Saturday, Dec. 02, 2006

Happy Freaking Holidays

Though I recognize that it's not exactly in the holiday spirit to point all this stuff out, I just have to. It keeps slapping me in the face, and if I don't call it all out onto the carpet, it's going to drive me insane.

Ahem.

Things that are making me batshit crazy about the holiday season*

*not a complete list

1) The *&*(&&^$# jewelry commercials on TV. What is all this crap, anyhow? I understand that, as far as the jewelry companies in question are concerned, it's awesome if all of us women think that we're supposed to demand expensive sparklies and if all of the men think that they're supposed to run right out and purchase said sparklies in bulk, just to avoid offending any of the women in their lives. I do get that we're supposed to be a pack of slavering capitalist drones who will mindlessly hand over our hard-earned cash for baubles that don't really do much except look cool. And don't get me wrong -- I love jewelry. I have quite a bit of it, mostly from my grandma and my folks over the years, and a few pieces from my husband. But the way that the commercials make the women in them sound like shallow bitches and make the men in them look like mindless fools just... offends me.

And for the record? One of my favorite pieces of jewelry is a gold bracelet that my grandfather rescued from a car wash vacuum, when he worked there, and then cleaned up and gave to me. I was probably about 15. I'm afraid to wear it, most times, because if I lost it, I'd cry. A lot.

Anyhow. Back on topic.

2)The expense of holiday cards. Maybe I'm just crazy, but I do actually remember this happening -- there were several years, say, in the mid- to late-1990s where I could go to your average variety or drug store and buy a box of cards without breaking my budget. I don't like to get cards that are all the same picture on the front, so I get the cardboard box that has, like, 42 cards in it of 8 different designs. And I *know* I used to be able to get a box of cards for $3-$4 bucks. Yes, I am a cheapskate, thanks. And then, a couple of years, I scouted out the after-Christmas sales and bought a couple of boxes at half price. So, we're looking at a buck-fitty for almost half a hundred cards. I like those numbers.

But now? My box of 42 *starts* at $7. Seven dollars?! Bullshit! And then! I looked at the other cards, of which there are approximately forty-eleven million kinds (but most of them x number of cards, with x = 12-30, typically, and all of the same design, so boo), and some of those damn cards must be made of platinum with tungsten filament from virgin lightbulbs curled into the writing inside, with the prices I saw. No shit, a box of 8 cards was $17 because there was foil and glitter involved. Foil. And glitter. Uh... are these people aware that foil costs about $2 a roll and glitter is about 89 cents per metric ton? Holy crimony on buttered toast, y'all.

3) Pumpkin shit. Yeah, I know this one makes me instantly unpopular with approximately 89.7% of the general populace, and it's something I have to put up with every year, but... I hate pumpkin. Hate it. And anything with pumpkin in it. I also can't stand cinnamon, except in very small doses. And I don't like nutmeg. So, essentially, pumpkin pie is about fourteen different kinds of nasty Hell in a flaky-yet-contaminated crust. That poor pie shell could have been filled with something delectible and yummy, like apples, or cherries, or chocolate. But nooooo. Slimy pumpkin guts with a crapload of sugar (I'm told) and all kinds of spicy shit that makes me sneeze. Blarg.

But, of course, it's not just pie. There's pumpkin milkshakes, ice cream, scones, cookies, cheesecakes, and breads. I've gotten to the point where, if someone brings a snack into work or I'm over at a friend's house for a potluck to celebrate the holidays, unless a dessert is obvious with its ingredients, I avoid it entirely. Too many opportunities to get dosed with squash.

Alright, that's enough ranting for now. I assure you, there will be more.

saturncat at 10:02 p.m.

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