"'Tis the season to eat lollies

fa la la la la la blah blah blah"

All over the commercialised world, people are spending shitloads of money on presents for Christmas. They are walking the shop aisles, hmm'ing and haa'ing, wondering how many presents they can buy with the credit card in their pocket that will take until next Christmas to pay off, buying gifts for show for people they know, and people who won't like what they get who might be disappointed, affronted and insulted, and people who will be rapt and happy and exultant with what they receive. They wish they knew which ones were which.

And then there's Santa - good old Santa who's working his elves to the bone to get all the presents imported, cleared through customs and the duty paid, delivered, priced and the shelves stocked so that people can stand in long queues to fill the tills with the joyous sound of over-indulgent materialism, and who will largely get the credit.

Fuck that.

20 Steps for a Traditional Family Christmas:
(aka Who Put the Christ in Christmas)

1) work out how much money you can afford to spend.

2) triple it.

3) start present buying early, Boxing Day Sales are good. The credit card's almost maxed out from Xmas anyway, a little more won't hurt.

4) hide presents in weird places to stop the kids finding them during the next 12 months.

5) don't forget to watch for bargains in the spring sales in August. You know you'll be sorry if you don't.

6) ask the kids what they want and don't want from Santa. Hide your dismay when you find out your purchases to date are out of fashion and no longer "cool".

7) after the dismay wears off, make sure you take notes to guide you in the second round of shopping, pre-christmas.

8) Have the annual family argument about who is hosting christmas dinner; who is bringing whom, who you won't be seen dead sitting at the table with. Etc. Plan to park car well clear of other vehicles so it won't be damaged when the first row ends in a blazing walkout. Plan to park car facing the street in case the walkout is you.

9) step up the pace a bit - panic when you realise that A) you have spent $1750 on presents for just 3 kids and B) you can't find half the presents you hid. Or the wrapping paper. Throw out the chocolate Santas you bought three years ago and couldn't find again. Send out 67 Christmas cards to people you haven't seen in 5 years and 15 people who you have. Make a list of the names and addresses (for next year) on Christmas cards you receive from people you don't remember. Buy 10 more rolls of wrapping paper. The big rolls.

10) Prepare self for the christmas work 'do' misery; babysitter's rate has increased exponentially; who will be sober driver; who will be sober driver when the sober driver gets pissed anyway. Kid ate all the candy canes and has allergic reaction - Mum stays home. Don't forget screaming row with partner when he arrives home hammered, driving drunk from said work do at 3.20 in the morning. After not calling. Or answering his cellphone. For 8 hours. If he's a nasty drunk, have a bag packed in case you have to leave in a hurry when the violent row starts. Go to bed not talking. Wake in a puddle of urine. Not your urine.

11) have a stiff gin before that final mad rush around the shops looking for that elusive widget you saw on TV last night for Aunty Maud. Fight through the supermarket crowd to grab that last oversized ham that everyone will hate the sight of by New Years. Send kids to grab strawberries, tomatoes and those last 2 pavlovas left in the shop.

12) console the pavlova kid who was mugged for his booty on the way back to the trolley.

13) complete final preparations; prepare as much food as possible in advance so that you'll manage to grab an hour out of the kitchen to let your lunch go down. Battle the bumper to bumper holiday traffic reduced to one lane for a road accident. For 15 kilometres. Try not to bite pavlova kid's head off when he asked "are we there yet" for the 273rd time. Take plastic bags, towels and wet flannels in the car - children can vomit many times during a 3 hour journey. Don't say the F word out loud when you realise a suitcase was left behind. Your suitcase. Don't say it.

14) Put on your best smile on arriving at your loved ones' home. Immediately bath children and put them to bed. 7 times. Put 3rd load of laundry on, wish for the 32nd time that you hadn't given them so much festive fizzy and cream biscuits to stop them asking "are we there yet".

15) unpack presents and put under the tree to perpetuate the lies parents have told their kids for generations. Hell, you were upset when you found out Santa wasn't real, why should your kids miss out on the misery? Fall into bed at 1am knowing you will be awake in 4 and a half hours to watch those little faces crinkle up and cry because they got a Barbie instead of a Bratz doll and the toy-gun-you-didn't-want-to-buy-but-it-was-75%-off has broken already - take mental note that 45.6 seconds is a new toy-gun record.

16) stagger through the day. Wipe the tears, serve the food, adjudicate the fights, punish the miscreants, wish you could get pissed before lunch, avoid arguing with sister-in-law, clean up the mess, thaw sausages, make salads and butter bread for dinner when the blokes decide they are going to cook.

17) clean up the dishes and retrieve cutlery, plates and glasses from the garden. Do three loads in the diswasher. Put the kids to bed. 5 times.

18) relax with a well earned beer. Get the men one while you're up.

19) assemble umbrellas, togs and towels for the beach tomorrow - it's going to be a scorcher. Write note to self to remember the Boxing Day sale starts at 8am. Make a list of what to buy, it saves time. Set the alarm for 6.30. Fall into bed at midnight to the sound of drunken singing and arguing coming from the lounge. Thank Christ it's all over.

20) step 1.

It's supposed to be all in the name of some bloke born a couple of thousand years ago, revered by billions in the interim but who came out of his Mummy's furry front bottom just like most of the rest of us (only Romans had caesars).

So, if Jesus is the reason for the season, get things rolling before your hubby gets hammered and gets caught out nailing the blonde in reception on the boss's desk - help him celebrate in style, dress him up right and get ready to party hearty!



In the words of Kevin Bloody Wilson (hard to choose which Christmas song though, he did heaps of nasties er goodies)

Ho Ho Fucking Ho
What a crock of shit
We all work for Santa Clause
We’ve had enough, we quit
Cuz we do all the fucking work
While he stars in the show
Stick your Christmas up your ass
Ho Ho Fucking Ho

:0)

You didn't want a cutesy, blessed be the baby Jesus soppy post did you?