So here are some Holiday Traditions I would like to start:
New Game: Lock Mother-in-Law in the closet.
New Game: Kids find your gifts. Let’s face it, how tough is it for a kid to go to the tree, see his gift under the tree and unwrap it. Let’s make it more fun. Hide the gifts outside, This will be especially fun if it is 30 below, the wind is blowing and the snow drifts are six feet high. This can lead to a few more games such as Find Johnny in the Snow Drift, How Long Does it Take Susie to Get Frostbite, and Quit Crying Bobbie, Find Your Damn Gifts.
A Betting Game: How long will it take Uncle Charlie to Get Drunk. A variation of this game might be How Many Drinks Will Uncle Charlie Have or What Time Will Uncle Charlie Pass Out.
The Worst Gift Award: Let’s face it – some people give terrible gifts. Every freaking year. Okay, it is not the thought that counts, who cares about the damn thought. Just once you would like to get a good gift from Aunt Edith, how many Barry Manilow CDs can a man stand? If Aunt Edith got the Worst Gift Award, maybe she would wake up and give someone a decent gift.
Blow up the Fruit Cake: You all get to take every fruit cake you got, take them into the back yard, stick a firecracker in them and blow them to hell, but the Devil will probably , when you are sleeping, send them back and you will find a fruit cake, much like a horse’s head, next to you when you wake up in the morning.. No – you cannot play Blow Up My Mother-In-Law.
The Re-gift Award- Let’s face it, we all re-gift. And this is not a talent that should be slighted, rather it should be celebrated. So let’s give the best re-gifter, a re-gift, such as some very seldom played Barry Manilow CDs.
Bourbon in the Morning: You are going to have to face Aunt Eileen, who is a bit of a religious nut and who says Grace for twenty minutes while the turkey gets cold and you just want to slap her silly, Aunt Amy who is 45, single and, while she scratches her armpits, blows her nose on her sleeve and rips off a few farts, wonders why she can’t find a man, Uncle Joey, who dropped out of high school, but will spend the whole day solving the world’s problems, Uncle Mike who is the walking definition of insecurity, but will tell you about his next “great deal, Aunt Kathy who frowns every time someone drinks, Grandmother Fran who tells everyone her husband is gay, Grandfather Ron, who is drunk by noon, because he lives with Grandmother Fran and Aunt Franny who has to leave the table 13 times to wash her hands, because there are “germs everywhere. And let’s not forget Aunt Teresa who wants to talk about ” why it’s a wonder she is sane, after the childhood she had.” And you stifle the urge to ask her how she defines sanity, because in your book, she makes Charles Mason look sane. Of course there is Mary Jane, who has the IQ of a turnip who will tell you how she joined a book club and they are all struggling through Winnie the Pooh and she wonders if THE is really his middle name. All of this is to say that Bourbon In the Morning is probably a tradition that you should have started years ago. And all the husbands and wives who married this collection of fruitcakes, would be glad to join you in another game called Drink Heavily All Day.
Any questions? Say goodnight Stephanie. Good night Stephanie.