A Mellowmas Prelude: He Who Mell’t It Dealt It

What happened to us?

This is the question we ask ourselves every year, right around this time. As this dreaded holiday turns seven years old (which, maturity-wise, is pretty much accurate), we take yet another opportunity for a good, long stare in the Mellowmas mirror, and we point a finger at ourselves and ask, “What in McD‘s holy name is wrong with us? What happened that forces us to continue torturing ourselves, year after year after year (after year after year after year)?”

Have a seat, won’t you? We want to tell you a story.

You see, when Mellowmas started, it was all so innocent. There was Air Supply and Andrew Gold, both reveling in holiday-themed wussitude. There were 12 days. Our chats took us about 20 minutes. And we started them in November.

Now? There’s Menudo, the Singing Saw, and something called a “Leighton Meester.” There’s always a goddamn version of “Last Christmas.” There are 25 oh-God-will-this-ever-be-over days. We talk for hours about every song (okay, it’s twenty minutes of talking and forty minutes of stunned silence). We start in AUGUST and our wives now hate us for a solid four months instead of the usual one.

The music changes. But it doesn’t, really. We still hear the current artists hoping for a cash-in (we see you, She & Him!), the anything-but-current artists releasing things on CD-R (oh hi, Genie Francis, say hi to your brothers for us!), and the ones that just make no sense whatsoever (Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta, what the fuck are you thinking?). And, of course, Wing. Oh, Wing, we think we love you and your festive helicopter most of all.

We rub our hands together in glee, do leprechaun dances, and then quietly sob ourselves to sleep, only to wake up filled with snot and regret and a sick compulsion to repeat it all the next day.

What happened to us?

Alan O’Day happened to us:

Ted Asregadoo happened to us:

Robin Gibb and Stevie Nicks, “Silent Night, Hellish Night” (download)

Terje Fjelde happened to us, like, six times (which, coincidentally, is the same amount of times we got chlamydia from Annie‘s mother):

And, most importantly, you happened to us. You encouraged us. You egged us on. YOU SENT US AWFUL MUSIC VIA OUR E-MAIL ADDRESSES, WHICH WE NOW WISH WE HAD NEVER GIVEN YOU.

So we hope you’re happy. This holiday is all your fault. And trust us, dear readers, we’re going to do all we can to repay you.

You might want to add some extra brandy to that eggnog, folks. Mellowmas begins tomorrow.

  • Jeffrey Thames


  • Mordalo

    YAY! I look forward to this every year!

  • arensb

    “So we hope you’re happy. This holiday is all your fault.”

    Don’t you think I know that? Not a day goes by that I don’t think about how I caused Mellowmas. And then I listen to Wing singing AC/DC and scream to drown out the screams in my head. That, and drink egg nog laced with copious amounts of Leighton Meester. At least, I think that’s what it is.

    On a related note, since the AM Gold series just ended, I’m guessing that this year’s Mellowmas will be extra-mellow — or at least extra-golden — to make up for it.

  • Ted

    Let the torture of Mellowmas begin!!!

  • Terje Fjelde

    I’m sorry.

  • Ted

    I just told my wife “Hey, Mellowmas is starting!” Her response? “Oh crap.”

  • jefito

    Actually, it will be extra-mellow. Funny how that works…

  • jasonhare

    That’s not a bad response. My wife just wept.

  • Terje Fjelde

    My wife hid my keyboards and videocameras.

  • Ted

    Well, since your wife had to endure this music since the summer, weeping shows she’s a strong person. I think my wife would have gone insane or filed for divorce.

  • Mushi Loola

    Mellowmas—it is the most wonderful time of the year!

  • rockrdude

    My wife deleted Jeff & Jason’s e-mail addresses from my computer so I WOULDN’T SEND THEM ANY MORE AWFUL MUSIC!

  • stevec

    “What the hell is a Leighton Meester?”

    Best line ever!

  • arensb

    Sometimes Mellowmas is extra-golden, but usually it’s just yellow.

  • jefito

    Being Terje means never having to say you’re sorry.

  • ozarkmatt

    Yeah, I’m pumped.