(mi madre was born in the land of the Deutsche) my family celebrates Christmas on Christmas Eve. This used be so cool when I was a kid because we'd get all our presents the night before Christmas when all the other non-Germans had to endure sleepless nights awaiting the break of dawn to open up all their shizz. As a result, Christmas Day was no big dealy-doo in our household and rather anti-climactic. We'd usually end up riding our bikes out in front of our house waiting for our next-door-neighbors to finish their Christmas celebration so they could come outside and compare and contrast their loot with ours. When I was 12 years old, my parents decided to do something different on Christmas Day. Instead of lounging around our house, my parents decided to take us to downtown San Diego to the Food Bank and volunteer our services to the needy. My brother Chris and I were rather nonplussed because who wants to hang out in ghetto-fab downtown San Diego on Christmas Day? Not to mention we were the only stinkin' kids there. Anywho. . . . . The San Diego Food Bank was in this big old warehouse with all these different floors to it and all the volunteers were supposed to get organized into groups to help out on each floor. Nobody really knew where they were supposed to go and what they were supposed to do, so finally this priest got on stage with a microphone to explain the whole process to us. So I'm standing there between my mom and dad and the priest goes:
"Thank you all for coming today. You have all been assigned a floor to work on. The homeless will visit each floor and you will assist them with whatever is taking place on your particular floor. Floor One is storage and cots where they can leave their stuff in a secure place and later sleep. Floor Two is the cafeteria for food. Floor Three is showers. Floor Four is blowjobs. Floor Five is clothes exchange."
Immediately after stating the purpose of Floor Four, a cumulative gasp went through the crowd and I whispered under my breath, "I am NOT working on Floor Four." My mom shot me her dagger eyes look that burned straight through my very soul.
Someone next to the priest whispered something in his ear and he immediately made a little nervous cough and said "I meant, Floor Four is where the homeless can blow dry their hair". I felt really weird for the rest of the day knowing my mom knew that I knew what a blowjob was . . . and on GD Christmas Day for Christ's sake!!
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