Stressed scrooge

This is the second Christmas I've been pregnant but the first away from home.

Expect to see at least three entries over the next two days about the joy of the holiday season….so it makes perfect sense to get in touch with my inner scrooge before the festivities commence.  So what if I’m a miser, a misanthrope, an all-around meanie who deserves a lump of coal in my stocking?  If I didn’t have children it’d be enough to make me want to adorn my spiked egg nog with a hearty helping of Prozac and hibernate.  😉

But alas, I am a Mommy, so I’ll stick to my yearly cynical blog post….and cherish the rest of my holidays creating memorable traditions with my family and celebrating our blessings.

I’ll spare you all the ranting and raving pertaining to excessive crowds; Christmas music [like everyone else who has worked for a mass retailer at some point in their lives I despise it and want nothing more than to run screaming for the hills when I hear the first few notes of “Santa Baby”]; psychotic and aggressive parents pepper spraying less zealous parents for toys; rampant materialism; feeling obligated to give drunken transients my spare change in the spirit of being ‘merry;’ an endless circuit of holiday parties; struggling with artificial trees and cumbersome decorations; those who magically succumb to religious fervor December 24-25th; and a host of other seasonally specific delights. 

Nope, this vent session isn’t about any of those things.  Instead we’ll be focusing on that horrendous monster sucking the soul out of me– which just so happens to be infinitely worse around Christmas– my constant companion I call STRESS.  And to think:  this isn’t even the stress that is a direct result of my unfortunate present circumstance!  We’ll collectively refer to these as the ‘other’ categories of the S-word.

Want to know a major source of my stress?  I’m glad you answered affirmatively because I was going to tell you regardless.  Facebook.  That stupid social network is the bane of my existence.  Getting rid of my account seems to be the next logical step….but I’m reluctant to sever such an important digital tie with people I wouldn’t be communicating with otherwise.  Nor do I want to get rid of all those pictures.  What to do, what to do.  Drastically decrease my usage?  Sadly enough if it’s there I get suckered into the abyss.  My ‘deactivation’ proved successful– I wasn’t chomping at the bit to return– yet I felt a surge of panic when I had updates for the masses and no place to post them.  If only everyone on Facebook actively followed this blog….

I’m not losing any sleep over the “to Facebook or not to Facebook” debate, that was just a preface to why I think it’s so damn annoying.  Recently I started the initial phase of a massive ‘friend’ purge.  Over 100 names were gone within minutes– and many more to come.  It was so liberating!  I’m at a complete loss for how I acquired 1000+ ‘friends’ [especially considering I deny requests from those I don’t know personally] but who are those people?!  If I don’t know you, we rarely speak, or you were on my list because of somebody who is no longer in my life = gone.  If you’re a chronic complainer who takes zero action to rectify your circumstance[s], constantly glorifying your partying, or too overbearing = gone.  If you’re traveling a road that is counterproductive to where I am in my life or somebody who is more trouble than they’re worth = gone.   If you’re a stressor and responsible for one of my numerous “REALLY?!” moments = gone.  If you’re a drama queen = gone.  If you continuously disrespect my space = gone.

At least I'm not the only one who looks a little less than enthused when I see Santa.

Some of you can attest to the fact that I don’t discriminate with my trigger happy delete finger.  Even my own mother and some of my closest friends aren’t on my Facebook page.  I refuse to apologize for this.  Ask yourself which of the aforementioned bold statements pertains to you– there’s your answer– and don’t say you weren’t sufficiently warned.  Finding yourself relegated to outside the Facebook circle of trust [I say that in a tone tripping with sarcasm] is not the end of the world.  You will survive.  I’m not going to end a friendship over internet behavior but I will not hesitate to nip an online problem in the online bud and move on with my offline life.  Watching otherwise intelligent, mature, and rational people panic over something so inconsequential– and take it way too personally– is both amusing and sad.

Three more Facebook complaints conclude my spiel:  the block list, boys behaving badly, and name dropping.  My block list is extensive.  I take no chances with unwanted interlopers.  However, I get a kick out of removing people from it every so often….it’s disturbing the number of former blockees who contact me within 24 hours.  Do they just sit around waiting, hoping, praying that they’ll receive another chance to be in my good graces?  Because I am so quick to eliminate people without a second thought, I regard the other end of that spectrum– those with stalker-ish tendencies– with a sort of morbid curiosity.  I should really stop doing that because it transitions from funny to creepy in approximately 2.5 seconds.

Boys behaving badly.  What can I say about this revolting bunch?  Nothing warms my heart and quite like seeing all these holiday posts from guys extolling the virtues of their [completely oblivious] significant other….and knowing that they are far from Mr. Faithful.  Bonus points if these losers have children with said significant other.  It’s only a matter of time before you make a mistake and expose yourselves.  Actually, I should amend that to people behaving badly.  Just as many females do it too yet I see it more from the wayward gentlemen so that’s the first gender that comes to my mind.

I'll miss the annual Christmas trip to Mulligan's.

Nothing grates my nerves more than being name dropped by homeboys.  I do not have a monopoly on my friends nor do you need my permission to contact one of them.  But if you are going to say “I’m Sloane’s friend…” and proceed to be disgusting, a total creeper, or unrelenting in your pursuit– thanks in advance for the mortification and making me look bad.  Keep my name out of your mouth with that one.

While we’re on the topic of dudes, I don’t know what planet on which most of them reside.  How can anyone in their right mind think that while I am in the middle of the most important– and extremely messy– legal battle of my life I’m interested in romance?  Newsflash:  I’m not.  Not only do I find it inappropriate and tacky given the timing but it’s also quite insulting.  To think that I’d be interested in flirtation or whatever brief dalliance your dreaming of shows just how little you know me.  Feeding me ridiculous lines, calling me ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’ [either of those two automatically disqualifies you from ever being a blip on my radar], or trying to convince me why you’re so spectacular is a waste of your time.  Nobody I’d ever be interested in does any of those things.  And it’s completely irrelevant what interests me in a man because men won’t be interesting to me for a very long time.

In conclusion, what you’ve read here creates negative feelings.  Negative feelings lead to anxiety.  Anxiety leads to stress.  If you are a person who stresses me– regardless of how close we are or your role in my life or even if you had the best of intentions– you’ll be removed from my Facebook, your calls and texts ignored, emails unread, and I’ll pretend that you don’t exist until things are calmer.  It’s not callous.  I’m being proactive about my health and attempting to stay sane, you can’t fault me for that.

Merry Christmas!!

With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,

Sloane

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About Cocktails With Hemingway

I'm blunt and opinionated. Virtually everything I say or do is a contradiction but I'm not a hypocrite. I never hesitate to speak my mind and never fail to leave an impression wherever I go. You love me, you hate me, but you'll never forget me.
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One Response to Stressed scrooge

  1. Brandi says:

    Brilliant!!! Bravo !! Love it, love you. Give it to ’em, Sloane. I will always back your pony if you’re running the rage race. ❤

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