I rely solely on my GPS or the Waze app to help me navigate the treacherous Long Island roads during rush hour traffic, and basically any other time I am driving and have no idea where I am going. These devices, apps, things, whatever you call them are literally my co-pilot. I listen to this woman’s voice so much that I feel we’ve become good friends. And I often wonder if she really gives a shit about where I am going? Do you think ‘Claire’ loves her job? Giving me directions — Every. Single. Day? Spitting out three different routes to choose from, calculating an estimated arrival time? Does she care that I am geographically challenged? When I make a wrong turn, would Claire rather say, “Listen, dipshit, I said to turn left onto Main Street. Now because of your inability to follow my simple directions, I have to tell you to make a fricking right onto Spruce, a left onto to Oak and then another fucking right onto Cedar street. Just make the FUCKING ILLEGAL U-turn, cause I can’t say REROUTING one more damn time!” I truly think she would. I mean, just think of all the times you told your husband or children something, and they don’t listen. You get pretty aggravated, right? Claire can’t be this even keeled all day long? Something has to tip her bucket? No?
Dear, God, I’ve had a long day.
Is this utterly ridiculous? And I am literally the only person on this planet that thinks their inanimate objects actually have feelings, that named their GPS voice? Please don’t answer that. Let me pretend that Claire exists, that she cares about all of us, and that she is completely happy telling us where to go, even if it is to “Go F$%k ourselves!”
As I lie in bed watching my 1,434th episode of Fixer Upper, it dawned on me I have, once again, totally neglected my plan of being done with Christmas shopping by December 1. You know, so I can enjoy December, instead of being completely frazzled, exhausted, deflated by December 25.
Year after year, I fall into the same trap. I set my goals high at the end of September and am utterly and completely shocked when December 1 rolls around. It is as if the months of October and November never even happened. I look at calendar, and December rolls in and slaps me in the face – just like Cher does to Nicholas Cage in Moonstruck. And I am just as shocked.
I began to wonder why I do this to myself year after year. Why am I putting so much pressure on myself to finish Christmas shopping? Why not embrace the suck of racing around a parking lot trying to find my car, be utterly and completely irrational with my family and friends because we can’t settle on a day to meet up to exchange Christmas greetings, or stand in line at Target for six gazillion hours for gift cards!
Then I stopped.
And those thoughts made me think about all the sucky things I hate about Christmas:
- Elf on the Shelf pressure (Oh, I hate that Elf!)
- Not coming up with the perfect gift for my loved ones
- Wrapping presents. I fricking hate wrapping gifts. Some find it relaxing… not me. I find no joy in it whatsoever.
- The endless eating. I mean, I love to eat, but how many Christmas cookies can one person eat? (Don’t answer that!)
- Stocking stuffers. Just when you thought you were done shopping you remember the F$%King stocking stuffers!
- Christmas cards – I LOVE getting them but hate doing them.
- Egg nog. Listen egg nog you’re not Coquito so stop trying to be it!
- Always being in the holiday spirit. What? You can’t get cranky in December? F^%k that!
Now, don’t pin me for a Scrooge; I am far from one! I really do love the Christmas season — the songs (I mean, Pandora rocks a solid Christmas station!), the sentimental ornaments, the excitement from my boys. It’s just the pressure of the holiday rush that gets to me, which could probably all be AVOIDED if I just got my shopping done before December 1! Oy vey!
The most expensive nap you’ll ever take.
Going to the movies in this day and age ain’t for the faint of heart. Walking in the door and purchasing tickets for a family of four is close to $50.00. Factoring in the candy and drinks, or the meal that is delivered to our seats, we’re easily at $100 for the movies! And if I happen to order an adult beverage, the bill creeps up $150! Crazy, right? I mean, I can dine at Gallagher’s for less than that!
And can we discuss the new luxury accommodations — those seats?! They’re big. They’re comfy. The fake pleather is easy to wipe off, and they’re not sticky with someone else’s spilled soda! And let’s be honest, haven’t we all been worried about the possible transfer of lice on those old seats? That gross fabric? With these new pleather seats, the chance of lice transfer gets knocked down to about 50% — possibly 75% — because lice can’t live on cold pleather! Oh, and they RECLINE. RECLINE! Are you kidding me? What in the world is that? I can actually recline while I am stuck watching my 150th Disney movie of the year. And with a reclining seat in a dark movie theater, falling asleep is inevitable. And ya know what? I don’t care! I just spent $100 to take a nap! And you shouldn’t care either. God answered our prayers! Our kids are contained, entertained, and we get to sit on our asses and do nothing!
I know, as parents, we can all agree on this — the new movie experience is the best damn $100 nap you’ll EVER take!