
Thanks again everyone; your snark keeps me warm on cold nights.
Sevara said…
- Yearly family card. Yes, I really wanted to know that your Johnny is making $100,000 a month, and that daughter Jenny just gave birth to the most beautiful baby girl. First of, fuck off. Don't tell me about your perfect family, because we all know that Johnny is an asshole, your family is in debt because you guys are keeping up with the Joneses, and your beautiful, smart, "cough" slut "cough" Jenny got knocked up by some idiot, who was obligated to marry her. Thanks for that fake pose you sent me and Merry Christmas to the Assholes.
- Musux. It's the most annoying time of the year! I hate Rudolf, Santa, chestnuts, and all of the other X-mas music. And they start it in-mid October!
- Gifts. Okay, I love giving gifts to people I love and enjoy spending time with, like, my family and friends. But other "friends" that believe they are the best people out there, and we are all are "so close". NOT! That is why I never return your calls, emails, texts—because I don't want to talk to you. And I don't want to get you a gift, either. I don't want to spend my money on you. I'd rather burn ten bucks in my fireplace than buy you shit from the dollar store.
Marissa said...
SECRET SANTA at work. I'm forced to spend forty hours of my life with people that, quite frankly, are not my cup of tea. The only reason I grace them with my presence is because some faceless dude is PAYING me to do so. That being said, why the hell would I go out of my way to do something special for the woman who is the very bane of my existence? Or the guy who not so quietly brags about his sexual conquests after a night of binge drinking? HUH? Why would I spend the money I'm being paid to share air space with these goons on gifts for them when I have a perfectly good box of used cat litter ready and available? Secret Santas in the workplace need a firm blow to the face with a yule log.
Shieldmaiden96 said...
Christmas letters (in cute fonts, on theme-appropriate laser printer paper) tucked in cards. We have one friend who writes a seven-paragraph Christmas letter every year. It's mostly to make sure we all know how fabulous, unusually advanced, and super-duper creative each and every one of his kids has become, and just how fan-diddly-tastic life is in their household. I hate his kids and I've never even met them.