It's the holiday season.
Gentle voices descant the lords birth, the idea of Saint Nick sparkles within the eyes of every child, and meddling family members fuck up any idea you had of a peaceful holiday.

Phase One. Thanksgiving.

This is the initial test, sort of like dangling your toes in the water before you jump into the frozen emotional wave that becomes your family. Other than the over emotional family running on a tank full of the year's drama you'll find an over sized meat product taking over your oven. The home will be filled with the sickening sweet scent of a fattening demise. Occupants slave over pie crusts, boiling potatoes, and thickening gravy. As the kitchen has simmered down to a slower pace of anticipation you can bet your ass you'll find a family member crying out in desperation and angst because somebody forgot something.

So you, being the helpful little angel you are, pack yourself into a vehicle that hasn't been started for 2 days. You try desperately to adjust the temperature knob from blistering cold to pretty damn cold, but you fail miserably on account of the 300 layers of clothing you've crammed yourself into... and if it wasn't so damned cold in the first place you wouldn't have to adjust the fucking thermostat.. you could just go! Then again, you wouldn't have to be going if it wouldn't have been for that good for nothin' son a bitch that forgot the fucking cranberries!

You finally regain feeling in your fingertips as you embark on the desolate parking lot of the nearest grocery store. Getting through the aisles has never been easier, finding what you need has never been quicker, and checking out has never gone smoother. Until you find yourself in the lane of one disgruntled cashier pissed off at the world because she's not thankful she doesn't have to cook a fucking turkey this year on account of her miserable fucking job.
Cry me a river bitch, I just want the cranberries.

On return from the store, you decide to take a moment to prepare yourself once again for the smothering flood of fucking idiots warm welcoming from your family. With the car idling in the drive, you huddle over the precious can in your hands, eyeballing the large family room window, and you watch shadows flinging laughter and fists into the air.

You peer down towards the can asking yourself if you're really up for this challenge, you breathe heavily on your hands, and ask yourself "why do I keep coming here?!"

You give the car keys a final twist and, with regret that you didn't drive that piece of shit Ford through the front fucking door and slaughter everyone in your holiday rampage, you let out a giant SIGH.

Your frozen fingers fumble over placing the frigid keys in your pocket as everyone declines to give you praise for your outgoings. Instead they bicker about how long it took you to pick up a single can of cranberries... "Oh, for Christ's sake!"

After another grueling hour of listening to how uncle Dickhead made VIP at the annual golf outing, you scramble into the dining area to dish several sample sized servings onto your festively huge plate. The sheer excitement to stuff yourself into a coma of blissful sleep overcomes your holiday rage, and for the moment you enjoy the company of gaping mouths, smacking lips, and clattering silverware.

If you're lucky... you will pull away from Thanksgiving with a few minor scratches, some light bruising, and a severe case of lassitude.

I can't wait for Christmas, really.