My biggest beef with my ma, aside from cutting my curls into a mullet at age 5, is her expelling me in the month of January. As a kindergartener at Mount Carmel parish, I wondered why so many of my mulleted Italian counterparts had birthdays in January. When I premaritally lost my virginity at 12, I realized that it was because all of the smart Catholic ladies gave up sex for lent. And when the 40 days of bliss ended for women, it gave way to 40 seconds of bliss for the men. And so I and a slew of fellow Catholics were born in the middle of the world’s most god-awful month–during the bluest 31 days of the year. The bible says that January is the month of Janus, the Roman god of gates and doorways. Halfway through this bitter month, here’s why I’ve decided to shut the door on January:
1. There are lots of jiggly people jogging in plain sight. As a recovering bulimic and binge-drinker, I have a hard time keeping down solid food. All it takes for me to yak is a really bad fart and poor ventilation. Lots of people resolve to get healthy at the new year, and they do this by chasing each other around the block in track suits. In my neighborhood, the only difference in January is, they leave their guns at home.
2. Martin Luther King day. I like the idea of MLK day, but I’d prefer Malcolm X day. Partly because I’m pro-violence, but mostly because I’m anti-bible names. And whenever mid-January comes around, I’m always like, “Do I have to work on MLK day; do I have off?” I never know. As far as holidays, MLK day is the biggest peacefully protesting tease.
3. The Super Bowl. See #1.
4. Lack of flavor. During January, America as a nation is coming down from a holiday sugar and caffeine high. The Starbuck’s drive-thru line was so long on Christmas Eve in a small Nebraska town, that a worker inside, overwhelmed with stress, erotically asphyxiated on cake pops. In response, the Barista Union (BU) declared January the month to be void of overwhelmingly delicious artificial flavors. The BU stated that since November has pumpkin, December has peppermint mocha, February has chocolate-covered strawberry, and March has shamrock, that January should have none as to avoid a total mass freakout. Starbucks Gold Club members across America have protested in favor of a new January flavor, including Post-Holiday Acid Reflux, Heartburn, and Salt and Slush.
5. Highest rate of divorce. Normally I would say that this is a good thing, but have you ever had a friend who got a divorce? Nothing will desensitize you faster to the sight of people crying in coffee shops. Half of the coffee shop charm is that 80% of the people inside are having dilemmas and/or are writing bad poetry. Women and gay men crying over 5 dollar mochas can’t be the best accompaniment to a heartburn latte when they’re occupying every table in January. What then– turn to the poetry jams for entertainment? Def not.
6. Ice-related injuries. My sweet little sober dad recently slipped in a liquor-store parking lot and fell on top of his gallon jug of wine. Instead of agreeing to pay for any medical bills, the store graciously gave my dad a new jug. And now who’s paying for that free jug? You and me. Icy January parking lots= higher liquor prices.
7. It’s 4 a.m., I must be in limbo. January is like 4 a.m.- no one is up for work yet and no one is still out partying. The first 3 days of the month don’t even count. People are resolving to be new people and claiming that they “weren’t themselves” last week when they ate a whole cheese tray and told grandma that they were a lesbian. It’s mortal limbo- nothing counts and everyone is overwhelmed with apathy after their resolutions fail.
8. Inauguration Balls. Again, see #1; change “jogging” to “shuffling,” add the elderly and garish displays.
9. My Birthday: I don’t mind aging. It won’t surprise me when the only thing between my bewbs is my belly button- I’m halfway there. But my birthday reminds me of how ungrateful I can be. And this is Evan McNutt’s fault. For my 10th birthday, he walked to my house in a snow storm to deliver me a stuffed puppy in a corduroy box. No gift will ever be able to live up to that display of 10 year-old friendship. So now I’m stuck grimacing and saying things like, “Windshield wiper fluid and zebra-stripe galoshes- just what I wanted.”
10. The Darkness. At the depths of my 16 year-old depression, I stared into the eyes of a pixel-y Brian Austin Green on my parents’ Dell computer in their basement. I planned to write the 90210 DJ and convince him that we were soul mates because of how similar our eyes were. January can get dark. Later in the year, I tend to look back on my behavior and thoughts that I had during January. And I think, wow, who was that lady shrouded in yellow wallpaper and prozac nation. How did I get so depressed?
