Christmas is over and we have eaten our way through too much turkey and pigged our way through the mountains of sweets and rubbish. At Christmas I always feel like I am abusing my body and giving it nothing that it needs. Almost like a habitual drug user addicted to consuming large quantities of sugar and fat. It is disgusting how much food I have stuffed away into my fat stupid face whilst there are people in other countries starving to death through poverty.
When I was a child I felt so excited knowing Christmas was round the corner. All the time spent putting a list together of all the new toys and dreaming of all the fun those things would bring to my childhood. Whenever you wanted a toy any other time of the year you could spend months saving your pocket money, only to find that toy you had invested all your hopes in was a fraud or even just a one time fad. You didn’t care though, because as a kid I always maintained that level of innocent excitement. When Christmas came around all that went out the window, and being presented with all those toys at once was the adult equivalent of finding £2000 in a savings account you had forgotten about, the only difference was Christmas had a set date and the surprise happened once a year.
As an adult, Christmas feels much more like an endurance test. In your own home you can decorate it as much or as little as you want, but when you go out you find many places littered with disgusting tinsel and tacky ornaments. It makes most places look scruffy. Occasionally you get the nice place that gets it just right but not often.
Present shopping is a nightmare not only because you have to work out what to get people but also because you have to stand in line and barge past senile simpletons trying to get to what you want. I don’t understand retired old cretins who have any day of the week to do their Christmas shopping, but decide to do it all on christmas week. When I see their slow gormless bodies it fills my heart with hatred. You spend all your free time rummaging through crap in shops, waiting in for parcels, rushing to the post office to collect them and wrapped the damned things. You write loads of Christmas cards to all your friends and family, then realise some tosser at work decides to send cards to work colleagues so you feel obliged to do it too. When Christmas is almost here and you’re finally starting to relax you remember the nightmare that is secret santa.
This always feels like a bore, when you are at work you have a couple of people you like, a handful of people who are just below average and a large number who you completely detest. Nine times out of ten the person I pick is a complete arse hole and I regret having to make an effort for them. I have often thought how pleasurable it would be to find a shop they would never go to, and buy vouchers for it just to piss them off. Or give them 5 chocolate pound coins in return for their 5 pound spend on another gift -this is funny because you can buy 20 chocolate pound coins for £2.
On another angle I have always thought how fun it would be to pick myself for secret santa. Surely if I did that then I could plan out some kind of elaborate plan? Here is that plan:
1. Pick yourself in secret santa
2. Two weeks before the work party where secret santa presents are unwraped, be noticeably sad at work. So much so that people ask you if you’re okay. When they do; make up some lie such as “My uncle committed suicide at Christmas so I find it hard to stay happy this time of year”. Make sure all of the decent caring sensitive people know this. Thanks to work gossip your story should spread like wildfire.
3. Purchase a noose and print on a piece of paper”I’m glad he’s dead, merry fucking christmas” do this all at home. Printing disguises any sort of handwriting and put it in the box and wrap. Put the tag on the box that shows it’s for you and then secretly add it to the presents so that nobody can see you do it.
4. At the party before the unwrapping tell people again about your uncle and say how that “Having friends like you makes me so happy” -this will inspire pity because calling work colleagues friends in the context of work deserves that response. It also helps to set up your inevitable punchline.
5. Open the present with a smile on your face and gleefully say “I wonder what this is?” when you see it go cold. Go angry and shout saying “who did this? WHO FUCKING DID THIS?” If you can achieve it cry and then say to your boss you’re leaving because you don’t want to share company with such a sick minded person.
6. Remember to continue portraying the facade that you are upset when you return to work. You raise a complaint at work and threten to leave the business because you are so upset by what happened. An investigation will likely take place at work but the concept of secret santa helps to mask the evidence that it was you.
7. After the trail has gone cold and everyone has been questioned, into the new year you tell your manager you have tried to find the positives in that night and will look past what happened and try to talk much less about your uncle at the Christmas period. Doing this conceals why you never mention the uncle again and going forward colleagues will be too afraid to even mention your fake uncle to you.
8. The prize of doing this is that you have a valid reason to not take part in secret santa or even attend a work meal again. If it was for many normally reasons you would be accused of being a “scrooge”.
The thought that counts
Have you ever noticed that whenever someone buys you a shit Christmas present and you moan about it your partner will say “its the thought that counts”, I definitely do not agree with this! If I bought my partner a bunch of bananas for Christmas every year for the rest of her life she would never let me off by saying even though the gift sucks at, least I thought about it. The truth is it is the thought that counts (that counts). If the thought was worthwhile then it counts. You have to have put thought in to buying something for it to be thoughtful. If you get a present with no consideration for the person’s taste then no thought was applied at all.
Trying to find fun at christmas is an attempt to recreate your childood and I liken this to alcoholics who continually sit in bars drinking searching for that party that never comes. As much as I winge about the people who look forward to Christmas, in reality I am just jeleous, I cannot find the happiness that they do. Christmas always feels like an annual performance review with my family where we exchange achievements. Part of me wishes that I could have more excitement at Christmas and share a bond with my family where we can love one another. Christmas with my family is just sat in front of the television watching the Queens speech and enduring the same old predictable squabbling and passive aggressive niggles. The picture at the top of this blog is of two identical Christmas cards, one from a family and another identical card from just the 12 year old daughter of that family, it amused me that even at that age she feels a disassociation with her family. The thought that counts is the thought that you love your family unconditionally and don’t just look forward to the presents and inevitable heart burn!