Christmas, Bah-Bugging-Hum

I title this post after a line from a song in Matt Groening’s epic Xmas special, Olive the Other Reindeer. It’s not because I hate the holiday. I love it very much. I’m all about Christmas. My house looks like a train wreck with decorations on the inside and outside, well, I’m sure the neighbors appreciate the extra light – and electric bills – that are my gift to them. Hey, at least it’s not a fruit cake.

I must admit that I’m tired. The kids enjoy the season with no strings attached. Myself, on the other hand, well, this quote from Lois Griffin during A Very Special Family Guy Freakin’ Christmas says it all:

You all think Christmas just happens? You think all this goodwill just falls from the freakin’ sky? Well, it doesn’t! It falls out of my holly jolly butt! You can cook your own damn turkey and wrap your own damn presents! And while you’re at it, you can all ride a one-horse open sleigh to hell!

It’s true. Christmas doesn’t just happen. It takes months of planning, weeks of preparation and a bunch of time I don’t have. I love the day, but man I’ve been shopping since September, cleaning since early November and wrapping here and there for two weeks straight.

I had to find the right gift for people I care about, but I have to wonder – why does my diabetic mother-in-law need sugary, peanut brittle? Let me tell you about this peanut brittle. It makes me feel dirty just buying it. I have to meet the guy who makes and sells it in a parking lot. Sure, it’s broad daylight, but…

I feel like it’s a drug transaction. I’m waiting for the cops to show up. I can just picture the headlines – FAT WOMAN GETS BRITTLE FIX. NEWS AT 11! Of course, this is my mother-in-law’s favorite peanut brittle. My husband, her son, insists she has it. Why doesn’t he get it? He takes all the credit for it anyway.

Okay, just a little bitter! I know. My daughter wants a Barbie Remote Control Car. She didn’t tell Santa she wanted this. She told Santa she wanted the Dora Magical Castle and Fairy Wishes Dora. She’s four. She doesn’t need a remote control car. She can’t even drive yet, and we live in a condo with no space to drive it in anyway!

My nine year old son wanted a PSP. He begged us for one. I bought it three months ago. On Thanksgiving, he announced that he hated the PSP because all his friends had the Nintendo DS. He wants to text message them. Ugh! I had to resell the PSP through Amazon ‘cuz I couldn’t return it. It was over the 30-day return window of time. Oh f*ck!

I’ve baked more cookies, sent more Christmas cards and shipped huge packages back home to Massachusetts where my siblings and parents still live. I’ve seen over 200 hours of holiday specials, mostly animated. How many times can a person be expected to watch Bah-Humduck! A Looney Tunes Christmas without going “postal”?

I hate that damn DVR system we have. I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! But I don’t dare delete it, ‘cuz I’ll face the wrath of an angry four year old. You wouldn’t like her when she’s angry. She’s worse than The Incredible Hulk!

It’s the 23rd and I’m ho-ho-ho’ed out. The big fat guy gets all the friggin’ credit and everyone wonders why I’m cranky! I love my husband and all – did you think I was referring to Santa? – but I’m exhausted.

Merry Christmas, Bah-Buggin-Hum!