Wishing you a Mariah Christmas

After last night's intense post, I think we need to liven it up a little bit around here. Let's talk Christmas, kids.

I. Freaking. Love. Christmas.

but honestly, who doesn't? If you claim you "hate" Christmas you are either a) Jewish, in which case rock on with your bad self and light that Menorah with the passion of a thousand Santas or b) you had a horrible childhood, plain and simple. No one hates Christmas unless they had some horrific childhood, and it must've been really bad to make you hate the amazingness of the holidays; the warmth, the family, the snow. It must've been like REALLY bad, like your dad was a special guest star on Dateline's To Catch a Predator bad.

There are many, many things I love about Christmas...the sugar cookies, the spiked egg nog, the fact that I still get a stocking at the ripe age of 26, but one of the best things? I can unabashedly, without any regret or hint of shame, acknowledge and profess my undying love for the one and only, Miss Mariah Carey. (Mariah. She's on fiyahhhhh. (fire) )


If you walk away with only one thing from today's post, let it be this: You cannot have Christmas without Mariah Carey and that is a FACT.

Every year come November, I start counting down the days until Thanksgiving, and not just for the family and turkey. Oh no no, it's for my girl, MC. No one does Christmas music like Mariah does Christmas music. Sure you have the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, the Nutracker, the Carpenters all belting out their tunes. You can go back to the Rat Pack to hear your boy Frank. Take a trip down crooner's lane with the sweet melodies of Bing Crosby, but at the end of the day you will always return to Mariah.

because, as I said, she's on fiyyyahhhhhhh


You know what she's smirking about behind those sunglasses don't you? Bitch please, I know I'm the Christmas Queen

Now obviously, any girl over the age of 8 (or gay man for that matter) already knows THE song I'm referring to. Just a few beginning notes of this jingle and you will be out of your seat and bouncing around your apartment like an actress in a Pantene Pro-V commercial before you know what hit you.

Ladies and Gentleman, bow down to the magic that is "All I want for Christmas is you"

I don't know what it is about this freaking song, but within 30 seconds of putting it on, any solid object within arm's reach becomes my microphone and I am rocking a side-pony like its 1997 again. I can listen to it on repeat for hours on end without getting sick of it. (True story. Just ask Sean, last night I caught him trying to delete it off my computer in a fit of desperation. He claimed his ears were bleeding. I told him to man up)

In fact, I'm listening to it while I write this (for motivational purposes, of course) and I'm having difficulty getting through the typing because I'm just itchin' to bust a move, Mariah style. I particularly love the last chorus when she hits that REALLY high note, last time I tried to imitate it the neighbors called the cops because they thought Sean and I were torturing baby seals up here. How rude. (if you don't believe me, feel free to watch my video here, where I sing it in the bathtub. My love for Mariah knows no limits or bounds)

Word on the street (well the US streets anyway) is that girlfriend got a new album dropping this Christmas. (How'd I do? Was I convincingly ghetto? I hope so). Like any true Mariah slightly obsessed stalker fan, I watched the "Oh Santa" video on YouTube. I like it. She looks adorable. and pregnant. She's adorably pregnant.



Which is much better than she usually dresses, a look I refer to as: Slightly overweight cougar in last year's Britney Spear's onesie



"Oh Santa" is fun and catchy and I guarantee you one of my first stops once I'm back in the United States will be get the album (unless of course my mom gets it for me first *COUGH* COUGH* SPASM * UGHHH SOMEONE TELL MY MOTHER * SUBTLE HINT *)

But, to be honest, I will always and forever love her original Christmas album. For the next 18 days, I will continue to blast "All I want for Christmas is you" and reenact her dance moves in my bedroom mirror until it's time to put it away until next year...

but don't you worry. There always comes a time, usually around mid July, where I draw the blinds, lock the door, turn off my phone, and dance around my room to this holiday classic. just once.

shhhhhhhhh, don't tell anyone.