Santa, why are you wearing shorts?

Ah, the holidays are coming. Some people love the seasons, others get stress-pimples just by the mere thought of Christmas approaching. Growing up, Christmas involved a real tree (stolen from the woods behind our house) with real candles (with the appropriate distance away from the curtains), homemade cookies and if we were lucky - snow. We sat around the house for days to just eat, drink, watch TV, try not to get into fights because we are so bored and cooped up at home.
In Los Angeles, it was a whole different ball game. The season started the minute Thanksgiving ended. Every store looked like Santa and Rudolf puked all over it. It was red-green insanity.  I could never really tell by the weather that the season was approaching but only by the stores and the endless loops of Christmas songs. Came December 15th, I wanted to crawl into the radio and take George Michael by the throat to let him know, that we got it: 'Last Christmas' she cheated on you. She's a bitch! Get over it already!
While Los Angeles was missing the winter wonderland charm that Austria had to offer, although they tried to bring it in by dumping snow they picked up in the Big Bear mountains on the pedestrian zone, winter in L.A. also had its perks. No traffic jams due to bad weather. No need for a completely different wardrobe. The boots and hats were just for show. Santa pub crawls without requiring a jacket. Sexy Santas in only shorts and a Santa hat. Who needs a t-shirt when you got abs of steel to keep you warm. And weekend evenings involved driving through the neighborhoods of the rich in Beverly Hills to check out their decked out front yards. It was over the top but nonetheless spectacular.
Other than that, it was very similar to the Austrian Christmas - eating, drinking, watching lots of TV and trying not to kill each other.


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