The Soldier Who Flashed Me (a Kris Christmas)

Back when I was 8-years-old......

Be careful what you ask Santa for this Christmas.  You just might get an altered version of it 35 years later.

Gather around boys and girls for the annual sharing of The Soldier Who Flashed Me, a Kris Christmas story.  Since we are celebrating the end of the Iraq war this month, the special sauce on this story is even more delectable.  Though many of you have heard my story, I am hoping it makes you smile all over again.

I love Christmas cards and am grateful that my friends still have the discipline to send them. I bought cards to send, but they are still sitting on my kitchen table……… abandoned like a New Years diet.

Since the first soldier departed for Iraq, there have been numerous pleas for civilians to send Christmas cards to the troops. A few years ago I decided to don my patriotic cap and send cards to soldiers to express my gratitude. I included my email in each card offering friendship. One soldier responded. We began communicating via instant message. Our discussions revolved around the simplicities of life. The relationship smacked of innocence. There was zero hint of romance or sex.

One night G.I. Christmas Soldier asked if I had a webcam……………. I said, “ummmmmmmmmm……..no.” He then asked if he could turn his webcam on and I replied “………ummmmmmmm……..…OK.” It was no biggie and twas nice to see his face. We continued to talk over the next few days minus the web cam. He then asked if he could turn the webcam on again. When he did, there on my computer screen was a naked soldier in all of his God Blesssssssssssssss America glory, weapons ready for action. I was speechless. Talk about your Wikileaks!!!! I’m not sure what he expected from me. I think my silence embarrassed him because he quickly logged off and the next day he apologized for his GI shock and awe and said he was going on a secret mission. I never heard from him again.  My only hope is that he made it home safe.  Despite the shock and awe, I truly enjoyed his insights of life as a soldier………..the fully dressed variety. 

 

Joe Bear, Attic Hostage, Released by Kris BinBearladen

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring except for Joe Bear being held hostage in the attic by some radical anti-toy adult terrorist named Kris BinBearladen, aka Ms. Ebearneezer Scrooge…………ME.

SET ME FREE!!!

BEHOLD the torture of a stuffed bear.

This is the story of Joe Bear’s capture, release, and lessons learned.

Joe Bear’s life probably began in some sweat shop in Taiwan, but little is known of his birth.  As a newly born stuffed cub, he was adopted by the Big K.  If you’re as old as dirt, like me, you’ll remember the Big K.  It was the Walmart of my childhood and where toys and knock-off Adidas tennis shoes lived.

photo courtesy of: http://www.wtv-zone.com/dpjohnson/60sdiscountstores/

Big K took Joe Bear and hung him from the ceiling where he ruled the airways of the toy department.  One November when I was 10, I stepped into the shadow of Joe Bear’s luminous skyward presence. When I looked up and saw his smile, it was love at first site.  He cost $18.  I knew Mom, knowing she was Santa, could afford $18 and made sure she knew that my ownership of Joe Bear was a life or death situation. I talked about him non-stop in the following weeks.

Right before Christmas, Mom sat me down and explained to me that when she had gone to buy Joe Bear, he was gone. She had been too late.  TRAGEDY STRUCK!  I cried.  For days.  My life was over.  Unbeknownst to me, Mom began a crusade to find another Joe Bear.   One snowy day close to Christmas,  the “Mom Is a Hero” goddess shined upon her.  After going to every Big K in a 75-mile radius, she found a Joe Bear. Imagine my surprise on Christmas morning.  Santa who?  Mom, was and still is a hero.

Joe Bear grew up with me, but when I got married, he obviously lost prominence.  My ex-husband honored my need to not throw away any of my childhood toys, but gently requested we put them in the attic wrapped in plastic.   Joe has been an attic hostage ever since.

During a recent visit to the Christmases of my childhood, I started thinking about Joe Bear.  I decided to rescue him from the attic this past weekend.

Joe Bear is Free! He use to have a smile, but one of my dogs chewed it off a long time ago. He still smiles in my heart.

My mom has given me many gifts over the years, but Joe Bear is one of my favorites.  The memory of how I felt when I walked around the corner and saw him sitting on the couch on Christmas morning is priceless.  The story serves as a reminder to me: Under no circumstance should I ever allow disappointment to sink me into an apocalyptic despair.   Joe Bear miracles do happen.

Just in time for his release, Joe Bear received a credit card application in the mail today!  I am not making this up!

On his first day of freedom, Joe Bear received fan mail from Citibank.

Dear Santa, I want the iMan………..with APPs

My Dad asked me this year what I wanted for Christmas.  I said, “a man.”  He gave me an iPad.  He gave me an iPad with the sole intention of having the ability to Skype with me.  OH THE HORRORS. He calls me every Sunday.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love the Sunday phone calls, but I often look like I’ve been pulled out of the muck of some city sewer on Sunday.  The first time he says, “you look like shit,” the Skype deal is O-V-E-R.

Ok, so my Dad gave me a really cool gift and it made me think.  When is someone going to invent an iMan?  Maybe I should ask Santa if he can make one.

Yes, that is me talking to Santa back in the day.

Think!  An iMan would not just “service” me, but would also clean house, cook, and have any voice I want.  If I want Colin Firth to say to me, “right then, give us a kiss,”  there’s an APP for that.  If I want Keith Olbermann to read me a Thurber bedtime story………APP baby.  If I want to take a peep at a naked Ryan Gosling, all I would have to do is change the iMan’s background screen.  You get the idea.  If the iMan breaks my heart, I could gut him and install a new operating system.  I suppose you men could have an iWoman too, but we’re perfect……….soooo……  By the way, I looked up iMan on Google images in hopes of seeing a prototype and all I saw was the model, Iman.  BOLLOCKS.

The closest I’ve come to receiving a “man” for Christmas was given to me last year.  My sister-in-law, Liz,  gave me this beauty!  How can you not love Liz.  No way my bro picked this out!

 

This calendar is actually PG-13, but enough for me!

To be clear, this calendar features half-dressed men doing housework.  Yipeee. It’s not true porn.  Still, I imagine if my Great Grandmother had been given a Porn for Women calendar, she would have suffered a case of the vapors.  Have a look-see at gift ideas from her era taken from her journal.  Sigh……. to live in simpler times!

YES! A long for a ribbon for my neck...... .

I suppose if there was a jingle to advertise the Porn for Women  it would say:

I was feeling really torn,
About this gift of Christmas porn.
But who can resist naked men,
hanging on the wall in the den?
Men doing housework with ease,
While doing a strip tease.
Yes please!

(I never claimed to be a poet………ahemmm).