A Very Apple Christmas

How well do you know your Christmas music?

That may be a rhetorical question at this point, whether you're black, latino or Anglo-Saxon (much love, Nasir). Whether you're cognizant of it or not, you've heard "Last Christmas" by Wham! approximately 400 times since the beginning of the month. It is widely known (well, not really) that 40-something domestic radio programmers love hearing George Michael lament the loss of gay holiday love in England. Not that there's anything wrong with that -- you know, George's love of balls or the song itself.

Christmas music is unique, naturally endowed with a cyclical shelf life that allows each hit to stay fresh forever. The songs lie dormant for 11 months of the year, their happy nostalgia and familiar melodies locked away in musty radio station closets across the country. As FM radio regurgitates Nickelback ballads about photos and Three Doors Down rockers about how awesome war is, these holiday classics wait their turn. Quietly. Patiently.

Following Thanksgiving, the rollout begins. The classics slowly begin to show up across the dial, providing a much-needed respite from the Top 40 wasteland. The songs are put in constant rotation, and just when you think you're going to carve your eyes out if you hear Bono belt out "Well, tonight thank Goood it's them instead of YOUUUUUUUUU" one more time, Dec. 26 hits and as quickly as these gems arrived, they disappear. It's a perfect science, a Christmas tradition on par with egg nog, presents and mistletoe.

Since I'm in the Christmas spirit, I will now bestow upon my 10s of readers my list of must-have contemporary Christmas songs. If you make a holiday compilation and you're missing any of these classics, start again. Jesus hates people who make shoddy holiday mix compilations. It's true...check out the New Testament.

"Baby, Please Come Home" - U2: If you're looking for an impartial viewpoint on all things Bono, you've come to the wrong place (I think "Pop" is one of the great albums of the '90s after all). That said, it's hard to deny this '80s classic, recorded during a soundcheck in the midst of the band's triumphant "Joshua Tree" tour. "Baby" is two minutes and 22 seconds of holiday bliss direct from Dublin's finest.

"Happy X-Mas (War is Over)" - John Lennon: It's our first Beatles sighting, a timeless song featuring Lennon's classic vocal and a whole bunch of political and social undertones that I kinda tune out. Oddly, I always find myself humming along to the children's choir that provides the backing vocal. (I hope that comment doesn't get me on some neighborhood watch list.)

"Santa Claus is Comin' to Town" - Bruce Springsteen: Recorded live during the Springsteen's massive "Born in the U.S.A." tour, "Claus" provides a glimpse into Springsteen's legendary on-stage banter with both his band and audience ("Everyone out there been good this year? Ooooh, that's not many, heh heh, you guys are in trouble, heh heh." Combine Springsteen's holiday cheer with a still-amusing guest vocal turn from longtime E-Streeter Clarence Clemons and you've got a winner. "Clarence, you been rehearsin' real hard to get a new saxophone?" Quintessential Boss.

"Do They Know It's Christmas?" - Band-Aid: If you turn your radio dial clockwise right now, this song is probably on. Released in November of 1984,this Bob Geldoff-penned tune immediately debuted at Number One in Great Britain, and was Number One on the American charts two weeks later. It eventually sold 50 million copies, beating sales of Scott Stapp's recent solo album by roughly 50 million. In addition to vocals from Sting, McCartney, Bono and the like, "Christmas" featured some of the most respected artists of the day, such as Bananarama, Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Human League and Spandau Ballet. Okay, some of the most popular artists of the day.

"Christmas Wrapping" - The Waitresses: I don't know much about this band but I always loved the horn section of this song and the chick singing always sounded hot to me. Of course, if I googled her right now she'd probably look like Bea Arthur, so maybe some stones are better off left unturned.

"Little Drummer Boy/Peace On Earth" - Bing Crosby & David Bowie: Bing, who recorded one of the seminal Christmas albums of the 20th Century in "White Christmas," tapped Bowie for a one-off recording to be included in his annual Christmas special in 1977. Bing kicked just a month later, but left behind this gem. To suit each singer's strengths (and insatiable egos, I presume) Bing crooned "Drummer Boy" while Bowie provided a soothing harmony with his rendering of "Peace." A must-have for any holiday collection.

