Christmas is Christmas no matter where you Christmas.

I've always liked Christmas. Now though, for different reasons. Now, as an adult, I can do what I want on that day. As a kid you might have to have dinner at a certain time, or go to a family members house. As an adult, don't have to do anything. Don't have to go to a certain persons house for dinner at a certain time. Don't have to have conversations with cousins about the weather.
"Cold out there, huh?"
"Yep. It's winter."
"Yeah, but it's winter in LA, and it's not cold there!"
"Two different places I guess."
"Yeah, but one place is cold, and the other place, well, it just isn't! Isn't that something!?"
Okay, so conversations like that rarely happen to that kind of extreme, but still. I choose to spend Christmas how I want.

That means for the last couple of years I've stayed in New York for Christmas. Because I stay here and it's not where my family lives, I get invited to orphan Christmas.
"You want to come to orphan Christmas dinner?"

"Nope. Orphan is not really a fun word. Sounds terrible."

"Oh, it's not a Christmas for orphans. In this case, YOU'RE the orphan because you won't be with your family, so I'm inviting you to mine."

"So, I'll go, and they'll look at me all day like my family were burned to death in a fire?"

"Sort of. Also, they weren't? Then why aren't you going home?"

Putting the word 'Orphan' in front of anything doesn't make it sound appealing.
"You're cute. You want to have an orphan threesome with me and my friend?"
"I don't even think orphans would want to have an orphan threesome."

I have places I can go, I just choose not to. I'm back and forth to Canada a decent amount, and flying home at Christmas is way too expensive. It cost almost a thousand dollars to get home. Why? Because there's not a lot of direct flights from NY to New Brunswick, and also, it's Christmas. Airlines can charge whatever they want.
"Alright. I need to fly from Halifax to Northern Halifax for Christmas. Let's see how much that would cost. Seven hundred bucks?! It's an hour flight. What the hell, airlines!"
"We're sorry. When you really want to get somewhere during a certain time of year, we raise the prices. Same flight in January would be four hundred dollars less. But, there's no reason to go home in January, now is there? So, will you be checking one bag, or two?"

Also, why is it necessarily sad when someone doesn't go home for Christmas? How do you know what their family Christmas would be like? People sort of assume that you just HAVE to go home for Christmas. If you don't, something must be wrong and you must be the most depressed person on earth.
"You're not going home for Christmas? Wow. You okay? You thinking about ending it all? How are you even able to stop crying long enough to tell me that? Was your family murdered by ninjas on Christmas? I am so truly, truly sorry."
Not all Christmas's or families on Christmas are the way they are shown to us in commercials. Every commercial for Christmas shows a mom and a dad, both wearing terrible sweaters, in a big house with at least two kids, a dog is running around, their tree is massive, and there's so many presents under the tree it'll take until the 26th to open them all. They NEVER show commercials with people living in apartments. Why? Do people in apartments not celebrate Christmas? Do you HAVE to have a set of stairs to run down to really enjoy presents?
"Merry Christmas, guys!"
"Ah, yeah. Thanks, mom. Huuuuh. It's just, I can't fully enjoy this new iPod knowing that I ran two steps down a hall way and then through the kitchen to open it. Hopefully next year, we'll get a real, HUMAN place to live."

I like staying in NY for Christmas. Christmas is the one day a year that I don't feel bad for not doing anything, so I want to take full advantage of that. There's a bunch of places I could go, but if I do, I gotta wear pants, I have to talk to families, I have to not swear. All of those things are fine, and I like doing them, but on Christmas? Man. Adult Christmas has become a real day. I wake up really early, start the day with tons of bacon. I wear sweatpants all day. ALL... DAMN... DAY. I'll probably watch an old wrestling pay per view. Drinking in the afternoon. I probably won't shower. There's no WAY I could do any of that at a persons house with their family.
"Nathan, what are you doing? Aren't you going to get dressed?"
"What? No. It's Christmas! Did you get dressed as a kid when it was Christmas? You're goddamn right you didn't."
"Can you watch your language. There are kids here."
"And I bet they're happy as dick that it's Christmas! I'm putting more egg nog in this rum, and I'm NOT going to eat at a dinner table. Pe, pe, peace!"
I won't be able to enjoy Christmas this way forever. I'll have a family and kid some time. Probably. Who knows. But still, doing Christmas the way I do now at forty two might be a bit weird.

