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Monthly Archives: December 2011

Figgy Pudding Threats

Figgy Pudding Threats

Music is a powerful entity, a force to be reckoned with, a vehicle for my mind to wander off unsupervised like a three-year old in a grocery store wildly swinging a wiffle ball bat.  It just so happens that music inspires me in a way that nothing else does.  I love lyrics.  And when I’m driving in my car with the radio on, I tend to come upon some that unleash the three-year old.

Today It was “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.”  This song has always sent me off on a mind-wandering journey because I simply cannot fathom the passive-aggressive message it sends.  Let’s take a look-see, shall we?

First of all, I have heard the song start out two ways:  One, with “I wish you a Merry Christmas,” and the other with “WE wish you a Merry Christmas.”  The weird part is both versions end up going into the plural form.  So what I can deduce from that is that whoever was caroling this song, started out as a soloist and somewhere down the line ended up recruiting more members for his choir.  Why would that be necessary?

Stay with me. I have a theory….

The next part is the part about bringing “good tidings we bring to you and your kin.”  So now at this point we definitely have a group wishing us and our dysfunctional families good things.  They are sending out their best wishes to us and relatives.  How sweet.

Or is it?

“Oh bring us some figgy pudding.”  I have always giggled when I hear this part because the first time I heard this line, I DID NOT hear “figgy.”  I heard a cuss word.  Of course, instantly I realized that I heard it wrong but it still makes me chuckle a bit. And the more important question, what the heck is figgy pudding?  I’ve never gone to a party, pointed at something and said, “What is that?” and had the answer come back, “Oh, that Miss Marge’s Famous Figgy Pudding!”  In fact, I’ve never been anywhere that figgy pudding was served.

As disgusting as it sounds to me, figgy pudding DOES exist. It is apparently a white Christmas pudding that has figs in it. Ew.  Why is this choir asking for figgy pudding?  What is so special about figgy pudding that it is the one item they request? And as we will learn in the next verse, that they request in a demanding way.

“We won’t go until we get some.”  Excuse me?  First of all, a soloist shows up at my front door and starts singing, which then somehow signals all of the other figgy pudding fiends in the neighborhood to join in (I see now, why he has employed his friends in this shenanigan: strength in numbers.) and they start off wishing me good things and then basically tell me that they are not leaving until they get what they want?

What we have here is a classic ransom situation.  The figgy pudding fiends are threatening, in a passive aggressive song-singing way, that until I give them their drug of choice, they are going to stand in my yard and continue to serenade me.  The weird part is that they are so jolly as they threaten to stay forever.  They stand there smiling and singing, bobbing their heads this way and that, all the while demanding food that I have never, and will never have in my possession.

WE WON’T GO UNTIL WE GET SOME! WE WON’T GO UNTIL WE GET SOME! WE WON’T GO UNTIL WE GET SOME! SO BRING SOME OUT HERE!

That does it.  I’m calling the cops.  No one threatens me over figgy pudding.

Apparently the cops cannot really do anything about this until actual harm has been done. It’s time to take justice into my own hands.

So I’m ready this year.  I have prepared my own lines to sing back at them when they come figgy pudding hunting.

I want you to leave my yard

I want you to leave my yard

I want you to leave my yard

So go away right now.

I don’t have any figgy pudding.

I don’t have any figgy pudding.

I don’t have the stupid pudding,

So off! Shoo, you go!

I’m giving you twenty seconds,

I’m giving you twenty seconds,

I’m giving you twenty seconds,

Before I punch you.

You can’t say I didn’t warn you,

You can’t say i didn’t warn you,

You can’t say I didn’t warn you

So now it’s too late.

I’m gonna show up at your house,

I’m gonna show up at your house,

I’m gonna show up at your house,

And this is what I’ll sing:

WE wish you a Merry Christmas

WE wish you a Merry Christmas

WE wish you a Merry Christmas

(Just one more verse left.)

You threatened me for figgy pudding,

You threatened me for figgy pudding,

You threatened me for figgy pudding,

I brought some today.

Now shove it in your figgy pudding hole

Now shove it in your figgy pudding hole

Now shove it in your figgy pudding hole

Stay away from me next year.