"Blue Christmas" - Elvis Presley: Before Elvis died on a toilet bowl, he managed to record this catchy Hawaiian-style ode to loneliness during the holidays. I've never really understood Elvis' status as a pop culture immortal, but there's no denying this song. (Elvis fans would rip me in the comments section for that last comment if Elvis fans actually had computers...or even existed for that matter. Hmmmmmmm...)

"Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree" - Brenda Lee: I don't know much about this song other than it's great and it was prominently featured in Home Alone. If its good enough for Kit Culkin's brother, it's good enough for me.

"Wonderful Christmastime" - Paul McCartney: Our second Beatles entry, this may be the worst song ever recorded. Seriously, have you ever heard this monstrosity? Oddly, I love it anyway.

"All I Want For Christmas Is You" - Mariah Carey: I have to admit, I never thought Mariah Carey would crack any "Best Of" list of mine besides maybe a countdown of "Chicks Who Will Most Likely Get Real Fat in the 2010s," which makes "All I Want" all the more impressive an achievement. In a decade thats greatest holiday offering came by way of Adam Sandler's "Hannakuh Song," Mariah rescued the mid-90s with this bouncy ode to being horny on Christmas. Extra points for her looking so frisky in the video...who knew a snowsuit could be so fetching?

"Little Saint Nick" - The Beach Boys: I love, love, love this song, although I can't shake the image of a completely and utterly insane Brian Wilson holed up in a master suite of the Chateau Marmont, eating squid and freaking out as this song rumbles through his head like a freight train over and over and over again. Merry Christmas!

"Last Christmas" - Wham!: Sure it's a little over the top (clocking in at over six minutes), but it's catchy as hell and let's face it: A gay Christmas song was long overdue. Like Brian Wilson before him, I can picture Andrew Ridgely (aka the Other Guy in Wham!) sitting in his cluttered London flat, humming this tune and waiting for a phone call from George Michael that will never come.

You'll notice on this list a disturbing lack of holiday mainstays recorded in the past 15 years. We're definitely in a drought of sorts, although I can imagine Chris Martin slaves over his piano at least three hours a day trying to get his piece of the Christmas pie. And rightfully so. You come up with a good guitar riff or a nice melody, and you may have a hit that will probably come and go faster than you can say Chumbawumba -- and that's if you're lucky. But if you can craft a beloved song that connects with the holidays, its almost like irrelevance cryptonite...you're remembered forever. Hard to think of a better Christmas gift than that.

Happy Holidays.

Friday I'm In Love

I did something tonight that I've wanted to do for a long time.

It's a Friday night in Hoboken and I have absolutely nothing to do. I mean, seriously, nothing. Nuh-thing. None of my roommates are around, and all of my immediate friends are either at holiday parties, are out of town, or are just plain MIA. Clearly, tonight is going to be about me and only me.

This isn't necessarily a bad thing, mind you. Most people would classify my plight as a somewhat sad or pathetic situation, but I'm actually fairly cool with it. Don't confuse things, I don't want to make this a regular happening...I'm pretty sure too many of these nights made Jeffrey Dahmer eat people. But every few weeks or so, I can most certainly deal with hanging out in the apartment chillin' OG-style.

Tonight was different however. I didn't have a problem being on my own so much, but I still did want to go out. So after careful thought I made a decision that I had contemplated many times before, but never had the guts (or will power) to go through with.

I was going to go out...by myself.

Listen, I don't know if this is something that people do a lot. It probably is. I mean, I've seen random dudes at bars just chillin' on their own with a Budweiser or whatever before, so I know I'm not creating cold fusion or anything. That said, I've typically viewed said random Budweiser dudes as tragic figures in a way, so I rather not be grouped into that bracket thank-you-very-much. I'm more the guy who was perfectly content with hanging out by himself, but wanted to check out the local scene. Let the record show that not even I buy what I just typed, but we're going to roll with it anyway.

