Witz Pickz: Christmas Eve Edition

I would have posted earlier, but, ironically, celebrating Channukah lasted longer than I thought it would. It's Christmas Eve and I have a few thoughts and ideas that, in the spirit of the holiday, I thought I should share. As a teenage girl was saying to her friend while I was out shopping yesterday, "Christmas is awesome. It's like, people are so different and have so many problems and wars and stuff, but once a year, everyone in the world comes together to celebrate Christmas."

Three Wise Men:
The more I think about it, the more I believe that the three wise men had a "no more than ten dollars" agreement for Jesus's birthday and one of them decided to be a big douchebag.

EXT. Christ Residence -- Night
Three wise men stand outside the front door.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK

Wise Man 1: Before they answer the door, what'd you guys get the kid?
Wise Man 2: I went with the frankincense...
Wise Man 1: You did! Nice call-- I think it's a good choice.
Wise Man 2: Totally, how about you?
Wise Man 1: Well, I couldn't think of anything, so I just picked up some myrrh on the way to meet you guys.
Wise Man 2: Who doesn't like myrrh?
Wise Man 1: That's what I figure. What'd you get, man?
Wise Man 3: Who me?
Wise Man 1: Yeah, dude, what'd you get the baby?
Wise Man 3: Oh, uh, gold.
Wise Man 1: (beat) Gold.
Wise Man 3: (coughs) Yeah, yup. Gold.
Wise Man 2: You motherfucker.
Wise Man 3: Now wait a minute--
Wise Man 1: We all agreed ten coins of Augustus each on the gifts!
Wise Man 3: I wanted to get him gold!
Wise Man 2: Well, yeah, man, we all WANTED to get him gold, that's why we went with the limit!
Wise Man 3: Look, he's just a baby, he won't even know the difference! The parents are probably just gonna scoop up the gifts for themselves the minute we're out the door.
Wise Man 2: Oh, yeah, right. They're not gonna be able to keep their paws off my frankincense. Goddamn it!
Wise Man 1: Yeah, I hope they don't try and pawn my MYRRH.
Wise Man 3: Whatever.
Wise Man 1: Fuck you.
Wise Man 3: Whatever.
Wise Man 1: Fuck you.



Secret Santa/Elfster/Yankee Swap:
I usually don't do Secret Santa deals because I'm either gonna buy people gifts or I'm not. I don't need to have to buy random crap for someone I don't know and force someone else to do the same. I might as well just buy myself four things I don't want, give a stranger an ugly sweater, and call it a day. Yes, it sometimes happens where you know everyone involved, but it's basically a cosmic rule that if I'm in a Secret Santa, I will inevitably get the guy who nobody likes, but who happened to be nearby when the Secret Santa discussion was initiated. This year, however, I was in the rare position of knowing and liking everyone in the group.

We used Elfster.com for our gift exchange site, which was pitched as a non-denominational Secret Santa site which seems legit right up until you realize that Elves build toys for Santa who delivers gifts on Christmas (unless Kwanzaa has an elf component that I'm missing). Elfster's cool because you can ask people questions anonymously like, "What size shirt do you wear," or my personal favorite, "If you could have anything for $25 or less, what would it be?" (I like being to the point). The weird part about Elfster is that it's a Christmas gift exchange site and yet it lists upcoming birthdays like it wants to be facebook. Do people check Elfster at other times of the year?? Of course not. And correct me if I'm wrong, but if you ask me, Elfster.com should only list one person's birthday. Jesus.

An alternative to the secret santa style gift exchange is what I've heard called a "Yankee swap" or, "Dirty Santa" or, as I like to call it, "Fuck you and your shitty gift, I want the iPod!" I like the idea of a Yankee Swap in-so-much as I enjoy the most awkward gift giving scenario imaginable. Everyone knows what the best gift in the room is, and everyone knows that the last person who gets to pick is going to take it. At least one person is going to leave angry with a snow globe. It's like Christmas morning, only your family is allowed to show their true reaction to everything you got them. "Dad, I got you another book you're not gonna read this year, what do you think?" and he's all, "I think it's a piss-poor effort, Witz. But that's cool, because your sister bought your mom the new Blackberry Storm. So I'm gonna snag that and call it a day." And then I end up with a treadmill or something horrible like that. Oh, wait...

I gave my secret santa some small gifts that added up to a "movie night" theme. Unfortunately, small, inexpensive food items and a blockbuster gift card that doesn't even pay for a full movie rental with tax, doesn't quite overwhelm someone when revealed. FORTUNATELY, I was given one super comfortable sweatshirt, which is currently being worn, and fueling this post.

Commercial Interruption:
A Glade Scented Oil Candle commercial just came on the television (because I clearly write these while being mildly distracted) and I have to tell you about it. They are candles that burn into oil that smell good and then the oil burns up and perfumes the house. Also, it essentially creates a pool of HOT OIL and the opportunity for a child, pet, or distracted adult to HORRIBLY DISFIGURE THEMSELVES.

"What was that thing they did to defend castles against invaders in medieval times?"
"Pour hot oil over the sides?"
"Yeah, that's right. Can we make that smell good?"

I can't wait for the lawsuits to come in.

FYI, I know how to spell "interruption" because when I was in third grade, I was in a town spelling bee and was doing really effing well right up until I spelled "interrupt" with only one "r." That one letter lost me potential scholarship money, but saved me from years of negative social stigma (not the middle school years though-- nothing could have saved me from that). I haven't mispelled "interrupt" wrong since.

Four Christmases:
THAT'S TOO MANY CHRISTMASES! THAT MOVIE HAS TO BE HILARIOUS!

Writer 1: We're writing a comedic holiday movie about a couple that has the celebrate an unusual number of Christmases."
Studio Head: Hm. Well how many?"
Writer 1: We were thinking three.
Studio Head: Hmm...I'm not sold.
Writer 1: How do you feel about four?
Studio Head: HAHAHAHA! FOUR CHRISTMASES?? THAT'S TOO MANY CHRISTMASES! LET'S MAKE THIS THING! Hahaha--
Writer 2: --What about FIVE Christmases!?
Studio Head: --You're fired.

Who let Vince Vaughn corner the Christmas movie market? Bring back Ernest.*

Merry Christmas, Chappy Channukah, and...Successful Kwanzaa?,
Witz

*Yeah, I know Ernest is dead (though not as a result of Ernest Goes to Hell or Ernest Scared Stupid aka Ernest Smokes Himself Retarded), but that leaves the door wiiide open for them to make a Weekend At Bernie's/Ernest Saves Christmas crossover film. I'm thinkin' Dead Ernest has to celebrate one too many Christmases...and hilarity ensues.