Jennifer tagged me! I'm telling! MOM!

going through the motions | Auf Der Maur

I've actually done this one before...

1.  Go into your archive. 
2.  Find your 23rd post. 
3.  Find the 5th sentence of that post.
4.  Post text of that sentence with these instructions.
5.  Tag 5 other people to do the same:

Mine 23rd post goes as follows:

Tis The Season to be Disgruntled

 

I'm sitting here in the midst of piles and piles of Christmas presents. I do realize that I will drown in them until that fateful day which could come sooner if it'd like. I've almost had my fill of red and green and "Joy to the World" and of that so-called "Christmas Cheer." You know, that cheer that makes crazy mothers and fathers push and shove you into the giraffe display at Toys R Us, that same "Holiday Cheer" that makes the disgruntled sales clerks grit thier teeth if one more person asks for the "doll that poops all over," or "that video game with you know, that superhero."

And what I'm sick of most isn't the long lines or the hiked up prices or the crying little banshee children, what I'm fed up with is the actual term "Holiday Season." Last time I checked there weren't 5 seasons: Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall and Holiday. No. This is not the "Holiday Season." This is pre-winter, this is post-fall, but Holiday? Uh-uh. What makes Christmas more holiday-y than say, Veterans Day? The fourth of July? Because there's a fat man that rides around in the sky in a sleigh with velvety bags filled with gifts for all of those who were good this year? Or because egg nog is in season (the winter season, not the holiday season!)? Or is it just because there's a tree involved? Because you know, anytime there's a tree involved it makes it more of a holiday! NO! NO! NO!

Why the decorations? Why the profuse spending? Why the trees in the house?! TREES BELONG OUTSIDE! DUH!

 

So next time you're being tossed around in the aisles of a toy store, remember that you are only there adding to the madness. And that you should leave, IMMEDIATELY. Drop whatever inane gift you have in your hand for Aunt Polly or your daughter's college roomates boyfriend's parents neighbors and leave. Head out of the store, shield yourself from any flying carts and seek shelter in your car. Then, drive home, open some canned cranberry sauce and wish it was Thanksgiving everyday.

Have a lovely day and watch out for any loose shopping carts falling from the sky.

 

And my 5 invitations to do the same are:

1- Kathleen  (who can totally just substitute pictures of her adorable son, Isaac)

2- Leslie (who has been MIA from Journal Land forever!)

3- Amber on her Xanga account

4- Kat on her LJ

5- Anthony on his LJ