It is officially 7 days till Christmas. Notably[1], it is officially 2 days till my Birthday, and it is officially one day until I fly home for the Holidays! Aren’t countdowns great?
Anyway, with final exams over here at school and Christmas only a short week away, it is finally time to wholly let go and embrace the true spirit of Christmas. People always say that—“The true spirit of Christmas”— but what does that really mean? Well, I guess it can mean different things depending on your religious beliefs, but let’s try defining “the true spirit of Christmas” by defining what it is not.
The “true spirit of Christmas” is most decidedly not:
- Shopping in any store, let alone the most sacred and venerable Target, amidst hoards of crazed holiday shoppers who 1) have absolutely no organized purpose or “plan” for being in the store they are currently in; 2) both look and act like they haven’t seen the light of day for awhile. Which, given the fact that these people never seem to make an appearance in stores during the other 51 weeks of the year that are not directly leading up to Christmas, this very much supports my lingering, unanswered question of “Where do these people come from?”; and 3) seem to have never encountered other humans before because they have absolutely no understanding of social norms, “inside voices,” the amount of space their bodies actually take up (in addition to a complete and utter ignorance of the amount of space other human bodies physically need to take up in order to not be slammed up against the assorted Disney wrapping paper at the end cap on aisle A8), and any other facet of common human decency I have omitted[2]. Curiously, this could all be avoided if we…PLANNED AHEAD, PEOPLE. It’s not that difficult.[3]
- Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. First of all, kittens suck. Second of all, what do either of these things have to do with Christmas? Third of all, even if one was futilely trying to make the argument that raindrops on roses are a quaint facet of all-things-wintertime, then I would aggressively ask one that if one truly was describing the Christmas season, why wouldn’t one sing of “snowfall on roses,” hmm? One must live in Tucson.
- Forced interactions. Need I say more? Nothing says “Christmas” like taking more than a week to detox from spending time with people you only see around the holidays who can’t help but create controversy. Why don’t we all be kind to ourselves, embrace the true spirit of Christmas, and come to a mutual understanding that the best Christmas gift we could possibly give ourselves would be to abstain from these highly dysfunctional get-togethers? But that would be too easy.[4]
- Gaining ten pounds in fudge weight. Or cookie weight.[5] Popular to contrary belief, aspiring to fit in Santa’s suit is not a necessary part of the holidays. Although it is a fun one.
- ACE December Retreat. The epitome of Christmas apparently necessitates being shuttled to Austin, Texas against your will to be cooped up with 190 screaming ACE teachers who haven’t been able to maintain balance in their lives all year and are now letting it explode as they “cut loose” in one terrifying weekend. Now, I’m not saying December Retreat isn’t fun; it can be and definitely is at times. But it also has the propensity to make one lose hearing because of the constant shrieking that inevitably comes with the insufferable “OMG”-ness of never-ending greeting and conversations about everyone’s respective school years. Also, I enjoy the idea behind “Lessons and Carols,” but I’m pretty sure Jesus wouldn’t be offended if we incorporated one or two songs that weren’t solely based in scripture. I mean who could hate “White Christmas” or “Let it Snow!”? I’m pretty sure not Jesus.
- 12 drummers drumming, 11 pipers piping, 10 lords a-leaping[6], 9 ladies dancing, and 8 maids of milking. Okay, hear me out: Although weird, I can handle the myriad fowl gifts bestowed upon the recipient of this song. I mean, I personally, don’t know what I would do with 23 different birds, but I could see there being some use for 3 French hens[7] and a partridge in a pear tree.[8] I can’t really get on board with the idea of gifting all those humans, though. Isn’t that a bit, ahem, like, um, I don’t know, SLAVERY?! Here you go, darling: here are 38 people that I am gifting unto you: Merry Christmas! And really, what is with those 9 ladies dancing? I bet the dancing ladies come with 9 stripper poles, but that smidgen of detail would have been too bulky to incorporate into the song. I mean come on, how PG-13 are we really supposed to believe this is?[9]
- Being politically correct. I’m sorry, but “the true spirit of Christmas” most certainly does not mean that I’m not permitted to say “Merry Christmas” without offending you. Newsflash: December will always equal Christmas in my book. And that’s okay. In the words of Mean Girls, “Stop trying to make fetch happen:” Christmas cheer is here to stay! You most certainly don’t have to like it, but I’m going to continue to wish you a “Merry Christmas,” so you might as well stop griping about it.
