So, so far this Christmas season, we have talked about a lot of things that have been total suck. Rudolph. My total and complete lack of Christmas cheer. Oh, and also, my asshole cats totally knocked over my Christmas tree last night. It is true! I was walking up the stairs to my apartment and heard a crunchy sproingy noise and a scattering “we are running away from something!” cat noise and when I cleared the landing, TREE ON ITS SIDE. I know, right? They totally ruined Christmas. But when I said, “You are assholes who totally just ruined Christmas” they just kept rolling around and playing with the ornaments they’d liberated and how can you even stay mad at that? YOU CANNOT. Dammit, cats.
So anyway. Listen. There are totally things I love about Christmas. Soon I will tell you about Christmas in the Amy family, which is the best thing ever. Mostly because people know I’m insane and let me play Santa. And I AM THE BEST SANTA EVER. Like, I have a SKIT. I make people LAUGH. It is AWESOME.
But tonight, because I may or may not be a little drunk (SHUT UP IT IS WINE SATURDAY. What do you mean that’s not a thing? THAT IS TOTALLY A THING) and also I ate all the edamame? Which made me the most cheerful? (SIDE NOTE! I wasn’t even aware edamame existed until about 5 years ago. I KNOW WHAT THE HELL. I went to a swanky Japanese place with my friends and they ordered edamame – for themselves – and I was all “ew what the hell I hate beans” and they were like “JUST TRY IT WEIRDO” and I did and then I proceeded to pretty much eat their whole huge stacks of edamame. But I was tricky about it, all “hey look over there, what’s that, GODZILLA I THINK” and then grab handfuls and then say “Oh, wrong, but someone totally ganked your edamame when you were looking I COULDN’T EVEN STOP HIM I THINK HE HAD A GUN.” So yeah. I love edamame. Like, shamelessly. I’m pretty sure I could eat it for all the meals.) Tonight I thought we’d talk about something that is the most happiest about Christmas. Something that makes me happy to the point of bopping. Also, cry. YES IT MAKES ME CRY TOO. I might be a little premenstrual THAT IS NOT THE POINT.
Down in Who-ville
Liked Christmas a lot…
But the Grinch,
Who lived just north of Wh0-ville,
Did NOT !
Yep. I’m going there. How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
This cartoon is my favorite cartoon of all the cartoons in the history of cartoons. Yes, yes. I love Pixar. And some Disney. And I’m not a heathen, I get that there are other good cartoons in the world. But given a choice, I would take this cartoon over any cartoon, any time, any day, ever ever ever.
I watch this special at least twice every Christmas season. And I read the book at least once. It is how I do Christmas. I LOVE IT SO HARD.
First, it sticks to the book. Like, it’s the book. It’s totally the book! Read the book, and you are reading the words that are being said in the cartoon. The cartoon just animates the book, and adds a teeny bit more. And not STUPID things. Not EXTRANEOUS things. AWESOME things. Like the songs, and the whole part where they list the awesome names of all the Who toys, like “jung tinglers” (which sound like a weird and fun vibrator brand) and “Zu Zitter Carzay.”
OK, I’m getting ahead of myself. LET’S TALK ABOUT THIS THING.
The Grinch is the worst. THE WORST. He’s all bitter, and he hates the Whos for their happiness, and how loud they are, and their joy, so he orchestrates a plan where he turns his dog into a beast of burden, dresses up like a beloved holiday icon, cat burgles all their Christmas cheer, and then plans on throwing it off a mountain. Also he lies to a child.
I LOVE THE GRINCH SO MUCH IT HURTS MY HEART.
Mostly because – total shocker coming, are you ready for this? – I AM TOTALLY THE GRINCH.
OK, no, no, I wouldn’t cat burgle, mostly because I would get stuck in the chimney. I’m not very coordinated. Also, I think there might be a fire burning. And didn’t you see Gremlins? That’s how daddies die! In chimneys! So disgusting! And I would never turn a dog into a beast of burden, because I think Max is a beagle and beagles are tied for my first favorite breed of dog in the land. (Who remembers the first? I’d give a prize to the winner of this contest but I don’t have any prizes. I’ll let you win the internet for the day if you remember. THERE’S a prize for you. An intangible prize! But you can brag about it, if you want.) Everyone knows the only dogs that can be beasts of burden are huskies or malamutes. Or maybe Great Danes. Those things are HUGE, you guys.
But I hate all the noise, all the noise noise noise NOISE. Also, if you look through the book (which I might be doing right now because I own it…ahem) there are random capitalizations. YAY DR. SEUSS. Dr. Seuss was the MAN. Also, I would totally live in a cave with only my dog just north of those effing annoying cheerful-ass Whos.
I also grew up with a whole family of Grinches. NO, they loved Christmas. They were just gruff. See, I love a gruff fella. LOVE. Because that’s what I grew up with! I don’t know what to do with a guy who’s all “let’s talk about our FEELINGS” and whatever because I have no precedent with that. It makes me nervous. I like men that can get shit DONE and I like men that are GRIM a lot and I like men that are SORT OF BITTER. Because once you win them over, and believe me, it is a LOT of work, but I love a challenge love love love, THEY ARE YOURS. Also, it is really hard to make a Grinch laugh. But when you do, it’s like you won a million bucks. It’s where I learned my funny. So I recognize pretty much half of my genetic pool in the Grinch.
