Silence of Lucky

Christmas in my house was always an exercise in overcompensation.  My parents were both middle children and felt slighted their whole lives so they spent way too much money making sure their kids never felt that way at Christmas.

There were three types of gifts in the Nelson household:

1. Gifts from family and friends.  They went under the tree as soon as they arrived.

2. Gifts from my parents.  These were placed under the tree closer to or on Christmas day itself.

3. Gift Out in the Open Christmas morning.  Santa's doing.

So Christmas, 1990, I was in the seventh grade, and the only thing I wanted was a pair of Nike Airs.  Nike Airs were the first shoes I remember costing $100, and the were the ultimate symbol of awesome.  The word Nike, over the word Air, elevated you from pretender to contender, just like Michael Jordan himself.  And you had to have Nike Airs, not just Nike's.  If you just wore Nike's that meant your parents were poor and you were stupid.  Well, they weren't poor, poor.  They just didn't love you enough to keep you from looking like a total idiot in front of the entire school.

$100.  That was a lot of money for a pair of shoes, but I had focused all of my gift receiving power on this one, cherished item.  I didn't want socks, I didn't want chocolate, I didn't want anything else.  And tell Aunt Geri, and Uncle Lenn, and Grandma, if they're going to give me anything, just give me money toward these shoes.  Please.  For the love of God. These shoes were going to change my life.  Women would line up to be with me.  Men would nod their heads as I walked down the hall.  People weren't going to think Davey Nelson, Converse anymore.  When they thought of Davey Nelson, they would think of Michael Jordan himself.

I could already see the shoes in my closet.  I could already smell the shoes.  I was even looking forward to the day my shoes died so I could pop that air bubble thing on the side.

Christmas morning, 6am, my sisters and I were up.  Like a pack of rabid hyenas ready to tear any gist that stood in our way.  Our parents tried to take pictures, but eventually they relented, and there under the tree it was.  Something the size of a shoe box, wrapped, but not there before, which meant it was from my parents, which meant they wanted credit, which meant, this was good.  I picked it up and shook it and it- these are shoes.  And I ripped open the package, all of my dreams about to come true, the women, the fame, the fortune, and there they were, my Nike... my Nike...

Oh My God!  They just got me Nike's!

I looked at my parents and they were making the "do-you-like-them" eyes.

"These are Nike's.  These are Nike's," I stammered in disbelief.

"Yeah we got you what you wanted."

" I wanted Nike AIRS!  These are just Nike's.  I can't wear these.  They're the stupidest shoes I've ever seen."

"Well, we'll just take them back-"

"When next month?  I hate these shoes, I hate you guys.  You've totally ruined my Christmas!"

And I went to my room and locked the door.

My parents were not happy with me.  Not only had my behavior ruined their Christmas, but it had also exposed their on;y son as a spoiled little bitch.

So that's why today, I only wear Chucks.  Because they're cheap, and they'll never go out of style.  There could be a nuclear holocaust and there would still be Chucks.  Worn by little tiny cockroaches.

Merry Christmas.  Thanks for reading.

David Lee Nelson

A friend of mine turned 30 years old last week and wanted to have her birthday party at a Korean spa.

I have never considered a spa to be on option for someone like myself.   I figured I would just come up with some reason not to go...anything would do...but almost all our other friends had the same idea and beat me to it.  It quickly became apparent that unless I wanted my friend to be all by herself for her thirtieth birthday, I was going to be at the spa.

I brow beat another friend of ours into going and when we arrived we were ushered to the all male changing area.  There we saw the husband of the birthday girl.  He had already been there for a while, we could tell by his laid back attitude.  We were still covered with the stress of the city and he looked as calm and peaceful as Buddha himself.

"Guys- we have to get in the baths," he informed us, "they're amazing."  I walked to where they were and saw a sign on the door: Nudity Required. Before my friend and I had a chance to fold up our newspapers, the husband had his penis flapping in the breeze.  I guess we're getting naked.  Game on.

As we walked down the hall to our lockers, we saw that they were side by side.  And while we had accepted the fact that we were going to be fully exposed to one another, the initial shock if it, side by side, was a little too much to handle.

"You go first."  I graciously offered.  "I'll use the restroom and be back in a minute."

One minute later, my friend was proudly strutting his stuff on the way to the bath.

My turn.

I hung up my coat.  Took off my shirt, then my pants, then my boxers.  I was naked as the day I was born, ready to head to the bath.

That was when two, naked,  eleven year old Korean boys came running at me, stopping at  the locker right next to mine.  It was just them and me in the alley of lockers.  Naked spa day had just taken a turn for the creepy.

Their father turned the corner and I breathed a sigh of relief.  Then it dawned upon me that I was probably the first person in the world to be alone with two naked boys and be relieved that their father showed up.  I quickly nodded to them and made a beeline for other adults.

I did not have my glasses on in the bath area, and my blindness allowed my mind a much need layer of anonymity.  They had hot tubs and whirlpools, and saunas.  I love saunas.  I spent a good deal of time sweating away the toxins of my urban existence.  After patrons left the sauna, they were required to shower, and the one I got under sprayed out icy cold water.

As I saw my penis shrink into my body, I quickly hopped into the first warm pool I saw.  Ahhhh.  I sat in the middle, sprawled out, all by myself when my friend walked by and said, Davey, you're in the kids pool.  I squinted at the at the writting and sure enough, Kids Pool, in tiny letters.  I realized I hadn't been sprawled out, I had been sitting there lurking.  And that most importantly, I was not a spa person after all.

!!!= Love

???=???

!!!

Colbert Christmas Special- Stephen Colbert+Willie Nelson=Answer to all Life’s problems.

???

Hillary Clinton as Secretary of State. I bet the last thing Ms. Clinton thought she would be taking is a job with Secretary in the title.

!!!

Clemson Tigers hire interim coach Dabo Sweeny- #1, as a Virginia Tech fan, thank you for not making the smart move and hiring Bud Foster, and #2 Who knew the chick who wrote Juno coached football?

???

Big Three Bailout- So let me get this straight, you make cars that no one wants to buy because they’re pieces of crap and get 3 miles to the gallon, and you want us to give you money?  How about this?  How about stop making cars less reliable than Lindsey Lohan on a movie set.  

!!!

Always Sunny in Philadelphia Season Finale- Charlie writes a musical. Yes please.

???

The BCS, the 2000 Election Version- Texas beats Oklahoma on a neutral field. They each have the same record. Yet Oklahoma, by some odd technicality, is picked to play in the Big 12 Championship game. Somewhere Al Gore is having cold sweats and nightmares.