2003-11-27 @ 8:29 p.m.
you better be good for freakin' sake

My landlords, the Sopranos, who live in the house next to mine, already have a huge plastic Santa strapped to the pine tree out front. Poor Santa, he has an electrical cord coming out of his ass. Ouch. That must hurt.

I should insert here, that I am afraid of Santa Claus, and seeing that large plastic Santa strapped to a tree, creeps me out everytime I drive into the driveway.

I was just getting over my intense fear of the scarecrow that had been resting on the front porch since two weeks before Halloween. God that thing was creepy...with its ripped straw shirt and its evil button eyes. It made me think of the Jason character from the Halloween movies. One night when I came home during an electrical storm I was convinced that I saw a damn hockey mask strapped to its limp body.

But now its Big Santa. With its rouged cheeks. Its lipsticked lips. Its vacant stare. Oh my God, its Michael Jackson.

But the Sopranos are also really into lawn ornamentation, American flags and house decorations. They keep Home Depot and Michael's Craft Store in business. Every holiday I've lived here so far, has had its decorations.

Of course there are the year round occupants. The small cement leprechauns. They are everywhere. On the front porch. In the yard. Peering out from the bushes. And they all have this leering quality. I'm not sure why Italians need to have small cement Irish men with pointed shoes in their yard. I'm Irish and I'd never have one.

But I live in a largely Italian neighborhood and you would be amazed at how many Italians have cement leprechauns in their yard. Maybe they're markers for where the Irish guys are buried.

So we have Big Santa in the front yard and then you walk around the back to where I live, and guess what?

We have Little Santa in the backyard. Oh yay! I guess for MY viewing pleasure. It's right in direct line with my front door. He's plastic too. But he's not strapped to a tree. He's free standing. S&M Santa is in the front yard.

Did I mention I'm afraid of Santa?

Not really sure why. Well, maybe a little. My parents used to use Santa for behavior modification. If I did anything questionable year round, they'd say, "Oh, Oh...I just saw Santa lookin' in the window. He's watching YOU!"

Well, for most kids, this probably worked great, but for paranoid little wittykitty, I was constantly jumping up trying to see this perv looking in at me.

The one and only time I ever remember sitting on Santa's lap as a child he asked me, "Well little girl, what do you want for Christmas?"

I was terrified. Because after all, I was coming face to face with this guy who had been looking in my window for the last freakin' year. So I looked up at him and then out towards the department store which was suddenly getting all blurry, and said "EVERYTHING!!!" and then ran screaming into the thronging masses.

So if Big Santa turns up missing sometime in the next 29 brain numbing days til Christmas, I'll know that my one and only wish for the holidays has been granted.

And until then I will be drawing my mini-blinds. You know how weird those old bearded guys are.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty