Words almost escaped me. Almost.

I hate Christmas.

This sentiment shouldn't really be a surprise to anyone, particularly those familiar with my family dynamics. But it's true. When Christmas comes around, I am filled with anxiety and dread. I pretend it's not happening until I'm absolutely forced to acknowledge it, as was the case last year when I came home to find that my roommate had decorated our apartment. I certainly wouldn't decorate for Christmas, although it's fitting the only decorations I own are a tree and reindeer cut out of sheet metal that could easily be used as weapons.

You can imagine my surprise when, several days ago, I found myself caught up in the Christmas spirit. I actually WANTED to get people gifts. And not just "check-them-off-the-list" gifts, but gifts I thought people might enjoy. Getting caught up in my own frenzy, I was done with all my shopping by Dec. 1st. A record on multiple levels.

But all my new found excitement over this most blessed of holidays came to a halt today, with an something a lawyer friend forwarded me. Reading through the trail of e-mails preceding hers, I discovered it had originated with a secretary trying to drum up business for a friend, by sending a firm-wide e-mail explaining: "A friend of mine make these little guys which make cute Christmas gifts..."

Harmless enough, I thought, until I actually saw what she was peddling.

To my friends and family, be glad I got your gifts before I discovered "Pons" by Wendy. To Wendy, if your tampon angel is any indication, I think you might hate Christmas more than I do.