Christmas and Pandas.

It's that time of year again-- where no one can escape the Claus of Christmas.

It's fun, but sometimes I have a hard time keeping track of what I think is the true meaning. I'm not religious, so I'm not celebrating Christ's birthday. I think of Christmas as a reminder that family is there and that they still love me, even though I screwed up over the year.

The gifts are reminders of love, not to prove who blew the most on some Crap-tasic present (IE-- the electric nosehair trimmers from Sears, or any kind of doll that wets itself and screams.) My parents and family give me great stuff, and I hope they like what I got them. But I'm afraid that more and more Christmas is becoming simply buckwild spending and the resultant rampant braindeath due to bills.

And speaking of braindeath, I should mention Christmas carols. Maybe I'd like them more if they weren't played on Halloween. I like the music in small doses. I sang so much of it in choir for 8 years (we sang the Halleluja Chorus for 4 years straight. I can still sing parts of it.) I like the classics, and some of the Twisted Christmas music. Some of it, the really sappy stuff...just makes me want to get into my Grinch suit, tie antlers on my dog, and steal all of Who-ville's presents...

I think of family dinners past. Like the time my brother set the table on fire, or when the turkey was dry and the steak was raw, or even when I was pubertal and angst-y over everything (that needs no explanation.) Or the family parties where they gave me books and then got mad when I preferred to read them than make small talk. What? I was 12.

My brother is talking about how he wants to get up at 4 AM to do presents. 10 years ago I would have agreed wholeheartedly, but now that I'm officially old...4 AM is when I have to get up and pee, not when I want to be coherent and on camera. It would only serve to scare future generations if my 4 AM face and hair were preserved for posterity.

But it's still fun. I remember how my dad used to trick me every year, how I made Santa sign for his cookies one year (and was foiled when I couldn't match handwriting with anyone) and how when I was way younger-- I got so excited that I puked Christmas morning. I guess I just shook myself up like a little bottle of soda and blew...all over a recliner. For some reason Mom wasn't too merry that morning.

I'm finally doing my shopping tomorrow. And for no other reason than there's always room for a cute picture, here's a baby panda. I defy anyone to not think he's cute: