THE TYGRRRR EXPRESS

No, I am not the worst son on the planet. I am not even in the worst 100. It is just that I was born to parents who simply do not care about holidays. This is not reverse psychology on their part. They just don’t care. I have never understood this, and I plan to make a big deal out of every holiday known to man when I have own family. Here is a contrast, from the beginning to the end of the calendar.

New Year’s Day–I have to find the biggest party in the biggest city with millions of people, be it Vegas, New Orleans, or Los Angeles. I somehow stagger out of bed to watch all the bowl games. My parents get up early, partly because they fell asleep the night before at 11pm and missed the ball drop, partly because they do not want to be slothful like me. They would not know a football from a meatball. My dad remarks that the Rose Bowl is as interesting to him as the toilet bowl.

(2009 update…That reminds me, I need to clean my bathroom before the Sacramento Queen visits again. I miss being a kid. My mom handled that.)

President’s Day–I am grateful for the day off. My parents are reminiscent of when Washington and Lincoln were worth separate days. Given that my parents are retired, I am at a loss as to why this concerns them.

(2009 update…they still say I am at a loss to understand most things.)

Purim–I spend days perfecting my costumes and going to every party on the planet. My parents wonder when I am going to grow up.

(2009 update…my readers still need to remind me to one day tell the story of going pantsless.)

Passover–I go to Seders because I enjoy them. My dad goes to one sometimes to keep my mom happy. We never had one in my home because the grandparents handled that.

(2008 update…Passover with the Sacramento Queen was awesome…all holidays should involve lingerie…next year she insists it would be less weird if she was the one wearing it.)

Mother’s Day–I am exhausted from Cinco De Mayo or whatever other party was that week. I plan to stagger out of bed today at 1pm, and wished my mom a Happy Mother’s Day. I am still in a state of food coma from last night’s dinner of burgers and tacos. Yeah, I overdid it. I didn’t get mom flowers or a card because she finds that stuff useless and cluttering. She read a book and typed stuff on the computer, which coincidentally she did yesterday, and will do tomorrow. If I want to be a good son, she wants me to just live a good life. I hope the boo she is reading is mine.

(2009 update…My mom is mortified at the above tasteless lingerie joke from Passover. I hope the Sacramento Queen’s mom is not reading this. I hope the Sacramento Queen is.)

Father’s Day–Like my dad needs a necktie. He is retired. The phone call is not to interrupt his tv show. If I want to be a good son, spare the useless gifts and succeed at my job, have a decent haircut, shave, meet a nice girl , put money away for retirement, and stop flying so much. Every time a plane crashes, he worries. I wish him Happy Father’s Day anyway, and he repeats his litany of what he wants.

(2009 update…I met a nice girl…he will judge for himself. Either way, I am still saving money sparing him gifts.)

Independence Day–This one is a major deal for me. I break out the Toby Keith, the Mellencamp, and the Springsteen. I need a barbecue with lots of friends. My parents see a kid blowing his hand off with a roman candle on tv and pray I am smart enough not to do so. The fireworks used to disrupt the dogs, they remind me. We no longer have dogs, but my parents wish people could celebrate quietly.

(2009 update…American Joey Chestnut won the Hot Dog Eating Contest at Nathans in Coney Island for the second straight year. Japan surrendered again, although overtime was required.)

August–No holidays. I plan everything through the end of the year. My parents sit, watch tv, and relax…the same as the other 11 months.

(2009 update…I hate August. I have not had a day off since July. These 5 day work weeks are killing me.)

Labor Day–I am excited because the following week, football season starts. My dad worries that my intelligence level will drop because football season starts. He thinks we should have a holiday called “Shut the hell up and go to work day,” rather than give my lazy generation a day off. Nothing we do resembles labor, since we sit at desks and do not build buildings with our bare hands.

(2009 update…I am ignoring all of you because football is on.)