After watching MTV Hits for about two hours (Incredibly, I just discovered I had the network after nearly two years in my apartment -- channel 188 for those scoring at home), I hopped in the shower, got dressed and headed out the door at about 11. A one block jaunt brought me to 10th and Willow -- an undersized but spunky establishment best known for serving free chicken wings on Monday nights during the football season (try the barbeque, watch out for the teriyaki). I approached the front entrance where a bouncer was denying some guy in front of me for not having proper identification. When I went to take my driver's license out, he waved me in...always a bit of a bummer. I've officially decided that my leather jacket inexplicably makes me look like I'm 32 years old (I'm 25). That said, I may be ushering it into retirement shortly (either that or I'll keep it in the closet until I'm 33, at which point I'll wear it every day until it disintegrates, presumably sometime in the 2040s. My children will be perpetually embarrassed by my appearance.).

Stone sober, I walked into a bar packed with completely obliterated patrons. People were slobbering all over on the dance floor, spilling their drinks, looking generally disheveled...it was a meat locker. Is that what all bars largely-comprised of 20-somethings looks like? If so, wow. This non-drunk thing is really giving me some perspective.

I went to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. Nine dollars. Nine dollars! Do drinks really cost this much in bars? Dear God...this sober thing is a real eye-opener. So I get my drink and turn towards the...NINE DOLLARS? Did I really just pay nine dollars to buy a gin and tonic in Hoboken? If I can impart one piece of wisdom on you tonight, it's this: The next time you open your wallet or purse after a long night of revelry and incredulously declare to your buddy or girlfriend, "How the hell did I spend (insert gross national product of Belize here) last night?" Well, you bought 6-8 drinks and a round of shots. Simple as that.

So I turn around and try to be as casual as possible. Although I'm a little warm, I purposely keep on the leather jacket because the point of this exercise is not to try to look appealing in an effort to pick up women...that would put me in the Budweiser Dude bracket. Tonight I'm just a dude just chillin' with his T&T. A 32-year-old dude. This isn't so bad after all.

I glance up at the TV on the adjacent wall. The Knicks lost by double digits to the lowly Hawks tonight and they are playing highlights. I see a portly girl across the way looking at me funny, but I'm fairly certain she's a lesbian so I don't make much of it. The deejay plays one of the eight techno/house songs I like. This is a list bookended by Technotronic's 1991 hit "Shake Dat Body" and Da Rude's classic 2001 house anthem, "Sandstorm." There are six more songs of this ilk that I thoroughly enjoy, I don't know their titles, but I know they came out between 1991 and 2001.

ANYWAY, things are going okay at this point. Halfway done with my (nine dollar) drink, I decide to walk the premises. It is during this journey, awkwardly making my way through a crowd of drunken white people getting down to "My Humps," that I realize something. Being completely hammered and being completely sober and alone at a bar produce the exact same outcome for me. When I get completely trashed, I tend to separate from my friends and just kind of walk the Earth like Kung-Fu. I do a lot of observing but very little talking, save for an "Excuse me" or "Move" every four seconds or so. Strange thing. Unfortunately, the walk through the crowd serves to derail my night out, as I see several groups of friends having a great drunken ole time together and suddenly I'm overcome with the feeling that I'm Budweiser Guy. It's time to hit the eject button. I finish my drink, my nine dollar drink, and head towards the exit. The chubby lesbian smiles at me as I walk by, but this love connection must remain dormant -- my night is done.

Tomorrow will be different. I'm meeting some friends in the city for wings and beer to watch football during the day, then I'm going to MSG with a buddy to check out the tepid Knicks, and finally back to a bar in the Boke to close things out. When I see a random Budweiser Guy, I nod at him and lift my drink skyward. He will think I'm gay.

But if all that falls through, there’s always Plan B. In that case, look for the 30-something Irish-looking guy in the leather jacket and introduce yourself. First drink's on him...mixed drink requests will not be honored.

A Kong-sized disturbance

Let's do some roleplaying.

I'm a SWM, 25, blonde hair, blue eyes, athletic build, thick 11", cut, I get off on chunky peanut butter.

For all of those who navigated to my blog by googling "roleplay + chunky peanut butter," you are excused. I just Nexxt'ed you. Freak. Don't give me a virus on your way out, cyber-nerd.

