Santa Porn

Current mood: shocked
Category: Life

Just a warning about this entry. If you are easily offended, you probably shouldn't read it. It's not that bad, but I'm just saying. You know what I'm saying?

I feel like I'm missing something the past week or so. I've been easily frustrated and I'm not exactly sure of the reason why. I haven't even felt much like writing, which has been something I can always do. I don't have anything to say, to me, that is kind of scary. I even watched "Rock of Love" on VH1 last Sunday because I felt there may have been a potential post in the show. Unfortunately, there was too much reality show stupidity in that show to even articulate a single word. If you don't know what I'm referring to, it's like Flavor of Love, but with a white, aging rocker as opposed to a black, aging rapper. I've always hated Poison. Well, I'll take that back. I liked Poison in 3^rd grade for about four months. Hey, I was eight, sue me. Watching 25 strippers, rocker chicks and the obligatory crazy lady paw at and claw at each other didn't give me any inspiration to say anything. Did your parents ever say only to speak if spoken to, or only say something if it is important? Mine never did.

This morning while getting ready for work I was in the shower listening to a SModcast. It's a podcast where Kevin Smith and Scott Mosier are sitting around talking about bullshit, that's about as descriptive as it gets but it's very funny to me. Smith was talking about stealing porno magazines and comics from a bookstore when he was 11 or 12 and his first dealings with pornography. Then I started thinking about the first time I was turned on to porn. Too easy, I know.

I'm sure I saw the occasional Playboy or Penthouse lying around someone's house or in their parents' bathroom before I knew what it was. My first full on experience was actually seeing a XXX-rated movie when I was about eight or nine. I was over at my friend Joe's house and it was the middle of the summer and we were just hanging out doing kid shit. I knew he was friends with some older kids up the street, and one day in particular he said we should go up there and hang out with them because this friend had just called. We must have been bored with playing in his backyard or playing Nintendo. He said they were watching a movie and they said we just HAD to come over and see it.

We make it over to said friend's house to see what strange yet awesome movie they had in store for us. We couldn't wait to see what fascinating motion picture we were about to view. Such amazing adventures that children embark on in the freedom of summer vacation.

We walked in the front door (hey, I grew up in Sioux Falls, South Dakota) and went down to his basement. I remember walking down the stairs and seeing Joe's friend Chris and two other boys I'd never met before all sitting on a couch. The TV was up against the wall that supported the stairs leading to the basement, so all we could see was the look on their faces. It was the look of fascination, but not just any regular wonderment. It was as if these kids that were about three years older than us had just seen the face of God. I remember turning the corner and not really being able to make out what was on the screen. I remember that I could hear a lot of moaning, almost like the guy who's voice I could hear was struggling with something. It almost sounded like he was doing some heavy lifting. What I saw next was probably the most shocking thing I've ever seen in my life, relative to one's level of innocence and the material they are viewing.

Do you remember when you found out that Santa Claus wasn't real? Did someone at school tell you? Or was it an older sibling who told you because you were annoying them and they wanted you to stop, so they did the most shocking thing they could think of and tell you Santa was not real? Maybe your parent's finally sat down and broke the news to you that it was in fact them placing the presents under the tree. They, in fact, were the people eating the cookies and milk. Well, this is how I found out Santa Claus wasn't real.

When I was able to make out what was on that TV screen, every ounce of my naiveté flew out of me like air coming out of a balloon and flying around the room. Looking back on it then and now, I could actually feel it happening. I remember seeing him, in his red coat partially unbuttoned and his big black belt around his ankles along with his pants. There was a woman on her knees in front of Santa doing something, I couldn't quite tell. She had his hat on too which was an added bonus and I could tell she was naked. The camera panned up to his face and it was some dude in a beard and white wig, but he didn't look that old. In all actuality, I think the guy was about 22. I thought, in my own childlike innocence, "Santa looks like he's in pain, what's wrong?" Then the camera panned down and there was something wrong with Santa's penis. It was huge! Needless to say, I was a little confused because mine didn't do that. I'm surprised at how calmly I assessed the situation, it was the exact opposite reaction my friend had. He was flipping out and screaming "what the fuck is that?!? Is that Santa's dick?" We had potty mouths at an early age in my neighborhood. I asked why that naked woman was putting Santa's penis in her mouth. I thought it was really weird. Why would a girl want to stick that in her mouth? It's a question I've repeated many times, just under different circumstances and slightly altered. One of the guys casually said, "What's the matter? Haven't you kids seen a girl give Santa Claus a blow job before?" That was officially it, childhood over.

I stood there petrified. Of course, being as young as I was, nothing was, um, really going on with my body. I knew that I liked it, but at the same time it scared the crap out of me. I didn't know if I should cheer and praise Jesus or start crying and run home to Mommy. We watched the whole damn scene, all the way to fruition. "Looks like Santa made some egg nog," the other kid said with a laugh. I didn't understand what that was all about, either. I thought Santa peed on this woman, and I didn't know what to do. I'm serious, that's what I thought. Like I've always done in my life, I asked a lot of questions. Joe's friend was nice enough to explain what he had learned the year before in 6^th grade sex education. So, now I knew how babies were really made. Well, sort of. I still didn't understand the guy "doing his thing" on the chicks boobs. I said "well, he missed, didn't he?" I still remember those three almost falling off the couch with laughter.

Joe and I left Chris's house that afternoon. I'm not sure if Joe knew Santa wasn't real, but now I did. So in the span of about 45 minutes I had come to the realization that Santa Claus wasn't real, learned what a blow job was, not to mention ejaculation, vaginal intercourse and anal sex also being on the curriculum for the day. Oh yeah, I didn't mention that did I? During the movie, Santa's little helper requested the services of Santa in her backdoor.

I didn't talk to my parent's about it. I thought I would get in trouble. I haven't told either one of my parent's about it to this day, ever. I might tell my Dad some day, because he's cool about stuff like this. My Mom though? I'll probably let her go to the grave never knowing how I found out that Santa is not real, and how babies are really made. Sort of. All from watching a porno. Who said I didn't have anything so say?

Currently listening : A Night at the Opera By Queen Release date: 03 September, 1991