10
The Dark Side: Holiday in the Sun
BY LAURAH NORTON
Features Columnist
I somehow have (barely) man
aged to survive Christmas this year.
Things got tough, but I made my way
back here to lovely Greensboring with
out visible scarring or permanent psy
chosis. When I was a kid, I adored the
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\-
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I am the goth Santa Claus. You haven't seen much of me
because I can't find any houses with Rudolph's black light
nose and all my reindeer keep trying to kill themselves.
PHOTO BY CHRIS SNYDER
holidays; since I was young and stupid
(as opposed to old and stupid) I didn't
have any responsibilities except open
ing lots of gifts and running around 'till
I threw up. Alas, I've matured
(slightly) since then, and have reshaped
my ideas on the whole Holiday
Season™.
Holidays a) induce high blood pres
sure, b) cost money, and c) involve too
Campus Candid
___
Denizens of Hobbs prepare to destroy the earth. See them laugh their evil
laughs. See them plan their evil plans. Fearthem! Flee from their path!
PHOTO BY BECCA LEE
Features
many brightly-colored decorative prod
ucts. To involve yourself, you have to
go to big, scary malls and buy presents;
in fact, searching three hours for the
perfect gift will probably cause you to
hate the person you're buying it for.
People expect you to decorate
your house with homey snowflake mo-
In order to "enjoy" the Holiday
Season™, one must travel to visit
people that one normally wouldn't even
associate with —i.e., family.
You pretend to enjoy your rela
tives* company (at least until the egg
nog kicks in) and appreciate the hor
rible strange presents they purchase for
you on some sadistic whim. After a
mass gorge-on-turkey-and-bring-up
embarrassing-past-events session, ev
eryone sits around waiting to go back
to work.
What mirthful joy. Holidays would
be much easier if we didn't actually
have to see other people.
I've created a plan that'd make
such celebrations less painful —which
is a good thing. Instead of shelling out
a hundred bucks to buy Aunt Bertha
an electric cat toothbrush, we all spend
an allotted amount of money on our
selves.
It's not that I hate giving or re
ceiving gifts (preferably cartons of
cigarettes); it's just that our lives would
be a lot less stressful if we purchased
our own gifts. You know the sweaters
tifs and sing
songs about fat
old men and
lonely deer over
and over until sui
cide seems like a
viable option.
Basically, I
don't like events
(or anything) that
involve effort on
my part or en
courage subur
ban soccer moms
to wear
sweatshirts
decorated with
glittery Christmas
trees.
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TheGuilfordian
January 23,1998
will fit, and nobody will have to stand
in line for three days to return a Spice
Girls CD.
On Christmas day (or Hanukkah
or the Solstice, Halloween or whatever)
you can sleep late, open presents and
spend the day alone, drinking beer and
watching wrestling in your underwear.
Order a pizza, call a few relatives
and exchange heartfelt greetings (the
less you see people, the more you like
them) and compliment yourself on your
excellent gift-giving taste.
Sing a seasonal song, decorate
your cat's litter box, or just fall asleep
on the couch to the sweet sounds of
Jerry Springer.
Now that's heaven.