Hey, you know what the world needs more of? (Warning! Warning! Sarcasm bomb about to detonate!) People complaining about how Christmas comes earlier and earlier every year. We just don’t see enough of that, you know? And I bet if we did complain more, it would totally change things.
Just like how complaining about politics and cold weather and people who think Instagram was created solely so they could share what they’re eating for lunch (Blackened salmon with roasted asparagus? Well, aren’t you fancy!) makes all those things better.
(I sincerely apologize to anyone who got hit with sarcasm shrapnel. Unless your Instagram account is just filled with food. Then you deserved it).
Yes, people complaining about how Christmas has completely obliterated Thanksgiving and is quickly encroaching on Halloween’s thunder is about as cliché now as people complaining how ironic it is we go out and shiv little old ladies to get 40 percent off TV’s and unnecessary shaving kits the day after a holiday centered around giving thanks for what we already have.
But as futile as I think it is to bitch about Christmas being three months long now, I must admit I side with the complainers. Because even though you’ll never convince Sharon, your co-worker who starts wearing light-up Happy Holiday sweaters in October, that she needs to stop, your silence means you approve. And you don’t approve. Because Sharon is ridiculous and owns a cat named Gingerbread and has a weird, creepy crush on Santa.
I too don’t want to have to sift through a bunch of candy canes before I find the Halloween candy at the grocery store in October; or a bunch of eggnog before I find my gourd-based beers at the liquor store in September.
And I sure as hell don’t want to see Christmas commercials when I’m having my annual psychotic breakdown in the kitchen on Thanksgiving.
But before you go thinking I’m all bah-humbug-y, Grinch-y, evil corporate guy in every Christmas special ever, let me throw this at ya.’ Christmas is actually my favorite holiday. Always has been. I love everything about it. The lights. The cooking (until the inevitable psychotic breakdown). The gift shopping. The wrapping. The decorating. The 37 emails back and forth with family about who got what on everyone’s list. The music. The claymation marathons on TV. The awkward reaction I get from salespeople when they say “Happy Holidays” and I reply with a cheerful “Merry Christmas” because they think I’m going to be that A-hole that gets mad that they said “Happy Holidays” when really I couldn’t care less because my body is composed of 82 percent hot toddy at that point.
And it’s because I love Christmas so much that I’m angry everyone is trying to artificially manufacture Christmas spirit prematurely. Because you know what happens when you try to artificially make something happen? It…well, let’s use an awkward metaphor to explain it…
It’s like getting all dressed up in your sexy lingerie, hair done perfectly and actual makeup on your face besides chapstick and anti-wrinkle cream, because you want to surprise your husband with some sexy, fun-time, naked, grown-up stuff. And so you carefully lay yourself on the bed in just the perfect position so that all your wobbly bits and fat pockets are hidden. And you’re just practically vibrating with excited anticipation for the night.
And then you wait.
And you wait.
And then wait some more.
And then he’s three hours late coming home from work and by the time he gets to the bedroom, you’ve already downed half a bottle of wine and eaten three-fourths of a pumpkin pie while wearing sweatpants over your teddy because all the anticipation, and thus the fun, has vanished.
That’s what you people are doing to Christmas.
If you build this holiday up too big by starting it way too early, the only place it can go is to an anti-climatic, sputtering dud. So that by Christmas Eve, you downright rage in a foam-at-the-mouth homicidal spree every time you hear “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” because it is the 37th million time you’ve heard it and the human brain can tolerate only 34 million times (there have been studies, look it up).
So stop ruining Christmas. Be patient. Let’s make this season a reasonable, wonderful, exciting, month-long celebration. Instead of building it up starting July Fourth only to arrive at the end with an attitude of “that’s it?”
It’s what Charlie Brown would have wanted.
And that weird, freaky-looking Yeti in the Rudolph special.
Chick Writes Stuff 