Halloween–This is the big one. I again pick out tons of costumes, spend months preparing, and go to every party, dragging things out a whole week. My parents wonder when I will grow up, the same as the other 364 days a year. I did stop trick or treating when I was 22, but costume parties…come on, that is for adults as well. Women dress up slutty. As I said, my favorite holiday.

(2009 update…The Sacrammento Queen will lord willing dress sluttier than anyone else I have ever met. In return, her list of demands may remain endless. I hope her mother and my mother do not see this. I hope she does.)

Thanksgiving–We never celebrated this in my house. I would eat a Swanson dinner. To this day, if no one is around, I eat my Swanson Dinner, watch the Lions and the Cowboys, and relax. My parents do not like football, but they do sit and read books or watch tv.

(2009 update…The Oakland Raiders play the Dallas Cowboys. It would be nice if the Raiders win, although no matter what, the real game is the Detroit Lions, the first 0-16 team ever.)

Hanukkah–8 days of partying, which I do from coast to coast. I have been in 4 different cities the last 2 years over the 8 days. My mom does light the candles, and I do visit my parents around this time of year. My dad remarks that I should find a nice girl, and then when I tell them I am going to Hanukkah parties, my dad asks which bimbo I am chasing this time. I tell them they are nice girls, and he responds that they are all nice girls, and I have no taste.

(2009…The Sacramento Queen needs to show up at my door wearing a Hanukkah bow…and only a Hanukkah bow.)

New Year’s Eve–I call my parents at 10pm to see if they are still awake. They wish me a Happy New Year, tell me they love me, and ask me if I have plans to start the new year properly. I tell them I plan to sleep in and then watch football, and then both they and I lose interest in the conversation.

(2009 update…this might be in lieu of my snappy remark for 2010.)

I genuinely love my parents dearly. They are good people. For whatever reason, they simply do not get worked up over holidays. They never have.

It makes for a less stressful relationship. Some people have a month of stress trying to find dad the perfect necktie. I just have to roll out of bed, and make a perfunctory phone call that he could care less about receiving.

I sometimes think that they do not celebrate holidays because every day of having me as their son is a holiday. They reject that notion. Besides, if somebody ever created a holiday called “Tuck in your shirt, get a haircut, and shave day,” they would absolutely celebrate it with enthusiasm.

All I know is my future family had better be prepared. Everything is a big deal. I grew up watching the Cosby Show, and everybody is going to be gathered around my table.

Then again, with all the horror stories about people sitting down to dinner and fighting, perhaps I am better off knowing that my parents don’t need balloons, parades or fancy meals to know that I love them or vice versa.

I do call to wish them happy birthday, but they just sit and watch tv and relax. I naturally throw a big party and invite the world.

I love you mom. Happy useless symbolic holiday. I love you too dad. Happy useless symbolic holiday in advance, in case I forget to call. It is Sunday. As always, I will give you the best gift that you always wanted, the one you never had when I was growing up…peace and quiet. I will call in the afternoon so as not to wake you up. Ok, who am I kidding, you will be up 5 or 6 hours before me anyway. I will call you in the afternoon so I can sleep in and get peace and quiet.

I would ask you when “son” day is, but then you would remark about how every day for 18 years was son day, and that you have the grocery bills to prove it.

I could send you a cd of Madonna singing “Holiday,” but you would use it as a coaster. Then you would tell me that you used to listen to “The Coasters,” who sing “Yakkety Yak, don’t talk back,” which is actually something that would make your day ideal if I ever decide to follow that advice.

I love you both. May you be around for many useless symbolic holidays for a long time to come. In my home, they will be a big deal, but don’t worry. You do not have to come or bring presents. 3000 miles is alot to travel for a useless symbolic gesture. A phone call will suffice. Actually, scratch that. Send lots of presents. In fact, any gift you have that you hate, just send it to me. Anything from precious metals to McDonalds gift certificates would be cherished.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

(2009 update…I am still asleep…I will call mom later today. That is good enough for her, and therefore good enough for me.)

eric