Let's Stop Pretending that Jesus is the Reason for the Season
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We need to stop this whole "reason for the season" bullshit. When I lost my job as a U.S. Cellular customer service rep, I thought this whole recession thing would get me out of getting gifts for people. Fuck as all hell, I couldn't be more wrong.
On Thanksgiving, I announced to my family that no one should get me gifts because I wouldn't be dolin' out the dough to get them shit. Which was pretty cool because I never know what to get these people I call my family members in the first place. Win for me. Except for the part where I was unemployed. Everyone was pretty understanding about the fact that I needed to concentrate on keeping a roof (cheap) over my head and food (dick?) in my mouth. Or so they seemed.
Not wanting to seem like a complete slackerdouche, I wrote out cards that I thought tactly and wittily explained my predicament. "In lieu of presents this year, please accept my wishes of love and good cheer." Is that fuckin' sweet and heartfelt, or what? I even added a personalized message of yuletide warmth with a custom message depending on who the fuck they were.
But when Christmas rolled around, guess who had a dozen presents to open even though I told everyone to give me jackshit?? I was already feeling like shit for people getting me stuff while all I could afford was ink on a Christmas card. When I looked around the room at the unamused faces of my family members reading my "sorry I didn't spend some cash on some shit for you during this season of giving and love" cards, I learned real quick that presents in the form of recycled paper and written sincerity was about as welcome as a cop at a drug deal.
The sooner we all admit that Christmas is really about getting and giving shit, we can all stop pretending that anyone remembers/cares that Jesus Christ's birth is the reason for the season.
How many times have you gotten a present for someone because you were obligated? Yeah, I thought so. Season of Giving? Fuck that up your ass. More like, Season of Getting Ass-raped by Familial Guilt Trips. Sore from the lamely underwhelming and bemused reaction from my what-I-thought-was-loving family, I felt as useless as a limp dick on a hooker, so I stepped away from the celebration of Jesus' birthday to buy some shit for these people since my card made the worst debut since the birth of my ugly-ass niece eight years ago. I went to the only place that was open on Christmas: Walgreens. Despite the cheapass Santa ashtrays looking classier than my "sorry I'm an unemployed loser" cards, I ended up getting the one thing economy experts strongly recommended against purchasing for loved ones: fucking gift cards. I ended up having to determine that Mom would love the Chili's card while Dad would maybe appreciate the Lowe's one... or would he? Fuck it. I figured these plastic dollars would be an assload better than my handwritten appeals to forgive the fact that I don't have a job.
So I came back to the party and gave my ungrateful fucks of family members their little plastic bundles of joy and Christmas cheer. I deflected the insincere, "Oh you shouldn't have"s with my best "Ohhh it's the season of giving!!!!"s. You bet your goddamned ass it's the season of giving – giving up the facade that it's the season of love and goodwill to all.
Merry Christmas assholes! I hope you got everything you wanted. I'm going back to my comforting blanket of cheer known as a highball of Jameson and my daily visit to Careerbuilder.com.
