I don’t do it.
It’s not that I’m saying I don’t have the Christmas spirit. I leave it to others to say that. It’s just that I don’t shop. Have. Learned my lesson right quick. Didn’t like it, not one bit. And it wasn’t because of crowds or whatever I was buying wouldn’t turn out to be exactly what they wanted (“Oh, so sorry I didn’t know you wanted the off black instead of the midnight black. Will chewing a dozen bulbs from the tree be punishment enough or should I just ram the entire tree up my ass?”).
I don’t enjoy it. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t enjoy shopping the rest of the year either it just seems that when you say you don’t shop during this season people think you’re committing a felony. I know what you’re saying,
“Come on! No one likes it but it’s the holiday’s what are you gonna do!”
Sucker. That’s just what the Industrial Christmas Complex wants you to believe. You know what beats shopping every single time? That’s right, not shopping. And don’t think people don’t get gifts from me. They do. The best gift. Gift certificates to everywhere (AKA money). Oh sure, my girlfriend has complained,
“But you never surprise me.”
“I’ll surprise to next year.” I say. “I’ll adjust the amount. I don’t want to spoil the surprise but I bet you can guess what direction the amount will go.”
See? Even when I try to surprise her she doesn’t appreciate it
How can I explain my hatred of shopping to you? Ah, here’s one. Let’s say we’re going to chop down your Christmas tree the old fashioned way: with a chain saw and a case of beer. We tromp through the woods with me swinging the chainsaw Leatherface style to warn the woodland creatures of their impending homelessness. We arrive at the tree you find perfect. You are happy. I hold you down at the base of the tree and beginning cutting. At first you think it’s a lark, a little holiday mischief. But then as the saw starts sliding through the bark into the core of the tree and you are getting saturated with wood chips, bark and the overwhelming fear of your own death you begin to become concerned. The deafening roar from the chainsaw, mere inches from your fleshy face, renders your bloodcurdling screams useless. Shards of wood imbed in your face coloring the new fallen snow a festive red just as the tree falls snapping your neck like a twig.
Add Christmas carols to that and you’ll begin to understand how I feel about shopping.
But don’t think my friends and loved ones go without. Oh no, if they request something they’re too lazy to go out and get on their own I have a group of friends who actually call to see if I need anything picked up. Isn’t that the best thing? These minions, as I so condescendingly sounding call them, stop by take an order and off they go. I don’t know how they do it but it wouldn’t be Christmas without them.
And it wouldn’t be Christmas without you folks. Thanks for encouraging my behavior. I hope to continue the tradition of annoying some and entertaining others in the coming year.
Merry Christmas (and all the other holidays I’m too lazy to type out) and Happy New Year.