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On This Day
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Broadway Plays Put Me to Sleep

On December 22, I woke up from my first session of sleep and was about to start the second session when I was woken up by my sister, whose birthday was that day. She said “wake up! Get dressed! We’re going to see a show!” Since it was around 9am, the only thing on my agenda was sleep but after I realized that it was her birthday, I decided to get up and see what the entire ruckus was about. It turned out that a family friend gave my sister 5 front row seats to Beauty and the Beast and my dad made reservations for Carmines restaurant in the city for my sister’s 21st birthday.

The play was pretty good for a Broadway play and had its share of adult humor (or maybe it was just my mind interpreting things incorrectly). One thing that competely wrecked my mind was that “teacup” in the play was just a head in a cup on a table, but the bottom of the table was completely see through. I spent the entire time staring at the teacup to figure out where the rest of the actor’s body was held, but I couldn’t figure it out. If anyone can find out and let me know, it would be great and my head can finally stop hurting.

Even though the play was good, I won’t be seeing any other ones for a while. Sorry, Broadway.

A Letter to Santa…

Dear Santa,

They tried to convince me that you weren’t real but after this Christmas I have proof that you exist. In the past, I’ve always thanked my parents for gifts given to me; I would like to apologize for that since I now realize that you only used them as proxies to get the gifts to me. Santa, I know you’re real and I’m sure that you want to know how…

Well, this Christmas was a tough one for me because I did not want to ask for anything in particular. Whenever I was asked, “Geremy, what do you want for Christmas” I always gave ridiculous answers including (but not limited to) a yolk of oxen, a russian satellite, and weapons of mass destruction; although it would be great to own any of the aforementioned things, I didn’t need them. I kept all of my true desires hidden in my complex mind for reasons that I don’t even know.

Fast forward to this morning, when I woke up and went downstairs with the rest of my family to share gifts. I gave my dad a new thumb drive, an Armor-All gift-package in a decorative box, and a pair of sneakers that I really wanted to keep for myself. Then I gave my mom a homemade card with a gift-card and cash inside (I’m broke now-thanks mom). Then, I gave my brother a huge truck, a mini truck, about 20 hotwheels cars, and a basketball set. Then finally, I gave my sister a TiVo. I did not give these gifts to them because I had money to burn, I gave them the gifts because I knew that’s what you, Santa, would’ve wanted me to do. I did it all for YOU santa—then you rewarded me with gifts suited only for good little boys, like me.

Using family members and family friends as proxies, you presented me with:

– A flashlight/ halogen light/ emergency light
– a 24k “gold chain”
– a glass chess/checker/backgammon/blackjack set
– a button up striped shirt
– a sweater with matching hat (good looks with the hat)
– cologne
– a tie
– a mesh office chair
– a canon 50mm f/1.8 mkII lens for the Digital Rebel
– a polarizer, also for the Digital Rebel
– bed sheets that are made from T-Shirt material
– cash
…all things that I needed

That stuff was great, but then I was presented with the true evidence that you are alive. My dad pulled an Apple Powermac G5 desktop computer from a closet and said “Merry Christmas!” It isn’t unlikely that someone gets a Mac for christmas, but it is very, very unlikely that my penny-pinching father would buy a $2k computer for me and only me, so it HAD to be you who bought it.

So Santa, I promise to stop telling people that Satan is just Santa when you move the N, but that’s only if you come out of hiding and reveal yourself (and bring Tupac with you).

Your Friend,
Geremy F.

P.S: This letter was typed with the computer that you gave me.