On Fake vs Real...
While I did state in my Very First Post Ever (VFPE) that I would not use this blog as some sort of catharsis, I do feel the need from time to time to use this as a forum for confession. You see, since I didn’t grow up Catholic I always felt like I was missing something…perhaps something that involved a booth. Protestantism just doesn’t offer that, which is why we all go around nosing into each other’s business, or worse, confessing things to everyone. Since two of you read this, I feel like you don’t really qualify as everyone. Luckily, since I don’t find confession cathartic in the least, I figure I’m upholding my own standards for this blog…such as they are.
Let me set up my sin, you know, provide a little foreshadowing if you will. From time immemorial (e.g. birth) I was part of a family that purchased and decorated live trees for Christmas. It was never stated explicitly, but I got the feeling that bringing home a girl from the fake tree tribe might be, well…not done. Which is why, in a fit of post college rebellion (I was a late bloomer) I went over to the fake tree tribe and courted one of their choice females. To be sure, she did have other assets (and how!), but I was always keenly aware of her holiday idiosyncrasies. This is not my sin, however… Once I married my Princess of the Fake Trees we made an agreement. We would always buy live trees in exchange for setting up for Christmas at the exact moment after the end of Thanksgiving, as was also custom in her tribe. I won’t say it was prenuptial or anything, but we did spit into our palms and shake on it.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t like people that do the fake tree thing for Christmas. I guess that’s just your thing. It’s just that I feel superior to you. Like, God blessed me with attributes you don’t have…like a soul, for one. You know, like if this was an election, I’d come from the Green (alive) States and you’d come from the…whatever color represents fake (and soulless). In fact, I feel good about saving my wife from eternal…well, from something bad that happens for a really long time.
I think you see where this is going; what I need to confess. Let’s just say that this weekend I ended up in a Hecht’s staring at a lady who just told me that the 7’6” Oregon Spruce was out of stock…and was disappointed! For those of you who can’t read between the lines, Hecht’s is not a purveyor of live trees!! Never have I fallen so far so fast. I’m still a Redskins fan for goodness sake, I don’t regularly have commitment issues. Oh, I had some great excuses like: “It’s cheaper in the long run”, “It’s easier to setup and clean” and “I don’t have to vacuum my car or the hallway with a fake tree”. I guess that’s what passes for fake tree excuses anyway. Still, I knew what I was doing was wrong, and was prepared to do it anyway.
I think it is important to note, however, that somewhere along the way I did pull back from the precipice. I came to my senses and realized who I was. The fake tree may have lifted its skirt a little, shown me a little lace, but I did not, in the end, partake of that poison fruit. So I’ll see you tonight in some strip mall lot holding up each tree and saying “How about this one?” to the Fake Tree Princess who came ever so close to converting me…
Let me set up my sin, you know, provide a little foreshadowing if you will. From time immemorial (e.g. birth) I was part of a family that purchased and decorated live trees for Christmas. It was never stated explicitly, but I got the feeling that bringing home a girl from the fake tree tribe might be, well…not done. Which is why, in a fit of post college rebellion (I was a late bloomer) I went over to the fake tree tribe and courted one of their choice females. To be sure, she did have other assets (and how!), but I was always keenly aware of her holiday idiosyncrasies. This is not my sin, however… Once I married my Princess of the Fake Trees we made an agreement. We would always buy live trees in exchange for setting up for Christmas at the exact moment after the end of Thanksgiving, as was also custom in her tribe. I won’t say it was prenuptial or anything, but we did spit into our palms and shake on it.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t like people that do the fake tree thing for Christmas. I guess that’s just your thing. It’s just that I feel superior to you. Like, God blessed me with attributes you don’t have…like a soul, for one. You know, like if this was an election, I’d come from the Green (alive) States and you’d come from the…whatever color represents fake (and soulless). In fact, I feel good about saving my wife from eternal…well, from something bad that happens for a really long time.
I think you see where this is going; what I need to confess. Let’s just say that this weekend I ended up in a Hecht’s staring at a lady who just told me that the 7’6” Oregon Spruce was out of stock…and was disappointed! For those of you who can’t read between the lines, Hecht’s is not a purveyor of live trees!! Never have I fallen so far so fast. I’m still a Redskins fan for goodness sake, I don’t regularly have commitment issues. Oh, I had some great excuses like: “It’s cheaper in the long run”, “It’s easier to setup and clean” and “I don’t have to vacuum my car or the hallway with a fake tree”. I guess that’s what passes for fake tree excuses anyway. Still, I knew what I was doing was wrong, and was prepared to do it anyway.
I think it is important to note, however, that somewhere along the way I did pull back from the precipice. I came to my senses and realized who I was. The fake tree may have lifted its skirt a little, shown me a little lace, but I did not, in the end, partake of that poison fruit. So I’ll see you tonight in some strip mall lot holding up each tree and saying “How about this one?” to the Fake Tree Princess who came ever so close to converting me…
posted by Beeley at 2:34 PM
5 Comments:
Point One: While you were out buying a tree, I stood ours up, lit it up, put shiny orbs on it, put green wreath-like decorations on the bannisters, drank a beer, avoided vacuuming, installed World of Warcraft, etc...
Point Two: I didn't get sap on my hands, stand in the cold finding the One, scrape my car and doorway with sappy branches (okay I don't really care about scratches...)
Point Three: If you were really from the Green Party you wouldn't have killed an innocent tree for you personal viewing pleasure. Maybe if you had a fireplace that you could burn it in, I would kindly allow the tree as a necessity on a cold day. But I know it will just sit on the curb one day, place an inexcusable burden on refuse collectors at a time when they could use some respite... having to collect thousands of pounds of unused leftovers, wrapping papers, and outdated material goods (replaced by the newest trendy useless toys) the week before.
You insensitive clod!
Beeley, I can't believe how far you have fallen...then again I knew that JMU education would catch up with you sometime. I'm just trying to figure out why none of these shiny pearls of wisdom were never expounded upon during our after work beer and Evening Star binges....
At least you still admit to being a Redskins fan.
I'll have to catch up on your wandering vagaries over the next month...Although I'd love to hear an ode to Sir Champeen.
Maybe you should celebrate festivious instead? Buy a pole and you’re done with it.
Non-beaver, in your entire rambling comment you only make one good point. If I am trully lazy (which I assure you, I am), a fake tree is the way to go.
However, your comments about saving the environment are patently ridiculous. Please don't mistake my Green State comment for being a member of the Green Party. Furthermore, I believe plastic/metal trees are more harmful to the environment. My tree is bought from a Christmas tree farm. It's not like I went out and cut down some non-farm tree. Plus, my tree will go to the mulchers that the county provides. Then I can get free mulch in the spring. It's win-win.
Plus, as it has been determined in the past, you indeed have no soul...
You must have those pictures of me doing the Electric slide to see that I have no soul.
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