It's that time of year again, when the weather is just sloppy enough to seize up the minds of every motorist within a five-foot radius of me. It's almost bad enough that X-Mas has been reduced to people seeing how much shit they can stuff in their shopping carts, but I can even go into town without some senile asshole getting in my way, trying to tell the difference between a parking space and Mott's applesauce. It's the reason I've been calling Christmas the undignified "X-Mas;" it's went from being a holiday to a brand.
I'll skip ahead past Jesus, because I can't exactly rip on him without ugly rebuttals, and go straight to Santa Claus. I always got those two mixed up anyway - both have beards and wear pajamas, and they give away more gifts to impressionable people than Oprah. Anyway, has anyone noticed that Santa has all but been omitted out of X-Mas? Perhaps we as a society have wisened up to the idea of obese old man in tights gets hauled in the air by Canadian livestock carrying toys built by non-stripping midgets, delivering them through chimneys and surviving on a diabetic coma-inducing diet of milk and cookies. At least, children have, which is sad.
I can see the point, though. I pondered my own realization that Santa is mythical while sitting on the toilet the other day. The reason I stopped believing is because of, of all things, Sesame Street. Besides teaching me colors, numbers, Spanish, and puppetry, its much-beloved X-Mas special bore logic into my toddler brain. A little black boy asked Cookie Monster how Santa could bring him presents since the projects don't have fireplaces. Cookie Monster reasoned that Santa could come in through the window or ring the doorbell. The boy rebuffed, saying that the windows were locked and that people couldn't hear the doorbell if they were sleeping. Instead of coming to a sound conclusion, both child and muppet sat solemnly, then it cut to the next lesson in life. If Sesame Street didn't have an answer, then nobody fucking did.
My own childhood house was equipped with a fireplace, but it was never used as it was either too clogged with soot and potential beasties, or we were too lazy to use it. My child logic dictated that if we never used it, why would Santa? Besides that, our house sat on a faulty embankment, and our house structure was so sketchy that my grandpa, a physical replica of Claus, fell through the roof once like Homer in the Simpsons movie. So the house supporting a herd of deer was out of the question. Not to mention that my dogs would've barked by the disturbance. Lastly, I'd yet to learn how to write and yet I managed to get all the shit I asked for. By the time I started school, Santa became street code for "Mom's checkbook."
This recollection haunted me for a while. Now that I'm older and bitchier, X-Mas is no longer a magical day where I get free prizes, eat the same meal I ate for Thanksgiving, then play with my prizes in the box fort I build out of the boxes my prizes came in. To put this into perspective, for the past couple years I've been buying my own presents for my family to wrap.
To cope with all this bitterness, I've made a wish list of things I'd like to see or have. If I don't get one, I can't fret since many of them are pretty lofty. But I'll look back on the list and giggle, as if I bumped into something friendly with my dong, and if one happens to come true a glisten will escape my eye.
- I wish that whenever the weather is being bad, every motorist who decides to drive like they're being chased by rape ghosts will STAY THE FUCK HOME.
- If that doesn't stop them, I wish some evil weather would send them back home. Not wimpy things like snowdrifts and black ice. I'm talking hailing tripmines or a stampede of lava horses.
- I wish the next reality show about a spoiled rich girl was just twenty minutes of her sitting topless over a dunk tank filled with unhealthy diarrhea. Every time a shopping montage occurs, the bitch gets hit with a baseball and falls in, because there is no target.
- I wish the Octomom would have the decency to dress her children up as the Muppet Babies and have them reenact their fantastic adventures.
- I wish trailers weren't considered bonus features.
- I wish Kid Rock would catch whatever killed Kurt Cobain, so we'd actually have a reason to admire his work.
- If the next Twilight book wants to grab my attention, I wish there would be a group of zombies that smelled like strawberries when you scratched them.
- I wish the next time one of my relatives talked in tongues, a cobra would rise out of a basket.
- I wish the next goddamned Facebook group invite I get would be to something meaningful, like a fuckfest or a "Free Baby Ruth Big Size For Joining" group.
- I wish chunky chicks would stop doing FGAS in their photos. Lying doesn't get you laid.
- I wish somebody with an iPhone would accidentally drop it in the toilet after a huge dooky, then fish it out and continue using it. I mean, they probably waited four, five hours in line for it!
- I wish they would up the ante and go from attack dogs and invest the time and energy to training rape dogs.
- I wish LOL would become a racial slur so it would no longer feel cool to use it as a sole response to something.
- I wish titties were legal. Well, they are, but they'd rather show gruesome chimp attack aftermaths than fresh, healthy boob on TV, and that is no kind of example to lead.
- I wish a vampire lady would burst into my room while I'm asleep, blow me until i spoo in her mouth, and go "BLAH!" like a vampire.
- I wish the next Saw movie was just stock footage of meat processing plants cut with footage of a fat little kid eating candy bars like a sloppy fatty, with chocolate smeared on his mouth and hands, as he's watching TV. Occasionally he paws at the TV, smudging chocolate, and sputters "Tee-Bee." Also, he's watching Fox News.
- I wish Adam Lambert would go back into the closet.
- I wish that the next pop star isn't another one of those plastic owls that are hung up to scare away pests, like Taylor Swift.
- I wish I knew if mermaids existed. As if it matters, since it's going to be tough to afford a fish tank big enough to house a whole girlfriend.
- I wish that someone's farts sounded like a bicycle bell. Not mine, though, because that would drive me crazy like crazy glue.
- I wish that during the holiday shopping spree, two angry fat women would pick up empty shopping carts and swing them at each other. And when the carts clash and get stuck together and a passerby makes a shitty Spaceballs joke, they team up and beat the shit out of him.
- I wish the word "porn" had double meaning. Like it's also a fruit, or an animal or a color. Could you imagine? Porn-flavored fruit snacks. And the nutty thing is that it wouldn't taste like people having sex, but something like blue raspberry.
For your health,
-C.
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