Tag Archives: eggnog

Without Christmas, it’s just…winter

Sorry, guys, but brace yourselves. I am about to Pollyanna-out on all of you.

Maybe it’s because it’s my baby’s first Christmas or maybe it’s because I’m getting soft in my old age, but whatever the reason is, I am all about Christmas this year. I mean, I am downright excreting Christmas spirit out of my goddamn freaking pores.

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I have to admit, it’s a nice change of pace. Last year I was super pregnant during the holidays, which naturally made me want to stab everyone in the face with a candy cane whenever I left the safe confines of my house.

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And the year before that, well, I don’t exactly remember since all the electricity in my brain is currently being sucked up by the part that alerts me that my baby is trying to kill himself AGAIN by chewing on the cable cord. But I’m sure I was grouchy because the days leading up to Christmas are chaotic and crowded and my liquor store always runs out of the gallon-sized, industrial-strength eggnog I use as my holiday crutch.

But this year? I have Christmas music on constant rotation. I put up ALL the Christmas decorations, instead of just enough so that it wasn’t sad. I bought the good wrapping paper, instead of the $1.99 crap that is made from ancient cobwebs and glitter and falls apart if you happen to breathe too close to it.

And I’ve already bought most of my gifts instead of waiting until December 23, where I will inevitably sprain my eyeballs from all the eye-rolling I will do while waiting in the world’s largest line because the store thinks having one cash register open is a swell idea two days before Christmas.

But most amazing of all, I’m actually being nice. To STRANGERS. Stupid, dumb, ugly strangers who I normally hate. But now? It’s all opening doors for them and “oh no, after you,” and even “why no, those neon hot pink skintight leggings aren’t permanently ruining my eyesight at all.”

I don’t know if it will last. If next year, or even next week, I’ll regress back to my old “bah-humbug” ways. But I hope not. Because this whole “seeing the gallon of eggnog half-full” thing is actually kind of…wonderful.

I mean, do you know what this time of year would be without Christmas? It would just be “oh, hey everyone, winter has started and it’s going to suck so hard for the next four months.”

And with Christmas, instead of being depressed that night now starts at 3:30 p.m., you get “oh hey, we just finished lunch and it’s already dark enough to turn on the Christmas tree!” And instead of being miserable because you’re cold, you get to warm up the house with the baking of cookies and the cooking of giant hams that are bigger than your toddler (and then the eating of all the giant ham all in one sitting because calories don’t count in December). Not to mention, it’s the only time of the year where it’s socially acceptable to punch the person who brought the “healthy” cookies into work to share (ahem…Susan). And while you may think you’re sick of all that Christmas music, just keep in mind that Christmas is the temporary dam that keeps the Taylor Swift tidal wave at bay for a few weeks.

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Christmas makes snow magical, instead of “the demon powder that makes me late to work” that it becomes in January. Christmas transforms decades-old bad animation into beloved holiday classics you actually look forward to watching. And most importantly, Christmas changes going to the liquor store at 9 a.m. on a Saturday for seventeen bottles of wine from “pathetic” to “totally understandable and necessary purchases.”

Not that Christmas doesn’t have its downsides. The mindless consumerism, the deep pit of debt, the never-ending flood of Facebook photos of that elf pooping Hershey kisses on top of cookies. Not to mention, all those helpful people who keep ruining “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” by pointing out how rape-y it is.

But for all our bitching about the holiday season, the world would be a much darker place, quite literally, without Christmas. So I, for one, plan to soak up as much Christmas magic as I can.

Before January comes and slowly strangles all our souls with its cold, dead hands.

Happy HalloChristGiving, Charlie Brown!

Hey, you know what the world needs more of? (Warning! Warning! Sarcasm bomb about to detonate!) People complaining about how Christmas comes earlier and earlier every year. We just don’t see enough of that, you know? And I bet if we did complain more, it would totally change things.

Just like how complaining about politics and cold weather and people who think Instagram was created solely so they could share what they’re eating for lunch (Blackened salmon with roasted asparagus? Well, aren’t you fancy!) makes all those things better.

(I sincerely apologize to anyone who got hit with sarcasm shrapnel. Unless your Instagram account is just filled with food. Then you deserved it).

Yes, people complaining about how Christmas has completely obliterated Thanksgiving and is quickly encroaching on Halloween’s thunder is about as cliché now as people complaining how ironic it is we go out and shiv little old ladies to get 40 percent off TV’s and unnecessary shaving kits the day after a holiday centered around giving thanks for what we already have.

