Bad Santa

Neal: “Honey, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine”
Susan Page: “Hello Mr. Griffith”
Del: “Hello Mrs. Page”

Those are the last lines uttered in one of my very favorite holiday movies, the 1987 classic written and directed by John Hughes, Planes, Trains and Automobiles. I’m a huge sucker for this kind of film because while some may think the ending is cheesy or cliché; I think it’s perfect. During the holidays, and really all of our days, this is what life is supposed to be like.

Annoying, frustrating, difficult.

But despite all of that, we’re supposed to be able to find a way to see the good in the people around us, even the ones who test us the most. And if we’re lucky enough to have the chance to bring those people into our lives and help lift theirs up then we’re supposed to do it. That’s what I believe the holidays are about. Forgiveness, empathy, compassion….and usually a lot of drinking because, really who can be that good and not need a way to take the edge off a little?

Planes, Trains and Automobiles gets the holidays exactly right. And leaves you wanting to snuggle the people close to you or call the ones who have strayed far. It certainly paints a much warmer picture of the way this time of year is supposed to make us feel than another old holiday classic. That’s right, I’m talking about the 1964 Television Special known and loved by all, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

We watched it for the first time this season yesterday because Mac wanted to see if Charlie would be scared of the Abominable Snow Monster and I had the same reaction I do every year…damn, that Santa is a dick.

He’s mean to Rudolph, he’s rude to Mrs. Claus and he’s just nasty to the elves. I know he redeems himself by bringing the toys and all but I’m having a hard time getting behind this guy the way Rankin and Bass portrayed him.

I get that Rudolph has to face adversity but the minute the poor reindeer is born his parents take one look at him and spout out familiar phrases like “He has a shiny nose!” or “You might even say it glows” as if the kid has three heads or something. His nose is red, is that really such a big deal? He can talk moments after being born and at the reindeer games he flies better than anyone else – the kid is some sort of prodigy, but all anyone in Christmas town can talk about is his red nose? What a bunch of shallow assholes we have living at the North Pole. The coach of the reindeer games actually says to the other young deers “all right now, we’re not going to let Rudolph play in any more of our reindeer games”. That’s a real nice example of adult maturity and acceptance. No wonder poor Rudolph has to skip town.

And let’s not forget the way his BFF, Hermie the Elf, is treated. Is it really so bad that the guy wants to be a dentist? I mean, for crying out loud, with all the candy canes and junk those elves are eating they NEED a dentist. They should be psyched someone is showing an interest in saving their little teeth. But instead they treat poor Hermie like he’s some kind of freak. Real nice place that North Pole. Remind me never to go there.

So Rudolph and Hermie set out alone to find a more tolerant place to live and where do they end up? The Island of the Misfit Toys. These poor toys just want a kid to love them and no one will. Are you telling me there isn’t a kid out there who wouldn’t want a Charlie in the Box? Are kids that obsessed with the name of the guy jumping out of the box? I don’t think so. I just think that the staff at the North Pole, starting with Claus himself, have such bad attitudes that they don’t bother looking for a home for toys that may be a little different from the norm. I call that lazy. And unfair. The Island of the Misfit Toys always makes me cry.

So as we all know, Rudolph, Hermie and their pal, Yukon Cornelius end up saving the reindeer from the Abominable Snow Man, Hermie pulls out all his teeth and Yukon reforms him so that he can get a job as a goofy toothless hairball who puts stars and angels on the top of the Christmas trees. Everyone realizes how they misjudged the red nosed reindeer and the dentist, but no one really apologizes. They just sort of begrudgingly admit that maybe they were a little hard on them. A little hard on them? You ran them out of town and those guys still came back and saved Christmas, what with the Snow Monster reforming and the sleigh guiding and everything. Couldn’t they have gotten a little more of an apology? And shouldn’t Santa have apologized to everyone for setting such a bad example of holiday good will? Every time I watch this movie I am sad when it’s over. And it’s the bad kind of sad. The kind where I feel like, why are people such assholes?

