Teenage Mutant Ninja Santas

You know what I suddenly miss? Christmas movies. Especially the ones where a regular person turns out to be Santa, and only some loser, unpopular child knows the secret. I just can't get enough of those Santa-disguised-as-Everyman stories. They are so realistic.  They could totally happen.

If my life were a Christmas movie, I would star my dog as Disguised Santa. Well, it would have to be a conglomeration of all my dead dogs because how can I choose just one? Oh, and that barfy, toothless cat we had, too. And our very first pet, Moses the duck. Oh,and I suppose I better add the souls of the poor dead turtles that my sister Karen and I used to beg our parents to buy us from Olvera Street; the ones we'd play with for about six minutes, grow tired of putting them on their little plastic islands with the fake plastic palm tree in their little plastic pools, and leave them to die in the hot LA summer sun.

Yeah, I owe a huge karmic debt to the turtles. We really fucked them up. I hope the Afterlife is not a giant turtle world and Karen and I are going to be their playthings. Although, Karen and I could totally be down with being left in a pool in the hot LA sun for days on end. We are diehard tanorexics. And Karen eats, like, nothing, so she'd be fine for at least a week. I'd get pretty hungry but that's the price I'd have to pay for leaving turtles to die in the sun when I was six. Still, maybe I could flirt my way into getting some crackers or something from a turtle guard who didn't know how badly I treated his brethren. Wheat Thins. And maybe a cold Diet Coke. And a tan. That would be nice.

Our turtles had a nice life for the first day or so. A teeny little pool, a shady plastic palm tree on the island in the middle of the pool, food...and....oh right. Neglect. A slow, horrific death. Not to mention that the beautiful designs painted on their shells were surely done with toxic paint. Oh God, we were monsters.

How do I make this right? Well, I have never, ever eaten turtle soup, and I never will. And I spent, like, a bazillion dollars on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figures when my boys were young. My TMNT action figure money alone probably funded dental care for turtles from developing nations between 1989-1993.  That's gotta count for something.

And I always tread carefully on sand, lest I disturb turtle eggs nesting under my feet. You know, in case there are baby turtles growing on Zuma beach. Or the Oregon coast. Or the Hamptons last summer.

Oh, and all my purses and belts are pleather. Never turtle. Well, okay, I don't have any belts. Any that fit anymore, anyway.

I have to admit that my shoes, however, are leather. But in my defense, I am very conflicted about it. I always feel very bad about myself when I put my shoes on. And, as I have told my children their entire lives, the important thing is that you feel bad.

 Also in my defense, they are Danskos and gorgeous. My shoes, not my kids. Well, my kids are gorgeous, too. But they are not Danskos.

I digress. This post was about Christmas movies.

Speaking of which, you know what else I miss?

My red Danskos with the green stitching.

 

 

 

 

Comments

[Madgew]

Ann, now I have karma issues for the little turtles I had as well. We usually released them in the yard I am sure to be turtle meal for some animal roaming the backyard. I loved their plastic palm trees. We had ducks, chicks and rabbits too. They all ended up with the race horses at the track as my family owned some horses. At least i knew they were loved there or eaten by the jockeys to remind them of home somewhere foreign. Thanks for the swim down memory lane.

[Barbara]

I am going to make a sign that demands "More Dental Care for Turtles".
I will not add the bit about in developing nations because I find that just a little patronizing.

[Diane Hulme]

The gem here is your message to your kids; "the important thing is that you feel bad". Such sage motherly advice!