I hate Christmas. I genuinely despise nearly everything about this stupid holiday. I don't know where the wonder and magic of December 25th went, but wherever it shipped off to, it certainly bought a one way ticket. The only reason I even still celebrate Christmas instead of converting to some religion where tradional Christmas is banned is, it's a great day to get drunk with my favorite family members. But as tonight ended with me letting loose a shrill war cry in the direction of my brother and his girlfriend banning them from speaking to me again for the remainder of the night, I seem to have lost what was left of my holiday joy.
Today I walked into a home filled with family I haven't seen in over 9 months, since I picked up and moved cross country. I was welcomed by my dearest cousins with whipped cream shots of 43. Right down the hatch they went and thus the drinking commenced. I attempted to slow my pace down with an only slightly pinkish cranberry and vodka, but my cousins were having none of that.
My internationally renowned champion drinker cousin Peg entered the Ring O' Christmas bearing shot glasses that were actually MADE of candy canes. Being that "no" is probably the least used word in my vocabulary, this was just catastrophe waiting to happen.
Now I would like to state for the record that I am NOT, in fact, raging out at the candy cane shot glasses. I am in fact applauding their very existence and brilliant power to make vodka taste much like a liquid Starburst of goodness. And it is not their fault that their variety of flavors caused me to throw back a shot from each glass; that would be my own stupidity. But, come on, look how cute they are. It would take will power of pure wrought iron to resist.
What I am angry at is shots in general. There has never been a time in my 10 years of drinking where I have woken up the next morning and been like, "Well, thank God we did those shots. The night surely would have been entirely doldrum without those Patron shots." Never. I would imagine no one ever has. Shots are without fail always a terrible and ungodly mistake, but again this very basic life truth has yet to stop anyone from partaking in a round or 12.
Shots have been the cause of a good chunk of the pie chart of my life's tribulations. Because of shots, I have endured headaches sent straight from hell. Because of shots, I have kissed boys whose hairlines receded to nearly the back of their necks and ignored boys who may have been Prince Charming. Because of shots, half the pictures of me in existence look like the one above.
Oh, and of course, every year there is the Christmas tradition of the picture of all the cousins to be framed and displayed for the next year. Here is what this year's looks like. I'd like to thank the many, many candy cane shots for ensuring my classiness and low alcohol tolerance be one for the books. [Note: Stars is the drunken pile passed out in the corner.]
Which reminds me... Orion, you and I have a special shot to take that's been years in planning. I have not learned my lesson yet.
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last post - "raging out at... looking unassuming"