As opposed to the tears I shed at the end of each viewing of Plains, Trains and Automobiles, which are the tears of someone happy to know there are people like Neal and Dell in the world. And yes, I know they’re imaginary, but John Hughes had to have based them on someone. At some point in his life, he had to have been touched by the goodness in people and he put that in to his characters and they in turn lived on to touch all of us.

So this year, at Thanksgiving, I am thankful for the people who lead by example and show me that there is always a little bit of good in the real world, you just have to look for it. I’m sure you have people like that in your life, too. People whose gestures – great or small - have made the biggest differences to you. Be thankful for the Page family and all those families who have taken a lost soul in, instead of chasing one out because it’s those real people, not Santa Claus, who make the holidays happy.

Hurray for Hollywood

California and I are not friends.

We met face to face for the first time in 1999 when I went to a work conference in San Francisco. I know Tony Bennett left his heart there. I also know he has herpes so it kind of ruins that whole sentiment for me. But I was psyched to see San Francisco for myself regardless of Bennett and his social disease.

The conference was at the end of June and the temperatures in San Francisco, particularly at night, were similar to what one would expect in Alaska. The people I was with from Canada kept saying “We left Canada for this?” because back home they were having a very enjoyable heat wave and they had come to California expecting some of the same.

There were also a lot of birds. I mean, a lot. And me and birds don’t mix. And when our cab pulled up to a fancy restaurant for dinner a rat ran right in front of us. In daylight. On a crowded street. I really didn’t like that. Especially because I was brutally hung over.

Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time in San Francisco because I was with Holly on the first of many Holly and Molly business conference/crazy hijinks excursions but I knew straight away that California was not for me. I’m Biggie. California is Tupac. Enough said.

In 2002, I went back to California for another work conference, this time in LA. I could not have been more excited about going. Regardless of where I stand in the rap star death war, I love movies. I love celebrities. I love sunshine. So, of course, I was going to love Los Angeles. I was wrong. We stayed in the banking district, which after dark becomes the hookers and pimps district. That was mistake number one.

Our friend April made mistake number two which was going to a strip club with a guy named Favio where her purse was stolen. She was sharing a room with Holly and couldn’t get in because Holly was out partying with a fat guy she picked up (note: the fatness of this guy is debatable since our manorexic friend Mills labeled him that and we were all pretty drunk and just ran with it….for years. In truth he was probably 5 or 10pounds overweight but I will always remember him as morbidly obese).

Holly met the questionable overweight guy at a party we went to in Venice Beach. It was a party sponsored by our conference and hosted by a vendor so we expected to be treated well. We were wrong. Apparently someone had tattooed “East Coast” on our foreheads and no one wanted to talk to us. Mills and I met a girl who asked what we did for a living and when we said we worked for The Discovery Channel she actually laughed in our faces and said “Good one. That’s hilarious”, like we had made up it up and it was the lamest job ever. This from a girl we learned sold jewelry on the pier in Santa Monica. It must have been opposite day because I think we all know who the loser was in that scenario and it sure as hell wasn’t me or Mills. By the end of the week, I was sitting in The Ivy with my boss moaning “I have got to get back to Maryland”. I hated LA.

But in 2003, we had another conference so I had to go back. That time I did it right. We stayed in West Hollywood, and I planned our internal meetings at the House of Blues which was awesome because while we were having a conference call with Asia, Cold Play was playing a free concert for some radio station downstairs and we could hear them through the floor. Chaka Khan was staying in our hotel. We saw celebrities everywhere we went. I spoke at the big conference as the host of a panel that gave out beer. Holly and I got drunk in a van with some randoms and our pregnant friend drove us home while we belted out “I want it that way” by the Backstreet Boys. It was a rocking trip. And LA did me a lot more justice than it had before. But staying in a smooth hotel with your friends and writing off your every drink for a week is going to be fun anywhere. Living there and having to pay for your dinner at Ryan Seacrest’s restaurant is a different story, right?

