The start of December has started ABC Family's "25 Days of Christmas," which means that I have already seen "Elf" twice, "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" twice, and "How the Grinch Stole Christmas."
I've heard evey version of every Christmas song out there and Google ads on the sides of the websites I go to involve some sort of festive clothing.
However, this is the first year in a long time that it has been this way. This is because the day before Thanksgiving, I made the conscious effort to revert back to the eight-year-old version of myself and truly get amped for Christmas.
We’re only a week or so into it, but this season has been a lot more fun than last year’s grumbling about people getting excited for Christmas too early, realizing I started too late, and the resulting viewing of “A Muppet Christmas Carol” at 3 a.m. on Christmas morning.
In the past week, I have gotten Christmas pants that make any seen in Whoville look tame, and I bought my brother, Brendan, a sweater that looks like it was drawn by a three-year old who had never actually seen a penguin. Don't tell him.
The two of us have started an arms race of tackiness, but considering he is the primary reason I have gotten back in the Christmas spirit — and he bolder than even I — there isn’t a chance in the world that I come out on top.
Keep in mind, this is also the kid that claimed ownership of Christmas last week because “Jesus needed to liquidate his assets and I outbid Santa.”
But just after I watched Jim Carrey’s “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” and got ready to watch “Christmas Puppy” — a movie which is sure to be terrible in the most adorable way possible, but is also the best Netflix has to offer — Brendan hit me with a piece of information that I could have gone my entire life without knowing: Cindy Lou Who is now a pentagram-wearing train wreck.
Yes, the ever-so-cute seven-year-old that warmed the Grinch’s heart back in 2000 is now someone that has done photo shoots with a pornstar and is atop the list of women I am terrified of, yet strangely attracted to.
You know that moment when your parents told you Santa wasn’t real, and Christmas was never the same? Well, that happened to me … for the second time.
(Side note: to any little boy or girl that may be reading this, your parents are lying to you. Santa is definitely real; I’ve seen him in four different shopping malls this month. Also, stop reading; this isn’t appropriate for you.)
Apparently, Cindy Lou Who’s real name is Taylor Momsen and didn’t really grow up in Whoville — she actually grew up in Potomac, Md.
And while I can come to grips with the fact that she isn’t really a fictional character from a Dr. Seuss book, her pulling a 180 and wearing the sign of the devil is something that is so not-Christmasy that it should be illegal.
Just like Matt LeBlanc will always be Joey and Elijah Wood will always be Frodo, Momsen will always be Cindy Lou Who, and as such, she has a reputation to uphold.
Cindy Lou Who would not sing a song called, “Make me wanna die;” she would not fraternize with adult entertainment stars; she would not worship Satan.
I’m not expecting her to stay seven her whole life; I’m not asking her to host Christmas specials every year and warm the heart of our “She Said” writer so she doesn’t hate Christmas either. I’m just asking her not to turn into a real-life version “Nightmare before Christmas.”
Isn’t that fair?
Now, if you excuse me, I’ll go back to watching the REAL Rudolph (not the crappy digitalized one ABC Family aired on Monday) and pretending Cindy Lou Who never grew up.