I like Christmastime, I really do. The music, the lights, the warm hearts, family gatherings, and my belly full of seasonal lattes.

I won't lie: the lattes inch further up the list every year. Soon I'll be wishing everyone a merry Gingerbread Spice day.

And I like buying gifts for people. They'll be small this year to match our budget, but thoughtful and wrapped in love, with a pretty little boy of joy.

(I know that was puke-tastic. I wrote it that way on purpose. If Jobthingy can make us gag on her and her boyfriend's love every freaking Saturday, I want to join the party and stamp my blog name on some barf bags. It's good advertising until you get close enough to smell it.)

But something happened this morning that cracked my pretty snow globe and spilled Christmas spirit all over the kitchen floor. I got a flier (I hate fliers, by the way - they make trees cry) from Second Cup, a reputable Canadian coffee house. Excited at first, I opened it up and instantly lost my holly jolly. There were two reasons, and they are:

1. There are no coupons. How dare someone make a flier about coffee and not include a coupon? When I'm Universal President I will demand a law be put into place banning such terrible business practices.

2. There is a list of people one should "remember" to buy gifts for. Surprisingly, this list is my biggest beef; moreso than the lack of coupons. Maybe it's because I'm not a commercial kind of gal. I shudder when, on the morning after Halloween, I find Christmas decorations hanging in the grocery store. I despise hearing Xmas muzac pumped of mall speakers any time before December 1st. So frankly, this list made me want to jingle someone's bells, and I mean that in the least jolly and least perverted sense possible.

There are plenty of occasions to give plenty of people the gift of coffee. Pretty much any time is fine with me (like when the Coffee Fairy did so this morning, which was so good of her). However, there are certain people I do not feel the need to buy caffeine or caffeine-related products for at Christmas time. People like:

Workmates, from the boss to the mailroom boy: Um, seriously? If you're going to bribe your way to the next promotion, at least make it sparkly and diamond shaped like, oh, say, a diamond. And the "mailroom boy"? For reals? I didn't realize we were living in a 1950's comic book.

Personal trainer and yoga instructor: Thank you for showing me how weak and pathetic my body is. Please accept this gift of carb-filled hot chocolate mix, which of course I will not drink because it might make my soul fat.

Nanny and babysitters: Wait. You can have both? At the same time? Why wasn't I aware of this? I don't have either, but if I did I'd be really broke and couldn't afford to get them much anyway. However, speaking from experience as a former daycare provider, if you're going to spoil anyone this year, make it the chick who wipes your kid's butt for (very little) money. She's a gift from the heavens and you should treat her as such.

Hair stylist and esthetician: I tip them every. single. time. Now I have to buy them a Christmas gift, too? I appreciate what they do, but doesn't my monetary gratuity reflect that already? (Incidentally, I don't have a regular hair stylist or esthetician at the moment. But if I did I suppose I'd have the means to buy them gifts)

School bus driver and dog walker: What the hell? Are you lumping the person who walks my canine and the person I trust to get my child safely to and from school in the same category? This is not equal billing. It's like saying "Influential artists, like Beethoven and N*Sync" I don't have a dog walker, but I'm sure they're lovely people. Still, they don't drive a large vehicle full of loud children down busy streets to and from a busy school. That person is a saint and deserves some Christmas cookies. I never forget the bus driver.

Doorman and cleaning people: Aha! Now I'm starting to figure out who this pamphlet is really for. People who live in Manhattan. I've seen enough movies to know that all doormen reside in Manhattan.

Doctor, dentist and veterinarian: Are you kidding me? There have been years when I've indirectly purchased a new game console and half a trip to Maui for my family's medical professionals. They should be buying me Second Cup gifts.

Neighbours and friends: And maybe acquaintances, too? Oh, and that guy who drives past my house in the morning? And the old lady I sometimes see in the produce section of the grocery store on Tuesdays? We are in a recession, people. The money tree I planted hasn't bloomed yet, but as soon as it does I'll start boxing up a little something for all my Twitter followers, too. Promise.

What was supposed to be a handy dandy guilt list checklist has now been picked apart by yours truly. Second Cup, I may have been more forgiving if you had included a $1.00 off coupon or some such. It would have lessened the blow of your blatant faux pas - the one where you insinuate we should buy for absolutely everyone, thus sucking the life out of our bank accounts and destroying the earth simultaneously.

Everyone needs to stop killing Christmas. Besides, I'm sure just knowing me is enough of a gift for most people.

Rant over. Goodnight.