Listen, I’m no Scrooge. I love the holidays, seeing family and friends, giving (and getting!) gifts, the whole deal. But when it’s over, it’s over. My tree is down and on the curb December 26th and all signs of Christmas are eradicated in my house. Decorations locked safely in the basement, all gifts put away, mistletoe belt-buckle tucked away in the back of the closet. And there’s always a sense of relief, because there are some things I’ve had quite enough of by the time the calendar flips.
Christmas Songs: At least two radio stations around here start playing all Christmas music on November 1st. That’s right, I’m still writhing in agony from too many Tootsie Rolls, and some a-hole is singing about his grandmother getting run over by a reindeer. It’s just too much. By the time Thanksgiving arrives, I’m ready to go postal every time I catch an earful of “Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” or “All I Want For Christmas Is You.”
Commercials With Cars With Bows On Them: Seriously – does anybody out there know anyone that ever met anyone who gave someone a brand new car as a Christmas gift (never mind a Lexus)? It’s absurd. If you have that much money to spend on a gift, buy them a new spouse that has some creativity instead of sticking them with outrageous insurance premiums and repair bills.
Dick Clark: I grew up watch him ring in the new year in Times Square. He was great, a legend, but how many more times are they going to subject us to him? Seacrest is bad enough but then they wheel out Dick Clark and it’s just sad. Shit I grew up watching Suzanne Somers and Joyce DeWitt bounce around on Three’s Company but that doesn’t mean I want to see either one of them in a bikini today.
Nope, now it’s just a matter of toughing out the winter and counting down the days until baseball returns.
