Wednesday, November 17, 2010


If you couldn't already guess, I totally hate the holiday season. Always have, always will. I try to understand why people would enjoy this time of year, but I keep coming up blank. The reasons people give: the spirit of Christmas, the joy, blah, blah, blah- they just don't seem legit. You can pretend to care about goodwill and cheer and "the giving spirit" all you want, fact of the matter is, people love the holidays because almost everyone breezes into January with a belly full of fine foods and couple of hundred of bucks worth of loot.
For example, I've got this one amazing trick where, upon people asking me what I want for Christmas, I put on a really sad face and say that I want "nothing". This one magical statement turns packages full of candles I'll never use, and ugly sweaters I'll never wear, into cards packed with cash and gift certificates (because, for some reason, you're not allowed to say that you "just want cash" for Christmas). I'm not the only one on the planet that uses this trick, I'm just the only one to admit it.
People say they love the generosity of this time of year, the family, the decency that it brings out in all of us, but then everyone just spends the time getting drunk, stuffing their faces, and getting needless gifts. If it were really about selflessness and togetherness, we would all bring our families to volunteer at the soup kitchen, and take the cash that we would use on little Timmy's X-Box 360 and giving it to the animal shelter.
Don't bullshit the bullshitter, holiday-lovers. I see right through you guys, straight to the little dollar signs in the back of your eyes.

The weather sucks, the malls are packed, and nobody buys me that three-flavor popcorn tin that I always ask for every year (cheese, butter, and caramel). My family started doing a gift exchange, which I thought was a good idea. I drew my mom's name out of the hat, I have to spend $150 on gifts for her and only her, no problem. My mom is the world's easiest person to buy for- she doesn't really even care what the gift is, so long as you wrapped it yourself. Nooooo problem.
You know what, though? Big problem. You see, my name was picked out of the hat by my worst relative. The one that, despite the $150 limit, will spend $3 on an ornament from the clearance section of Shopper's Drug Mart, and shrug unapologetically when I open it and realize that I've been bamboozled. Gift bamboozled.

I hate Christmas specials on TV. It's the same shit every year. Did Matlock need a 'very special' holiday episode? Every day that Matlock continues to breathe off of life support should be 'very special' to him. Also, every year they play the same commercials. I know this because I watch TV every month of every year. Can't trick me. There are a certain breed of actors that will never find themselves on a sitcom or a drama or a movie, and will just continue to be in commercials for the rest of their lives. The children of this breed really stand out, in that you visibly watch them age from one commercial to the next. Huggies to Hot Wheels to Trapper Keepers to Speed Stick. Boys to men. When a kid doesn't age from one year's commercial to the next, you know that company didn't dole out the cash for a fresh new 2010 ad, because they thought that nobody would notice. Unless these companies figured out a way to turn back the aging process, they are very obviously recycling their 2009 ads for another year. Nice try, guys.

Lastly (but certainly not least)- Santa. What the fuck is up with that guy? If it were any other time of year, and you busted a scruffy guy in flamboyant red, fur-trimmed pajamas on your roof, you would get on the phone and call the goddamn police. "Help!", you would say, "There is a gay vagrant on my roof, and he is trying to lodge himself inside of my chimney!".
They would come and take his shitload of reindeer to the SPCA (where does a man get eight reindeer anyway?), and haul his ass off to jail.
As the paddy wagon headed back toward the station, with ol' Saint Nick in the back of the car, he would bellow a deep and jolly "ho, ho, ho" out the window, to which you would get back on the phone with the cops to also sue him for verbal harassment, because nobody is allowed to call you a prostitute.
In spite of all of this, nobody bats an eyelash if this shit happens on December 24th. Guy gets on the roof, lets himself into the house, eats the cookies, makes out with your wife, and takes off with his herd of radioactive wild animals. No big deal. It's Christmas Eve, so it's okay.
Also, Santa looks like he would stink if you met him in real life. Juuuust sayin'.

Look, I like eggnog, and I won't turn down a sugar cookie at any time of the year. I like the smell of fir trees. I look adorable in mittens. I enjoy ruining Christmas for others. I guess it's not all bad, afterall.
Can someone please just get me my tin of popcorn this year? Come on. This is getting ridiculous.

~sarah p.

p.s. How about being nice to each other all of the time, assholes?

I also like those boxes of assorted chocolates. Hint, hint.

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