lizblackdog (
lizblackdog) wrote2008-12-23 09:58 pm
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Happy Christmas, your arse
This year, my family decided to go with a Secret Santa system for family gifts, so instead of everyone buying everyone 494603437 things, everyone just has one gift to buy each. For me, the eternal poor relation, this is a relief on the level of a piano being lifted off my chest.
It hasn't eliminated my seasonal angst, fear and loathing, only given it one less sensible reason to exist. I still hate almost everything about this holiday: the forced jollity, the shoppers' siege mentality, the flavour of disappointed expectation that permeates every adult's mood like rancid butter in mashed potatoes.
Don't get me wrong. I love you all. I want you all to have a wonderful time with love and tinsel and gravy and an apple and an orange and a pony and a shiny red bike and an X-box. But I want that for you every day of every year; it annoys crap out of me that I have a date and a fucking deadline it's supposed to happen on. It makes no sense; and I loathe expectations and obligations above all things.
So I won't be sending you cards, but you knew that. I'm not doing presents except for one family member and baby niece - unless you're on Subeta, because I happen to be a multimillionaire in Subeta play-money and I can - but even there I'd much rather shower people with presents on random occasions as the mood takes me.
And yeah, I'll have a good day on the day. I always do, because I am insanely lucky enough to have a family that consists of great people I actually enjoy spending time with. I'd still opt out, given the choice.
So I don't wish any of you a happy Christmas. I wish you all health, wealth and joy greater than you've ever known, spread evenly over 365 days to keep it in manageable doses. I wish you love and joy and desire and fulfillment and beauty and no more sorrow than the absolute minimum required to appreciate the good parts. I wish that for you every day, summer or winter.
And I do not wish you Christmas music, except for this one song, the only one I can bear. I love it so.
It hasn't eliminated my seasonal angst, fear and loathing, only given it one less sensible reason to exist. I still hate almost everything about this holiday: the forced jollity, the shoppers' siege mentality, the flavour of disappointed expectation that permeates every adult's mood like rancid butter in mashed potatoes.
Don't get me wrong. I love you all. I want you all to have a wonderful time with love and tinsel and gravy and an apple and an orange and a pony and a shiny red bike and an X-box. But I want that for you every day of every year; it annoys crap out of me that I have a date and a fucking deadline it's supposed to happen on. It makes no sense; and I loathe expectations and obligations above all things.
So I won't be sending you cards, but you knew that. I'm not doing presents except for one family member and baby niece - unless you're on Subeta, because I happen to be a multimillionaire in Subeta play-money and I can - but even there I'd much rather shower people with presents on random occasions as the mood takes me.
And yeah, I'll have a good day on the day. I always do, because I am insanely lucky enough to have a family that consists of great people I actually enjoy spending time with. I'd still opt out, given the choice.
So I don't wish any of you a happy Christmas. I wish you all health, wealth and joy greater than you've ever known, spread evenly over 365 days to keep it in manageable doses. I wish you love and joy and desire and fulfillment and beauty and no more sorrow than the absolute minimum required to appreciate the good parts. I wish that for you every day, summer or winter.
And I do not wish you Christmas music, except for this one song, the only one I can bear. I love it so.
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Some year you and I should get together and lock ourselves in for Christmas.
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...actually, we could both cook. you could do Southern Lady things with yams and i can do proper roast potaties in goose fat, and afterwards we can pull crackers and wear silly paper hats and either watch Tink and Squish play or teach Spike and Beo that they aren't allowed to kill each other.
It will be awesome. :D
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*rubs your breasts*
;-)
HO HO HO!
Re: HO HO HO!
I'm not much for the breeding but I'm all about the orgies!
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Next to various good versions of Carol of the Bells.
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...Which is odd. I play all of them year round, but this one is my Winterthing
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My love to you and yours from Dexter, Lacey and I. <3
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This post is good though. And so is the song <3
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Rascal and Hamish send their love, as do the rest of us. :)
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