Bitchface and her Christmas fuckary.

Unfortunately Bitchface is not reference to some deep inner lost part of my psyche. I repeat: is not. She is a person in my fucking family. This is not an existential deep-and-meaningful exploration. This is pure raging.

So Christmas.

Ever since *significant death* I have been unable to tolerate Bitchface.
Bitchface got super intense around said timing. We were (are?) both grieving said death.

Also since said timing, we’ve had to do Christmas at her beck-and-call. EVERYTHING seems like it’s her beck and call. And I’m raging against the power she has in the family.

So, Christmas. 

We must go to her husband’s family’s accomodation in some exotic holiday spot. Because that’s where she is going. With her friends. (Who invites friends on a family Christmas holiday?) So we have to go to this place. Great [sarcasm]. She and her husband, who earn THOUSANDS beyond THOUSANDS get to stay free – because they’ll stay in the family part of it. We – you know – her family, have to pay for accomodation to her husband’s family. Except it’s Christmas which means premium pricing. And increased minimum stay lengths. Sure. The people that would earn less than 35% of what she and her husband earns has to pay ridiculously overpriced prices to suit her.

And she’s taking her dogs. Her dog, who has attacked every dog in both her and her husband’s family. Every single one. But like, guys, it’s not her dog’s fault. (To be fair: he is the only common denominator between all of this… oh nope… that makes it “significantly probably” his fault).

So because she’s taking her dogs, we can’t take our dogs.

So ‘we’ being the rest of her family search for accomodation that allows dogs, that is entirely separate from her fucktard of a vicious fuck. The problem with that is that because it’s Christmas & pricing & stay lengths etc etc etc we have to band together because no one can afford to pay that, unless it’s all together. So now I have little option to stay with Bitchface’s father who is a mega fucktard also. Like hitting my 8 week old kittens on the head fucktard. Sure, let me trust you around my vulnerable abused dog that you haven’t met yet. Fuck no.

So now it’s back on us to change our behaviour. Do we not bring our dog? Should we leave him home? Why? What the fuck for?! So she can have her perfect Christmas with her dogs, husbands family etc etc etc?!!! Fuck off!!

THEN she was telling us what the schedule would be, and how she would be dividing her time between us and her friends.

No issue with having friends. Good for her. She needs to get validation from somewhere.

But there was NEVER any questions… what do you think? When would you guys like to have Christmas celebrations? What are your plans? etc etc etc It’s been dictated every step of the way.


Fucktard, Bitchface’s father pulls out of the joint accomodation amongst other siblings questioning the directive directions of dictator Bitchface. That was it, we had rebelled! We were not going !

We were going to Fucktard’s place instead.

I wasn’t over the moon with that, but it was a revolt, and sometimes you have to go with what is offered. No dog. Still travel. Less travel. One meal. Done.


In true Bitchface style… it needs to be changed AGAIN.

She decides that it will be at her house. And we will go to hers for Christmas. Like, we don’t “have to go” but everyone in the immediate family is going, so like, whatever.


Side note: we said last year, after driving all the way to her place last Christmas, that Christmas was at our place this year. We said that. My sister remembered and just assumed that it was at our place until Bitchface informed her of the first set of fucked arrangements.

So it is at her place. WTF happened to the revolt? Well the others got their way, because they live closer to her place than ours, and they didn’t have to pay for accomodation, so they were fine. Traitors.


The latest shit I’m loosing my shit over is Christmas gifts.

So I have been feeling all existential and shit. Cue gorgeous last post about my divine Grandfather and such. And I wondered if buying gifts was of any value. It’s not. I didn’t have to think too hard.

When you earn so much fucking money – I cannot see a fathomable reason to not put effort into buying meaningful presents.

I did not say expensive. I said meaningful.

But Bitchface and Fucktard don’t have ‘meaningful’. They missed that stage at the making-human-factory.

Each year it’s the same shit. $15 stocking filler. Which is fine. Whatever. No judgement on money spent – it’s just it is always useless crap. Photoframe. Spice holder. Blah blah blah.

So I emailed (because fuck you I’m not spending texting money on you fuck heads). And was like, what about maybe donating instead of presents. [Obviously kids are different].


“I’m happy to go with the majority on this”
[Can you feel the daggers?!]

Literally only one other person said something secret santa style

“Great, now that that is sorted”.

OMG Didn’t I just mention meaningfulness?!

So now, it’s going to be (arguably) less meaningful than previous years because now we aren’t even buying for someone specific. HOW THE FUCK DID THAT WORK OUT?

How is that meaningful to anyone?

AND SINCE WHEN IS THAT A BETTER OPTION than you know – spending money on people that need it????

The unjust-ness of it, if we have to go along and do it, is that it is not financially distributed. So we earn 35% of what she does, do we pay 35% of what she does on a gift? No, of course not. Same price. Derrrrr.

What you are saying is that this meaningless piece of shit that was probably made is sweat shops and sold at a huge profit to multinational company executives and will probably be thrown out tomorrow – is more valid and purposeful and meaningful than like giving that money directly to someone who literally needs it. Who the fuck are you?!

I just do not get it!

I don’t want to play along.

I think it is gut-wrenchingly pathetic.


2 thoughts on “Bitchface and her Christmas fuckary.

    1. Bitchface and Fucktard are the worst! 🙂

      Christmas is so ridiculous at the best of times, so when times aren’t quite, ‘the best’… argh!! I’m sorry you had a crappy time! I will join you in the Christmas revolt!


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