Sometimes people will send a note to my email address (firstname.lastname@example.org), asking: Dear Madame Librarian, Why are you so great? Or sometimes: Dear ML, That last post really affected me.
Or most commonly: Dear Madame, What are you wearing?
Tonight, the answer:
About sixty seconds ago, I was standing in my bedroom thinking, “I want to sit down and write on my laptop, but I’m a little cold. Only, I don’t really want to put on a sweatshirt. It will feel constricting. A blanket would be nice, only my arms will be exposed and–”
It was at that exact moment that I remembered that my grandmother had given me a Snuggie as an early Christmas gift and it was not two feet away. So I sit here, telling you this, wearing my brand new vibrant pink Snuggie. It still smells like the cardboard box and the plastic bag.
Sadly I have no dashing, matching male companion tonight, but otherwise I look very much like the woman above.
As I mentioned, my family had an early Christmas gift-exchanging celebration today. My pink Snuggie, as an added bonus, came with a free book light, which made it even more ideal. I used it on the three-hour drive home from Grandma’s to read Prozac Nation, “…one girl’s journey through the purgatory of depression and back.” Even still, I’m feeling almost giddy tonight. It’s not just that I’m clad in Pepto Bismol goodness–it’s also that I feel the holiday spirit quite profoundly this season. To be honest, I think it has to do with the fact that I’ve been unemployed. It’s given me so much time to do seasonal things!
It started on November 30th when I happened to be reminded that the Tree had been lit in Rockefeller Center that evening. Instead of going home, as planned, I battled a throng of people on 49th Street and saw that marvel, choosing to focus on the prettiness of the lights instead of the electricity they were using and the soon-to-be brown and dead branches they were strung upon.
I also had time to bake a gingerbread house! Unfortunately, before I had time to construct and decorate the house I had to leave town due to a family emergency…but the baked pieces are on the counter waiting for me should I make it home any time soon.
What else. Oh! I had a chance to battle a different throng of people (or perhaps some of the same throng) and see Santa Claus at Macy’s. Of the five other Decembers I’ve been in New York, this is the first one I’ve had the pleasure. Sure, he was one of maybe eight other Santa Clauses serving Macy’s that day, and sure he didn’t actually look like Santa Claus, but I received a free pin that reads “Santaland at Macy’s 2010” that I will never wear AND I did not spend the $18.99 to receive a photo of myself and a spritely, trim man in a suit.
I list all of these things to explain that I truly am “in the spirit” this year. Sometimes the holidays come and go so quickly that you wonder if they’re related to that man you slept with a few times in college. (I never actually experienced such a thing in college, I just wanted to make a reference to sex.) Anyway, the thing is, of all the beautiful and wondrous things I’ve seen and done this year, there is one thing I’ve encountered that has really pissed. me. off. It also relates to Macy’s. And it’s this:
Ew. That’s disgusting. It’s horrific and it makes my stomach churn and that’s not because I ate too much crap at Grandma’s, it’s because this advertisement is TERRIBLE! Macy’s has spun one of the most beloved, wholesome, iconic figures (next to Jesus Christ) into an adultering, Cialis-popping, cradle-robbing doo doo head. (There’s no other way to put it.) Santa Claus in this ad might as well be Bill Clinton saying, Ssshh, don’t tell Hillary. Santa is supposed to consider what little girls want for Christmas, not want little girls for Christmas!
Okay, okay, you might say, but Madame Librarian, Santa is just receiving a peck on the cheek from that newly pubescent young woman. Nothing sinister is about to happen when he locks the door in the office adjacent to his workroom as the sound of elves using little hammers drowns out whatever noises he and that spritely, trim thing might make.
But I’m not buying it. And guess what, Macy’s? I’m also not buying from you. I’ve got my free pin. Take the rest and shove it.