I try to do Christmas the way it was as a kid as much as possible. Christmas as a kid was amazing and that's not coming back. The break from school alone was great. That last day of school before time off for Christmas. Man. Teachers handing out candy canes, movies being played. You could just leave whenever you wanted. Teachers were almost upset that you showed up.
"Ugh, you're here? Don't you have cool friends to smoke drugs in the woods with? God. Alright, I'll put on Gremlins. I would rather be home."
Christmas Eve as a kid was so much fun. It was great to not really be able to sleep because you were so excited about waking up.
"Go to sleep."
"I can't!"
"You have to."
"It's completely impossible! It's Christmas. CHRISTMAS!"
"Santa won't come if you don't go to sleep."
"Well Santa can blow me, because there's no way I'm sleeping! Doesn't he know it's Christmas?! Christmas!"

Christmas does not just have to be in the same living room you did it in when you were five. Christmas is a state of mind. It can be enjoyed anywhere, with anyone, if you really want to. You could have a good Christmas in a bus station. It would take a hell of a lot, but it could happen.

Twitter @nathanmacintosh

Red haired people are different.

My eyebrows are almost completely see through. Why? I have red hair. I always have, and unless I fall into some sort of radioactive vat, or get old enough that it turns grey, I always will. I've grown into it. When I was a kid, I wasn't comfortable with it. I found it embarrassing. I never liked that people would ask questions about it. "Does it match the hair down there?" I never liked that. When I was a kid I wasn't extroverted enough to say, "of course it does!" What the hell else would be down there?!' I never liked being put on the spot about my hair.

As a young kid I was fully different to the other kids. They let me know that I was. People commented on my freckles. I was called random names. Leprechaun, fire crotch. I remember being out with my mom as a kid, and a random woman stopped her and said I looked like a french fry with ketchup on top. She didn't say it maliciously, but as a kid it still makes you feel a way. French fry with ketchup on top! That's one of the farthest things from human that there is.

The term ginger didn't really start until I was out of school. That's typically what people will say now. I hear red haired people calling themselves gingers sometimes. I'm not a fan of it. Stop that shit. It's dumb. It's just trying to fit in with people who call you that trying to make fun of you. I went to a theatre once, and everyone working there had a name tag on that said their name and their favourite movie. A red head dude was working there. What was on his name tag? 'Ginger'. That's it. Didn't even have a favourite movie! Just ginger. Can't even call his 'name tag' a 'name tag'. There's no WAY that he put that there. There's no way he decided to do that. Everyone around him decided that, and so that he could fit in, he went with it. I said to him, "come on, man. Don't let these people treat you this way. You don't even have a movie!" He said, "ahhhh, it's cool." It aint cool, man. Pick a damn movie, and get your damn name on the damn tag.

For some reason people think we all look alike. I've been called every red haired person I think. Conan O'Brien, Bill Burr, Fry from Futurama, Howdy Doody, Chucky, Problem Child, David Caruso, Prince Harry (once). Just about anyone with red haired, I've been called that person. I don't look like ANY of these people/cartoons/puppets. How the hell do you look like a puppet? A wooden puppet? The puppet has freckles on it's face. I don't!

People want to know if you can tan. No. That's not a thing. I suppose maybe, if we tried really hard, got a good base going in a bed or something. But generally speaking? Nope. Just burning and screaming.

When I was about five, I was outside all day and got really burnt. Burnt enough that I had these big blisters on my arm. My mom took me to the hospital (probably freaking out saying, "what the hell is wrong with my son's arm!"), and they put my arm in a cast. A cast for sun blisters. I didn't want to tell people that I had a cast for being burnt. I didn't want to say, "The cast? My arm pretty much cooked from being outside and running the sun." So I told people them that I was hit by a car. That I had held my arm out to cross, and some maniac drove through it and broke it. I wasn't going to tell people my body was too weak for UV rays when I was five. Car hit me! That's the story.

