January Blues

It is now January. “No shit!”, you’re probably thinking. Or at least you should be, if you have a normal functioning brain. So would somebody please like to explain to me why, when on my way home with my boyfriend yesterday, we passed by two small children who were merrily singing ‘Deck the Halls’, at the top of their lungs? “Unacceptable!”, I hear you exclaim. But alas, this was not the worst part of the story. Who did we see trailing along behind said children? Their Mother. Now, would somebody please care to explain to me how any Mother in their right mind could possibly stand to listen to their children shout these lyrics out into the crisp night air, IN JANUARY? I can barely tolerate this kind of behaviour at the beginning or end of December. Am I the only one who finds this simply intolerable? Am I just a Scrooge? I hope not. Otherwise I shall have to leave this planet on the grounds that I am the only sane human in this desolate wasteland of bacteria.


Much to my disappointment, nay, misery, these said children seemed not to be the only people who could not simply let go of this holiday spirit. It seemed to me as though even the workers in McDonalds were having trouble with this otherwise easy separation of emotions. At first, as I entered the establishment with my boyfriend and several close friends, everything was as it should be. However, within a matter of moments I discovered that all was not well in McDonalds that day. My boyfriend looked at me with a concerned expression on his face as I struggled to adjust to the scene which had befallen my vision. I gazed off into the distance. Or, to be more accurate, the kitchen. My eyes glazed over with confused irritation, and I fought to gain control over the incoming bf (anybody who has seen ‘White Chicks’ will understand this reference. If you are one of those readers who have not experienced the pleasure of watching this ball-bouncingly funny film, you should leave this page now) which was about to be unleashed onto this restaurant on my part. After some time my mind allowed me to faze back in to reality, as I managed, with a pained expression on my face, to raise my hand and point to one of the workers slaving over the deep fryer. He followed my gaze and my finger, and he too was simply disgusted. For there, right in front of us, was a Christmas hat, resting happily on top of the acne-ridden teen’s head. Watching us. Mocking us. I wish this was a joke but, sadly, ’tis painfully true. 


Okay, maybe that depiction of the situation was a tad too over-dramatic. But if you are searching for positive, realistic, logical posts, then you have ventured into the territory of the wrong blogger. You’d better escape now. My sarcastic, narcissistic, pessimistic attitude is contagious, or so I’ve been told. No, really, I have. Go. Save yourselves! Happy Holidays you messed up people 🙂 


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