But as futile as I think it is to bitch about Christmas being three months long now, I must admit I side with the complainers. Because even though you’ll never convince Sharon, your co-worker who starts wearing light-up Happy Holiday sweaters in October, that she needs to stop, your silence means you approve. And you don’t approve. Because Sharon is ridiculous and owns a cat named Gingerbread and has a weird, creepy crush on Santa.

I too don’t want to have to sift through a bunch of candy canes before I find the Halloween candy at the grocery store in October; or a bunch of eggnog before I find my gourd-based beers at the liquor store in September.

And I sure as hell don’t want to see Christmas commercials when I’m having my annual psychotic breakdown in the kitchen on Thanksgiving.

But before you go thinking I’m all bah-humbug-y, Grinch-y, evil corporate guy in every Christmas special ever, let me throw this at ya.’ Christmas is actually my favorite holiday. Always has been. I love everything about it. The lights. The cooking (until the inevitable psychotic breakdown). The gift shopping. The wrapping. The decorating. The 37 emails back and forth with family about who got what on everyone’s list. The music. The claymation marathons on TV. The awkward reaction I get from salespeople when they say “Happy Holidays” and I reply with a cheerful “Merry Christmas” because they think I’m going to be that A-hole that gets mad that they said “Happy Holidays” when really I couldn’t care less because my body is composed of 82 percent hot toddy at that point.

And it’s because I love Christmas so much that I’m angry everyone is trying to artificially manufacture Christmas spirit prematurely. Because you know what happens when you try to artificially make something happen? It…well, let’s use an awkward metaphor to explain it…

It’s like getting all dressed up in your sexy lingerie, hair done perfectly and actual makeup on your face besides chapstick and anti-wrinkle cream, because you want to surprise your husband with some sexy, fun-time, naked, grown-up stuff. And so you carefully lay yourself on the bed in just the perfect position so that all your wobbly bits and fat pockets are hidden. And you’re just practically vibrating with excited anticipation for the night.

And then you wait.

And you wait.

And then wait some more.

And then he’s three hours late coming home from work and by the time he gets to the bedroom, you’ve already downed half a bottle of wine and eaten three-fourths of a pumpkin pie while wearing sweatpants over your teddy because all the anticipation, and thus the fun, has vanished.

That’s what you people are doing to Christmas.

If you build this holiday up too big by starting it way too early, the only place it can go is to an anti-climatic, sputtering dud. So that by Christmas Eve, you downright rage in a foam-at-the-mouth homicidal spree every time you hear “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer” because it is the 37th million time you’ve heard it and the human brain can tolerate only 34 million times (there have been studies, look it up).

So stop ruining Christmas. Be patient. Let’s make this season a reasonable, wonderful, exciting, month-long celebration. Instead of building it up starting July Fourth only to arrive at the end with an attitude of “that’s it?”

It’s what Charlie Brown would have wanted.

And that weird, freaky-looking Yeti in the Rudolph special.



On the eighth day of December, Christmas gave to me…


A hangover.

Kiss my arse, Santa.

One the sventh day of Decebmer, Christmas gave to me…


And yesh, I realize i just spelled that wrong but to bv honest, I don’t care. Becase eggngo is awesome.

Listen, you guys. I kno I’ve been kinda harsh on Chistmas these past few days but I’ve had an ephfany. And yes, I realize that is also not how you spell that word. but in my deffense, i have like 3 kinds of whisky in me. And like eggs and junk. To be honst, I’m trying not tothink real hard on what is actualy in this drink. Btu I jusr hit spellcheck, there was like a TON of scary red lines, so Im gonna just ignore it. Like how i ignore when the trash needs taken out an just keep sutffing more trahs in there until my husband gets home and finally does the adult thing and takes it out.

He’s awesome too. Alomst as awsome as eggnog. Hey! llok! I spelled it right.

Anyhoo, I know I’ve been all bah-humbug-ish but tonight…well, tonight I have the Chrostmas spirits in me.

Heh. Get it?

So, in conclusion, egggngn is awesome. Christtmas is aewsome. And you guys are awesome.

Only…whateber manydays left til Christmas.

On the fifth day of December, Christmas gave to me…

A glitter bomb in my living room.

Perhaps a little explanation is in order. I used to love Christmas. And hell, deep down, I’m sure I still do. It was always my favorite holiday. But the older I get, the more I notice Christmas gets significantly much less fun and much more…hmm…how to put this…much more “I’m gonna stab Santa when I finally get my hands on his jolly ass.”

