Tuesday, December 20, 2011

How to give yourself the gift of humiliation this Christmas

 I want my MTV!

When I was a kid, my favorite Christmas present every year was a stack of records from my Aunt Peggy and Uncle Charlie in Toronto.

That whole side of the family worked for the music business, which was perfect: I love music and - even better - it was the one gift I was allowed to open early (with my parents' permission).

One year, my dad was at work, suing people and doing whatever lawyers do, when the parcel arrived at home. I couldn't wait to tear into it, so I gave him a call to get the green light.
"Hey, dad, the records are here. Can I open them?"

"Who is this?"

"Dad - come on: can I open them?"

"I'm sorry - who are you?"

"Dad - stop being such a jerk!"


"Come on you bonehead. I want to open these records. Mom! Dad's being a jerk!"
My mother came to the phone. 
"Hello? Oh sorry: Kenton thought you were his dad."
I walked to my bedroom, hid my head under the pillow and moaned, knowing that I'd probably just called the Minister of Justice a jerk and a bonehead.

I opened the records that night. I sat and listened to them, but I couldn't enjoy them; they all sounded like humiliation.


  1. Ha, happy holidays indeed! My dad used to pull that crap as well causing similar "mistaken identity" events to happen, so I feel your pain.

  2. I can just see it flashing in front of my eyes, quite similar to a near death experience. Oh, the humanity! Monica


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