I realized I had a crappy first name when I was five.
Our family was moving from Chicago to Peoria. One day, close to moving time, sitting shotgun, my mother was running errands. At a stoplight she turned and said, “We’re moving somewhere where nobody knows you. If you’d like to change your first name, now is the time.” I had always gone by D.J. (and still do today), but the message I received in that moment was clear.
Every year I find holiday cards both exciting and disappointing.
First, it’s validating to know that someone took the time to write out my address. I’m bummed that most only send picture cards without messages. Reading somebody’s handwriting feels more intimate. Especially if there’s something in there that’s personal. Many years ago when I was dealing with divorce I wrote a paragraph on each card. I wanted to express the importance of their support during that difficult time. I remember crying through most of it and with one card I literally cried onto the card and it wrinkled in that spot. It’s is a good reminder to me for next year not to just throw a picture card in an envelope but actually write a few words. Growing up I thought I was worth leaving as I didn’t have much self-esteem. The fact that I have friends that have stuck around to this day amazes me. I know on paper I’m a pretty great guy, but inside those wounds are not completely healed.
Okay, back to my original statement. I love getting cards but seeing a collage of shots of my friend’s children is less than exhilarating. Yes, we all have people in our lives that love our kids. And, yes, I love your kids, too. But I don’t need to see them in fourteen action shots orchestrated at Olan Mills. Some of my pals actually take themselves entirely and exclusively show their little ones. And look, if I had to do a Sophie’s Choice with your family, the kids are going to meet an untimely demise. You’re the most important to me. I don’t care if you’ve put on 30 lbs or look like crap. Put yourself in the photos. It’s a family card. Include the family. And yes, I want to see the cat, too. Dress the fucker up in an elf costume.
I’m completely okay with making someone else’s holiday cards all about me and my needs because I’m certain I appreciate it more than most. I really should take a narcissism evaluation test. From a professional.
Okay, so now that I’m done whining, on to my card!
This year is my high water mark. A magnum opus.
Now, I love a good dirtbag. Trashy people are funny. Searching around I found a photo of a family that emulated dirtbaggery to perfection. Then I paid a guy in Pakistan $5 to blend us in.
Please understand I don’t think less of people who dress and style themselves this way. I love their commitment. Aesthetically, it tickles me. Hard.
Behold the ThoughtsFromParis 2014 Holiday Card!
This was sent to everyone on my list including my family and Beth’s. Since it’s our first year dating her kin (great word in alignment with the card’s theme) didn’t know of this tradition of card silliness. A few of her friends who hadn’t yet met me asked about Trevor. I instructed her to say that he is D.J.’s son that he barely acknowledges. I have no children in real life.
The name Trevor came instantly. Since it was probably God who sent me the divine message I felt obliged to obey. I’m respectful!
So that’s how we look as scuzzbuckets. My chest is actually way hairier and gross but I forgot to tell the guy to draw it in. Even still, it’s a 10/10.
Topping this in 11 months will be a challenge. It’s sheer stupidity, but it’s really difficult to create worthwhile stupidity. I’m already stressed about it. Not joking.
Have a great 2015! I’m happy to be back.
I told my girlfriend a lie last night.
To be fair, this was unintentional. Had I known the actual truth (as I do now) I may have very well snapped the remaining thread of sanity holding me upright or thrown myself from a balcony screaming.
On my way home from work yesterday I put together some thoughts for a video blog. I wrote down eleven points I wanted to discuss including an upcoming trip, a holiday card I’m sending to readers, and a story about not picking up my dog’s poop (which I still don’t do even though I promised you I would).
I got home and set up the camera and laid out my notes. Usually what happens is that I have to film the segment multiple times. In the first few takes I’ll inevitably screw up the timing a joke or jumble some words or forget what the hell I was going to talk about next.
Once I get a solid full-length recording I’ll review it from start to finish with a discerning eye. Ten times out of ten I realize I waxed on too long about something that wasn’t entertaining or funny. Since my videos are only a few minutes long, I decide to re-record the entire video. This takes another two to three attempts.
Then I edit and produce. The whole project from start to finish takes about an hour to complete a two-minute segment. And if you’ve seen my videos, you’ll be surprised to learn that I can’t do it quicker. I’m not exactly Federico Fellini, for chrissakes.
Back to last night – I started recording and kept screwing up the intro. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to thank everyone for reading my blog or wish them a happy holidays first. The words kept stumbling over themselves and I found myself doing take after take. I couldn’t get the intro right no matter what. I even rehearsed a few times after a dozen missteps. Nothing was working.
But I had committed to getting this video done. Plus, I have done enough of these vlogs in the past to know it just takes a few more attempts. I would eventually get it.
Four hours later, without a break, I got it done.
My voice was croaky and my eyes bloodshot. I couldn’t stand for more than a few seconds because I would get dizzy. For four hours I made mistake after mistake and couldn’t land the plane. My dedication, however, was unwavering. I kept going. And going.
I called Beth after I was done. She’s been on TV dozens of times and never needed more that one take for her segments, and many are filmed live in studio where mistakes are not permitted. I figured she’d get a kick out of my failures.
—
Had a little trouble tonight with the video – I’m pretty sure I did around seventy-five takes.
Holy shit, that’s nuts! You’re crazy.
Yes, going to pass out now.
—
So tonight Beth came over and, just for a goof I suggested I count up all yesterday’s takes, because that whole evening had been a blur. I probably had done more than seventy five.
