It's Christmas, meaning the 12 Days of Fuck This has reached its end. Have you had fun? Because I certainly have. Together, we've knocked Elf from its shelf, celebrated violent (and festive!) spy thrillers, and ranked the worst White Elephant gifts all so you can show up to parties with the best one this year. You're welcome!
On this final day, I offer you one last yuletide diatribe. Every year, there's at least one objectively silly item that children include at the top of their lists for Santa. In the eighties, Cabbage Patch Kids sold for $75 or more; in the late nineties, Tamagotchi, Beanie Babies, and Furbies had adults fighting in the aisles; and in the 2010s, people lined blocks for Hatchimals. In 2024, it's something called a Jellycat.
Neither jelly, nor cat, the Jellycat is nothing more than a "luxury" plush toy in a myriad of shapes, sizes, and categories. First launched in 1999 as a modest stall at a trade show, Jellycat has since become a multimillion-dollar empire and the go-to gift this year. Jellycats are animals, sure: bears, bunnies, and birds—Jellycat makes all of those. But they're also food. Sassy sushi nigiri, a mussel, at least five variations of a hardboiled egg, and patisserie religieuse. There are inanimate objects, too: a hockey puck; a campfire; a $110 discoball that is, ostensibly, just a stuffed ball with the same stupid smiley face as all the others. Frankly, I find it all ridiculous. And of course, they're the only thing my 12 and 10-year-old nieces want for Christmas (apart from hundreds of dollars worth of skincare they don't need).
So, in search of the Jellycats they asked for (which are entirely sold out online), I had no choice but to go to FAO Schwartz for the first time since I moved to New York City in 2016. Not only did I not find the ones they wanted, but I waited 40 minutes in the rain and within a cattle pen of tourists to even enter the store. Every employee I asked about the cloud, the pickle, and the turtle replied the same thing: "Those were sold out the same day they were restocked." There's no hope. And my nieces are basic. Great.
If we're being honest, it's not the cost of Jellycats, or the chaos they cause me, or any other sad sap who's desperately trying to find a stuffy to overspend on, that's ruining my Christmas. It's the recognition that I'm now the adult that's bitching about the toy every kid wants this year at the function, and that's just unacceptable. I'm too young to be the aunt whining about people fighting at Target over a stuffed animal—no matter how fucked up the toy industrial complex is. Can I sacrifice my dignity? Can I put my consumerism and capitalism rants aside solely for the momentary joy of my nieces? Can I handle the seasons of my life? I don't know. Just kidding. I can. At least, I can until 40 when my brain will surely be 90% rotted.
So, my nieces aren't getting the cloud, or the pickle, or the turtle. But they are getting a candy cane, a coffee cup, and a snowman...and the receipt to return them.
On a more earnest note: However you celebrate (or don't), I wish nothing but the happiest of holidays to you and yours. If you're alone this year, missing someone, or just disheartened with humanity, may this day land gently. If I might make a suggestion: Go see a movie. Nosferatu is fun, but Babygirl is better. You could also do a double feature. Nosfergirl...Babyratu. Whatever! Or, just hunker down in your house. Hey, call out sick if you need to. Be a hater. Be a lover. Write a prison letter. If you take anything from Jezebel's 12 Days of Fuck This, I hope it's that here, you're supported in whatever you need to do to get through December.
Until next year...
And if you haven't been following along:
Everyone Has 2 Nostrils Full of Snot
3 Places Roasted Chestnuts Don’t Belong
4 Christmas Villians I Need to Talk Shit With
5 Ways Christmas Is Turning Your Kid Into a Willing Subject of the Surveillance State
6 Christmas Billboards That Should Be Burned
7 Celeb Christmas Movie Cameos That Hallmark Got Wrong
8 Reasons Christmas Markets Must End
9 Songs That Make Me Want to Die
Give Me 10 More Violent Christmas Spy Thrillers
