I'm as cuddly as a cactus, I'm as charming as an eel
Before this evening, I didn't think I actively disliked Christmas. I just knew that I preferred Halloween for some strange reason that I chalked up to a stronger-than-normal affinity for candy corn. I actually thought Christmas was my #2, coming in slightly above St. Pat's. However, tonight in the craft section of my friendly neighborhood all-purpose store, I came to an unsettling realization:
I completely, unquestioningly, unabashedly LOATHE Christmas (and scrapbooking).
How does one hate a holiday so festive and full of cheer, you might ask, if you're the kind of tool who would use such a lame expression as "full of cheer". And I would answer...um...I dunno. I just do. I hate it. I hate putting up some huge ass tree, a shitload of ornaments, and other assorted porcelain crap, making a giant mess of styrofoam and crumpled newspaper, and displacing all my normal non-festive house things, just to have to pack them all up in a few weeks (a ritual made necessary by the fact that I don't live in West Virginia or even the more ghetto parts of my hometown, where discriminating Trader Horn shoppers scour the Christmas aisles for "The good'uns, so's we can leave 'em up all year!")
Apart from the hassles of decorating, I hate the pressure of giving gifts, wrapping gifts, sending cards, calling family, and all the utterly inconsequential decisions that just HAVE to be made, and my mother just HAS to call me 15 times a day to ask.
"Who's having Christmas this year? Are you bringing dessert or making something else? Who's making the turkey? Does everyone like turkey? Should we have ham instead, or maybe meatloaf? If we serve salad and green bean casserole and broccoli and cheese, would that be too many vegetables, or not enough? Should we have dinner in the dining room, the family room, the living room, the foyer, the guest bathroom, the screened in porch, the sunroom, the fucking garage and serve punch in the carport? Should we serve egg nog? Does anyone even like egg nog? Should we put alcohol in it, or will the kids get into it? Should we give the kids the alcoholic egg nog in hopes that they'll actually pass out before 3 AM for a change? Do I put out the burgundy and gold hand towels and the old fashioned Santa, or the contemporary Santa with the red and green ones? Do we have enough room at the table? Do we need a kids table? Are we doing a Secret Santa exchange, just buying cards, buying gifts for everyone, making donations to the Human Fund? What are you buying? What do the kids want? Should we just give them money? Maybe giftcards instead of money? Where do they like to shop? When should we open gifts? Should we do it Christmas Eve, Chrismas morning, Christmas afternoon, before church, after church? When are you going to church? Are you going to Midnight mass? You are going this year, aren't you? Last year everyone asked where you were. No, I don't know if your ex boyfriends still go to our church, I never go to that church except on Christmas. No, we can't go to a different church, because then the people at our church who know that we go there every year might think we didn't go and then they'll talk. Who did you send cards to? Did you send them to *insert everyone I've ever known, rattled off at a mile a minute* so that no one feels left out? When did you send them? Do you need any addresses? Why didn't you send one to *insert obscure fourth cousin who I haven't seen since birth*?
If you read that all in under 20 seconds while punching yourself repeatedly in the face, you might get some small measure of the general annoyingness of that endless seasonal tirade. Add to it the fact that Christmas happens at the absolute shittiest time of the year, which means that all of the traveling, visiting, church-going, and present-lugging usually falls smack in the middle of a cold snap with -20 wind chill.
Also, no matter how PC the world gets at making the holidays as generic and all-inclusive as possible, you can count on some random dickweed to protest your local nativity scene which, due to its convenient location a solid 30 blocks from his home, somehow manages to infringe upon his ability to sit on his ass. Captain Douchebag's sole purpose is to make his life-changing appearance on the Channel 7 news, pissing and moaning about the offensiveness of a plastic baby, while waving around a bloody, headless reindeer in front of a pack of terrified Kindergartners who just want to go to their non-celebratory, non-discriminating "Holiday festival". Apparently the decapitated Rudolph is a symbol of his inner torment and represents the anneurysm he had while driving past thousands of yards full of inflated Santas. Thank you, first amendment. Your intended purpose has surely been fulfilled.
