Wednesday, December 22, 2010

The yule log looks like a poop log, anyway.

Well, Christmas has called me up and its breathing heavily into the receiver like the cheap, tawdry, affair it is.  As much as I've been struggling to get into the "Christmas Spirit" this year, even my snarky attitude isn’t immune to its kitschy charm. It is Christmas, and this is middle America, after all. Lately I’ve found myself hesitating at the seek button when Bing starts crooning on the radio, and even signing my emails with a somewhat aggressive, yet heartfelt, ‘Have a great holiday!’ to even the most demanding of customers at the office.

However, if there's one thing I hate about Christmas, it’s trolling around a random Kohl’s or some other shitty store of the like that I would otherwise never set a foot into, because I'm desperately looking for inspiration for some stupid-ass gift that will probably be received with a forced smile and a quick glance back into the box to make sure I enclosed the receipt for easy returns. Which, I rarely ever manage to do anyway, because I have enough tiny slips of paper in my life and frankly, I can’t keep track of the damn things.

I’m no Scrooge; I like, no, I love giving gifts, don't get me wrong. I love it when I'm absentmindedly browsing a store during some downtime and I'm struck with inspiration or I see something that immediately makes me think of someone and have. to. buy. whatever it is for them. Those are the gifts I love giving, because despite how effortless they are, they're perfect, and if I care enough about you to think of you on my own time, then you deserve a gift. Seriously though, fuck forced gift-giving. Gift giving where I’m forced to rack my brain for something, anything to give someone else with my own meager amounts of cash is really not enjoyable for me.  I'm rarely struck with effortless inspiration in a panicked trip to an overcrowded Meijer, where I'm most definitely out of the spirit of giving before I'm even parked because I’m freaking out and some jackwad can't park straight, or at all, or created their own ::genius:: parking spot. This is especially worse in more affluent areas because for some reason the rich feel more fucking entitled than normal when they’re in parking lots.

Regardless. The stockings have been hung next to the refrigerator with care, because I'm allergic to the room Manfriend's chimney is in because of his ginormous dog.

I'm reaaaaaaaaaaally trying to get into this.

One thing I never have trouble getting into the spirit for is making Christmas lists. My own Christmas lists. For myself.  Usually I make them and then don't share them with anyone and end up getting things like a spare tire cover. (Which was very nice by the way, thanks, Mom and Dad) but it wasn't this:

Mama needs a partyyyyy dress, you know?, I’d spend all my money on you if I could.

Anyway, I've composed my Christmas list for this year, but don't feel obligated to get me every single thing. One or two items from each person will suffice. Thanks in advance!

1.    Go back in time and un-invent the Kindle, Nook and every other apparatus of the like.

Um, I'm sorry, but when did we as a society get so fucking wired that we can't actually pick up a print copy of a book and physically turn the page ourselves? I'm so annoyed with it that I can feel myself tensing up as I type this. I hate hate hate these devices. Blah blah blah yeah, it's so awesome, you can fit like 2834789237 ENTIRE BOOKS in one tiny hand-held screen. I don't care. I hate it on principle.

Books, they're tangible. You can write in the margins, you can fold the pages, you can smell the binding and get the corners a little wet in the bathtub, they can be lent and loved by others and they deserve due respect. They’ve got character. Electronic reading devices completely bastardize the entire reading process for me. If I see someone reading from such a device, all I can think about is tripping him or her and watching the blasted thing fall to the ground, with any luck, cracking the screen. A book could take the fall.

2. Concert tickets. And whiskey money for said concerts: one per month, for the year. I think that’s pretty reasonable. I also wouldn't be opposed to a sober driver to and from each event, and also maybe a t-shirt from each one as well. I like souvies. It’s all about the memories, you know? I’d be happy to give you notice on which concert I’d like to attend each month. To make this request easier I would definitely settle for Rothbury making a triumphant return, because that was, for all intents and purposes, the greatest four days of my entire life. I'm honestly not kidding. Frolicking around in a magical forest,  wandering, wasted, from awesome concert to awesome concert and basically throwing all hygienic concerns in the wind? Yes, please. 