That same summer, I also went back to San Francisco for my friend Elisa’s wedding. Her wedding was actually in Carmel which is beautiful but we flew into San Francisco for a night because Bobby had never been there. Again, it was freezing (this time in July!) and full of crazy aggressive birds.

We drove from San Francisco to Carmel for the wedding which is a beautiful drive but it does make you wonder why there are so many garlic farms out there. Could it be because of the vampires and not the Rob Patterson kind. The Lost Boys kind. Remember when Jason Patric’s grandfather said “That’s the one thing I never liked about Santa Carla – all the damn vampires.” The line seems suspiciously true after you’ve driven from San Francisco to Carmel.

The day after the wedding, which was beautiful, we then drove to Oakland to fly home. We had to spend a night there. No offense to MC Hammer, but Oaktown sucks. It’s dirty, it’s scary, and it’s full of pigeons. No thanks!

In 2004, Mills and I went back to LA with another colleague to interview a snake guy for some promos. The snake guy was ridiculous, but I have a feeling he would have been like that in any city so I can’t blame that on LA. I can blame LA for getting me hijacked by some insane cab driver who stole my cell phone and crank called all my friends. And I can blame LA for The Dan Band show we went to where Mills got puked on by Boston Rob from Survivor. Yes, I can blame LA for those things and I do.

I haven’t been back to California since 2004, but it looks like I’m going to have to make the trip again because California did the unthinkable today and stole my best friend. Yep, the Holly of Holly and Molly headed West with her husband this morning. And after my experiences out there, you’d think I’d be worried about her. No, I’m not worried about Holly. I’m worried about California. They have no idea what’s about to hit them. If anyone can charm LA into submission it’s Holly. I anticipate when I visit next spring she’ll have sung some sort of Disney Princess song and tamed every bird in the state. All those wannabe actors and models who have cool jobs like selling jewelry on the pier will try to shun her, but her constant smiling and upbeat nature will beat them down and they’ll have to befriend her. It will go against everything they stand for, but they won’t be able to stop themselves. A Los Angeles with Holly in it is maybe a Los Angeles I can get behind. Well, not behind technically because you know out there if you “get behind something” Richard Gere reaches down to stick a gerbil in your butt, but you know what I mean. It’s finally Hollywood. And if Holly would, then so would I.

Sympathy for the Bully

Talk of bullying is everywhere lately. And that’s a good thing because anyone who has ever been bullied knows that it sucks. Sure, overcoming a little adversity here and there makes us stronger but being truly bullied stays with you long after you think you’ve moved past it.

Recently, one of my close friends came to me for advice on how to help her eight year old daughter deal with a situation where some girls were bullying her on the school bus. Nothing really horrible, just your typical mean girl stuff where they were putting her down within ear shot just to get a rise out of her. So my friend sent me an email asking for help and in the note to me while describing the bullying she said “I bet that never happened to you because I remember everyone always liked you!” which made me sort of chuckle because trust me, I am not someone who everyone always likes. I wish I was. Damn, I try hard to be. But I’m just not. Never have been.

And like everyone else out there, I have been bullied….and I have also been the bully. And neither feels very good.

My freshman year of high school was an absolute nightmare that I still can barely stand to think about in part because I was bullied and in part because I was so traumatized going to a new school that I barely spoke for an entire year. People have a hard time believing the second part of that statement because I’m someone who is considered outgoing but really I’m not. A true outgoing person can walk into a room where they know no one and make friends without even trying. I can do that, too, but I have to really try. I’m super friendly to overcompensate for the fact that I lack natural charisma and I’m secretly dying inside from fear of rejection. On the inside, people aren’t always who they portray themselves to be on the outside. I am perfect example of that.

