Lack of Spirit
Well, Christmas has snuck up on me once again. It's sneaking skills can be compared to that of an oversized meatball with the ability to walk on legs of pasta, so it wasn't much of a surprise when Christmas Eve exploded onto my calendar. It was like opening a pop-up book of very merry proportion, and suddenly my room began to fill with thousands of options pertaining to Christmas and the Christmas Spirit. All of them I ignored.
To all of you that I like and can tolerate: Merry Christmas.
To those of you whom I despise, hate, or strongly dislike, you may not receive my blessing of a happy holiday. You are the reason my Christmas spirit simply does not exist. In all forms of sarcasm: thank you. Thank you dearly. Now go to hell.
Aw, fine. Merry Christmas, ALL of you.
To all of you that I like and can tolerate: Merry Christmas.
To those of you whom I despise, hate, or strongly dislike, you may not receive my blessing of a happy holiday. You are the reason my Christmas spirit simply does not exist. In all forms of sarcasm: thank you. Thank you dearly. Now go to hell.
Aw, fine. Merry Christmas, ALL of you.