BURT'S FAVORITE CHRISTMAS MEMORY

When you’re six years old, you look forward to Christmas – unless of course you’re me. Every kid loves this time of year. And as a child, we all know the drill. Santa Claus knows if you’ve been bad or good. And all the good boys and girls get presents. If you’re to believe the rumors, the bad kids get… not so much.

Well that year, I had been bad. For those who knew me as a child, you might recall that I was a “highly spirited” little kid. And by that I mean I got into quite a bit of trouble. My childhood reign of terror started that year. I was a pretty well-behaved kid in kindergarten. But during the summer after, a new kid named Carl moved into the neighborhood. Carl became my best friend. Carl was also smart, cocky, and unafraid to talk back to adults. He thumbed his nose at authority. I loved him! He was quite an influence on me. That September, at age six, Carl and I trashed a neighbor’s car. My rebellious nature was born.

So as Christmas approached, I was scared. The car incident was the pinnacle of my bad behavior that year. And even though Carl and I had gotten away with it, I knew that Santa was always watching. And he no doubt saw all the other bad things I’d done as well. I was doomed. I was getting nothing that year – save for maybe coal. It was an awful feeling.

Well on Christmas Eve I went to bed fearing the worst. I probably fretted myself into a state of insomnia. But eventually I fell asleep. Then about 3:00 in the morning I suddenly woke up. The house was completely silent. So I quietly slipped out of bed and tiptoed down the stairs. Our downstairs hallway had a side door that opened into the living room. I carefully turned the knob and peered inside. Although it was dark, the moonlight shone through the windows casting a magical glow over some Christmas presents – and more Christmas presents – and more, and more, and more, and more. There were presents everywhere! Instantly my fear of the unknown was overtaken by a warm, happy calm. I had pulled it off!

I closed the door and silently crept back up the stairs to my bedroom. As I was walking, a giant smile came over me. And I whispered to myself, “I can do ANYTHING!” What’s the moral of this story? Well… none really. But MERRY CHRISTMAS!

FACEBOOK STOLE MY BLOG!

Forgive me oh Blogger father. For I have sinned. It has been four years, six months and 14 days since my last blog entry. What has happened since then? A bitter divorce, a hellacious post-divorce custody/placement battle, a big weight loss, an engagement, new housemates, new friends, a bald spot, and the Packers winning the Super Bowl. I don’t think that last sentence was an actual sentence. So what the hell happened? From January, 2006 through June, 2008 I was a regular blogger. I was constantly documenting my musings. And then I just stopped. Why? Probably a lack of motivation. Laziness. Meh, who knows? Who cares! But the real truth is that Facebook was probably the biggest culprit. I began to participate on the social media website in late 2008 or so. And I’m addicted. Any musings I had (and I had plenty) would inevitably wind up on my wall. Of course now they wind up on that stupid fucking thing they call a “timeline.” Who invented that idiotic system anyway? Facebook’s timeline is the equivalent of ass – old sweaty man ass. Thank you very much. But timeline be damned, I love Facebook. It’s where a grownup can act like a kid again. And for someone like me (who has never fully grown up) it’s a perfect place to have fun. I’ve described Facebook as my own personal playground. In many ways it’s a lot like school. My Facebook friends are people I grew up and went to school with. There’s drama, petty arguments and outright name-calling. It’s fabulous! It’s controlled chaos in a non-existent cyber world. Yet it’s as real as anything. I’ve made friends on Facebook – some from around the world. Remind me sometime to tell you the story of Peter Bartok. Hell, I even got laid with someone I met on Facebook. Facebook good!!! Anyway, I’ve returned. Just like Michael Jordan taking two years off to try and play baseball, I’m back. I can almost smell three more Blogger championships, commercial endorsements and Dennis Rodman’s rainbow hair.