They say the holidays are all about family and friends, generosity and selfless giving. Reminding us that this time of year, we should think of others—not ourselves—coming together to celebrate the ties of community and biological connection. To this, I say, "Fuck that nonsense." Treat yourself this Christmas and get everyone else a $5 7-11 gift card— you’ve spent enough of your life looking out for them. Embrace selfishness and let your nephew’s expectation for a new video game be someone else’s problem.
In the spirit of what I like to call self-care (but, is really just shameless self-indulgence), here are my most recommended ways to piss away a holiday budget on yourself:
Possibly the greatest invention of all time, this ingenious universal remote has a single function; to switch off any television in your vicinity. How many times have you gone into a bar and been mind raped by the shrieking assault harpies of various political causes? Every time, you say? Then this keychain-attachable button is for you. Roommate fell asleep drunk but left his television on top volume? Incipient alcoholism driving you into a sports pub, but you hate sports? Just want to convince someone their TV is haunted? TV B Gone has you covered.
Home improvements are expensive. But, if you’re not splurging on fancy perfume for Aunt Janice, that means you can use your Christmas bonus on something for you— that something being a fake welcome mat, that gives way when the doorbell is pushed and leads to a spider-infested oubliette. Religious and political canvassers will be a thing of the past—your only problem will be the police.
Look, I know you’ve thought about it for years. I know you could get away with it, you know you could get away with it, you’ve considered every angle and every pitfall. You know your target, you know the how, the why and the when. You know how to get rid of the evidence—the corpse. You know your alibi. This holiday season, treat yourself to the one thing you’ve always secretly dreamed of: watching the uncomprehending look of terror on the face of your nemesis as their life drains away and they slip this mortal coil. Is it the guy who tailgated you last week? Your high school ex? That one guy at the post office, who just stands behind a counter with the "next window please" sign up? I’m not going to ask and I’m not going to tell, I’m just here to say, "treat yourself."
This year, let me personally give you permission to ignore the observation of the most invasive, obnoxious time of year. As the kids these days are saying, "just don’t." Tune out the music, don’t decorate, disregard all questions regarding your observation of lack thereof. Just settle in and allow the cold, vacant loneliness to envelop you.
"Schadenfreude" is a word that refers to the pleasure that you feel watching someone you don’t care for suffer. This season, may I make the humble recommendation to buy something dreadful for someone you dislike. Perhaps, your stepmother Susan or your uncle Joe? A mounted singing fish, an over-sized Minions plush doll that spews catchphrases at you at alarming volume if you get too close or one of the terrible rugs with wolves and skulls on them that they display on the corner? Make sure that every time you visit whomever you’ve subjected your "gift" to, you ask where it is and monitor that it’s still obtrusive enough to satisfy you. Constantly suggest a more central location, if it’s too out-of-the-way to be aggressively annoying.
To hell with dogs and cats—they’re far too pedestrian. You always drunkenly proclaimed you’d get a tiger one day—I say go for it. It may mean future-you is going to be filling out a lot of paperwork. But, if you’re going to indulge, go big or go home. Alligators, monkeys, man-eating snakes, Komodo dragons or even a fountain filled with Irukandji jellyfish. Dare your friends to take a dip and see how long it takes before the paramedics are called. This one is fun now and trouble later, but despite his rapeyness, Sparkles The Gorilla is still my best pal.
Every damn day, on your brutal commute to a job you barely tolerate, with people you more endure than like, you are stuck in the horrific grind of traffic. Exactly how hard can it possibly be to remotely access the Bluetooth devices of those nearby and let loose your mighty, expletive-laced reviews of their driving ability? Hollering out the window only satisfies so much of your need to tell them to turn their fucking signals on or ask rhetorically, how far their gear shifter is stuck up their asses. Perhaps enlisting the skills of your friend from high school, who got suspended for broadcasting porn on the intercom system, is in order. Bradley’s not even on parole anymore—I bet if you waved a couple bills under his nose, he’d be all about it. In conclusion, I recommend a Christmas filled with joy for number one. Do the thing that brings you joy and everyone else be damned. Have you always wanted your own Killdozer? Tricked out party-tank? Trip on the Vomit Comet? Self-changing toilet paper roll holder? Trip to Bangkok to indulge your deviant wants with ladyboys and gilded bananas? Budget, plan and make it happen. For those of you who actually get joy from giving to others? Buzz off, weirdos.
Esmeralda Rupp-Spangle is an artist, writer, spiritual advisor, financial dom and gorilla keeper. She can be found on MeWe by name, Instagram at @EsmeraldaSilentCitadel or Facebook under Esmeralda Marina. She’d really rather not be bothered, though.
