A Heartfelt Drunk Letter to Santa

So I just watched the Glee Christmas episode and it definitely put me in the holiday spirit. Mostly because it was about Santa, and I love Santa. But then it reminded me that I have to go Christmas shopping, and that killed my deck-the-halls buzz.

I. HATE. CHRISTMAS. SHOPPING. I mean, I’m not a dick. I love buying people presents, and I love shopping, and I love Christmas. It should add up to a full-on orgasmic mall experience. I even love stores around the holidays, because they have twinkly window displays and the mall has a big tall tree and a chubby mall Santa.

But. Buying some people gifts is SO HARD. Take my dad, for instance. His interests include Boring Things and Other Boring Things. And he has all the equipment necessary to take part in said Boring Things. What am I supposed to get him? A pencil holder made out of a soup can? A hand print turned into a reindeer? I wish I hadn’t used all those brilliant ideas back in my youth, because now I’m fucked.

I mean, I am easy to shop for. I like almost everything. You would almost have to try to find a gift that I wouldn’t like. And even if you managed (say, by purchasing a life-sized Hitler doll that can raise its arm and sing holiday songs) I would still pretend I liked it, so it wouldn’t matter anyway. But it seems like everyone I know has such weird specific interests, and I have such a tiny amount of money, and it is just basic math:

(No $$$) * (Friends w/ Specific Interests) * (Family w/ Specific Interests) * (# of Gifts) = FUCKED

If only everyone I knew was super jonesing for things I am good at making. Like origami cranes, and bad jokes. At least with guys it’s easy, because you just dress up as Super Slutty Santa and do things to them that you’d do to a candy cane. (Unless you’re a freak who bites candy canes, and then you are in trouble, because not only will that be a really shitty gift but you will also scar them for life as far as the holidays are concerned.) Although I actually don’t go that gift route with guys, because unless you’re a frigid bitch that’s the same kind of thing they’re getting on a regular, except that you’re dressed as Santa. So fuck, there is yet another present I need to buy.

I’m just going to drown my tears in a vat of heavily spiked eggnog and write Santa a heartfelt drunk letter asking him to buy all my presents for me. Cheers!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: