Making a List. Checking it Twice. Gonna Find Out Whom I’d Like to Poison with Cyanide-Laced Egg Nog…

(That is the original title of the song, after all. Trust me. Before it was cleaned up and made all PC, that is.)

So as long as I’m on a holiday-themed rant…

Not that my previous post was necessarily a rant. But it did highlight some of the less-than-savory products that come out of the woodwork during the holiday season – from a leg-spreading Dora to deflated inflatables to a modern classic called “Extraordinary Chickens.”

Tastes like (extraordinary) chicken.

But there’s a whole other side of the holiday that inspires hostility in me. These are the annoying people who make me want to impale myself on an icicle or throw myself down a chimney. Whichever is more accessible.

And I realize, this is sensitive territory. It’s the oh-so-jolly, ho-ho holly Christmas season after all, with all its bullshit holiday yuletide cheeriness and what not.

Not that I’m bitter.

So I promise, the next post – an uncharacteristically feel-good holiday tale with a happy, inspirational message (and nary a “fuck,” “crap” or “holy shitballs” in sight) – will more than make up for my seemingly Scrooge-like stance in this postito.

Now, without further ado…

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My Holiday Top-5 List of People I Want to Strangle with the Nearest String of Sparkling Holiday Lights:

1. Madonna and her illegitimate Santa Baby.

Every time I hear this song, I feel like beating an innocent neighbor-child’s snowman upside his stove-top-hatted head with a giant candy cane.

And the reason may go beyond the sheer annoyance of hearing Madonna breathily seduce her stupid-as-fuck “Santa Claus.”

I was on the dance team in high school. And we did a routine to this song. I wish I had proof of the routine – like a YouTube-quality video to post – but alas, these were the pre-phone-video-ability days. Or the Stone Age, as my children call it.

So instead, I simply offer proof that I was, indeed, on the dance team in high school. In all my awkward glory.

Where do we even begin, people? The bangs — the jazz hands — the braces — the sequins. So many punch lines...TOO MANY PUNCH LINES!

Yeah, that stupid Madonna song takes me right back to that stupid routine. And do you even realize how many stupid times I had to do the stupid splits (in a ripple — while holding a candy cane between my teeth) at the”Boo doo bee doo” part of these brilliant (and double-entendre-laden) lyrics:

Come and trim my Christmas tree
With some decorations bought at Tiffany’s
I really do believe in you
Let’s see if you believe in me
Boo doo bee doo

Now do you see why I hate this stupid song? Yeah? Good.

2. Actually, let’s expand #1 to include anyone whose name is NOT Bing, Nat, Frank, Perry, Karen, Johnny, Ella, Jose, Peggy or Andy and sings holiday songs. 

Christmas music seems to inspire many-a-rant this season, but I’m thoroughly convinced that we’d have less to bitch about if we just stuck with the classics.

White Christmas by Bing Crosby? A-ok. White Christmas by Justin Bieber? Kill me now.

Now granted, I was a wee youngin in the early ’80s, when Elmo and Patsy’s “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” was the staple novelty song playing practically non-stop on every station (interrupted only by the dogs barking Jingle Bells and Alvin and the Chipmunks begging Christmas not to be late). So I may be more bitter than most.

But if none of us ever has to hear Bruce Springsteen killing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” or George Michael whining about “Last Christmas” or Mariah Carey pleading “All I Want for Christmas is You,” wouldn’t this be a happier world? Wouldn’t the 24/7 Christmas Carol stations be a tad more tolerable?

In the words of the inimitable Jose Feliciano: ¡Pienso que si! (I’m sure he said that somewhere in “Feliz Navidad,” right? Or perhaps I made that up. Because I wanted to show off my upside-down exclamation point and evident mastery of basic Spanish vocab. ¿Muy impresivo, si?)

3. Anyone who has anything to do with a Zales/Helzberg/Kay Jewelers/Rogers ad (including anyone falling for them).

As they say, diamonds are for whatever.

So really, this holiday season, it shouldn’t surprise us that we’re constantly abused by these crazy-making messages.

Here’s the premise of any of this ilk of holiday treat: If you have a penis, and if you are in a relationship, then you must buy your significant other a diamond. Or better yet: many diamonds. Or best-case scenario: A diamond to represent every second of every minute of every hour of every year of your relationship.

Or else.

Or else what, you ask?

  1. …you’ll break up.
  2. …you’ll prove that there’s not enough love in your cold, black, dead heart for your significant other.
  3. …you’ll justify your significant other’s use of the words “classless douchebag and his classless ass” within one or two (or 84) Facebook status updates.
  4. Or — and here’s the worst of the worst: …you’re not getting laid this Christmas. Here’s 17 seconds worth of proof:

The clear implication: Someone got a pearl necklace this Christmas!

Just sayin’…

4. Anyone who has a “place” to wrap presents and/or an “organized” gift wrap “station.”

You people suck.

‘Nuff said.

5. The people who told my children that Santa isn’t real. Last year. When my daughter was 8.

Yeah, so it appears my kids spend lots o’ time –oh, let’s say, half their time — with certain people whose names are clearly on the naughty list. And these certain (naughty) people told my (wide-eyed, believing) kids last year that Santa is fake. And for “proof,” they should simply check the writing on the gift tags against my own.

You certain (naughty) people suck.

‘Nuff said.

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OK. Bring it, world’s awesomest readers:

  1. Go ahead, you’re dying, I know: Your reaction to my awkwardly banged, braced and jazzed-out dance team photo?
  2. Most annoying holiday song by a modern artist?
  3. Thoughts on jewelry guilt trips?
  4. Are you brave enough to admit that you have a gift wrap station? Or have you ever dealt with naughty people killing Santa in your child’s innocent eyes?

And like I said: Be prepared for the happiest and heart-warmingest of Christmas posts. I’ve got one that’s sure to melt your heart (if your heart isn’t cold, black and lifeless like mine, that is…).