Monday, November 22, 2004

Why I Hate Christmas: Part 1

Santa Claus parades. Everyone, it seems, loves a parade, except me.

All I wanted yesterday was some breakfast at Futures bakery. It was a nice day, I have a nice new iPod, and I elected to go for a stroll.

Then I hit the Santa Claus parade. The streets were so packed I could barely move. I was in a poor mood, one that began with when I woke with a hangover, and only grew as it was fed by gnawing hunger. I kept the edge of with Slayer and Sepultura; there's no better antidote to Christmas spirit than nihilistic death metal. I received the occasional dirty look from annoyed and frightened parents, as I muttered to myself about the suitability of AK47s for crowd control.

It was the kids that really pissed me off. They came in two varieties: sitting on Dad's shoulders, where their little booties were at just the right height to kick me in the head, and on the ground, perfectly placed for treading on their delicate little skulls. Parents who bring their children to these events should know better. It's not safe. There's people like me around.

Oh, and by-the-by, it's not that I dislike children. Quite the contrary. I also like steak sauce, fava beans, and a nice chianti.


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