“It’s going to be the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby danced with Danny fuckin’ Kay!” -Clark W. Griswold, Christmas Vacation
Okay. So we survived Thanksgiving. Christmas is only a month away and it’s on, baby. The madness has begun. In celebration of the holiday shopping season, I have used the alphabet to help me compose a list of things that make me hate everyone. (I’m borrowing the alphabet idea from other blogs I’ve seen. I cannot claim it as my own brilliant idea.)
A: Assholes. They’re everywhere. They’re at Target in their pajamas and slippers, they’re running down pedestrians in their giant pig SUVs, they’re parking mini-vans full of children on either side of my car so that I cannot see to get out, and they’re standing in line in front of me.
B: Black Friday: Getting up at 2am with a wine hangover that dare not speak its name in order to go out in the dark, scrape ice off the car, and drive to the mall to save 39 cents on a pair of long johns. Whydowedothis? The sale lasts allfuckingday!
C: Clearance aisle. Nothing in it.
D: Driving in mall traffic makes my middle finger hurt.
E: Early Bird Shopper. This is the smug jackass who has all of her shopping finished before Halloween. Hate. Her. There’s nothing wrong with having done this, it’s just that she feels the need to tell everyone about it. If this is you, keep it to yourself and I won’t have to choke you. That’s all I’m saying. (btw, I say” her” because I have yet to meet a man who doesn’t wait until December 24th at approximately 8pm to begin thinking about going out to do a little shopping. If you have seen such a creature, grab onto him and never let go.)
F: Fuck this. I’m converting to Wicca. They give eachother little sticks and shit they find in out the yard.
G: Getting a table at any restaurant within a ten mile radius of a shopping mecca in under 2 hours, 45 minutes.
H: Hate everyone with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns.
I: Indecision. Should I buy Cousin Albert a shower radio, a travel grooming kit, or a 90 inch flat screen TV?
J: Jackets, hats, mittens, scarves, purse, Ernie doll, snack, sippy cup, sale flyer, and all the other stuff we leave in a trail throughout the store like Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs.
K: Kilometers. The car is parked 50 kilometers from the mall entrance.
L: Ladies room. Bringing a toddler to visit the potty. I’m carrying all items listed above in letter J as well as holding the very tiny hand of an uncooperative and squirming little person who is grabbing her crotch and insisting “the pee pee is going to come out Mommy!” I karate kick the stall door open and shimmy through it, managing not to touch anything. While keeping all items off the floor, I line the toilet seat with paper, scoot down tiny little jeans and panties, and hoist all 27 squirmy lbs of her onto the seat. Thank God we made it in time! However, I used the last scrap of toilet paper to cover the seat. There is no more. I introduce my daughter to the concept of the drip dry, roundhouse kick the door again and we move on. I don’t bother to wash her hands. She’s already licked the handle on the shopping cart.
M: Muzak. Who writes and performs this shit and why hasn’t anyone stopped them?
O: Octogenarian Santa Clause. Paying $35.00 for a grainy 4×6 of my terrified kid sitting on the lap of some second rate elderly volunteer from the senior center. I can see the fear in Santa’s eyes as the fat kid’s turn draws near…will the osteoporosis finally catch up with him?
P: Perfect gift. A most elusive creature that doesn’t show itself until AFTER you’ve already settled for and purchased something else.
Q: Queer Christmas theme sweaters.
R: Really just can’t come up with anything for this one…maybe later.
S: Security guards at the mall stopping me because my kid ganked a Snow White doll at the Disney store when I wasn’t looking. “Excuse me Maam? Were you intending to pay for that item?” “What are you asking me for? She took it!”
T: Tickle Me Elmo and all subsequent variations of the same bizarre mechanical monster. What brings people out at 4am in the darkness and freezing cold just to stand in line and possibly get their asses kicked in an effort to obtain such a gift?
U: Uzi. Standing in line while a fantasy is forming in my head involving an Uzi and a blaze of glory…
V: Very tempted to buy shit for myself. One for me, one for you…
W: What am I doing writing this? I should be out shopping!
X: Xanax. Will give head for a Xanax.
Y: Yippeee!! Only one letter left to go!
Z: Zero. Number appearing at the end of my bank statement.