People have told me I can't wear certain things having red hair. No pink, purple, green, orange, red, and any variation of those. Just about nothing. Brown and tan and black. That's what I'm 'allowed' to wear. Woa, sweet. Brown. Thanks. What a fun colour to wear. What do you even wear brown to do? Take a kayaking course? Coach a little league game drunk? Or tan. Tan. What a colour. Something was white, now it's kinda dirty. Tan. Black is for funerals, drive-bys, deep depressions, women coming down marble stair cases, or people who don't know what matches with what. Black, tan, and brown together? Absolutely disgusting. I like wearing colours. Aqua is an awesome colour. So is yellow. Purple is great. Salmon? Get out of here. I used to CRUSH salmon shirts. I don't care what the losers on 'What Not To Wear' would say. Earth tones can blow me.

Red haired women are notoriously loved. Red head men are typically thought of as strange, ugly, woodland creatures that only come out of the trees to play the flute with Satyrs. People have said to me, 'You're good looking for a red head guy." How am I supposed to take that? What am I supposed to say?
"Yes well, you know, I managed to escape before they dragged me to the center of the earth with the other red haired trolls."

Here's a weird thing about having red hair. I'm not a white man. I mean, clearly I am. Red haired people are white people. We are almost the ultimate white people. We can't tan. We are whiter than the average white person. We should be considered white people. But are we? Nope. White people don't refer to us as white. We are 'gingers', 'red heads', 'carrot tops', 'ginger cunts', 'soulless', and any other number of dumb things. The only time white people consider me white is if I'm with a group of black people. Then I'm a white guy. But if I'm with a group of white people, I'm one of those names.

It's only ever white people who have said things to me about it. That's it. Only ones that point it out. White people like to remind me I have red hair as if somehow I forgot. I woke up out of a coma and completely forgot about what has been on top of my head for 28 years.
"You know you have red hair, right?"
"Whhhhhaaaaaaaaattttttt?!!!?? How did this happen!"
Only ones that have ever said anything about it, actually. If black people make fun of me, they'll say something about me being white. It's weird, black people think I'm the whitest of white people, and white people don't consider me white.

A black guy came up to me after a show awhile ago and said,
"Do you know why black people and red haired people get along? Because white people hate us both." Don't know how true that is, but it made me laugh.

'Kick a ginger day' a few years ago really made me angry. I walked around hoping that I got kicked. The thought that people who have red hair were really beat up that day made me so mad. Again, it doesn't seem that we're different, but then things like that will come along and you are reminded that even if you don't think you are, people do. 'Kick a ginger day'. It made the news a bit, but basically it was saying, 'watch out, parents of kids with red hair. They'll kick em!'
If there was 'Kick a black person day', or 'Kick a woman day', or 'Kick a dog day'? There'd be crazy outrage, and rightfully so.

We're different. I'm fine with that. I used to hate having red hair. I love it now. I wouldn't change it now if I could.

Twitter @nathanmacintosh

7 things in fast NY that are not fast.

NewYork City is thought of as a city where everything is fast. That everyone and everything is in a constant state of rush. That if you stop for a second you'll be run over by the stampede of people screaming and sprinting behind you. Well, thats just not true. Not everything in New York is fast, and here are seven[' examples.

1. Pigeons.
Pigeons in NY do what they want to do. They are walking to the beat of their own drum. A lot of other cities pigeons will get out of the way of cars and people. In New York? Nope. They don't move. They've seen people. People don't scare or impress them. I've seen a pigeon cross at a street light. Waited for it to turn green, and it walked. And the pigeon did not walk with any sense of urgency. Pigeons treat NY like they're on vacation at a beach. If I saw a pigeon with a Mai Tai I wouldn't be shocked. If you are behind a pigeon in New York, be prepared to yell, "You serious, bird? Walk faster! Pick up that pizza crust, fly outta here and peck at it somewhere else!"

