My dear friend, Mary Ellen, nailed it. I cannot take credit.
A man's Christmas experience:
"Wow! Doesn't that tree look nice?"
"My goodness, look at all the presents under the tree!"
"Gee, who wrapped those?"
"Golly, how much did we spend on my family? We really don't need to be so generous."
"Who cleaned up all that wrapping paper?"
"What happened to all the dead needles under the tree?"
"This dinner is smells wonderful."
"You know, I really don't understand why so many people thing Christmas is work; I find it a breeze."
Now here is what my women friends confess to:
"After shopping for five hours for gifts I knew would only be returned or re-gifted, I picked up a pizza for dinner so that my husband and grown son would have something to eat. As I slipped on the ice and dropped the cheese and pepperoni on the curb I screamed at the top of my lungs, 'I hate Christmas! I hate Christmas! I hate fucking Christmas!"
"Every Christmas Eve I have fantasies of stuffing my husband up the chimney and telling the kids Daddy ran off with the reindeer."
Two weeks ago I announced to my book club that I hate Christmas. My book buddy felt my opinion was total "Bull Shit". Mind you, she's Jewish.
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