Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights (or oil that burned conveniently too long), is an eight-day celebration filled with confusion and hope. Unlike the Christians, Jews celebrate for eight days which means the opportunity to spell Channukah eight different ways (none of which are wrong, somehow), light a few dozen candles, and hope, hope that tonight is the night that the good present comes.

It seems that us Jews always need to make things more complicated than they are. And that is why Hannukah is celebrated on the 25th of Kislev, whenever the hell Kislev is. But wait! Here's the fun part: Kislev changes every year so you'll never know when cooky old Channnnukah is going to pop up. What? It's May 29th? It's Channaukah you say? Yep!

Eight nights of presents means that one of the eight nights the good present comes. Which night? No one knows. It depends on who is giving the present and if they know which night of Hanuchchah it is. Most likely Jewish kids have to sit through at least six nights of crap, ill-fitting clothing, and nick-nacks that their parents think are clever until that one magical night comes where they finally get the N64, iPod, ballet shoes or diamond-pleated sweater-vest, whatever they're into. Every night as the candles are lit the hope begins, the hope that tonight could be the night that mom breaks out the big present. Could tonight be the night? Nope.

And that is why I'm jealous of the Christian kids. They wait all year for one day, a day that never changes, a day where they get all of the crap and all of the cool stuff in one sitting. Then they get to go to Grandma's house and get sucked into her old woman cleavage while she gives them Christmas hugs and tells them about the Great Depression forgetting the fact that she was born in the late 1940's. It's the perfect system unlike the traditions inherited by us Jews.  We're terminally doomed to confusion and hope in the month of December while the good ol' Christian boys and girls are all smiley, eager and satisfied.