I like the glee the Grinch takes in being evil. I like that he’s got this whole little plan. I like that he has a dog, so you know he’s not all bad, because if he was ALL bad, he wouldn’t HAVE a pet. I like his Santy Claus hat and his coat, made out of curtains. I like his whole way of stealing the toys, which is so full of panache. I LOVE THE GRINCH.
OK, Max is just the best. He’s the loyal pet of this weird Grinch, and he’s kind of scared of him, but also he totally keeps a happy face and tries SO HARD just to get along, even when the Grinch is tying a huge horn on top of his head with twine that he has to cut antlers off in order for him not to tip over so he really just has a big bone on his head.
My father refuses to watch The Grinch with me. Or at all, actually. He will sprain things in his upper body making this leave the television if it comes on. HE HATES IT SO MUCH. Why? Two reasons. One, he is scared of the Grinch (in his words, “That scary green bastard,”) and two, he doesn’t like how the Grinch treats Max. (Again, in his words, “That’s the show where that scary green bastard abuses that dog by making him wear a bone on his head and pull a sleigh full of garbage up a mountain. WHY DO YOU WATCH THAT EVERY CHRISTMAS.”) (SIDE NOTE: I think it’s pretty clear where I get my mouth, sense of humor, and inappropriate way of referring to things from. THANK YOU DADDY I LOVE YOU.)
THE MEASURING THING
I love this part so much it’s kind of irrational. So you know how at the beginning, it’s all “here’s the Grinch’s HEART, it is MINISCULE” and then he had this fantastic revelation that Christmas isn’t what you buy at the store and then he has to save the sleigh and THIS HAPPENS?
And what happened then…?
Well…in Who-ville they say
The Grinch’s small heart
Grew three sizes that day!
Don’t you even tell me you don’t cry a little at that. DON’T EVEN TRY IT. That part is AWESOME. His whole HEART grew three sizes. His whole HEART, you guys. AND HE SAVED CHRISTMAS.
So, about two and a half years ago, one of the best things that ever happened to me ever happened. Only, I was petrified of it, at the time. Here’s the thing. See, I’m scared of change. I’m totally that old person living in the decrepit house at the end of the lane and I scare kids off my lawn with a stick and I give out pennies for Halloween AND I WANT IT TO STAY THAT WAY FOREVER.
So when I found out that my baby brother and his girlfriend were about to make me an aunt, I was very no no no. THIS WAS A SCARY HUGE CHANGE.
I mean, I wasn’t a crazy person about it, or anything. But I was petrified. What if he hated me? What if I was the worst at being an aunt? What if when he was born, my horrible heart made of coal didn’t react at all and I was all, “meh, I hate babies he smells weird?” What if this changed everything? I mean, I wasn’t sure HOW it would, but it might. CHANGE = scary.
But then, well, look.
Yes, I know. I look like a lunatic in this picture. That is not the point. I HAD JUST DRIVEN FOUR HOURS IN THE MIDDLE OF SUMMER IN A CAR WITH NO AIR CONDITIONING GIVE ME A SWEATY GROSS BREAK. This is an actual picture of the actual minute I met the person I love more than just about anything in the world and where a real-life Grinch’s heart grew three sizes that day and broke the measuring meter with a little “ding” sound. Also, look at his little face of cranky. Genetics, people. GENETICS.
(Psst, after this photo was taken, I may have cried a little. I’m not confirming or denying that rumor. Grinch-hearts growing three sizes is PAINFUL. That’s the excuse I’m going with, anyway.)
THE ROAST BEAST
I totally want some roast beast. Also, I love how HE, the Grinch HIMSELF, carved the roast beast. That also makes me a little weepy. Because now the Grinch is the guest of honor. And Max gets a little plate of food too! Aw. Sniff.
Now you notice, there is one thing I did NOT mention I love about the Grinch. That is the horrible Jim Carrey movie that happened a while back. Why did I not mention this? Because I’m pretending it didn’t happen. It makes me SO MAD. Even NOW. Even ALL THESE YEARS LATER.
There is one Grinch book – the original, written and illustrated by Dr. Seuss (Theodore Seuss Geisel, if you’re fancy) in 1957. And there is one Grinch special, aired originally in 1966, narrated by Boris Karloff. THAT IS IT. There does not need to be anything else; this is it. STOP MESSING WITH MY CHILDHOOD. Also, Jim Carrey, listen, what the fuck. Sorry. SORRY TO CUSS IN A CHRISTMAS POST. But I’ve seen you do dramatic, babe. AND YOU’RE GOOD. So why do you insist on doing garbage? I feel the same way about you as I do about Adam Sandler. You both can do serious, so why are you shitting all over movie theaters near me all the time? It’s disgusting. Please stop it.
I’m going to go drink more wine and go back to the top of Mount Crumpit now. Thank you, Grinch, with your Grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow. I’d give you a hug if I didn’t think you’d smell like old carpeting and mildew. You’re the coolest.