- Stress: And lots of it. Stress to get work done in time to “relax”; stress that everything is perfect; stress that you’re not stress-eating all of the baked goods that you made as gifts, which then, inherently produces more stress because how can you not help but indulge in the sweet green-sprinkled siren song of the sugar cookie man that is softly calling your name?[10]
- Scrooges. You know who I am talking about. They plague your homes, your offices, your churches, and even your…Targets. Yes, I’m talking about the individuals who walk amongst us and loathe Christmas music, festive decorations, fire-sitting while cocoa-sipping, gift-giving, and essentially all things warm and happy. You people suck. Stop whining: You all know that you’d love Christmas if Santa had gotten you the pony that you asked for when you were five years old. Haters gunna hate[11].
- A Caribbean green vacation. Ahem, what happened to the hallowed idea of a White Christmas? Artists like Jimmy Buffet have kicked it in the face with their Christmas albums, that’s what happened to it. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love Jimmy’s Christmas album as much as the next person[12], but spending Christmas at sea, lounging on the lush, Caribbean green[13] islands, and frolicking in the sand without a puffer coat on just seems somewhat wrong to me. It’s similar to spending Christmas in Arizona: it just doesn’t Sure, warm, sunny places with minimal weather[14] would be the perfect post-Christmas destinations[15], but there’s a certain holiday sacrilege that comes in reveling in the sun-warmed sand with a Bahama Mama in your hand on December 25th.[16]
Upon reflection, I am not sure if enumerating these ten anti-Christmas qualities actually helped me uncover “the true spirit of Christmas,” but it was quite fun. And, anyway, it doesn’t take a genius to know that the “true spirit of Christmas” is actually spending time with family[17] and friends. And booze and sugar. Lots of booze and sugar.[18]
[1] I thought about writing, “More importantly,” but I’m pretty sure that would be considered blasphemy…
[2] …Probably as a defense mechanism out of self-preservation. Shudder.
[3] Mom, I’m pretty sure you should (read need to) start a blog chronicling the organized, pleasant experiences of your pre-Halloween Christmas shopping endeavors in order to provide some much-needed insight. Just a thought.
[4] And that would, inherently, strip me of a lot of prime blogging material. …So maybe these gatherings benefit the greater good, after all.
[5] I think I’ll have…a tree! Read: I’m trying to justify my sugar intake by limiting myself to consuming only one sugar cookie, so I’m arbitrarily going to select the biggest cookie our well-stocked selection of cookie cutters will accommodate. Take that for moderation!
[6] I always thought this was “10 lords of leaping.” As in: They are the lords/masters of leaping. Still strange, but I’ll make a concession. A-leaping? Completely different story: That makes it even worse. I rest my case.
[7] Eggs. Duh.
[8] Assuming the partridge actually comes with the pear tree. As in they are a package deal. Who wouldn’t want a pear tree?
[9] You are correct: You will never think of this song the same way again. Neither will I. At least we have each other.
[10] Ergo, point #4.
[11] …Hate, hate, hate, hate. And the fakers gunna fake, fake, fake, fake, fake. I’m just gunna be like Tay and shake all you scrooges off.
[12] Especially “Ho Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rhum:” That song is so delightfully fun! And the play on words? Well done, Mr. Buffett.
[13] Yes, this is my featured crayon color of today’s blog post.
[14] Although, I have to note that the amount of “Tucson mornings” I have had to spend defrosting my car after a hard freezing the last couple of weeks is turning me into a bitter skeptic… I wonder if Santa is also just a big lie…
[15] Let’s face it, nobody likes January. Or February. Or most of March.
[16] Do you think Jesus had the luxury of reclining in such ideal tropical accommodations? I think his straw-stuffed manger in Bethlehem would vehemently disagree. Not to mention the fact, last time I checked, that newborns aren’t legally allowed to consume tiny umbrella-clad drinks.
[17] Clarification: The family members of your choice. For further reference, see point #3.
[18] Booze. Get it, the “spirit” of Christmas? It was right under our noses this whole time. Cheers to that!
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