A moment of revalation

Has anyone ever said to you, “Just a moment”?? Then, have you wondered how long you were supposed to wait? Well, that exact thing happened to me, just the other day. I was holiday shopping with my wife and daughter. My wife went off to purchase my Christmas gift and I went the other way and took my daughter to the Juniors department to get a dress. My girl picked out three dresses and popped into the dressing room telling me she would only be a moment. I waited twenty minutes. Frankly, I was sure that this was longer than a moment so I Googled it on my phone. According to Google a moment is a period of time measuring approximately ninety seconds. The first reference comes from 1398, found in the Oxford English Dictionary. Cornish writer John of Trevisa wrote that there are forty moments in an hour, hence each must be ninety seconds.

Unless of course, some of them fight for supremacy and beat down weaker moments to sixty seconds building themselves up. There also could be body builder moments and couch potato moments, each of them would be sized accordingly. John only said there were forty in an hour. He realized even back then that moment dominance was alive and well. I wonder if moment culture is matriarchal? Wow, doesn’t that sound intelligent. And it would be a great way to start my blog except it really has nothing to do with what I’m writing about. I just thought it was interesting and while you’re sitting outside a ladies dressing room, bored to tears, all kinds of strange things run through your mind. Then again, it did inspire one line of the song I wrote. So, I guess it does make sense in a Mr. Ohh! kinda way.

Forgetting the moment for the fame

What I really wanted to talk about today was Fame, Holidays, and Music. It has come to my attention that these posts of mine have become quite popular. In fact, some of you folks have started putting me in the same category as Elvis. Because he’s famous not because he’s dead. At least that’s what I think you’re thinking. If I’m wrong please don’t tell me I really don’t handle bad news very well. Anyway, going on that assumption.

I was at the store the other day and I realized that every artist as soon as they achieved a bit of fame, recorded a holiday song or a whole album. All of them did it. I saw one CD which was a compilation of a bunch of artists who joined together for one song to tell people who don’t know it’s Christmas to drink water or something like that. I think they cut themselves, because they called themselves Band Aid.  The thing is everybody had come up with a holiday song. Even rappers Run D.M.C have Christmas in Hollis. I started feeling really bad when I found out that a stuttering cartoon pig even did a Christmas tune.

I was worried and thought I was going to lose my glamour and fame if I didn’t do something about all this. I had to sing a song. There were only two problems with this prospect. First, I didn’t have a clue of what song to go with and second, I really can’t sing. For a while I was going to cop out and go with one of the biggies. I mean there’s lots of folks who can’t sing and more and more of them record Santa Claus Is Coming to Town every year. A lot of folk’s record Do You Hear What I Hear and half of them don’t even sing all the verses.

I had to write and sing a holiday song

After a lot of deliberation, I realized couldn’t do that. Young people around the world are looking to me to be a beacon of greatness that they can look up to. Wow, it’s hard being a beacon, especially when you’re not very bright. I had to write my own song. Well mostly. I actually stole the music from My Favorite Things. It’s okay though because none of those things are anybody’s favorite any more.  Think about it, are you madly in love with copper kettles and boxes wrapped in brown paper? I didn’t think so. Frankly when a snowflake sits on my nose I sneeze, and I much prefer gloves over mittens. Remember, girls in white dresses scare me because I’m afraid I’m getting married. I will admit crisp apple strudel is great but not enough to hold up the whole song. So, I figure I can use the music.

Well maybe not sing it

Once I had the music, I was a man possessed. My wife says I’m possessed all the time but that’s another story. I wrote my little heart out. I even got my second son to sing my masterpiece. I call him Ohh! 2, and if you know anything you know everybody needs Ohh! 2

And here’s the song

Anyway, without further ado here it is,

My Merry Chris-MESS by Mr. Ohh! and sung by Ohh! 2

I cut my fingers while hanging the holly

Bandaged and bleeding I don’t feel so jolly

My annual smelling of crazy Aunt Bess

These are all parts of my Merry Chris-MESS

Burnt sugar cookies and mountains of fruitcakes

Ancient concoctions my polish grandma makes 

Shopping with daughters who can’t pick a dress

Wasting all my time for Merry Chris-MESS

Building weight benches and ending in traction

Trips to the ER and days of in-action

Reindeer that fly in tales by Clement Moore

Convincing my children that they’re true for sure

When my brother

Brings his gifts by

And a case of ale

I remember all of the drinking last year

And wish he would use the mail

Setting up a tree too tall for the ceiling

Carols played so loud my senses are reeling

Why are Hulk and Iron Man part of my creche?

Questions abound in my Merry Chris-MESS

Buying great presents for people not thankful

Having no cash when I once had a bank full

Tips for the folks who just used be pests

That’s why I’m broke on my Merry Chris-MESS

It rains in December there’s no way of knowing

I pray for white Christmas then scream when it’s snowing

This weather sucks so bad, I’m moving out west

That’s what I deal with on Merry Chris-MESS

When assembling

Something fragile

I break parts in half

I think of how stupid is Merry Chris-Mess

And then I just have to laugh