1 post tagged “xmas”
It's that time of year again..
Jingle bells, Jingle bells.. And all that cheery bollocks.
For those of us who don't start crapping rainbows every time we hear some dead old bloke blast out White Christmas on the radio.. Christmas is hell frozen over, quite literally.
And here's why..
1: Office Christmas parties.. It's not big and clever to get hammered on cheap wine, throw yourself at the boss (or worse, the office junior), and spend the next 3 weeks at work wishing you were dead. Plus, you know Sarah the office slut? The one you were mouthing off about in the ladies toilet after your fourth glass of wine? She was in the cubicle next to you. And she's the bosses niece.. Have you sobered up enough to say 'disciplinary?
2: Shopping.. It's like a jungle out there. Women will fight, quite literally for the latest top/toy/whatever. You need knee pads, a loud mouth and something to club the stampeeds of women over the head with.. Or, do it online. And then whine when the top you bought for Christmas from ebay is three sizes too big and dolly you bought for your baby sister doesn't arrive until the 3rd of January..
3: Christmas trees.. They're big, they're prickly.. They take over your entire living room and they shed shit all over your lovely clean floor.
4: Christmas decorations: All that twinkly-sparkly-tinsely-fairy-crap? No thanks. It interferres with my hangovers..
5: Mistletoe: No great uncle Arthur, I don't want to give you a 'great big sloppy kiss'. You're positively revolting, older than my Dad, and your nasty moustache still has Christmas pudding in it. Fuck off.
6: Relatives: You're tired, you're stressed and you're slightly tipsy because you poured more brandy down your throat than into the Christmas Pudding mixture.. Therefore, by the time the ungrateful, loud mouthed sods you previously referred to as 'family' have eaten the food that you spent HOURS slaving over - you just want them to piss off so you can down what's left of that brandy, and pass out on the sofa..
7: Kids.. I love kids. But they work one of two ways. There are the adorable children who get SO excited about
Santa coming, that they're an absolute delight to be around (if a little noisy...). Then there are the greedy, spoilt little shits, who throw a tantrum because they only got FIVE Barbie Dolls and they wanted twelve. The kids that tantrum and paddy until they're physically sick. They're the kids that make it a nightmare.. And quite frankly, their parents usually need a good kick up the arse.
8: Christmas Cards: The next door neighbour on your left side sent you one.. But the bloke on the right side didn't. Do you send one to them both? Do you think the bloke will think you fancy him if you send him a card? But then if you don't, he might think you're being mean.. Oh, what to do!! All this drama over bloody Christmas cards.. Here's an idea. Send them to people you care about - and have a (cheap) spare box handy for all the smart arsed tossers who turn up with a card after failing to speak to you for three years.
9: Inappropriate presents: No, your parents didn't need to see the six-speed vibrator that your partner bought for you.. Or the edible knickers.. Or the handcuffs.. These presents are best saved for AFTER the holiday - when you're away from prying eyes and younger siblings who ask if all policewomen have red leather handcuffs now..
10: Music: Having to deal with the overly-cheerful voices of dead old men and whiny tarts, who sing about snowmen, and love, and lovely Christmas-sy things.. Oh pass me the sick bucket. The worst thing is, it's all so flaming catchy.. efore you know it, you're singing along to Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas at full blast, in lanes of traffic.. Looking frankly, like a total twat
.
So as you may have guessed, I'm not really getting into the Christmas spirit.. Infact the only example of 'getting into the spirit' that I've ever shown - has involved the kind of spirits that you drink on the rocks.
And for the record, if you want to find me this Christmas.. I'll be the one trying to cook a dinner in three inch heels, whilst explaining to my tone deaf grandmother that yes, my hair is naturally like this, and no, I am not as good a cook as she is.
Then again, you might just find me hiding in the garage.. Necking what's left of the brandy. Bah Humbug.