Trust me, I could go on, but right now I'm content to leave it at this: I hate Christmas with the fiery passion of a thousand burning Yule logs. The only good thing about Christmas is NKOTB's "Merry Merry Christmas", which is out of print. And if the spirit of the most capitalist holiday ever can't be bought on Amazon.com, I'll have no part of it. If anyone needs me, I'll be counting down to Arbor Day.
I completely, unquestioningly, unabashedly LOATHE Christmas (and scrapbooking).
How does one hate a holiday so festive and full of cheer, you might ask, if you're the kind of tool who would use such a lame expression as "full of cheer". And I would answer...um...I dunno. I just do. I hate it. I hate putting up some huge ass tree, a shitload of ornaments, and other assorted porcelain crap, making a giant mess of styrofoam and crumpled newspaper, and displacing all my normal non-festive house things, just to have to pack them all up in a few weeks (a ritual made necessary by the fact that I don't live in West Virginia or even the more ghetto parts of my hometown, where discriminating Trader Horn shoppers scour the Christmas aisles for "The good'uns, so's we can leave 'em up all year!")
Apart from the hassles of decorating, I hate the pressure of giving gifts, wrapping gifts, sending cards, calling family, and all the utterly inconsequential decisions that just HAVE to be made, and my mother just HAS to call me 15 times a day to ask.
"Who's having Christmas this year? Are you bringing dessert or making something else? Who's making the turkey? Does everyone like turkey? Should we have ham instead, or maybe meatloaf? If we serve salad and green bean casserole and broccoli and cheese, would that be too many vegetables, or not enough? Should we have dinner in the dining room, the family room, the living room, the foyer, the guest bathroom, the screened in porch, the sunroom, the fucking garage and serve punch in the carport? Should we serve egg nog? Does anyone even like egg nog? Should we put alcohol in it, or will the kids get into it? Should we give the kids the alcoholic egg nog in hopes that they'll actually pass out before 3 AM for a change? Do I put out the burgundy and gold hand towels and the old fashioned Santa, or the contemporary Santa with the red and green ones? Do we have enough room at the table? Do we need a kids table? Are we doing a Secret Santa exchange, just buying cards, buying gifts for everyone, making donations to the Human Fund? What are you buying? What do the kids want? Should we just give them money? Maybe giftcards instead of money? Where do they like to shop? When should we open gifts? Should we do it Christmas Eve, Chrismas morning, Christmas afternoon, before church, after church? When are you going to church? Are you going to Midnight mass? You are going this year, aren't you? Last year everyone asked where you were. No, I don't know if your ex boyfriends still go to our church, I never go to that church except on Christmas. No, we can't go to a different church, because then the people at our church who know that we go there every year might think we didn't go and then they'll talk. Who did you send cards to? Did you send them to *insert everyone I've ever known, rattled off at a mile a minute* so that no one feels left out? When did you send them? Do you need any addresses? Why didn't you send one to *insert obscure fourth cousin who I haven't seen since birth*?
If you read that all in under 20 seconds while punching yourself repeatedly in the face, you might get some small measure of the general annoyingness of that endless seasonal tirade. Add to it the fact that Christmas happens at the absolute shittiest time of the year, which means that all of the traveling, visiting, church-going, and present-lugging usually falls smack in the middle of a cold snap with -20 wind chill.
Also, no matter how PC the world gets at making the holidays as generic and all-inclusive as possible, you can count on some random dickweed to protest your local nativity scene which, due to its convenient location a solid 30 blocks from his home, somehow manages to infringe upon his ability to sit on his ass. Captain Douchebag's sole purpose is to make his life-changing appearance on the Channel 7 news, pissing and moaning about the offensiveness of a plastic baby, while waving around a bloody, headless reindeer in front of a pack of terrified Kindergartners who just want to go to their non-celebratory, non-discriminating "Holiday festival". Apparently the decapitated Rudolph is a symbol of his inner torment and represents the anneurysm he had while driving past thousands of yards full of inflated Santas. Thank you, first amendment. Your intended purpose has surely been fulfilled.
Trust me, I could go on, but right now I'm content to leave it at this: I hate Christmas with the fiery passion of a thousand burning Yule logs. The only good thing about Christmas is NKOTB's "Merry Merry Christmas", which is out of print. And if the spirit of the most capitalist holiday ever can't be bought on Amazon.com, I'll have no part of it. If anyone needs me, I'll be counting down to Arbor Day.