The Grinch

I totally understand why The Grinch stole Christmas. I don’t want to steal presents from children or genuine holiday cheer from adults drunk off cheap wine. No, my friends, I am not that evil. I do, however, want to tell you about how much of a wreck my life is between December and January.



Let’s start with the obvious. I hate getting presents from people, especially extended family that do not know me very well. Most of the time, these presents turn out to be tacky gifts pulled out of a dark corner of the 90’s or an obvious re-gift. It’s like a game of hot potato, as I frantically try to re-gift the rubbish lest I get stuck with it. Please, people! Let’s learn off our mistakes, shall we? I wave my arms frantically as I say this: Do not get me anything! Give me a genuinely written card or a letter, if you can. If you can’t, then just give me a warm hug. If you can’t give me a warm hug, then just smile genuinely at me. If you can’t smile genuinely, then just take care of yourself and your family and please be happy.

Then there’s the task of getting presents for people, especially extended family members whom I don’t know very well. You’ll always get a candle or chocolates. I don’t know anything about you. I bought your present at Shoppers Drug Mart when my mom told me I had to get you something. Did we meet when I was 5? So sorry.

In all seriousness, the steroid-like commercialization of Christmas is disgusting. Guess who gets to feel shitty about themselves? Poor people. Lonely people. A lot of people fall into both categories, especially since it’s harder than ever to find a job that leaves you with disposable income. Christmas is greedy. It doesn’t care that you’re on a budget. It doesn’t care that you’re underemployed. And it doesn’t accommodate those in debt.

I’m not an actor, but I play one during the holidays.

This about sums it up. I feel like a big fat phoney. I’m a generally happy, healthy, and sane human being who has interests and stuff. I love spending time with my friends and family, eating and drinking too much, and giving them thoughtful gifts. I hate being forced to do these things, however. December puts a lot of pressure on you. There are deadlines and expectations. There are dreadful holiday parties. The entire thing is forced, and we’re all puppets reluctantly playing along.

I’m an introvert, and I need occasional downtime. There is no downtime in December. You’re either baking cookies for the office/neighbours/family/boyfriend’s family, hurling yourself into crowds at the mall, and/or going to holiday parties you couldn’t care much about. It’s too much for me. The holidays expect you to be “on” all the time. December is so unforgiving. If I see another shortbread cookie, I’m going to throw up.

And don’t get me started on the music. If I hear “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” one more time, I’m going to high-five someone. In the face. With a chair.

Next year will be different. I will take the entire month of December off and travel somewhere remote. Perhaps a hut in South America will be far enough from crazed holiday shoppers, ear-bleeding Christmas music, and lame holiday parties.

How do you feel about the holidays?


Cuba Values Women

Cuba is banning vulgar Reggaeton music because it objectifies and demeans women.

Most modern rap music and some reggaeton music objectify women. Strippers, hookers, and/or women with big butts crawling all over arrogant rappers with gold teeth and tacky leopard print cardigans. I’m looking at you, Trinidad James.

Good call, Cuba.

Livin’ The American Dream

I’m living the American Dream.


This about sums it up

It all started last week when I decided to start packing my lunch. The idea seemed foolproof. I’ll save at least $200 a month by packing my own lunch!

It was great. I packed little sandwiches, salads, and fruit. I’ll eat healthier! This is great.

Then, it all took a turn for the worst. I packed soup. Red beet soup, made by my lovely Russian neighbour, to be exact. She’s such a sweet lady who secretly thinks I’m anorexic because I’m really slim.

After warming it up, I took my lunch over to my coworker’s office, as I did the day before and as I’ll do the day after. I carefully set it on her table as I prepared to sit down and stuff my face with food eat.

The clasp from my long necklace got wedged in the tupperware and as I sat down, flipped it over. The. Soup. Was. Everywhere. It was on my coworker’s notes. It was on my pants. It was on the carpet.

I was mortified. I thought she, the neurotic perfectionist that she is, was going to kill me. We wiped everything down and I ate the remaining 1/3 of my soup. It was actually quite good.

Luckily, I was wearing black pants that day, so you couldn’t really tell that I’m a moron covered in beet soup. I went to the bathroom, locked the door, took off my pants, and washed them. Then, I put them back on and went back to my office.

I spent the rest of my afternoon sitting in my office wearing no pants, while my pants were drying on the heater. That’s right, folks. You heard me. NO PANTS. I was wearing wool tights, however.

Nobody noticed. Nobody saw me. Nobody even walked by my office.

And at that point I realized, I’m living the American Dream. I seized the opportunity to work without the restriction of pants. And it was great.

Too scared to try it again. Not much of a gambler.

You have an insufferable personality

Yes, you have an insufferable personality.

We are all insufferable to some extent. We all have little quirks and habits that are annoying to the people around us.


Act like a prize, and you’ll turn them into believers.

Here are some of the things that I think make me insufferable:

  • I chew crunchy food really, really loudly. People on the other floors can practically hear me eating an apple. Crunch, crunch, crunch.
  • While we’re on the topic of eating, I eat really slowly. I don’t know if it’s because I’m chewing slowly, or too much, but I end up finishing my meal way after everyone else is done. and no, I won’t hurry it up.
  • I’m probably too friendly to people who want to be left the hell alone.
  • Sometimes I just want to be left the hell alone.
  • I’m always 15 minutes late to social functions, and I express great disdain showing up on time or (gasp) early. Who does that?
  • I walk really fast and I’m always in a hurry. As if I’m a New Yorker or something (I’ve never even been to New York). I am the worst enemy of high school girls who text while walking. I brisk right past them and nearly topple them over.
  • I metamorphise into an apocalyptic survivor scrambling for precious resources when driving in traffic. The precious resource in this scenario is space. I want that space you’re in. I want that space in front of you. I’m going to force my way in front of you, even though you ignored my blinker. Snaaarl
  • I’m a fucking gluttonist, okay?! I eat everything. And then I talk about it. Non-stop.
  • If I get bored during a conversation I don’t react to what was said, and just try to change the topic. This obviously pisses off many people.

What makes you insufferable?

My Christmas List

Judging by the cheesy holiday music blasting in malls and elevators all over Toronto I think it’s safe to say…

Tis the season, guys.


This is so perfect.

So what’s on your list?

Here’s what I want:

  • An unlimited supply of David’s Tea. First of all, I drink more tea than the British. If you haven’t had loose leaf tea, you’re not living. Please don’t tell me you like drinking tea out of a bag. That’s so sad. Go out and get yourself some loose leaf tea and then tell me how the quality of your life has improved.
  • To stop getting holiday deals spam from companies I don’t care about. That means you, iTunes and Guess. Go away.
  • To finally have time to myself. I’ve been really busy lately, mostly with work and birthday obligations (i.e. parties at clubs–shudder). I would love to curl up with a book and some tea. Or take a bubble bath. Or build a snowman. Yes. A sexy snowman. Tall, white, and round. Mm.
  • To go ice-skating, wear mittens, and drink hot chocolate.
  • For my roommate’s cat to stop pissing in my slippers.

Here are some of my favourite Christmas cards, enjoy.


What’s on your list?