Ah, the holiday season is upon us. Does it not fill you with glee? Other than the Eve of and the actual Christmas Day, there is no other time when we are so aware that Santa Claus is coming to town than the weekend after we've given thanks. Giving thanks. Who did you thank last Thursday? I certainly hope you thanked someone, because odds are someone slaved in a kitchen for your tummy's delight - and chances are, if you are reading this, you ain't starving with a computer!
Anyway, as this year's holiday season speeds toward me, I am filled with many feelings (and snot, but more on that a bit later). We spend all year lamenting people who move, much to our chagrin, "as slow as Christmas." Ha. That is funny, because it seems to me that every year, without fail, "it's here faster than you know it!" Bells are ringing, tinsel is a twinkling and all the people who for eleven months solid are otherwise deemed as lazy somebody-or-anothers simply flick the switch and their ubiquitous icicles light up (along with various rooftop and window trimmings and the occasional yard tree and shrub).
In later years, we've found ourselves bombarded with competing messages: 1. Jesus is the reason for the season. In case you don't like Jesus, don't know Him or have chosen not to support Him, then there are other commemorative holiday packages from which you can choose. However I'm certain that we can all agree that every year there are those people who come on TV and whatnot to urge us not to run ourselves ragged buying things that are going to be on one helluva (obviously, I take a few liberties here as those would not be the religious observer people's choice of words) sale on the 26th. This time of the year is about coming together and loving one another and extending the gratitude to our loved ones and people in need. The religious observer people plead with us to take time out and breathe and recognize what's really important: our families.
2. Yeah, the family. The family is comprised of women who are dying to be kissed with Kay jewels, dazzled by Zales' diamonds. ("Skatell her you love her with this diamond pendant ring necklace tennis bracelet!") The family is filled with sad little children who've been good all year, who bake really swell cookies and buy fresh milk, who've been tickled with Elmo's past and now need to DANCE with Elmo! Spouses need to be surprised by expensive cars appearing in their driveways wearing huge red ribbons, and you're going to need a new, snazzy digital camera to capture the surprise oh! and a handy digital photo printer to prove that the surprise was, in fact, a surprise!
There is work to be done, people! Let's get to shopping! It's tee minus so many days until Christmas and you've got to hurry because you can't wait til the last minute like you waited last year and the year before that because there are SALES and specials and get stuff free with a purchase of this and an additional that! You will miss EVERYTHING that is good about jostling through tons of people and circling parking lots like rabid vultures. You will miss having your purchases tally up into the grand gazillion dollar 4th quarter total, thereby hurting so many stores' sales figures, which will mean, no sale for you ever again, you sorry stock market crasher. (The upside is that Martha Stewart will still be rich, rich and richer than you, and she'll be having manufactured processed CANNED food for Christmas. Now that is some serious holiday planning!)
It used to be that I just remembered Dick Clark's big countdown, but if you wait until then you will have waited too long! The countdown is now! If you wait, you will have the worst Christmas Day ever and everyone will hate you. You will be coal in an unwanted stocking! You will have saved money on that helluva sale, not to mention you'd probably have one helluva pickin's over all the returned items, but you will be a bad person that no one will be grateful to have known...
Okay, so I got away from myself there, but that was fun. Now don't go thinking that I'm all bitter because I am broke. Don't pawn your pity on me, I've got plenty of construction paper around here so I can show you how to get crafty! I love shopping and gift giving like everybody else, but you have to admit, it can get excessive, and it can even make you feel a bit silly afterwards. Personally, if I owned a store, my post Christmas mega sale sign would say a big SIKE as opposed to SALE. =)
I have now strayed so far from my original intent that I am laughing hysterically at myself, as I am currently in an over-the-counter drug-induced stupor. Just consider the above rant to be a Jimi-Janis interpretation gone happy...
And you can consider this next interlude to be a visit from Jim Morrison, ghost no. 3 of J's that done passed:
"You know Dasher" is probably not the punk imbecile who was all up in your way last Friday morning moving, you guessed it, "as slow as Christmas" - amidst the throng of happy holiday shoppers who were all dashing through the store to the first verse of Jingle Bells jingling happily and loudly over the loud speaker - hampering your pursuit of a great bargain.
"and Dancer" was probably that bad ass kid who was showing the hell out in front of you, in earshot of you, much to the dismay of you, as you stopped and stared incredulously at a time-honored routine no dancing Muppet could ever teach. C'mon, I know, some where, awfully loud temper tantrum dancing was going on somewhere close to you that had you thinking "Are you kidding me, what is wrong with your mama?!"
"And Prancer," again, was that other bad ass kid in the other store you saw who was nonchalantly, BLATANTLY ignoring the mother that was calling after them telling them to put that down, come back here, don't touch that, where are you, you are not getting that, no Santa for you, you are bad, come here. You know this kid. This is the kid who wanders by you, looks you dead in the face as you smile nervously at them trying in vain to convey to them the serious offense they are now committing and smiles a big ol' toothy (or snaggly-toothy) grin that basically says, "That beeyotch don't own me. This is my Christmas and she gon' do what I wanna do."
"and Vixen," is anyone who cuts you off, cuts in line or dares cut you with a stare as you politely snatch the last one of something right before their eyes.
"Comet" is that person streaking by that's just too damn wrapped up in this mess, Olympic speed-walking around every damn where. They are rude reckless, pushy people who incite shoving matches and fights, are generally red-faced, are always talking to someone either in person, in tow or on the phone, and they HAVE to HAVE every single little thing RIGHT NOW.
"and Cupid" is the person who is responsible for your falling so in love with something that just HAD to be bought that very soon will just HAVE to be returned.
"And Donner," um (a bit of a toughie), is one of two people. Either it's that person who is so unfortunate as to wear some hideous Christmas sweater that features 3-D pieces (i.e., warm fuzzies, bells, strings, pipe cleaners, etc.); thereby "donning" another Christmas fashion classic. Or, "Donner" is really just someone who's actually named Donna, who's had the lovely pleasure (or phonetic misfortune) of having one's name uttered by an English-accented person...
"and Blitzen" is the cashier who swipes that card of yours with such precision, in such a flash, that when you open that credit card statement some time later, you will in fact feel as though surely you must've been blitzed as there is no utterable possible way you could've ever spent that much money.
And lastly, oh and you surely must recall, there is a most famous reindeer of all....
Why that is me. This year, so far, I am Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer. Of course my nose is not so much shiny as it is chaffed. If, or rather when, I sneeze it glows (in its own disgusting way, of course). And if you ever saw it, you would just say, "That's gross."
I do hope you are laughing at this point because I am, and I am chortling out names, too: My best friends right now are Nyquil and Dayquil and Alka Seltzer cold, Theraflu and Tylenol and random prescriptions that work, but are old =) Ha! how accurate this song is! That's right! I AM poor, poor Rudolph. Literally. It is very funny to me (in a sad, pitiful, drugged way) that people are right when they say that history repeats itself, because I was almost the same person last year as I am right now: counting down and going down and waiting to bounce back up =)