Break out the egg-nog, tell Uncle Joe to behave himself, and strap on a festive hat…it’s The Holidays. Or, as they’d say on the tv show, My Name Is Earl: “Feliz Navi-Blah”! Yeah. Whoopee.
This season is beginning much the same as the last. I’ve attributed this feeling of lackluster-ness to the “Been-There-Done-That” routine that accompanies every Holiday past your fifth birthday–because let’s face it: once you’ve already been let in on the joke that Santa Claus is a fictional character created by cruel parents to disenfranchise you over the harsh facts of life, then it’s pretty much a continual downward spiral of disappointment. Even if you do get that pony and Tonka truck you always wanted, you always know that it came from the blood, sweat and tears of hard-working parents who gave up their quiet nights and weekends just to make sure they could afford that damn thing in the first place. Then as you approach puberty, the stakes of the game are even higher what with clever merchandising and marketing tools convincing the youth of America that iPods nanos and laptops are a vital necessity; even if it sets your parents back the savings for your college fund. Lord knows we all need to have Hannah Montana concert tickets and the entire Harry Potter collection (complete with DVD’s, wands and endangered-species white owls).
I guess what really gets my goat is that affected unwritten rule to be “jolly” and “merry”. All of these overly syrup-heavy sappy sentimentalism comes out on television, radio, and just about everywhere. No wonder people feel the most depressed during the Holiday season. It’s almost as if the entire world has decided that this time of year not only are we supposed to be thankful, but we are also required to be sickeningly and maddeningly kind. Well, I hate to say it but: “Bah humbug!” If you want to be a good samaritan, you can do it all year round. Who’d of thunk that one, huh? What a concept!
Hence, my addiction to reality television. Oh it’s way over the top and campy, but I just love to drop by–to see how the other half lives–only to find that it’s just a crappy as the rest of our mundane lives. Yessir! Nothing like a little celebreality to get my juices flowin’….(Not a euphemism). And, ewwwwwwwwwwww. But seriously, when I see that ugly-as-a-butt Miss New York on her show, I Love New York trying to convince a bunch of no-talent idiots that she is the hottest thing since sliced bread?! That’s just classic. I’ve nothing against her slutty ways, understand. I just love a good dose of nonsense to make me feel better about my life. At least no one’s spitting at me at the dinner table nor dancing naked on a pole to get my attention. Except for Uncle Joe who always has too much to drink. But well, we can control him, right? Right.