3 Awful Holiday Traditions

Not everything about the holidays can be merry and bright. In fact, some holiday traditions are downright annoying. I can’t be the only one who feels this way, right? Here are my three least favorite things about the holidays.

1. Egg Nog.

You are gross and I hate you.

For a moment, let’s set aside the fact that egg nog tastes like sugary snot. Even if you have some sort of malfunction in your taste buds that would lead you to think egg nog is palatable, there is something terrifying about what egg nog actually is. Basically, take the reproductive bodily fluids of not one but two separate animals, mix them together with a dash of sugar and nutmeg – voila!

I can understand why the British and the colonial Americans enjoyed it back in the 1700s. Snackfoods weren’t invented yet. But come on. These people also believed in “bleeding” with leeches to cure the body of ailments. Do we really want to trust their culinary expertise?

This looks like more fun than drinking a glass of egg nog.

Ok, now, getting back to the flavor.

Egg nog tastes like shit.

2. Santa Baby.

Santa's little hooker.

Where do I even begin with this song? Female infantilization. Excessive materialism. That annoying nasal voice used in every rendition. I can’t believe this trite 1953 song is still such a popular anthem in 2011. Are women still wishing for a man to buy them pretty things and propose?

Santa, baby, I have a job.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised so many women love this song. As a gender, we’re regressing in many ways. I observed the sad reality of the “princess effect” during my recent vacation in DisneyWorld where I forced myself to smile sweetly instead of punching the staff member at the entrance for calling me “princess.” However, even I have to admit seeing my two-year-old niece go batshit crazy at the sight of the tiara-wearing, glitter-laden nitwits was simultaneously depressing and adorable.

I wish a man would help me understand.

Is it weird that I haven't taken this off since we got back?

3. Bell Ringers.

I see you. You have a big, fat red kettle. It’s impossible to miss. I don’t need the high-pitched, piercing clang of a bell destroying by eardrums from the inside out. Any other time of year, we’re taught to run away from a stranger standing outside playing percussion instrument badly.

My brain hurts.

Also, I met a few bell ringers during my seven-year stint in a grocery store florist. Two bell ringers stand out in my mind:

1) Once, when I was in the bathroom, an old lady bell ringer sat in a bathroom stall next to me doing something really foul whilst narrating a graphic play-by-play of what was happening and providing the background info on the softshell crabs she had eaten the night before. Also, she had a clear plastic backpack.

2) The next year, another bell ringer – presumably on her break – stopped by my department and started chatting me up. For some reason she felt compelled to describe how her boyfriend had just left her for a fat woman with spider veins and cellulite legs. She described how disgusting it was to imagine them having sex while I tried not to light my face on fire. I still don’t know why she chose me. I must have a very empathetic look.

One more thing. Why are you still collecting change in a bucket? Do they still make coins in 2011? Don’t worry, if I travel back to 1995 and happen to be carrying cash with me, I will toss you a couple of bucks. Until then, I’ll send a check. Oh, I almost forgot, I don’t even write checks anymore. The only person I write checks to is my Avon lady. I think I’ll stick to online donations after all.

Lest you think I’m a Scrooge, keep in mind I’m not criticizing the Salvation Army – just the bell ringers. The Salvation Army does wonderful work, and you can support the cause (and avoid a creepy bell ringer) by donating here.

And stay tuned for my next two posts: The 3 Most Underrated (But Awesome) Holiday Traditions, and A Tale of Two Christmas Cards, coming later this week…


  1. I love the egg nogs. Always have. It’s like a friggin’ vanilla milkshake with yum spices in it; what’s not to love? I’ve perfected my own homemade recipe even – and while it’s better with booze (what’s not, really?), it’s also delish without. I kinda like “Santa, Baby” but I understand the bone you pick with it – it is a bit gross, actually. And YES YES YES to bell ringers. Many of them appear to be heroin addicts around here, which makes me question how much of the money actually makes it to the SA. I’d much rather just adopt an angel off the Angel Tree or something. (Also, did you know they don’t ring on Sundays? So you can shop in peace on Sundays!)

    • Jen, thanks for visiting my blog! I just checked yours and enjoyed today’s post! But, I don’t know, Jen. I love me a vanilla milkshake. But there is nothing frosty and refreshing about the nog. Let’s agree to disagree on that point.

      And as for the heroin addicts…that really makes a lot of sense now that you mention it.

      Thanks for the comment!

  2. The problem with bell ringers is that you can give $20.00 to one bell ringer and go to another store where hey…look at that… there’s another bell ringer waiting for your money, if you don’t put money in they ring the bell even LOUDER!!! There’s no escaping!

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