I am a Christmas grinch, and proud of it
DECK the halls with boughs of holly.
Fa-la-la-la-la, blah, blah, blah, blah.
For me, Christmas is a time for family, friends, fresh seafood and beer, particularly the latter.
If you're lucky to enjoy a few choice presents, good for you.
What I detest about Christmas each and every year is the obsession with Christmas trees, the collection of caked-on decorations and verbal vomit that comes with most Christmas music.
You guessed it, this journalist is a grinch.
And proud of it.
Going grocery shopping on Sunday, I find my local is already decked out in the red and green garbage.
Santa hats are a common sight, as are the reindeer.
We are still in November, not even halfway through.
From my work desk I look over my shoulder and see a tree, bells and whistles have been put out.
When I walk through the door, a daily countdown looks me in the eye.
We are 49 days away apparently, the countdown started in the 60s.
Now I know supermarkets do this every year.
They do it for Easter, Mother's Day, Halloween, but it's only November.
Kids are still in school, can't we at least wait until the holidays have begun?
It is just one big cash grab.
Yet to me, the worst part, is the stuff you can't see.
It's the dreaded jingle bells, Santa Claus annoyingly coming to town or Bieber's Drummer Boy.
You can't escape it.
Someone wrap some tinsel around my eyes and put some candy cane in my ears.