcy, however, really frosted his single-process combover. "She'll say anything that comes to her unattractive mouth. I have never been bankrupt." said Trump. However, according to Wikipedia, he has indeed.

We all know that Trump is a well-versed publicity slut who is likely pouncing on this to promote his tired show that is starting up again in January. Either way, he comes off looking like the "fat loser" in this one. Ratings for The View will likely soar in the wake of the controversy; The Apprentice has sucked for years.

The Notorious P.U.G

(photo: Max reportedly peed on the conductor upon his rescue last week. )

Last Friday, after pulling out of Walpole station, MBTA commuter rail engineer Kym Berry saw a small dog leap in front of her train and start sprinting down the tracks. Berry blew the horn and slammed on the emergency brake but the dog continued on. "He never stopped running," she said. "We just went right over him." The dog, a wayward pug named Max, emerged unscathed from beneath the train moments later. Thankfully he was only 8 inches high. Read Max's story here.

I'm so happy that Max is OK. I'm also relieved to know that his notorious behavior may be a hallmark of the breed. In other words, it's not just Vito who is mentally-challenged and ill-mannered, it is all pugs. Whenever someone pulls into our driveway, Vito charges at -- not away from -- the vehicle. It's almost like he's trying to get underneath it. Our UPS guy almost had a heartattack a few months ago and had a similar comment to that of the commuter rail engineer: "He never stopped running at me. I've never seen anything like that." Our pizza delivery person wondered aloud if Vito had suicidal tendencies. "Nah. He's just not that bright," we told him. Still, at least once a week, I have to dart out the front door -- almost always in my bare feet -- and wave my arms like a lunatic to alert unexpected visitors (or James) that Vito is in the yard. He's hard to see if you're not looking for him. He comes out of nowhere. So, please take heed.

Dick in a Box - An SNL Digital Short

This is on par with last year's "Lazy Sunday." This one, featuring Justin Timberlake, reeks of and oozes early-90s Color Me Badd. It's worth every second.

The 12 Days of Christmas

Last month, You Tube asked its members to send in videos of themselves singing their own renditions of "The 12 days of Christmas" for a video montage of the song. Here is the result. The cast seems to be comprised of geriatric porn stars and recluses that probably play with puppets and use common kitchen utensils as sex toys.

I wish I had known about it. Either way, here is a little You Tube Christmas Carol to brighten (or soil) your Friday.

A Smash

(Cameo, me and Brownguy in the Red Room)
As you know from my nonstop bitching, my digicam is busted. So, for illustration purposes, cheesy ClipArt and random Google images will be used in lieu of photos until I get a new camera. Much thanks to Code Red for providing three actual photos of last Sat.





(Hey, I like your dress. You're a good looking lady.)

For this year's Christmas party, we decked the house out with lighted garland and pine scented candles. Even Vito was fresh as a daisy having had a date with the dog groomer the day before. This was so partygoers wouldn't leave with last year's unwanted party favor of eau de Vito on their clothing. The pug, however, still attempted to brand several lady guests by sneaking up behind them and licking their calves.


Still, Sat night was mostly about good friends, special cookies and a crappy crantini mix. I've found a number of partially-smushed cranberries in the couch cushions, which is actually a refreshing change from our usual rancid finds.

In every room, a different scene went down. In the kitchen: My brother -- high on Fresca -- tormented Michelle D. who "confiscated" said Fresca. In the dining room: Partygoers gathered to gawk at the embarrassing 80s and early 90s photos I taped up of all of us, our puffy faces retaining Bass Ale. In the living room: Music. First, Liz banged out the entire Vince Guaraldi catalogue on the piano...



...then, T-Bag, who honored my request to have the only Christmas party with G-N-R covers, played one of his smashing acoustic sets. And that damn John Denver tune.





On the back deck: Half of the Weymouth North Class of '86 clustered around a rented patio heater that burned with such intensity we feared it might melt the Christmas keg. James, however, did not bask in the glow of the heat lamp, but his high school glory days. He refused to socialize with anyone who couldn't feel the pain of their tragic loss to Longmeadow in the state finals 20 years ago.