And with that I will throw steaming figgy pudding at their house and saunter off, knowing that they will not be begging for figgy pudding at my house next year.  As my gift to you, I am allowing you to sing these verses back at your carolers.

For stronger effect, please feel free to substitute “figgy” with something else…I’ve already given you an option.

 

 

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Meet-ups

Meet-ups

Have you ever had one of those moments where you’re not even sure what happened until after it’s over?  I have those all of the time.  But quite often, I also experience those agonizing situations wherein I KNOW exactly what is happening and there’s nothing I can do to get out of the situation short of just falling down on the spot. (I have been known to just fall down in the middle of wearisome or boring conversations just to change the subject to “why did Jenn just fall down?” Try it. It really has a way of breaking the monotony and most of the time, none of the parties involved remember the topic of discussion that was being discussed so you are saved from having to hear more about what made you fall down in the first place. Win Win.) I can’t decide which is worse: being cognizant enough to know how horribly awkward a situation is when you’re in the middle of it and praying that the minutes will go by faster, or being oblivious to what is going on as it is going on and then walking away realizing that you may have just unwittingly committed a felony and blew any political aspirations you may have ever had.

The other night I experienced the not knowing.  My friend Kev is part of a singles group that was formed on Meetups.com (If you’re not aware of this site, it’s basically a place where people form groups based on shared interests.  You can search the site and find things like the “I hate Oprah” group, the “Celine Dion Rocks!” club and the soon-coming meetup I am starting, the “I offended a stripper” group. Kev invited me to go to see a Christmas program/musicale (no, this is not a misspelling. They called their program a musicalE because things are fancier with an extra “e”  What this really meant was that it was a choir singing songs that no one under the age of eighty-five had ever heard of in a program that was aimed at the elderly that attended the church to make sure that they extended their giving well into the new year. It also meant that for two and a half hours, I had the baby Jesus bored right out of me.)

We were to meet the other members of the group in the parking lot of a closed grocery store.  We were the first ones there so we parked his truck and waited.  Soon a white car pulled up.

“Is that someone from your group?” I asked Kev.

“Hmmm…Not sure. We have a lot of members. It could be.”

The car parked several spaces away from us.  We sat there for a minute, wondering if it was someone from the group.  Kev started the truck and circled around the car so that he was next to the driver’s side on the white car.  I leaned forward so that I could see in the car, smiling my friendliest (which does not come easy to me) toothiest grin.  Kev rolled down the window and as he did, so did the sixty-something woman who was alone in the car.  She smiled at us shyly…or at least I thought it was shyly.  I realize now it may have been fear.

“Are you here for the meetup?” Kev asked her as I eagle-eyed her from the passenger seat so that all she saw was my bobbing head aside his.

“Uh….no….I’m meeting a friend of mine.”  she replied timidly.

“Oh ok.”  And with that Kev rolled up his window and we drove back to our original parking spot.

And then I realized why I mistook her “bashful” attitude.  She wasn’t shy.  She thought she had just been propositioned by two creepy young folks!  Here’s how I came to this:

My guess is that this sixty-something woman probably wasn’t aware of Meetups.com.  But she had watched enough Dateline NBC to realize that there are weirdos out in the world who try to “meetup” with random strangers to do very weird and unnatural things. To her, she had just been approached by a couple in a truck, who were waiting in an abandoned grocery store parking lot for a “meetup” with someone they would not recognize by appearance.  Some strange man had just rolled down the window and basically asked her if she was there to meet…..while a strange woman sat in the passenger seat, leaning forward with a creepy hopeful grin.

So I guess in writing this I have figured out that the knowing is worse.  Because the “knowing” forces you to cringe your way through the experience and in the “not knowing” situation, you are oblivious and are allowed to smile all toothy like Perv Griffin and then laugh at yourself later. 

Which I did.

And am still doing today.

And somewhere, there is a sixty-something grandmother telling her son-in-law that the world is full of perverts and that she was propositioned by two of them on Saturday night.

All that being said, I am formally withdrawing my bid for Presidential Candidacy.

 
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Posted by on December 7, 2011 in Jenn's Adventures

 

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