"You think I need to be anywhere? I'm not moving."

2. People with strollers.
Even though strollers have wheels, and people pushing them could easily tear through the streets, they are not moving at all. Most of the time people with strollers in NY are walking down the middle of the sidewalk. The middle! Just crawling along, taking up the whole thing, stopping every once in awhile to send a text on their phone. Or stopping to make sure they are still walking down the exact middle of the sidewalk. If you get caught behind a stroller in New York, be prepared to yell, "Pull over if you're going to send a text! Would you stop in the middle of the highway to change your radio station? Pull over!"

"I will stop here. This is where I will stop. Right.... here."

3. Cashiers at Starbucks and McDonald's.
So you want to go to one of these places. They are usually fast. And you're in NY, so, it's probably one of THE FASTEST ONES, right? Ah, you've been led astray. Order anything but a regular coffee at Starbucks in NY and you're waiting for the end of a conversation about Kanye before they start making your drink. You order food at McDonald's, and it takes long enough that you'll think the food is going to be real. Maybe? Could it be? No. It's not. It's just a ten minute Big Mac. If you find yourself at a McDonald's or Starbucks in Manhattan, be prepared to yell, "Who cares why Kim Kardashian wore yesterday!? There's more people waiting for what they ordered than ordering. Put it together!"

"Can I get you some speed with that? ... Kidding. You'll get your food when you get it."

4. Couples.
Man. Couples. Couples in this city like to crawl along, holding each other while taking baby sips of their coffees, or hot chocolates, or taking baby bites of a burrito. Falling in love all over again with every step and bite and sip. Love does not move fast. It crawls along. Love songs? Slow. Movies about love? Mostly slow. People in love walking down a street? Slowest.  Love is not quick. That's why your instincts of love don't kick in when you're in danger. If they did, you'd just sit there, trying to hug the tiger that is eating you. If you get stuck behind a couple in New York, be prepared to yell, "This is a busy street, not a John Cusack movie! Pick up your love feet!"

"Get out of the way, couple! Look how many people are behind you!"

5. Tourists.
Tourists  through the city, taking pictures of everything. Buildings, corners of buildings, doors of buildings, doormen of buildings, trees in front of buildings, trees, lobbies of buildings, buildings from different angles. Tourists love to take a lot of pictures of New York buildings. They'll also take random things and snap pictures. You can find a tourist standing in the middle of a busy street taking a picture of an old box of french fries that somebody dropped.  If you get stuck behind some tourists in New York, be prepared to yell, "It's just a half eaten slice of pizza on the ground! You don't need a picture of that!"

"Oh, wow. That's a garbage can. A NY garbage can! Gotta get a picture of me with this leg in front of it!"

6. Couples with a stroller.
Put a couple together with a stroller? Wow, buddy. You're stuck behind two things that don't move. Maybe they'll stop every few seconds to fall in love all over again with each other or the baby. Or arguing with each other sometimes about where they should eat, where the eight month old in the stroller should go to college, or praising that eight month old when they get out of the stroller, stand in the middle of the sidewalk, and fall down. If you get stuck behind a couple with a stroller, be prepared to yell, "Don't let him learn how to walk here! This is 5th Ave, not your living room! And he can't walk, stop talking about what his major will be. His minor right now is crawling."

"Well, what happened was we got stuck behind a couple in a stroller. I din't think we'd ever get out from behind them. Some people didn't. It was really tragic."

7. Subways late at night. 
You'd think these would just be flying around. That it'd be hard to get on one because of how fast the doors are closing. You'd be wrong. After two am, sometimes as early as midnight, these things are SLOW. Maybe they are caught behind a garbage train, a train that is just full of trash that moves slow and looks like it just came straight from hell. Maybe there's a man standing on the track doing construction. "Construction" on a NY subway track is a man with a flash light standing on that train track. If you're waiting for a NY subway train after midnight, be prepared to yell, "What day is it? What year! How long have I been down here?!

"Alright, this train is going to take forever. Let's get limber and do some yoga in the meantime."

Twitter @nathanmacintosh