And when conversation grew tiresome, we danced. Most memorable: The Scissor Sisters ' delicious Bee Gees-esque groove "I Don't Feel Like Dancing" and Jonzun Crew's "Space Cowboy," which was almost perfectly timed with the Taylor's 1 a.m. arrival.






The next thing I knew, it was 3 a.m. I fell asleep in my dress with a contact high and a crantini buzz.

Good times, everyone. As always thanks for bringing the spirits and vibe. We'll have to have you all down again soon to help us polish off the surplus of Ketel One and vino.

Scary Christmas

I'm on zero sleep this week. Every night, either Caroline or Paulie has had a nightmare.

I wonder why...

This morning at 5 a.m, the Snow Miser was peeking into Paulie's bedroom window. The other night, the Grinch stole Caroline's yogurt, then kicked Vito.**





**Before you say/think it: This was Caroline's bad dream, not James in a Grinch suit.

It's the Downey & Brownie Show (...and Lily!)

(Great. She's here again. She's probably drunk too.)

When Brownie moved in to the apartment downstairs from Downey this weekend, he created a dynamic rife with gooey sitcom potential.

Brownie, the perpetually exasperated Fido worker, just wants to be left alone in his new apartment to bake up some meaty loaves and watch Hasselhoff videos. Downey -- his vivacious upstairs neighbor with a freakishly large right hand -- keeps popping in offering to help him measure his windows for curtains. After waving her off several times, he finally lets her in when she tells him why she has so much free time on her hands: She was recently fired for viewing photos of Lindsay Lohan's firecrotch on Perezhilton.com at her office. He feels badly for her. And herein, the fruitful exchanges ensue. Downey talks to him about the Zen-like effect watching Anderson Cooper has on her. He reminds her to always clear her Internet cache. She suggests they have a Brownstone party once he's settled. He asks her if her dishtowels smell.

But just as the deeper layers of their characters start to reveal themselves, Downey whips out the tape measure. At the very same moment, Brownie turns around and gets the tip of it stuck in his fly. They both try to dislodge it with a series of violent twists and pulls, but all this does is cast a dirty shadow puppet show on the wall behind them.

(...And me!)

Cute pooches are often brought in when a show has jumped the shark, but here with Harvey Fierstein lending a raspy voiceover, Lily is a built-in contingency (and rumored ratings whore) who will virtually guarantee a successful season.

(I like him. He smells like soap.)

On Sat. Dec 9th, there will be an open casting call for a Bookman ("Buffalo Butt") or Schneider type character who is hellbent on foiling their Brownstone party plans.

A Wiggly Shake-Up (by SAC)

The following is Scott A. Cyr's much anticipated "official statement" on the demise of the Yellow Wiggle:

"In an announcement that shocked the toddler world, the Wiggles have had a shake up. It appears that Greg Wiggle will be departing the band due to illness. Now, many of you PU readers are no doubt scratching your head, wondering who the Wiggles are but to millions of parents out there, they are the crazy, semi-gay, Australian whack jobs that provide us, the parents, with a much needed and often necessary 30 minute respite from our screaming, nagging, patient, and oh-so loving children.

Greg's departure, although sad, leaves me to question the millions of children who will fiercely battle on the playgorunds of preschools across America proclaiming themselves Greg Page Wiggle fans or Sam Moran Wiggle fans (a la the David Lee Roth [Rothonian] v. Sammy Hagar [Hagarian] debate that has plagued our generation, and still does.

It will be little Jack Beaudin who, I think, will be our first supporter of the non-Greg Page Wiggle DVD's and BlueRays while Caroline, Bennett, Camden and Paulie lay a diaper full of whoop ass on him denouncing the new Wiggle for the great talent that Greg was while showing this to Jack on VHS. (Jack, will no doubt be saying "Dude, what is VHS?" thus opening his own can of whoop ass on his "old bastard" friends)

Either way, I wish Sam Moran the best of luck as the new Wiggle and promise to provide him an open mind.

However, I do hope this new Wiggle is able to provide the legions of parents across the world with that much needed 30 minute siesta from the Zen of Child Raising to study the Art of Love by Teddy Pendergrass. Turn Out the Lights....."