Well, I started with file 18 – and then each take goes up sequentially by one. I ended up with file 216.
Yes, without exaggeration or mathematical error, I made 198 different attempts to film a two-minute video.
I couldn’t hardly believe it myself, but yet, there they were.
I’d like to think that I’m a hero to the undisciplined, that this is a shining example on how tenacity and perseverance can get you places. And I guess, in some small way that’s true.
But this was just plain lunacy. I remember at one point I noticed I had been unconsciously picking at a callous on the bottom of my big toe. I reached up to scratch my nose and I saw blood on my fingers. I had ripped through the callous into the actual skin. Didn’t feel it – had no idea. And I’m a guy that has never picked at himself – not even a scab.
I was out of my mind, I guess.
It’s clear I was having an off night. In fact it was the most off night I’ve ever had, creatively.
I’m not sure what to make of this psychologically. I was a rabid dog that was clamped onto a mailman’s leg unwilling to let go. And the end product wasn’t even that entertaining. Just a dumb “here’s what’s been going on” video.
So there it is folks. My craziness, front and center. I’m going to let it retreat for awhile in the corner of my psyche where it can rest. It’s earned some well-needed time off.
I’m in the process of working on my first book.
No, it’s not the book that will come out late 2013. That’s a little ways down the road. This one needs to get done first.
Without going into too much detail, I need a little help. There’s some editing that I’d like your input on. But, there’s also some busy work. The busy work entails doing some copying and pasting before the actual editing. What I think makes the most sense is to have four people assist – that way we can divvy up the workload and it won’t take long at all.
Once the busy work is done there will be some actual editing of content. I’ll need you to look for errors in my writing (there will be errors) such as comma gaffes, syntactical mistakes, and words that were straight-up incorrect.
Since I can’t pay you for this the best I can do is give you a co-editor credit on Amazon. If you ever need a written recommendation for any reason I will tell your future boss you basically wrote the book and did all the work. I’m good like that.
I put this out on Twitter and Facebook already and got a huge response. I’m writing it out here because I’d like to firm up who’s really interested.
I’m thinking this might take three hours work per person. Hopefully less.
I can’t thank you enough for anyone willing to donate their time. Seriously. It would be a massive undertaking for me. Working on it for hours last night and I literally got 1/24th of the way through it (I actually counted). Ideally, I’d do it all myself since I’m a massive control freak. But I’m surrendering. I need you.
So, if you’d like to make ThoughtsFromParis history, simply send me an email to dj@thoughtsfromparis.com with your info. I’ll shoot out an email over the next few days and with details and we’ll see if this is a good fit.
Oh, and of course you’ll be receiving a holiday card.
Thanks in advance.
The end of the year where you get excited about spending time with family. Then, through old conditioning and dysfunction your self-esteem becomes neutralized. Finally, you can’t wait to get the hell out of there. Mom can still make you crazy, and, let’s face it, you’re not exactly running around helping your folks clean up. They want you gone, too.
Over the years I have put a lot of thought into my holiday cards. I’m a little behind now but, just as I did last year, I want to send you one of my cards.
I can’t rely on my friends to send cards. Even the married ones neglect me. I have to consider this as evidence that I may, in fact, be an asshole. There’s no other explanation. It’s okay. I have my cat and my dog to comfort me through the pain.
In the past year this blog has grown so I won’t be able to send a card to everyone. It’s just too damned much work. Also, it’s like a few bucks a card and I don’t like you that much.
Should you wish to receive one of my holiday cards, here’s what you must do…
I started a tradition my freshman year of college back in 1994 – since I was making new friends, I thought it would be fun to send each one a holiday card.
I wanted to do something fun, and my mom suggested the Oriental Trading Company catalog, which has dozens of different cards. All crap quality, but cheap.
I ordered two dozen cards which were actually puzzles. They were in the shape of either a red stocking (like the kind you hang from a fireplace mantle) or a green Christmas tree. They were entirely blank and made of cardboard. The idea is that write a message on the tree or stocking, then break up the puzzle pieces, place in an envelope, and mail.
In trying to find an image of these cards, I have failed to locate any. I remember the next year the company stopped carrying them.
Here’s why.
Each puzzle broke up into probably ten pieces. You’d place them in an envelope, mail them off, and the recipient would get the card, put the pieces back together and be able to read your holiday message.
Except nobody was able to read the messages I sent.
By the way, back then I didn’t have the comedy chops I do now. I remember the funniest message I wrote was to a dorm friend Jeff, who had obtained a DUI during Thanksgiving break. I simply wrote on his puzzle, “Merry Christmas – No more DUIs!”
Classic, I know.
But even that joke didn’t connect. Not because it wasn’t funny (it wasn’t), but because Jeff did not receive all the pieces of the puzzle.
Neither did anyone else.
You see, the mail sorting facilities have machines that scan and read things like zip codes, addresses, and other pertinent information right from the envelope.
And all of my envelopes were 1/2 inch thick at the bottom, where all the pieces had accumulated. So they would jam the machine.
Every single person I sent the card to reported that they received about half the puzzle pieces, in a bag from the post office, with the shredded envelope.
I was pretty bummed, because I put some good effort into those cards.
Since then, I have continued the tradition of doing something funny for holiday cards. Here are a few examples.
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Will you make the 2011 list? Will I finally break down and do that all-nude colored chalk self-portrait I’ve been thinking about? God, I hope so.
I'll never give this child another cigarette, pinky swears!
