When I was younger, Christmas started when the JCPenney Christmas catalog came. There was not to be a word of discussion in my house about presents or Santa or even snow until that catalogue hit my doorstep.

However, once it came, all bets were off. My final Christmas list would go through three or four hand-written revisions and then I would take an evening to finger-type the list on the computer so that Santa (with some help from my mom, that much I had figured out) knew exactly what G.I. Joe I wanted without struggling with my hand-writing.

That was always what was so great about Christmas. It managed to keep me enchanted with its mystery for months before it paid any dividends. I was fascinated by the idea that one morning, a few months away, there would be a bounty of treasures waiting for me underneath the tree.

Yeah, I know Christmas wasn't about gifts etc., etc. Shut up.

It so was, and anyone who says otherwise is lying. They are liars. Filthy, dirty liars.

There isn't a (American consumerist) person out there who wasn't lying in bed Christmas Eve impatiently counting away the minutes until morning.

Christmas was the event for us as children, bar none. Forget birthdays, forget Easter -- they're chumps compared to jolly old St. Nick.

So my question is -- what happened? Where did we go wrong? Why aren't our lists ready two months in advance?

When did we all lose our commercial Christmas spirit?

I'm starting to get tired of all this family, caring, charity, peace, love and happiness crap.

Christmas is supposed to be about the gifts under the tree -- not about reminding all 12 of your aunts that you go to Penn State.

I think we're losing something vital to our existence. We no longer have the anxious sleepless nights or the joy of tearing through a sea of wrapping paper. Instead, all of that is being replaced by a mature, organized, clean Christmas. A Christmas full of Pottery Barn, L.L. Bean, and sweaters you actually like.

Do you realize that you're now getting socks for Christmas and you are even happy for it!?

What ever happened to fun!? What ever happened to trying to figure out how the batteries fit into your new generic noise making toy before you lost interest and whining when you didn't get the latest fad, but instead you got the knock-off that your mother thought was "perfectly fine."

I always thought my parents were crazy for not wanting to make a list for Christmas and for accepting all the junk we bought them. I now know that they weren't always like that. They weren't always content with a picture frame made of popsicle sticks and puff-paint.

They were kids too, once. That's what scares me. We're turning into our parents. Pretty soon, we'll all be choking down crappy gifts bought on Home Shopping Network with a smile and a hug.

Now that we're all adults, we're expected to act like adults. And to adults, Christmas is about family and togetherness and alcohol.

Oh, wait. Alcohol. That isn't very Christmasy.

But maybe that's how our parents do it. They're willing to trade the anticipation and mystique of the childhood Christmas for booze, that is until the next day when the kids are out playing with their toys and they're nursing their hangovers.

Wow. That's really... that's really sad. And unfortunately, I don't know what to do about it. My friends and family won't buy me toys, and, although I'll never admit it, I really do need those socks.

I just have to accept that I won't be waiting up for Santa anymore. It's time to grow up and head to the family Christmas party with a smile on my face and a drink in my hand.

I suppose I'll have to settle for living through my kids as I trudge through the stores trying to find them the newest collectible or video game.

Maybe if I'm lucky they'll let their dad sit down and play with them.

And if they're lucky, maybe I'll be too drunk to kick their asses in Monopoly.