Anyhow, the bulling happened on my school bus by three boys who I thought I was friends with but one day they just turned on me and started saying really awful things to me the whole ride.
One of the boys had lost his sister in a horrible accident the year before and had a younger brother with down syndrome so even while he was tormenting me I felt sorry for him because I figured he was acting out to deal with all the tragedy in his life. Empathy, even for bullies, has always been my greatest gift.

The second boy was like a bully out of a bad TV show or comic book. If you put five kids in a line up and said pick out the bully, you would definitely point to Andre. I don’t know why he hated me but he just did. And he’d hated me before we even met. During the bullying he would sometimes mention how over the previous summer he’d seen me in the mall with my friends and he hated me then. Now I am not the most confident person in the world but I am confident that my friends have always been adorable so hearing that from Andre made me realize he must hate the idea of people like me and by people like me I mean people with really cute friends who like to shop. That made me feel sorry for him, too, because being the big oaf bully is not a role anyone dreams of playing in life and sadly he was born to play to it so that must of kind of sucked.

The third boy was a complete tool. I was a little girl and I outweighed him by about 30 pounds and he had a face that was all pointy and sneaky looking – pretty much exactly like a weasel. I hated this kid the most because he seemed to derive so much pleasure from making me feel bad. And even though it was obvious why he needed to bully others, I felt no empathy for him because he was just a mean little troll.

Anyhow, that was blatant run of the mill bullying and it sucked. I’ve also suffered at the hands of much more sophisticated bullies. The kind that try to beat you down by making you feel less than them – mentally, physically, economically – whatever.

I was actually really close friends with a bully until about a year ago. I knew she was a bully because I watched her tear people down and I saw how much pleasure it gave her. I didn’t realize until we stopped being friends how much she actually tried to bully me and how many times she bullied others and I ignored it because we were friends. And that made me sad that I had ever been friends with her. It was as if I was a bully enabler.

As I mentioned before, I, too, have at times been the bully. I have never just looked at someone and decided to be mean to them. And I would never be mean to someone based on their race or religion or size or sexual preference on anything like that. But there have been people who have crossed me and I have been so mad that I have bullied them in my own way. I’m excellent at freezing people out. I once had such a big problem with an internal vendor I worked with that I told that person’s supervisors that if they wanted my business they had to agree that this person would have zero contact with me, in fact he would not even be allowed to make eye contact if we passed in the halls. And they agreed to it - which made me really happy in a smug, dickweed kind of way. That is until I realized that being such a bitch was also being kind of a bully and that’s not who I want to be. It’s not who anyone should want to be.

A bully isn’t always the kid who steals everybody’s lunch money. Bullies come in all shapes and sizes. Mac had a kid bully him in preschool when he was four and that child looked like a tiny angel. Not like someone who was going to try to stick a fork in your kid’s eye.

The thing is – and I’m not trying to make excuses here for bullies because what they do is wrong and I’m still mad at that weasel faced kid from my bus – but when people bully it’s not because there is anything wrong with you (the victim), it’s because there is something wrong with them (the bullies). They feel insecure about something and in order to make themselves feel better they put other people down.

I’ve mentioned before that I had a friend who dated a guy who fancied himself a super smart film student and when I didn’t like the movie Fight Club, he told me it was probably just “over my head”. In a super lame way, he was trying to bully me because he had recently been dumped by my friend and his career was going nowhere and so implying I was dim was supposed to make him feel smarter. I wonder if it did? Probably not. And that probably sucks. Because when you’re mean to someone, you know it. Mean isn’t something that happens by accident. And when you go home and think about what an ass you were and realize that trying to hurt someone else didn’t change the fact that you look like a weasel or your boyfriend doesn’t want to marry you or you didn’t walk out of film school and immediately become Martin Scorsese, that has gotta feel really bad. And no amount of bullying is ever going to make you feel any better. But you know what might? Being nice. Choose good. It always works out better for everyone.