Monday, November 23, 2015

Liar Liar Pants On Fire.

When I was younger, I remember writing this massive Christmas list filled with all of the stuff I ever wanted, because STUFF and I wanted it. The fucking hippies never let us have all that much stuff, because it was wasteful and not necessary to contribute to free society or some shit. I mean we always had an amazing Christmas don’t get me wrong, but we were never allowed to have a slap band because ‘Violence’ *Rolls eyes, or be part of any fad, because we had to learn to think for ourselves and not be caught up in schoolyard social and commercial  harvesting movements.

Fark… and I have never gotten over it. Nope, fuck off; I am holding on to that grudge forever, .shove it up your arse.

Anyway, I remember writing this massive Christmas list and my dad took a disapproving look at it, rubbed his beard, pondered for a moment then said.

‘Em, did you know Santa is an anagram for Satan? Possessions won’t make you happy; living to gain possessions is a miserable waste of a life. Did you know some people starve to death, so hungry they die, at the exact same moment someone else is cheering and clapping as they watch someone eat a hundred hotdogs as quickly as they can?

He tapped his temple with his index finger, then he pointed it at me, his finger formed a pistol and shot me with it, as he winked.

‘Messed up if you think about it too hard isn’t it?’ He said.

YES IT IS MESSED UP!! I was seven!! Dude!!!

So, I went back in my room and culled my Christmas list feeling guilty about asking for anything other than air, memories and food for starving nations... 

For fuck sake, this is exactly what is wrong with me right there.
 *Massages temples, *Sips coffee that is definitely fair trade and bites a Valium in half.

Now I am older though, slightly wiser but not any more mature, I get it. I do.

I was wrapping Christmas gifts for my kids the other night, dreading buying things with so many small pieces, because I would eventually be picking them up off the floor or digging them out of the vacuum cleaner hose eventually.  Fuck my kids have SO MUCH STUFF.

While I was wrapping, I was thinking about Christmas time in general, and how it was the time for giving, and memories, and being grateful also, LYING MY ARSE OFF to my kids.

 I go to great lengths to bullshit my kids, like sociopathic lengths…

 I chew on carrots then chuck them in the front yard so my kids think that reindeer ate them. There was this one year right, that I put glitter in a jar of sultanas and  I dropped them in little piles on the front driveway to look like magical reindeer shit.

I actually planted imitation sparkle turd in my own yard.

 I have written fraudulent letters claiming to be Santa, thanking them for the carrots, milk and cookies. I even altered my handwriting and put in convincing details like I was a Nigerian Prince ready to hand over my inheritance.

I have mixed talcum powder and glitter and painted two large foot prints on the floor near the fireplace as some sort of weird proof that a guy broke in to our house.

I told my kids that Christmas beetles spy on them. Yep. I told them that some Christmas beetles are actually Santa’s elves in disguise and they are coming to check that they are going to bed on time and brushing their teeth.

When I get caught out in a lie, I make a bigger more elaborate lie, like the time I told my kids that I buy the presents for Santa to bring, I post them to him, and he then decides if you are good enough to get them all, that is why the presents are in my wardrobe, I simply haven’t posted them to Santa yet.
I then had to tell them that if you go looking for presents I haven’t posted yet, they magically disappear when they get to Santa’s workshop.

I have quickly explained to puzzled faces that the Santa’s in the shops are working for Santa and not the real Santa. He sends them to compile the lists because he is too busy, that is why Santa is in Myer and outside IGA at the same time.

Dead set, SO MANY brazen faced, insolent fraudulences have spilled out of my word hole at my kids in the spirit of keeping the Christmas magic in -tact for them.

Unlike some…
Not mentioning any names.


Meanwhile, like a good sociopath, I have convincing and selfish reasons to lie like I do. 

You see, firstly, my parents damaged me, I wrote a whole blog and also a book about it, secondly the magic of Christmas time is so fleeting, and I want to keep it going as long as I can. 

I want the kids to remember that time as the most magical of the year, and when they inevitably figure out I am a fucking massive liar, I want them to be so impressed by my elaborate attempts to deceive them that they forget the deceit all together. So I guess memories are still on my Christmas list.

Memories, a week in Fiji, a humidor hard cover flight guitar case.. also a hose link hose, but that is a long story and I will tell it another time.

Do you have any good bullshit you tell kids? I may need to use it.