Let's Add it All Up!

On Christmas, I received:

2 "Screwpull" bar-ware devices (fancy schmancy)
1 chocolate cookbook
1 pair of to-die-for Frye Cow-boy boots
1 "Everyone Love a Minnesota Girl" T-shirt
3 pairs of pajamas
5 pairs of underwear
1 non-anti-perspirant containing deordorizer
1 pair of slippers
2 gift cards
1 apron (from the spaz dog-nephew and the whoreish girl dog niece)
21 Christmas cards
26 text messages
1 Christmas phone call (from Matt Boyce)
Fluffy white snow!!!!!!!!!

I diveyed out:

-various "Lush" bath products
2 Spinner yard ornaments
eye shadows
1 Caribou hot chocolate gift set
1 Star War's t-hirt
4 Grain Belt Premium Beer glasses
1 foodie book
15 Christmas cards
30 text messages (whilst drunk at about 4pm or so)
2 microwaveable corn-bags
2 gift cards
4 lip glosses
$40 in cold hard cash
2 phone calls to aunties and one second cousin

I "slaved": The past 16 days at the temp job and/or old massage job and/or cooking for family the old Christmas goose (turkey) and delicious side dishes and keeping the cocktails flowing.

AND I DO NOT EVEN LIKE CHRISTMAS!!! AT ALL. ****IT IS PRETEND****

Now, I love Jesus. I live by the whole Jesus philosophy. Loving people. Failing, forgiving, apathy, fervor, honesty. You name it if it is good. Jesus loves it and I embrace it. I think about him when I get fraustrated when I get excited when I am drunk when I am waking up when I am on a bad date when I need answers when I have questions when I want peace when I need peace when I long for love or PATIENCE or grace or guidelines to live as a christian. But I am done pretending every December 25th that he is born. And celebrating it with a smile and a purchased item from a mall.

That's not true. Next year. I'll be there buying shit for people in his name. But my heart is not in it. Already, I know that.

When I was younger my grandparents lived in the apartment I live in now. And from their bedroom window we looked out and saw a red light blinking from a warehouse about 5 blocks away. It was Rudolph's nose, "So eat your darn lutefisk and lefse and don't scream your head off during dinner or sing carrols," and then you'll get presents. That was fun. I remember it as fun. But fun stops. The tradition takes an awkward turn. The amount of text messages either depresses or impresses you and Jesus is there all along telling you he loves you. LOVES YOU!!!! You! Asshole!

But the formality wins out, 'cause he'll be loving you (asshole) tomorrow and the next day and the next. Whether or not you remember to get him something from the GAP or not.