Bah, humbug.

Well, it's Christmas eve.

It used to be my favourite day of the year, alongside my birthday of course!
It always meant great food, presents, midnight mass with the family, presents, oh and did I mention, presents!

As I got into my teens it meant seeing my parents putting aside their sometimes months long fighting to be civil with each other for the 'festive' period and that in itself was a present enough for me.

My twenties were of course a time to party with my friends and Christmas Eve, Day, Boxing Day, New Year's Eve, New Year's Day (you get the picture...) were just an excuse, if we needed one, to get drunk and have fun!

Losing my dad when I was 27 however changed everything Christmas meant to me.

It just seemed to bring back memories of his larger than life character and my mother has since then never celebrated Christmas at home again. It was left to my sisters to carry the torch of big Christmas dinners and to be honest, it's just not the same.

My thirties were a blur of marriage, 3 children and the end of my marriage.
Christmases were quiet family affairs with my wife and kids with most, if not all Christmas Eves with me away at work.
Presents were by now, only for the kids.
Christmas dinners were all bought.
And church was just too much of a hassle with 3 constantly fighting boys in tow.

Try as I might, I could never replicate for my children the euphoria of what Christmas used to mean to me. And raising them on my own these past 3 years have made it even more difficult for me to 'find' the Christmas spirit with me away at work on Christmas eve and they asleep when I get back.

Ironically, I realized that Christmas should be more about Jesus' birth and his sacrifice for us about the same time I kind of lost my faith.

Celebrating the birth of a 'kid with a magnifying glass over an ant hill' when you're the ant felt too much like rubbing salt in my own wounds, if you ask me.

I keep up appearances for my children's sake and of course the tradition of presents for them.
Anything to keep them happy and distracted from the fact they have only one parent is my present to myself.

So here we are, on my 41st Christmas Eve. Going for dinner at my sister's place.
My mother has locked herself in her room, not speaking to me and is refusing to attend.

Same shit, different year; only turn up the hypocrisy level, thank you very much.

So, Merry Christmas?

Yeah, whatever Santa fuck face...

One Doomsday sandwich to go, hold the Mayanaise.

I'd be lying if I said that part of me didn't believe the Mayan prophecy.
Well at least the version where we all DIE.


Officially, there is still another 2 hours till the exact time it will come to pass but already the "Mayans are shit" and "If they could predict the future why didn't they see the Spanish coming...", "blah blah blah..." posts are rife on facebook and most other social sites.

I said "part" of me. Not wholeheartedly.

I've heard the usual 'friend of a friend' bullshit hearsay stories of how some people took out mortgages on their homes and sold assets to go for a 2 month holiday with loved ones spending it all in anticipation of doomsday.

 I would never even think of doing crazy shit like that.

If nothing happens in the next 1 hour 52 minutes, they're gonna be facing 'doomsday' EVERYDAY for the rest of their shitty lives paying off a 2 month splurge. Dumb fucks.

With satellite and cable TV broadcasting non stop for the past week about 'the end' specials and documentaries, inevitably my kids were asking about it. My eldest boy even said that its not fair that the world is going to end seeing as his life is just starting.


Well he actually said, "Daddy, you're old so it's ok for you to die, but I'm young and it's not fair!!!"

Yeah, thanks son. I'm just sitting my OLD ass here waiting to die.


With all the hype building for the past few weeks it's all kinda fizzled out like a cum-shot after the 3rd round.

 *sput*

I was at least expecting some mini tsunamis, force 5 gale winds or some shit damnit! 

But hey, we're all still here (so far, 1 hour 30 minutes to go!) and looks like the bill paying, kids feeding and posting shit on FB goes on.

THE END ?

Losing My Cherry

So.

Finally, I've decided to actually put into words the jumbled up nonsense that flits through my so called mind.
Having thought about it and talked about it for years, methinks the time has come now that my eldest boy has found a passion for reading.

With all the 'in your face' media being blasted into children's (and even adult's) brains on a daily basis, it gives me great joy that my offspring likes to read.
For me, reading is the gateway to a healthy imagination for any growing boy.


That is of course, till he discovers online porn. :P