The Hall(mark) of Horrors

As the holidays approach, there’s many things to look forward to.  Cookies, decorations, Santa, food, presents; all these things just bring out the awesomeness of Christmas.

But there’s a dark side to this, as well, and any guy who’s been in a relationship before knows there are certain obligations. And these include, amongst other things, watching Christmas movies.

… specifically, watching Hallmark Christmas movies.

Know Thy Enemy

"What's a Hallmark movie?" you ask, stepping off from the plane you took from your native North Korea after hours of customs processing and hiding from the secret police. IT IS THE BANE OF YOUR MANLY, LOGICAL EXISTENCE. 

Every Hallmark movie I've seen (and, with 5 sisters, a fiancée, and a LavaMom who LOVES that satanic channel, I've seen too many THE HORRORS OF WAR), has had the following prognosis:

Middle Aged Female Protagonist's life is going sooooo well for the first 15 minutes. Then, it all turns to shit and she ends up alone (divorce, separation, or her 14 cats all died of dysentery). The next FIVE HOURS are then devoted to her finding a friend and working herself back up to an even better position than when the movie began, through a series of way-too-good-to-ever-happen-in-reality events. All the while, no matter what, you are perfectly clean, well dressed, and considered attractive by your alternate-universe's social standards. And, at some point, the SuperRichAndGoodLookingGuy™ magically becomes attracted to you. Of course, 3 hours of the courtship revolves around how "it'd never work." At the end of the movie, Middle Aged Female Protagonist is now happily planning her wedding to SuperRichAndGoodLookingGuy and everyone loves her so much and SHE GOT TO BECOME AN ARTIST LIKE SHE ALWAYS WANTED. YAY.

... oh, and it's all produced on a budget the size of my monthly allowance. (read as: 15¢)

Over the years being tortured by this shit, it’s become clear to me that there is a pattern that occurs every time a Hallmark movie comes on. 

Interestingly enough, it’s the Stages of Grief.

Stage 1: Denial

"Oh no, we can't *possibly* be actually watching this," you think. These movies are terrible. Surely she knows that! She MUST be just flipping channels...

Stage 2: Anger

You rise up from your seat, dazed, confused, and angry. YOU THOUGHT SHE LOVED YOU. Or at least liked you enough to NOT subject you to the terror that is a Hallmark Christmas movie. That level of cheese is dangerous to one's health.

Stage 3: Bargaining

You frantically search for excuses, reasons why, and favors you can do in order to avoid your fate. 

Stage 4: Depression

You have run out of options. It's all over and you know it. You will be forced to go through this.

Stage 5: Acceptance

You've been hypnotized into a mindless shell of your former self. You have no identity, no wants or desires outside of the fatal case of Hallmarkitis. Your personality has melted into a formless glob of cheese. You're a Hallmark Zombie.

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The Tale of the Jitterbug

Oh there's no place like home for the holidays.

No, seriously. It's crazy.

Every year for Christmas, my family does the whole "secret santa" thing. For our friends joining us from Mars, this is when you draw a name out of a hat and then your "secret mission" is to figure out what the person wants and then give it to them on Christmas (within budget, usually about $20 if I remember). Christmas comes and everyone's happy.

Now imagine a strange, cruel world where all of that is backwards.

That's what a Yankee Swap is.

This past year, we held a yankee swap within the family + LavaGirl confederation for the first time. Here's how it works.

1. You buy a gift worth maybe $5.00. Something cheap. And it can be ANYTHING. (More on that in a second).
2. You bring it, wrap it, and everyone puts it in a pile.
3. You pick a number.
4. Whoever picked number one picks up a present and unwraps it.
5. Number 2 picks a present and can then choose to keep it or swap it, and the swap MUST be facilitated. Then, that person's turn is complete.
6. Everyone goes through in order; you can swap with anyone who's gone before you.
7. After the last person it goes back to number one who has the last laugh as he or she can then choose to swap with anyone.

This is all well and fun, unless of course you have someone like me in the mix. Then it's anarchy.

Enter the Jitterbug.

No, I'm not kidding. This thing actually exists.

When I saw this thing, I knew I had to get it. This was the Yankee Swap gift. This terror that some woman in Idaho made simply to scare kids into therapy was perfect.

And, naturally, the results were amusing.

I had a field day. It was simply too good, and I lucked out in the Yankee Swap, so I didn't get it.

Or so I thought.

Sonuvabitch. My family sent it to me. While I was in college.

When my roommate saw this thing, he nearly had a damned heart attack.

Of course, it didn't help that I planted it in his bed first, but still.

For the next three months the Thing™ went everywhere.

It's still out there, somewhere.

Waiting.

Watching.