Please call me The Grinch
It started slightly later than it usually does. I got my first Christmas card yesterday. Surprisingly, it wasn't from a super keen co-worker or distant relative, but it came from the hand of Dame Saskia of Pinkdom, who really ought to know better.
I have acquired a reputation for being quite Scrooge-like around the Noel period and many people who know me well enough fully expect me to be screaming 'Bah Humbug!' at the top of my voice.
What riled me about this particular card is that Dame Saskia, while meaning well, put this in her card: "Don't be The Grinch like you usually are: look at the positives and have fun."
Perhaps I've got her wrong and she doesn't get me at all, but I thought she knew where my Grinch factor came from. I don’t feel down about myself or my life or anything like that (even though it is all toil and trouble and no double bubble), I just hate Christmas. It’s pointless. It’s frustrating. It's commercial. It's meaningless. And it forces people into doing things they think they should do rather than because they want to.
This evening, for example, I have to go on a specific shopping trip after work just to get a present for a co-worker I've never spoken to for the Secret Santa as our work party is next Monday. And as the inevitable cards have now started going round, I'm faced with that whole ‘do I get people cards and go against everything I believe in, or do I refuse to join in and get called names by everyone else who hates Christmas as much as I do but doesn’t have the courage to admit it’ question.
I might take neither option, crawl into a cardboard box under my desk and refuse to get out until mid-January. (Taking with me a box of 12 mince pie doughnuts!)
9 comments:
Oh dear- I must be a "super keen co-worker"...I gave out cards yesterday!! I know how sad that makes me.
Tut, tut, Han. You sound like you might need some lessons in 'How to Hate Christmas Effectively'.
Right, a great idea here, and I did it once with my gay mate Gay Rog.
I know deviants, you appear to know fag hags. Ergo, we pool our resources into helping each other get laid. Game?
I always got cards from everyone in the office I worked in for over 4 years and never gave them out myself. one Christmas I decided to get everyone a card after years of feeling gulity everytime I found a new Xmas card on my desk. I didn't get a single card back. Which proves your point. Christmas is for c*nts.
God, this is all a bit depressing! Spend christmas with your friends and have a wild-drunken party! Then you'll see the point of it all!
Though some prat in work is wearing Xmas earings - I think I might slap her
Where is the love? How can you hate Christmas? Christmas is wicked. It's a fab oppotunity to sit back and do fuck all while the whole country practically shuts down - it's the perfect excuse to do nothing but relax. Yes I agree it's all commericial but who cares... I get an opportunity to chill and XMAS PARTIES are always such a laugh.
We have a fab idea at work - instead of giving out cards (which at the least costs a fiver and WASTES time writing 'em) we have a charity box - we put whatever we want in there - so no-one is obligated to get cards - some peps always do but the underlying point is YOU DON'T HAVE TO. You should try that
Fweng: Sounds like a plan, my friend. I know plenty of witch-like birds you could hang with.
Redboy/SSD: You both seem to have missed my point slightly. I enjoy time off work as much as the next man and I spend Crimble with friends as family sucks, but the point is, I don't like Christmas and don't want to be pressured into celebrating it because 'it's so great'. Take this morning for example - walked into the office and some joker has put up some really BAD decorations. I took them for what they were (which was some cheap and nasty bunting) while everyone else says it cheered them up. How depressing is that.
Tequila: You are so right. Christmas is for cunts.
Yes, it's the forced aspect of Christmas that really irks. Personally, I'm perfectly capable of putting far too much pressure on myself, without needing external motivators like having to get cards out on time, choose the perfect gift, have the home ready for entertaining, socialize with colleagues I barely know and have nothing in common with. It really is over the top.
Bah humbug.
Hooray, La Fille Mariee is on board. Welcome to the Humbug Express, my love!
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