The only part that I remember from Jack Kerouac’s On the Road (aside from thinking, “This is overrated”) is the scene in which Sal is watching a children’s baseball game. Envious of their happiness, Sal wishes he was anything but white, because it’s oftentimes paired with depression– what he thinks is a symptom of affluence and boredom. Wow, not only do I feel depressed, but now I feel guilty as hell. Similarly, in Catcher in The Rye by J.D. Salinger (born and died in January so he gets it), Holden Caulfield thinks “Goddamn money. It always ends up making you blue as hell.” Notorious B.I.G. revived a similar sentiment in 1997 with “Mo Money Mo Problems.”
Obviously, one of the few problems that mo’ money will cause is no longer having something to strive for. Even if it’s not for money, in January, we resolve to begin striving for better things and “new selves”–to be fitter, to be kinder, to become whatever we’re not. A month of deciding to change our behavior with the hope that we’ll be happier, less bored, or just different than we are now. January is about newness, specifically a new self. Like Gatsby’s green light, we badly want January to be a beacon of the hope, wealth, and just overall difference that the future may hold. Most of us can appreciate what we have; but the prospect of the unknown is just too alluring. So this January, two weeks late, I resolve to not be deceived by the allure of the unknown. Instead of turning to face the strange, I’ll open my arms to the familiar.
In the meantime, that was you last year- that was you who hoovered the gorgonzola and told grandma that your boyfriend’s name is “Linda.” And who cares? I say “Goddamn January and its concept of ‘not now, but later’–it’ll make you bluer than hell.” That poop colored crayon in the 120 box, it should be called “January.” I’m so over you.
I have nominated you for the Versatile Blogger Award because you rock!! You can find the link at : http://theembiggensproject.wordpress.com/2013/01/25/is-versatile-a-polite-way-of-saying-will-write-about-absolutely-anything/
Yaaaayyyy!! Thanks so much, friend! I too like the smell of gasoline but not nearly as much as chlorine!
Oh, I love chlorine too. I think they should make swimming pool and petrol candles.
And White-Out (Liquid Correction/Paper, whatever it’s called in Canadia) candles. Soy-based candles, of course. They’re healthier.
White-out, Liquid Paper–we use those terms up here. I’m allergic to soy ,so the term “healthier” doesn’t apply in this case. lol.
Ha- bubble girl. 🙂
Ahaha! “I have a dream to have a holiday named after me….” That made me choke on my cake pop. And I was wondering why my Black Tower and Mudshakes had gone up in price…It’s all your dad’s fault. This was an AWESOME blog. It totally made me forget my woman’s days and urge to have a sex change.
Yaaayyyy! My ultimate goal when starting this blog was to have women come here and change their minds about sex-change operations. It’s kind of like a pro-choice blog in that way. I feel very altruistic now. Thank you. Come again.
Haha, this made me laugh multiple times. Number 4 was my favorite, maybe because of the little cake pop with the sad face paired with the phrase “erotically asphyxiated.” 😀
Yaaayyy! Is this thee Andy McDonald from iamandymcdonald.com?! Finally! I’ve been trying to get you to read my bloggy for a minute. Now I feel comfortable enough to comment on your site without creepily lurking and flagellating. Thanks for reading.
Thanks, Andy, I found that pic by googling “cake pop+David Carradine.” I first tried it with Michael Hutchence but couldn’t find what I wanted.
Thanks for reading, friend.:)
It’s always January in my life.
/wrists
/foreskin
/bicycletires
Grandma, unfortunately, wasn’t surprised at my plaid shirt collection.
Happy Birthday, future Anna. 🙂
Um, I love this impromptu poem that you left here. If I may, I’d like to add:
/paycheck.
Thanks for reading, my best cyber friend 🙂
“January is like 4am” Loved that. Soo very true. Am wishing my life away already this month!
Evie, thanks for reading! I hate to admit it, but I count down the days of January too. Blah. Half way done! Happy blogging.