Things Wrong With Christmas
By DiaryofaMadWoman on December 05, 2012
All that ‘holiday cheer’ you all claim to have…where does that come from? Will I go to hell for hating baby Jesus’ party planning? Gawd, I hope not. I don’t hate Jesus or his birthday. It’s his party I hate. And sometimes I think I’m going to beat you all to Heaven for hating it. Because I think he hates it too.
Thing wrong #1: Christmas trees. What probably started as a nice gesture in a little forest somewhere, has now escalated into a billion dollar industry that makes me take pills. First there is the tree itself, which costs way too much.Then stringing the lights, getting poked, scratched, etc. Hours of it. Everyone patiently waits for the lights to go on. It takes so fucking long that it ends up being a let down because you can’t decorate until the next day. Then when Christmas is over, you have to take the lights down. You no longer care about your priceless handmade ornaments; you carelessly toss them and rip them down. The party is over. Just get the shit OFF! More poking, scratching, tugging and cursing, all the while billions and fucktillions of needles cascade to the floor like a piney blizzard. Bet you don’t give a fuck about the scent now, do you? Some get mad and just cut the lights off. Some get frustrated and just throw the tree with lights to the curb. Heave HO.FUCK YOU TREE.
Last year I wisely decided Christmas would be different. And easier. So I bought a fake tree. Thing wrong #2. Fake trees are priced in line with small cars. You can get a cheaper one, but it will look like shit. You don’t want to look like shit at Christmas, so you spend another fucktillion dollars on a nice fake tree, because it’s going to last so long. Oh yeah…I’m gonna have this shit forever. So it’s totally worth it. Hahahahahaha.
I hauled my very long 50 lb box of fake tree up 17 steps yesterday. When I began the awkward struggle up the stairs I noticed the scent of shit. Not human shit or dog shit…no…no shit like that.NASTY SHIT. Shit magnet shit. Mouse shit or roach shit. So when I reached step 17 and the whole box slid nicely back down to step one, I decided it was a gift from the gods and that I should open the box full of mice or roaches OUTSIDE. And so I did.And while that was a right thing, the next thing that happened was
Thing wrong #3. Seven, 7, five plus two ROACHES ran out of the box. Now, at this point, in my past, being a business owner and having wads of cash here and there, I would have drug that fucker to the curb. However. I just bought it last year. I’m unemployed. I have no bread winner. No one wins bread here. Or any other food items. So I spayed it with Raid. Yes, fuck a pine scent. Pine scents are for pussies. Then, I got out the blower, and I just blew and blew and blew that tree. I blew the poo. Until I couldn’t blow the poo anymore.
Thing wrong #4. Now when I touch the tree, I know I am touching areas where roaches once ran. And not only that, Raid is poison, and I have an obsessive compulsive disorder with poison. I feel that one teeny tiny splash of any poison will send me to the terminally ill cancer ward immediately, and my children will be orphans.
I take a klonopin, so that I can touch said tree.Tis the klonopin season again, finally.Now here is an old friend that is welcomed during the holiday season. I have missed this guy.
I erect the tree. I plug in the pluggers. And guess what. The tree is fucked up. The middle strand of lights does not work. So my great idea to buy a fake tree so that I don’t have to fuck with lights is now ruined. Now I’m stupid. I’m in a hating Christmas frenzy. I’m still fucking with lights. And I don’t think Jesus is mad at me at all for not enjoying the process.
I might get a slight tap on the wrist at the pearly gates for saying fuck so much, but I’ma take my chances, ya hurd me?
As I said earlier. I would rather make out with this man:
Than string Christmas tree lights.
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