I used to hate Christmas with the fiery passion of a thousand crackhead Christmas trees. I don’t even know what a crackhead Christmas tree is but I know that eventually, it catches on fire.
Hating Christmas is pretty much one of the symptoms of sobriety. All people do is get supremely fucked up and then they try to make out with each other and I thought it was stupid and boring and I never ever got what I wanted because everybody in my family buys Christmas presents like the day before and we have other strengths besides "magical Christmases" (i.e. artfully making fun of each other). Every year, I brooded over Christmas dinners and ritually vomited on Salvation Army bell ringers and fat men with beards (just kidding, I can't vomit on command anymore). One year, I just stopped looking forward to it and started just waiting for it all to be over so I could resume living a life of normal everyday misery.
NOT THIS YEAR, MOTHERFUCKERS.
I am a Christmas Machine. I am unstoppable. I am having my whole family over to my house and they are going to eat the Boston Market I will be serving them because I am a WomanChild and it is about time I start playing house for REALS. I have a comically large Christmas tree that all my friends have decorated with cigarettes and lotto tickets and car air fresheners (would you like a side of Williamsburg irony with your Christmas ham?). I have displayed Christmas cards from family and friends like badges of adulthood bestowed on me from people who already have their shit figured out.
I woke up at 9am this morning and bought a squash. I don’t know how to get the meat out of it so it is edible but I am going to figure it out before the guests arrive. I have faith in Christmas this year and this steam train is running on holiday fucking cheer.
What is the catch? There is one thing that is not allowed in my house. One thing that still makes me see red and remember all the Christmases that ruined all the Christmases after. The one thing that if anybody is caught wearing in the orbit of my holiday cheer will be immediately ejected from the warmth of my DVD Yule log.
Give me a fucking break guys. Really? This is like the classiest holiday. This is the one we all spend the most absurd amounts of money on and you are going to show up to my Christmas party looking like a giant five-year-old? No. Not on my watch. I would go on and on about why exactly I think Christmas sweaters are stupid and ugly and gross but that would not be in the yuletide spirit. Instead, I want to show you some warm alternatives to wearing a deranged glitter encrusted reindeer stretched across your helpless Christmas boobs.
You want to know why people wear Christmas sweaters? People wear them because they end up being around people you don’t really want to talk to or people they don’t have anything to say to and you need a great conversation starter. “Oh, my god, the beading on that giant green bow on your tits is exquisite!” That said, how cute is this stupid bulldog sweater? Wear this to your Christmas dinner and start a real conversation about the last thing you saw on Cute Overload or something.
UM. I MEAN. THIS IS HILARIOUS. Getting meta with your Christmas sweater is the perfect comment on what Christmas actually is: a giant mirror that you put up to yourself to see how good of a person you are and how many people actually love you in this world.
Looking for something more casual and not into talking to people? Check this freak show out:
This is quite literally an anti-Christmas sweater. Though obnoxiously on-trend, an inverted cross is simple and stylish and will piss off/freak out/annoy any drunk relative. Wear this and nobody will talk to you, and you can eat your pecan pie in peace.
If you want to go an even more, er, controversial, route you can go with this one. Can I just say for a moment that I cried like a baby at the trailer alone for Being Elmo, and the movie itself pretty much destroyed me for days. I don’t know what the deal is with Mr. Clash’s IRL baby fantasies, but ugh, if that movie could just exist outside of the context that is there now I would still watch it every time I lost faith in the world and happiness. Now all is lost and the apocalypse didn’t even come through for me so, yeah, I guess it's time to string up a noose of Christmas lights and spend time with family.
All right, kids, I need to get back to my “cooking” Christmas ham. What are your feelings on Christmas sweaters? I’d like to know. Am I being a stupid boob-scrooge?
Whatever, snatches. Follow me on the Twitter so I can have 600 followers for Christmas.