This is a different kind of roleplaying. You're me. You love King Kong. The mythical beast was a part of your childhood for as far back as you can remember. You grew up watching the 1933 original religiously. The tepid 1976 remake was required weekly viewing. You watched 1962's King Kong vs. Godzilla so consistently that you wore out your VHS tape and had to buy a new one. You even enjoyed (relatively speaking) the 1986 sequel King Kong Lives, where Kong, despite being shot roughly 179 times by helicopter-mounted robotic machine guns AND falling off Tower 2 of the World Trade Center, lives (the title is pretty dead-on) and is transported to some jungle facility where he starts nailing a female version of himself. He also has a heart problem...I think. I vaguely remember Linda Hamilton being prominently involved (this was in the awkward five-year gap where James Cameron wasn't returning her phone calls).

"Hey Jimmy, yeah, it's Linda...again. I just heard Arnold wrapped up shooting on that jungle alien movie with Carl Weathers. You...you think we can get rolling on T2 now? I know you're there Jimmy, please pick up...we need to talk about this. My agent just handed me this ludicrous King Kong script and I know it's horrible but...I'm...so...hungry. Jimmy?" (dial tone)

Anyway, you're me and you love King Kong. When news come down that Peter Jackson in remaking the original, you're pumped. You're not a dork so you don't know much about the Lord of the Rings trilogy, but you do know that PJ seems to be rather qualified. The film finally premieres and you and six of your fellow Kong-loving family members buy tickets for the opening night. You haven't seen a movie on its premiere date since the Drew Barrymore romantic comedy 50 First Dates -- which was nothing more than an unfortunate coincidence. This clearly is a big deal for you. Coincidentally, you are single at the time.

You settle into your seat and the three-hour epic begins. You're enjoying the movie quite a bit. Naomi Watts is a comet, you're glad to see that Jack Black will be able to put his great-grandchildren through college, and you snicker unmercifully at Adrien Brody's nose to the point that you whisper amongst your cousins that a Kong vs. Adrien Brody's Nose battle would garner even-odds in Vegas.

Then it happens. About 20 minutes into the film, a small child to your right lets out a squeal. Uh-oh. Then another little critter in the same area pipes up. Ten minutes later the two hell-raisers are walking up and down aisle directly to your right, talking to themselves. Why? Because little kids are stupid and they talk to themselves (I did it and so did you).

Understandably, I was filled with rage. SOME MORON BROUGHT THEIR PRE-SCHOOL AGED CHILDREN TO THE THREE-HOUR FILM, KING KONG? Seriously?

I mean, you have to be a mental zero to do this. First of all, these two children were both six years old tops, hell they could have been twins, it was dark. You can't expect for them to sit quietly for a 180-minute movie. Secondly, while Kong isn't exactly Child's Play, Friday the 13th, or Ocean's 12, it ain't Babe: Pig in the City either. The movie had some scenes that would have scared the shit out of the five-year-old version of myself. Finally, the father, a Latino-gentleman in his 20s, seemed to be perfectly content with letting his children ruin the movie experience for the rest of the sold out theater. My own father, who would have never stood for this shit back in '85 (without a doubt, he would have threatened me with the now legendary "Moroccan Belt"), was sitting right in front of me, his jaw bone clicking -- a sure Dad sign that he's about the flip the fuck out.

Finally, after about 45 minutes of this nonsense, the audience openly revolted on the guy -- clearly one of the funniest things I've ever been a part of. First a random woman piped in with a "Find a day-care!" (a B- comment) to which the audience chuckled. The ice broken, in came a few "Get them out of here!" grunts followed by my cousin Matt blurting out "I hate kids!" The line of the night came from some dude in the back row who yelled out "Use condoms!" That incurred hearty applause. I even impulsively chipped in with a random "Jesus Christ!" -- presumably in the spirt of the holidays -- to which Latino Dad shot me a look either designed to frighten me or just because he's not down with the Lord's name being used in vain.

Defeated, the guy gave up, dragging his two adorable scants out of the theater. The audience broke into applause, although that may have been more due to the extreme closeup of Adrien Brody's nose. Man, that thing's big.

So that was it. The movie was a tad long but mostly incredible (it gets the Apple Pop Life stamp of approval) and the night was salvaged by the departure of the world's most most selfish film patron.

Bringing your kindergartner to movie theaters...the true eighth wonder of the world.