Christmas. I hate Christmas. I always have. And I don\u2019t mean in that Seasonal Affective Disorder way. I mean, here I am in March and I\u2019m dreading December. It consumes me. I\u2019m always thinking: Oh\u2026god. Christmas. Again.<\/p>\n
Why doesn\u2019t it alternate years? That\u2019s the healthy way to do it. Christmas every second year. Give us time to recover and catch our breath.
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It\u2019s my family\u2019s fault that I spend my days dreading Christmas. My family and their deep, deep, deep motherfucking well of anxiety and maudlin bitterness that even the more functional members bring to the table every year. The ones you think are normal never make it to the 24th before they\u2019re turned into raving lunatics. The chore of trying to make Christmas work amidst the insanity and hatred of the family breaks people. It drags them down to the same level as the fuck-ups and, next thing you know, we\u2019re all clustered together in a darkened room on Christmas morning, choking down some horrible undercooked garbage, and not speaking or looking at each other. Throwaway gifts are tossed around, all of them the sort of stuff you leave on the coffee table at the end of the morning or throw out with the wrapping paper. Someone starts crying about lost family members, or the bitter lot we\u2019ve been dealt over the years. Blame is placed at the feet of the living and the dead, and tense farewells are made a short while later. <\/p>\n
Christmas dinner becomes one, long alcoholic freakout as we try to forget what we witnessed earlier in the day. Year after year, no matter the number of gifts or the state of the family fortune, Christmas has always been a time of arguments, fistfights, tension, and stroke-inducing anxiety. Cold cuts and no coffee for breakfast, runny eggs and uncooked bacon on the side. Dark, vengeful angels spinning around us as if some undeserving Nazi has just opened the Ark of the Covenant in one of the spare bedrooms.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve sworn to never spend Christmas with the family again. <\/p>\n
One plan is to go spend Christmas with my friends in New Orleans or, if they\u2019re away, spend it alone in their house with their pets, a bottle of tequila, and an Are You Being Served?<\/em> boxset. Drop my phone in the toilet and just shut down. Which is easier said than done because their pets are crazy. Their dog thinks he\u2019s the Queen of Sheba and their lunatic, limping cat constantly begs you to go out and buy it cigarettes. Seriously. I\u2019ve tried to catch it on tape, but it\u2019s always so unexpected and surprising that I\u2019m never prepared. I\u2019ll be sitting there, sipping tequila and tonic, vegging out, and then comes this purring voice in my ear. \u201cHey, you. Cat-sitter. Go out and get me a pack of Camels. Rrrrr.\u201d<\/p>\n Then the dog comes in wearing a top hat, a monocle, and a frilly pink negligee, bends over and flashes me, then spins and starts tittering when I clear my throat. He\u2019ll go, \u201cOooooh, myyyy\u2026 I didn\u2019t know the doooogsitter was here! But since you are, how about you take me to the baaathroom and give me a shampooooo?\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cNacho, can you show me on the Kong where the dog touched you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh my god\u2026oh my god\u2026oh my god\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAlright! Alright! Everyone out. Let\u2019s give him a few minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019ve only had one good Christmas. England, 2007. 3000 miles away from my family. And, now, my dear friends over there have extended another invitation. This time including a Solstice tour of Stonehenge, which sounds better than it will be because Stonehenge is actually underwhelming.<\/p>\n Well, that\u2019s not true. It\u2019s underwhelming because you\u2019re 50 feet away with the entire nation of Japan surrounding you and, if you step too close to the rope, you get maced by security. So, if I put on the druid robes or whatever the fuck it is you do, it\u2019ll be much better. I can get up close and touch the concrete and rebar\u2026 I mean, the ancient stones themselves! <\/p>\n And, if I\u2019m lucky, I\u2019ll stumble and fall across the altar stone just as the Solstice does whatever it does and I\u2019ll be teleported back in time 5000 years. And become lord of Atlantis. <\/p>\n I\u2019ve planned it all out. I go everywhere with my \u201cLord of Atlantis\u201d emergency kit: 17 smoke grenades, an Uzi, an airhorn, and a bag of Rolos. Everything you need to become ruler of the Earth if catapulted thousands of years into the past. <\/p>\n I just hope the Rolos don\u2019t get crushed when I check that bag.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Christmas. I hate Christmas. I always have. And I don\u2019t mean in that Seasonal Affective Disorder way. I mean, here I am in March and I\u2019m dreading December. It consumes me. I\u2019m always thinking: Oh\u2026god. Christmas. Again. Why doesn\u2019t it …<\/p>\n