You’re the kind of person who gets joy out of telling little kids that Santa isn’t real. You parade around your neighborhood at night, popping inflatable Santas and ripping down Christmas lights just to spite your neighbors. You hate all things red, green, and jolly. Flamethrowers are your best friend as you melt the snowman the kids across the street built. And what happens if you accidentally burn the kids? Oh well, they remind you of elves anyway.
Christmas trees aren’t even a thing at your house. The closest you’ve ever gotten is a pile of beer cans with some tangled twinkle lights thrown on top or an air freshener hanging from a backscratcher. Presents? You love ‘em, but you sure as hell won’t be getting any for your friends. The only thing you find good about Christmas is eggnog, because then you just get completely smashed and don’t need to remember that it’s the “most wonderful time of the year.”
You use heavy death metal, played as loud as you can manage, to mask the horrid sounds of the never-ending Christmas tunes. Come on, they’re all the same, and they’ve been playing since November 1st. They’re all just redone by stupid divas looking to make more money. Mariah Carey singing “Santa Baby?” Yes, because that song wasn’t already sexual enough.
After the holidays are over, you snicker at all your friends and family as they wallow in their poverty. Their attempt to please their greedy children has left them broke and sad. Coming up next is New Year’s Eve, when you’ll be sitting home alone, watching the ball drop, naked, shot-gunning beers.
Your New Year’s resolution: get rid of the beer belly you’ve acquired over the holidays.