'Twas the day before Christmas...

You know how the holidays can make a person violent? Don’t we all know by now that it’s not the holiday, it’s the company? Show of hands from the people out there who, throughout any kind of family visit, have that itchy little thought running through their heads that it might be a happier holiday if they were to spend it with the folks they chose to have in their life, instead of the ones they were assigned. I cannot be the only one willing to out this scandalous opinion.

(My best Thanksgiving, for instance, was spent sitting on the floor of a roach-infested apartment with Monk and Biff, eating lasagna, garlic bread and pumpkin pie off of a cardboard box, and washing it all down with jugs of pumpkin beer. Granted, that holiday memory was made possible by several lies laid on my family the next state over, all pointing to a villain in the form of a bar owner boss (fact) and having to work Thanksgiving night (fiction). Also granted, my mother still talks about the Thanksgiving I Missed, six years later. It may end up in her memoirs, under the Traumatizing Moments chapter.)

It is Monk’s turn to tolerate a visit with the in-laws, as my parents are in town for the week. The pros and cons may differ, but the suffering remains the same. Although, to hear him tell it, my family visiting brings the weight of the world to rest on his weary shoulders…which then causes his skin to peel back and his muscles to collapse under the terrible strain. Baby.

I say we put on some music and spike the eggnog, and we’ll all get through it with a little elf-medication (har har, get it? Hmmm, seemed clever at first, but now it just doesn’t make any sense). So here’s a handful of Christmas songs on my special Family Visit Soundtrack. Some provoke conflicting emotions, and some bring about the occasional lack of confidence in my personal tastes and convictions. Just like family! First person to find a drinking game in them wins a visit from my anti-alcohol mother (or Sister, if she can find a babysitter) to tell you why you obviously have a problem.

Snoopy vs. the Red Baron: Everybody jump up and down, everybody march around! That’s not part of the song, it’s what you do in your living room to the “Christmas bells” part if you can’t execute the Snoopy dance properly.

Feliz Navidad: A three year-old could memorize this song, and if you can sing along accurately to the Spanish part, you can impress people at parties (if this is not true, someone clue me in before I put on a show at our upcoming NYE parties), and that is why I love it. As a bonus, I always seem to envision the Muppets dancing along in that bobbing, sliding side to side way of theirs with each verse.

Anything from Harry Connick Jr.’s Christmas albums: Harry Connick Jr. could sing that my bank account ceased to exist, and I think I’d be okay. I react to Harry Connick Jr. the same way Monk’s parents react to him, whether it’s experimenting with a music style, helping out in New Orleans, or running across a stage to take a flying whack at a giant bass drum.

O Holy Night: Sung by Mariah Carey. The pipes on that woman! But then, it’s Mariah Carey, so, SHAME, SHAME ON ME.

The Little Drummer Boy: Sweet baby Jesus this is the worst song ever. A pansy-assed, wet cardboard, dull-as-Ashlee-Simpson Christmas tune. I loathe the song so intensely, rage seizes my stomach when I hear it. Makes me want to pa rum pa pum pummel someone’s head in. On the other hand, I seem to be alone in my distaste, which is disturbing; I wonder if I should rethink it, maybe go for a little therapy, and join the masses on this one?

Baby It's Cold Outside: Must admit, the Barry Manilow version (duet with KT Oslin) rocks my world, with the exception (the very big, chock full o’ awkwardness exception) of all the back and forth between Bear Bear and K-love in the beginning. Then again, show me anyone who is comfortable (or even unfazed) listening to two people (who sound like they just came up for air) flirt heavily. It’s like watching your parents tongue-kiss. Anyone?

Chug a lug pooh bears, sing along to the radio and have a very merry Christmas. If you’re into that sort of thing.

1 comment:

Blogger Lisa said...

I definitely couldn't get through the holidays without booze. Where I grew up, booze is a staple at most family functions. And I guess that's why most people have a good time at them. heehee.

Right now, since we are hosting family functions this weekend, we have enough booze to keep 20 people drunk for five days straight. I'd say we're sufficiently "armed".

Merry X-mas

1:29 PM  

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