To answer your unasked question, yes I like you too.

Saw Santa just now carrying around a sack that wasn't jolly or full of presents, next to a guy that wasn't an elf.

Almost got up from my seat but Starbucks chairs make you lazy after half an hour of drinking hot chocolate.

Here he vilely attempts to lure a kid away from the safety of his mother into his fat hands by false promises of presents and Christmas miracles.

I got a bone to pick with that fat ass.

As I was sitting there, as a part of the boisterous and avaricious half of the consumers' community, a small part of myself was shameful of the bags I had in the seat next to me when it occured to me that they represent how weak I am by becoming a willing slave to colorful socks and skinny jeans and cotton shirts made in Spain.

And yet, the feeling of not spending money on something is too unbearable for me. It's my wrongly screwed screw, my big fat red button, my bad thing.

I should change......BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA.
Whatever.

And calling me materialistic is like calling a pothead a junkie or a rapist a sex addict. You just go 'How observant of you, thank you. Your point?'