Just get me season tickets to all home games at the Shoe, too. Watching games isn't the same unless I'm watching them with 110,000 of my closest friends. While you're at it, you may as well throw in the bowl game as well. I prefer A-deck, but really, there isn’t a bad seat in the place. Um, also, I wouldn’t mind a sober driver to and from these functions as well. Actually, you know what, let’s just say:

4. I’d like a sober driver on call, please.

5. The motivation to attend a gym setting and/or participate in gym-like activities on a regular to semi-regular basis. And I'm just throwing this out there, but being able to adorn myself with the latest and greatest workout attire certainly wouldn't hurt the cause. Also I think a kayak is a reasonable request because it’s exercise for my arms muscles and I immensely enjoy water settings. This is really just basic logic.

6.  Admission to grad school, the program of my choosing. I won’t even ask you to pay for it, because I feel like I probably should be held financially responsible for it. Just getting in will be more than sufficient.

6. I'd really like it if everyone of age would register and drag themselves to their polling places at least for the general election. I really don't feel like it's too much to ask of people to get minimally involved with the process that essentially rules their lives. It’s once every four years. I do other things I enjoy WAY less far more frequently than that. Plus, they give you a sticker when you leave now, they’re pretty much all the rage.

7.  My childhood lake cottage. Restored to its original beauty. Complete with hammock overlooking the water for afternoons of reading.

8. I'm 24 years old and I want a slumber party. Complete with pajamas and minimal makeup. I'd like all my girlfriends to convene in one place for one night and drink to excess and carry on and play games and act silly and have fun and go for brunch in the morning. No boyfriends. More importantly, no cell phones-I find them to be goddamn distracting and annoying.  The only people that matter are the ones there. Just once. It would be nice, you know?

8.  No. More. Allergies. This would seriously make my life. CURE ME, PLEASE. Between weekly allergy shots, fucking $60 prescriptions WITH INSURANCE, perpetual itchiness/hives/red eyes/general misery I'm really struggling. After 4 years of non-answers from referral upon referral to various ‘specialists’ and my manfriend's 130-pound Mastiff, who sends me into allergic fits within inches of death at the mere sight of her, I'm honestly at a complete loss here. I'm allergic to life; it would be really nice to be able to enjoy it instead.

9. A snapshot into the life of every asshole I have to deal with on a daily basis at work.  Maybe this would give me perspective when I’m dealing with them and ready to throw myself through the phone/computer screen at them. Maybe it would let me just give them the benefit of the doubt and let it gooooo. I don’t know. Maybe I don’t really want to know that they’re the kind of people that kick their dogs and feed their kids Mountain Dew with every meal and then give them cold medicine to ‘calm them down’ at night. OR MAYBE I DO, at least I’d feel superior.

10.  I’d like to meet Joan Root. Yeah, I get it, she’s dead. But she was also a kooky weirdo and a total badass and what can I say? I really like kooky weirdos and total badasses. Since I can’t actually meet with Joan Root, I’d accept a trip to her home in Africa and a séance led by a trained professional. Joan would eat that shit up.

11. Some seed money and a high powered financial planner to create and manage a portfolio for me so that I can make literally boatloads of cash doing essentially nothing and fund my various passionate, yet often short-lived, hobbies and wild adventures.

12. All that heartwarming stuff that makes the world go ‘round for me, and you. The ‘and you’ was basically me giving you half of one of my wish list items, so, you kind of owe me one…. Better get crackin’ on that, eh?

I think there are a couple more things, mostly odds ‘n ends, but they can probably wait until next year. Or at least my birthday.  Other gifts will be welcomed and accepted, but, you know, I’ve pretty much laid out what I want, so try to stick to the plan.

I hope you get everything on your list this year. Merry Christmas!

(…and if you don’t celebrate Christmas, I hope you get some presents anyway, but really, maybe you should at least pretend.)

XO Sare

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