By: Carol Dillon
Yes, Christmas time is here, and with it some of my favorite tacky holiday traditions. Like that neighbor who decorates the outside of his house with just one strand of lights across his gutter; or the guy who has the giant blow-up Tigger in his front yard, wearing a Santa hat of course, which will only make it standing up half-way through December . . . by Christmas, Tigger will be totally deflated and covered in snow and slush. Another holiday favorite is buying gifts for people that I don’t even like, just because I’ve always bought them a gift and I anticipate that they will buy me one. I also enjoy going to the mall and watching men, sorry guys, pick out the lamest gift for their wives or significant other just because they have no clue what to get. You know the men I’m talking about. They either buy the entire outfit that is displayed on the mannequin or they buy the crap that sits at the end of the aisle way, on a display table labeled “stocking stuffers.” (For example, the Snuggie.) I love driving to the tune of old pop-stars or teeny bopper pop stars either butchering a Christmas classic like “Oh Holy Night” or singing a terrible
Christmas song written just for them. Who can do without the endless run of lame Christmas-themed movies on FaLaLaLa Lifetime? Yes, Christmas time is here.
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