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Christmas Confessions ::
Sunday, December 14th, 2008

Christmas Confessions

Dear Internet,

I am warning you now that this post is probably going to make me sound like some bitter, horrible person, but I'm going to do it anyway because I just realized that OMG CHRISTMAS IS LESS THAN TWO WEEKS AWAY.  I'm tired of pretending that I love this magical happy holiday.  I'm tired of pretending to like the awful Christmas music that for some reason no one but me ever seems to be sick of .  I'm tired of pretending that I have any clue what to get the rest of my family when my sister comes to me for help.  I'm tired of waiting in lines forever for these gifts, everyone in town seemingly crowded into THE SAME WAL-MART AISLE as me at any given time (I've pretty much given up on trying to go to Wal Mart.  Like...ever.  It's always fucking horrible, but especially during Christmas.)

Conversation with Brett the other night, on our fourth trip to Target for Christmas shopping:

Me: Ugh.  Why can't everyone I know just be a girl younger than me?  I never have a hard time shopping for Amber or April!
Brett:  Why, because you used to be a girl younger than you?

The problem with people who AREN'T girls younger than me, or even boys younger than me for that matter, is that most adults, if they really want something within my Christmas budget, would buy what they want for themselves.  They have money of their own.  That means that the job of the buyer is really hard because you have to think of something that someone wouldn't necessarily buy for themselves, but something they would still like.

I dunno, maybe I put way too much into it. Maybe it's because my past five or six or seven Christmases have been spent with a woman who, when she received gifts she didn't want, would give them to April and me.  I don't mean like a month or two later when she realized she didn't need them or for some reason was unable to use them.  No, I mean the exact same day.  On Christmas, when we brought our piles of stuff to our room, she would toss her unwanted gifts with our things.  And when we left them behind because we thought it must be some mistake she would put them by our bedroom door where we would inevitably trip over them and be forced to take them in.  This is the same woman who, on Mother's Day, told us, "Don't get me flowers.  Flowers are just a cop-out."  I know that not everyone in my family is as ungrateful as she, and in fact am pretty sure that none of them are, but there is always the thought gnawing at the back of my mind.

Also, did I mention that Christmas music is horrible?  Although I do love Fairytale of New York.

Brett, 12/27/08 6:05 PM

Oh that Shane MacGowan. Long on lyrics. Short on teeth.

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