But a more in-depth analysis of this change will have to wait for another post in the near future. For this post is reserved for kicking off my “25 Days of Christmas” countdown list. It’s just like the song “The 12 Days of Christmas,” only minus all the creepy birds and with a bunch of sarcasm and snark added in. Every day leading up to Christmas, I’ll be sharing just what this behemoth of a holiday gave me that day.

For instance, since it’s already December 5 and I’m a bit behind, let me just sum up the first four wonderful things Christmas gave me this year:

On the first day of December, Christmas gave to me a tearful nervous breakdown when I tried to figure out how the hell my husband and I were going to afford Christmas this year.

On the second day of December, Christmas gave to me the idea that I should quit smoking so that we actually can afford Christmas this year.

On the third day of December, Christmas gave to me a giant glass of wine and a cigarette because I’m pretty sure it was afraid I might start punching babies in the face if I didn’t get both inside me IMMEDIATELY.

On the fourth day of December, Christmas gave to me Coinstar, where I stood there for roughly 23 minutes as the machine (LOUDLY) counted out $193 in change, which is coincidentally now our Christmas budget.

And, as I said before, on the fifth day of December, Christmas gave to me a glitter bomb in my living room in the form of a half-priced, pre-lit, artificial white Christmas tree, which when finally unpacked from the all the bubble wrap and industrial-strength packing tape (Who the hell are they trying to keep out of these things? Godzilla?) left approximately 50 million individual glitter particles on me, the floor, the couch and my dog, who now looks like a canine stripper.

So, just what will tomorrow bring? Well, be sure to check back.*

*Fingers crossed it involves whiskey-loaded eggnog. Lots of it.

Meat, Muppets and other things to be thankful for

Well, stuff my arse and call me a turkey. Thanksgiving has finally rolled around again. It seems like only a year ago we were celebrating this holiday and BOOM! Here it is all over again.

Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays, mainly because it is based around my No. 1 favorite activity of eating and drinking way too much and then napping (and then waking up to eat pie and drink some more). There is none of that pressure to buy gifts, or hand out candy to miniature beggars dressed as Dora the Explorer, or search for eggs hidden by a giant rabbit.

Plus, I’ve always been the kind of person who thinks we don’t give enough thanks in our daily lives, especially for the little things. I mean, have you guys ever had bacon? That little product alone deserves epic poems of praise dedicated to it with every single bite.

And as such, I’ve created a list this year of the little things in my life that I am thankful for this year.


The Muppets are making a comeback.

Leggings are still in style, making fat days for chicks everywhere a little less horrible.

Thanks to her 72-day sham marriage, there is finally a backlash against Kim Kardashian.

Eggnog is socially acceptable to drink for breakfast again.

I am wicked close to convincing my friend who is hosting Thanksgiving dinner this year to serve turducken (chicken stuffed into a duck stuffed into a turkey).

Angry Birds.

People who use proper grammar and spelling on their Facebook posts and limit their exclamatory statements to only one exclamation point!!!

There exists a product called the Forever Lazy, which is essentially footie pajamas for adults (complete with butt flap).

Discovering the short-lived TV show “Kitchen Confidential” starring Bradley Cooper is on DVD (with nine unaired episodes!).

Speaking of which, Bradley Cooper…just in general.

The fact that my parole is finally up (just kidding…I have three more months).

I live in a world where my dog can have his own Twitter account (@BuffytheMaleDog).

Pauly Shore has stopped making movies.

Hats with ears designed to make you look like a kitty or a bear.

The fact that even though I’m 30, I have no shame and will wear hats with ears designed to make me look like a kitty or a bear.

Reading books that make you laugh out loud in public.


Oxygen (the element, not the channel).

Pumpkin-based beer.

My brother still bear hugs me and calls me Sissy even though he’s now 13 and like, kind of totally too cool for that.

People who realize Wikipedia is not a reliable source of information.

This blog has 46 subscribers, three of which I am not immediately related to.

Knowing a person like Joss Whedon exists in the world.

Thanks to the prolific amount of recently released zombie movies and books, the American people are more prepared than ever for the eventual zombie apocalypse.

The fact that when my husband was surfing movies on Zune last night and asked me “What was that one movie with Sean Penn we couldn’t rent but we could buy and it was about grave robbers?” I instantly knew he meant Simon Pegg in “Burke and Hare.”

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!