More Clothes Need To Come Off

Let's all just take a moment to sit down and face the facts:

1) It's winter.

2) And we are all wearing WAY too many clothes.

It's that time of year where everyone is breaking up, people are getting tired of being stuck inside and looking at the thermometer that reads "24 degrees fahrenheit" knowing that between now and March in can only get - you guessed it - colder, and for those who live below the Mason-Dixon line, Christmas will be tepid at worst.

"Damn," you may say. And rightly so. I'm sure we can all think of things that we would rather endure than the seemingly never-ending pangs of wintery Chicagoland, including, but not limited to, the eternal torments of the fiery lake itself (God save us all). Of course, it seems needless to say that it's not just the cold that's getting us down. We're all watching those yuletide movies that get us so "pumped" for the holiday festivities of the year. Let's take a moment and examine some of these films.

A Charlie Brown Christmas - a great holiday flick...if you like the message of Christmas mixed with one part existential introspection and two parts suicidal appeal.

Love Actually - a fantastic movie to watch when you want to be reminded that you have no one to snuggle up next to while you watch a man fall for his best friend's wife and subsequently observe Alan Rickman's marriage fall apart. A real spirit lifter.

A Christmas Story - the moral of which is this: if you get what you want for Christmas, you may, no, WILL shoot your eye out. There's scientific proof.

A Muppet Christmas Carol - terrific. Everything works out. Of course, there's only two human characters in the whole thing, one of whom is a miser who lost his opportunity for true love after putting all his hopes into the races, the other of whom is a needlessly annoying alto with aspirations of sounding like Norah Jones but only sounds like a post-tracheotomy Marlboro man singing about how close he and Ebenezer came to being close. No thank you.

And the list goes on and on. My solution to this heart-wrenching time is not that we spend more time thinking about "The Reason for the Season," but that we all get off our asses and take off our clothes. Think about it. Who would be angry in a world full of naked folks? I know I wouldn't be. Hell, I would lead the way if I believed people would follow me - if I were alone, surely I would be committed for claiming to be Santa Claus and offering to show off my "Bag of Goodies." But seriously, we would all have a better time if drank less egg nog and just took off more clothes. This is why I, a humble devotee of this new holiday tradition, implore you to join me in my quest for naturalism. If we all take a moment and even think about the spiritual implications, it would be great. Let's be honest, I doubt Jesus was born WEARING swaddling clothes, certainly that was an after thought. If we all freed ourselves from the tyranny of materialism, and even material in general, we would all have a much more splendid time where caroling would probably lessen and snowball fights would come to have more long-term, damaging effects. So, dear friends, join me, and hear me when I say, more clothes need to come off.

For the love of God.

Please.

Yup. We're still here. [Bitches.]

Z: And our first question is: where's our money, man? You've ALL been ducking us for, oh, at least 4 months now, and We. Are. Tired. Of. This shit.

Seriously tired. Isn't that right, Christian?

C: So fucking tired.

Z: Seriously watch your language bro. The F-word? On our first blog entry together in months? Kinda crude man.

C: I'm sorry. It's just...you know...::starts sniffling::...it's been hard lately...that's what she said...::sniffle::

Z: Are you quietly weeping, cursing, and mumbling "that's what she said" simultaneously?

C: That's not exactly a conversation I feel prepared to have right now, Zachary. Please, let's move on. ::sniffle::

Z: Wow. You're right, brother. That's my bad on that one. Sometimes I get carried away with these "live" feeling blogs, you know dude? Wow wow. It's like, once you actually take a second and READ the words you're saying to another human being...Jeez. I really value you. I really do. Sometimes it becomes all about the readership and it's like, this friendship, this wonderful leaping of electrons between two human souls, the real shit,you know, the shit we do this for, the shit we breathe, that shit gets left behind man, and its just me talking to some puppet-Christian, when all I really want is the real man, the flesh-and-blood man I've come to love and know every inch of. Every inch.

C: Uh-huh. Oooh, where'd you get that whiskey? Is that...is that Jameson Irish? Oh, and that really tugged at my heart strings, seriously it did. Whiskey and Scrubs? That Zach Braff...he's a silly bitch.

Z: A)I drink more Scrubs than you watch in a day. B) Wow do I have a STORY about silly bitches! Ok. So this past Wednesday night me and a few guys-

C: --Wasn't I hanging out with you guys on Wednesday?

Z: are getting pretty toasted down at Curly's--

C: Yeah, no, I was definitely with you guys at Curlys.

Z: and this DUDE is just completelyyyyyyyyyyy WASTED! gone gone gone dude. so gone. and we're all raggin' on his ass 'cause he can't find his shoes 'cause we unlaced 'em and hid 'em in the car and

C: Dude. I was the DD. And you guys only took one shoe. I still haven't gotten it back.

Z: and get this get this, we start paddling him with one of the shoes

C: I still can't sit.

Z: and by the end of it, we're pouring whiskey down his shirt front, two guys holding him down, while "Pour Some Sugar on Me" is playing. Get it, we're basically interpreting the song's lyrics.

C: A cop gave me a DUI because I reeked of booze. My record is permanently tainted.

Z: Yeah. Yeah. Wish you were there bro.

C: I was. I'm the main character in this story. I drove all of you home. I called your parents. You humiliated me and hung me out to dry. And all you guys did was buy me a stupid shirt that said, "My friends stole my shoes, spanked me with one of them, then poured whiskey on me whilst an ironic song played-- ON SPRING BREAK!" My left foot is so cold.

Z: Uhuh. Wish you could have been there dude.

C: *sigh* Me too.

Z: Here's your shoe.

C: Terrific. Now I can finally stop wearing this Piggly-Wiggly bag to work every day. Not nearly as slip-resistant as you'd hope.

