Friday, December 29, 2006
1:30 p.m.

Sorry this is so late. I’ve spent the last several days basking in holiday merriment and whatnot, far too busy to bitch about it. Here are six things I hate about the holidays.

1. Traffic. You know how I feel about traffic in this town if you’ve read any of my other blogs, so all I really have to say is get the fuck out of the way, signal, and figure out where you’re supposed to be. But mostly, get the fuck out of the way

2. Shopping. Two things I say every year: “I’m buying everything online this year.” Then, inevitably: “NEXT YEAR I’m buying everything online.” But I never do. The shipping costs outweigh the convenience and I feel cheated and self-righteously decide against paying for something I could quickly do myself. Then, as I’m STILL looking for parking 20 minutes later, I realize that I should have just planned ahead and paid for the shipping. I accidentally stole a parking spot from an old man last Thursday and felt the remorse drain from me in the very short distance to the doors of Arden Fair Mall. It was a damn good spot; no way was I giving that up. But parking is the easy part. What kills me is the PEOPLE and STROLLERS and ASSHOLES taking up unnecessary space with their loitering and their lollygagging. It’s like driving. Get the fuck out of the way. I don’t understand why this is so difficult. How are so many stupid people a) in one concentrated area at once; b) able to support themselves with jobs that enable them to be spending money at the mall in the first place? People should be forced to take an IQ test to shop at the fucking grocery store. And then there are jack-offs like me, on the phone in Nordstrom because I still can’t figure out what to get my mom, so I have to call my sister and my dad to be coached through the “mature ladies” department. After all that I bought myself two sweaters and went to L’Occitane for my mom instead. I suck.

3. Wrapping presents. Who the hell invented this ancillary pain in the ass? If it’s not enough trouble parking and fighting off human traffic at the crowded malls, I have to come home and wrap all this shit? Whoever came up with gift bags and tissue paper is a fucking genius. Wrap my casket in reindeer paper when I’m dead, and burn it all to ashes.

4. Work. Fuck work. It’s a formality from about December 22^nd. Everyone is concerned with presents and sneaking off to shop during company time to avoid the rush later. Anyone who expects any work to get done between 12/22 and 1/2 is a presumptuous douchebag and should be assassinated. Fuck all the people with their December 27^th deadlines. What are they smoking? The whole country fucking shuts down after Thanksgiving anyway. You have to blow someone to get a Christmas card mailed on time, let alone a package – be prepared to take it up the ass.

5. Relatives. I love my family, and I usually enjoy spending time with them. But as soon as my parents reach the greater Sacramento area, I feel the pressure and anxiety to clean. The frantic cleaning makes me feel like a lazy slob and I wonder why I need pressure to maintain this shit. Seriously, how hard is it to wash a fucking dish every once in a while, or pick up a mop every week? I sicken myself. Someday my decomposed body will be found under a pile of clutter and McDonald’s bags.

6. Last minute shopping. This is everything bad about shopping, times three million. On Christmas Eve I spent forever running around for shit that I could have been doing ALL DAY, had it not been for the last-minute cleaning and present-wrapping I should have been doing days ago. Oh, and slacking. I was doing a lot of slacking. I needed two things: golf balls and a Starbucks card, and not even for me. Any time you do someone a favor that seems quick and easy, it’s guaranteed to shit all over you. Acquisition of golf balls was easy. The gift card, not so much. There are a MILLION fucking Starbucks on every corner. Last night they were all CLOSED. CLOSED by 6pm. I drove around for an extra hour trying to find one before finally admitting defeat and self-loathing for procrastinating AGAIN. What’s a motherfucker gotta do to get a goddam Starbucks card in this town? Jesus. They’re like fucking viruses every damn day, now suddenly they’re the golden ticket? The final nail for my hatred of Starbucks has sealed the coffin. But around 10:30 on Christmas Day I went to Albertson’s (they have a Starbucks inside) – a glimmer of hope in my dark tunnel of failure. Of course the mini-Starbucks was closed, BUT I asked the girl (who was steaming milk despite the fact that they were supposed to be closed) if I could JUST GET A GIFT CARD. She handed me one and told me to buy it at the check-out. The relief was almost enough to rouse me from my morning haze of semi-slumber. I will never disparage Albertson’s again. I waited on line silently with immense gratitude and no judgment while the checker accidentally logged out of his register and disappeared for five minutes. The man behind me huffed and puffed, and hemmed and hawed his frustration at having to wait longer to purchase a giant metal tray for who knows what. He continued to express impatience when the checker returned, and I was still so relieved at my success that I probably exacerbated his irritation. “What? Gone? You? Please, don’t even worry about it. Take your time, I barely noticed.” I was extra cheerful and pleasant to assuage the delinquent checker and to infuriate the man behind me. Fuck that guy. That’s what you get for waiting till FUCKING CHRISTMAS to shop at the grocery store. Lessons learned: a) Albertson’s has emergency last-minute gift cards to various stores; b) If you’re waiting till Christmas or Christmas Eve to shop ANYWHERE, you have no right to get upset about anything blowing up in your face.