My wife called me from the South Center Mall last night: "Corey, what do you want for Christmas?" There was a pause of uncomfortable silence as my mind attempted to race through a myriad of material things that lay scattered in my subconscious. "Surprise me." I said. "Come on--I'm all done; except for you. Tell me what you want." I could tell there was an element of frustration in her voice and the notion that an all-day-chick-shopping fest had lost its novelty. My mind raced even more. I'll tell you what I REALLY want:* I want my Grandma May to have a "pain-free day" and not hurt from the rheumatoid arthritis that has plagued her body for nearly three decades;
* I want my recently divorced brother and Ex Sister-in-Law to rewind their lives 15 years and remember what they felt like in college while they were falling in love;
* I want Bono, Michael Stipe, and Eddie Vedder to quit bad-mouthing America and the capitalistic, free enterprise system that allowed them the opportunity to perform in sold out stadiums while pimping their CDs, DVDs, concert shirts, pens, buttons, and other pseudo-marketing propaganda at overly-inflated profit margins!
* I want to get Osama Bin Laden in a small room at Club Gitmo and let Jack Bauer have ten minutes with him!
* And, I want my twins, Noah and Olivia, to stop growing up and promise me that they'll always think I'm cool, want to hang with me, love me, and let me be part of their lives.
"Corey! Corey, are you there?!" Gina was losing her patience and her mind in the full-fledged frenzy of Tukwila shopping madness. "Yeah, babe--just get me some Drakkar...like last year. " What can I say? I'm an 80s man...