Z: Do you ever say anything interesting?

C: Ouch.

Z: I mean, seriously. In the time that you've been at my house, all you did was talk about how you took advantage of some guy at a bar. That's sick, bro.

C: I'm having a little bit of a Salvador Dali moment right now...

Z: I like his early shit.

C: Yeah, it's the best. It was really all downhill from the melty clock peice.

Z: Word. Whiskey?

C: No thanks. It makes me surly.

Z: Good. 'Cause I don't like it when you drink, dude. This was a test. I mean, remember last time you drank all the whiskey in the house? Hodge and I had to hide in the closet until you stopped asking for more ice cream...I've never been so terrified. You just kept making this scooping motion at my head. You really wanted it. Kudos.

C: Thanks.

[Long pause.]

Z: You will never love a woman who will see you and love you fully in return.

C: Yeah? Well...you'll never...um...climb...Mount...the...Eiffel Tower...bitch.

Z: Right. Well. You know what this means, then.

C: Of course.

Z: We always said, "If one of us ever threatens the others dream to climb/mount the Eiffel tower, we would duel each other to the death.

C: Aren't all duels to the death?

Z: Not in olden times. Their pistols often caused severe entry wounds, but small exit wounds, resulting in relatively slow deaths but quick recoveries if proper exterior medical care was provided, tertiary concerns really-- quite the opposite of today's firearms!

C: Fascinating!

Z: Yes--agreed. I'll meet you at midnight. Ak-47's?

C: No OddJob.

Z: Of course.

C: And I'll bring the S'mores stuff.

Z: Of course.

C: Your mom got Hot Pockets in the freezer?

Z: Think so.

C: Pepperoni Pizza?

Z: Those are the best.

C: I know!

Z: Man, now I really want one...How long do those take?

C: I think only a couple minutes if cooked on high.

Z: Thank God. I don't think I could wait much more than two minutes.

C: Yeah.

Z: Yeah...

C: Yep.

Z: Mhmm...

[Long pause.]

C: But seriously, Hot Pockets are just delicious.

Z: Agreed.

The Interview

Dearest readers,
It has been far too long since I have graced you with a post on this illustrious site, and for that I apologize. However, I have been exceedingly busy with such things as heartache, book writing, poetry creation, theater innovation, and dragon hunting/slaying/swimming lessons. However, I was recently interviewed by the ever laudable establishment of StartFrowning. They published the interview in their latest issue, so without further ado, enjoy this article. Next time, I swear I will have written something myself.

StartFrowning: So, Mr...

Christian: Whoa, Mr. Gonzalez is my father. Let's drop that, first of all. You can just refer to me as your Lord and Master.

SF: Ahh...

CG: Ha! Kidding.

SF: Right.

CG: Any way, so, I'll bet you're wondering why I called you and asked you here today.

SF: Actually, Christian...we called you. In fact, we've been calling you for since last April. It took you eight months to finally get back to us.

CG: I doubt that.

SF: You must be joking.

CG: Well.

SF: Never mind. Let's just get started, shall we?

CG: With what?

SF: The interview...

CG: Right.

SF: So. As I was saying, Christian, we have noticed that your name keeps appearing in different places, we were...

CG: What, like the sky?

SF: Uh...no.

CG: On the sides of buildings?

SF: It's a figure of speech.

CG: Oh.

SF: Yeah.

CG: I knew that.

SF: I'm sure. As I was...

CG: You don't think I knew that?

SF: (sigh) I believe that you knew that.

CG: Good. Because I did.

SF: Let's get on with it, shall we?

CG: I'm waiting for you, dude. My time is yours.

SF: Excellent. So, Christian, we were looking at last month's issue of "Uncanny Greatness" and could not help but notice that you had written an article for them entitled, and I quote, "The Art of Being Great." You then go on to enumerate the ways in which you yourself are terrific, however, you never actually got around to any bit of practical advice on how to attain such awesomeness...

CG: I had hoped you would ask that question.

SF: Um. I haven't asked a question yet.

CG: Yes, you did.

SF: No, I didn't.

CG: Yeah...

SF: Please. Christian, I have a tape recorder right here, would you like me to replay the tape to prove to you that I have not yet asked a question.

CG: No. I believe you.

SF: Good. So, now, here's my question: How does one actually attain such awesomeness? If you yourself have listed the various ways in which your greatness is manifest, how can the common person, such as myself, rise to your level?

CG: I'm sorry.

SF: You're sorry?

CG: Yeah. For before.

SF: What?

CG: I wasn't really listening and I was going to make up a response.

SF: I know. But, Christian, we're a little beyond that now.

CG: No, we aren't. We need to face it now...Give me your hands.

SF: What?!

CG: Just give them here.

SF: Please, don't touch me.

CG: Just for a little.

SF: No, stop it.

CG: Come on.

SF: Stop. Just stop it. Stop.

CG: Just for-

SF: Enough.

CG: Jus-

SF: No.

CG: ---fine.

SF: Thank you.

CG: Yeah...

SF: So, anyways. How do we attain such awesomeness?

CG: (silent)

SF: Christian?

CG: (silent)

SF: Please, Christian. Stop pouting.

CG: No.

SF: *sigh* Fine.

CG: I hate you.

SF: Good grief. This interview is over.

CG: No, I'm sorry!!!

SF: Christian...

CG: I'M SORRY!!!!!

SF: Get off the floor.

CG: I'M SO, SO SORRY!!!

SF: Stop hitting the ground. Get up. Stop it.

CG: AHHH!!

SF: Okay...I'm leaving.


Yep, so there you have it. Me in all my glory. I was pretty excited to see it in the magazine. Hope it was as enjoyable for you as it was ego-boosting for me!

PEACE!