Christmas Annoyance Update

We are now a mere ten days from joyous Christmas day, and I am now officially done with this holiday season. Just yesterday my holiday annoyance level jumped from sienna to goldenrod. It very likely could reach coffee by the 20th. I am in dire Yule straights. Working in retail in a mall has completely worn away my merry resolve. I’m tired of almost everything having to do with Christmas. I’m tired of the crowds of people. The nagging about what presents people still need. I am tired of telling people we don’t have any of the ‘hot’ holiday items left for sale. Look, I’m only going to say this once: If your son or daughter wants an Ipod Nano or an X-Box 360, you are not going to get it for them before Christmas. Deal with it. “But James,” you say, “What am I going to tell Billy. He needs one.” Here’s what you do: Take little Billy aside, smack that awful spoiled-brat pout off his face, and explain that there are places in the world where all you get for Christmas is an extra spoonful of rice, where you pick up an AK-47 at the age of 6 and die by the age of 13. Then smack little Billy again, and tell him not to be such a whiny ungrateful little bitch.

Oh, there’s more about this horrid holiday season which wears awful fissures into my very soul. Did I mention the music? Remember how you first started hearing Christmas songs – like in September – and you thought: “Wow, I haven’t heard this in a while.” Then for four straight months you hear nothing but Christmas music. At first you get annoyed. Then you get numb to them. Then you start to hear them again, but this time you really start to listen, really listen. You realize that some of these songs are truly disturbing. I used to like ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ until someone – Nang – ruined it for me by pointing out how it sounds like a tale of date rape.

The other day I started thinking – really thinking – about ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’. Wow, what a bizarre song. The name of the song should be ‘My Eccentric Billionaire Boyfriend’. This guy must have all sorts of money and time at his disposal. He’s clearly rich, and – if the song is to be believed – he truly loves, but his taste seems to run a little toward the…how should I say this…bizarre and sadistic. This guy clearly can give any gifts he wants, and what does the poor girl keep getting: Birds. Birds!? For four straight days this weirdo gives his true love nothing but birds. What the hell does he expect her to do with all these birds?

I can just imagine what the poor girl was thinking come day five: “I swear to God, if this guy gives me one more freakin bird, his ass is toast.” Then, of course, the billionaire – in true Machiavellian fashion – comes through with one good gift: Five golden rings. Every woman loves jewelry. This gift is money in the bank. The woman’s happy – sure she has to figure out what to do with three French Hens, etc, but whatever. Of course, it’s all a cruel tease. Come day six – BOOM – right back to those damned birds.

“Oh…” the poor girl says, “Six geese…great.”

“There’s more,” the billionaire responds, “They’re laying eggs.”

“That’s not the only thing laying eggs around here.”

Then, after another day of birds – ‘Where the hell am I supposed to keep seven swans and the pool for them to swim in?’- when the poor girl absolutely can’t stand one more day of birds, the guy stops giving birds. Now, he’s giving people. PEOPLE!? Who in their right mind gives people? Aren’t there laws against this sort of things? You can’t give people people as gifts. This guy doesn’t care. He doesn’t just give people, he gives groups of people. Eight maids – not to mention the cows that come with them – is not a good gift. No one has space for eight frickin maids.

Then for the rest of the holiday season, this guy gives nothing but people. This poor girl has people dancing, leaping, drumming, etc all over her house. All of a sudden, her house is a circus. Of course, she has nothing to do. She can’t return the gifts. Her boyfriend – daddy Bigbucks – comes over expecting to see them. Plus, it’s not like he gave her a gift receipt. Everyone knows you can’t return people without a receipt. All you get is store credit for more people. Who needs that?

So, this egomaniacal billionaire makes his girlfriends life a living hell over Christmas. Crappy gift, after crappy gift. Her house is a cross between an aviary, barn, and dance club. Come Boxing Day, she’s probably having a nervous break down. And why? Why does this jerk do all this? Because he’s rich and he can get away with it.

See. This is the kind of crap which runs through your mind when Christmas becomes completely ruined. I can’t wait for Christmas to be over. I can’t wait for this month long headache to finally subside. I mean seriously, why do we put ourselves through this? What is Christmas all about anyway? Can’t anyone tell me what Christmas is all about?

Yes, Linus. You have something to say?

Shalom
James