I don’t hate Christmas. I just hate a Christmas STORY.

I know. I, a 30-something female that came of age in the 1980s, should love this flick.

I’m sorry. I just don’t.

Sure, Ralphie is cute in his dorkiness. Yes, when I bundle up for football games and cannot lower my arms to my sides we make reference to the snowsuit scene. I have seen this movie a hundred time–at least!–and have no desire to watch even a single second of the 24 hour TBS marathon every year.

Let’s talk logistics, to begin with. Ralphie says he wants a Red Ryder BB Gun 28 times throughout the course of the 93 minute movie. This means that roughly every 3 minutes and 19.2 seconds he is reiterating the phrase. Which 80% of the time is followed by the admonition of the closest adult regarding his ocular safety. Then there is his little brother. I don’t know about you, but if we didn’t eat we sat at the table until we either a)ate, or b)fell asleep. And if it was option b, we then had the same plate of food at the next meal until we ate it. None of this ‘show me how the piggy eats’ bullshit. Seriously, I wouldn’t have been able to sit down for a week from the tanning my hide would have received if I had tried to pull that off.

Then there is the concept.  I don’t care if someone triple dog dares me to do it, I am NOT sticking my tongue on a frozen telephone pole.  (Incidentally, the kid that played that role starred in another 80s classic I love, The Toy, before going on to star in porn flicks.  Go figure, there must have been a commodity for tongues that had been ripped to shreds because of freezing.)  Plus,when I was growing up, if I asked for something 28 times in 93 minutes, there wasn’t a chance in hell i’d get it because I’d been nagging so much.

I will stop now, and not go on.  Although I could that’s for certain.  I just had to vent.  This one movie is the sorce of 24 solid hours of programming on one station alone, which I honestly feel is about 23.9 hours too many.

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