Some years ago we managed to get a big crowd together for Christmas. The Visigoths came and so did the Huns along with a small tribe of half-crazed savages who hunkered at the table drinking from goblets, eating meat with their bare hands, belching, whooping and then they started using catapults. We were scrapping food off the ceiling fans for weeks.
As I was hosing down the dining room in a fully sealed contamination suit I figured there had to be a better way to celebrate Christmas.
Those ladies magazines that tell you how to decorate the windows with sparrow feathers and make center pieces out of dryer lint in ten minutes---they leave out some basics and I, as a professional organizer of words and conveyor of common sense, am here to give you some pointers for a really enjoyable Christmas.
Remember, the dinner is small potatoes. Take innovation out to the woods, kill it and bury it deep—it’s not worth the stress and heartache. That pheasant flambé with Noel bouillabaisse and brandy soaked caviar soufflés---Honey babe, that’s just a recipe for disaster. Dish out some spuds, deli rolls, stir-fried veggies, lay the turkey on a platter, open a can of cranberry sauce and say grace. Use only commercially baked pies. Christmas dinner should stay traditional like Coca-Cola, the less you tamper with it the better.
The guest list can make or break Christmas dinner. Never invite people similar to yourself—intelligent, smart, considerate, moisturized, lotion scented and modest. It’s like forming a symphony where everybody plays only one note. Invite people you dread to see—a cousin who sees the Virgin Mary in his mash potatoes, a vegan that believes she’s actually a reincarnated Holstein and Uncle Max who drones on about his latest colonoscopy. You want variety.
Make everybody a ringer. You welcome each guest with a handshake and whisper in their ear “Thank goodness you came. You’re the only one here with personality and humor. Everybody else is embalmed. Yuk it up some, please. Help me make this happen.”
Next you need some staged drama. Many a Christmas comes unraveled after the turkey is eaten. Conversation dies down because the body is packed with bird parts and people get drowsy. Create some discord to prevent massive REM stage sleep. A little trick I sometimes use is to suddenly throw my napkin down and say in a trembling voice, “Nobody in this family cares about me! When you’re gifted you’re different. I’ve never been accepted.” Then sob, leap up from the table and lock yourself in the bathroom leaving everybody to stare at their plates and feel guilty.
Okay, you’ve got momentum so go for a spectacular ending. You’re out of the bathroom now and everybody’s up giving you consoling hugs and telling you they love you. “I don’t know what got into me,” you say,” Please forgive me.” And of course they do. Then Uncle Max tells everybody to look out the window, it’s snowing and the front yard is full of carolers. You hear the soft sound of “The First Noel” and see Jimmy Stewart holding hands with Cinderella. Burl Ives is standing between a little drummer boy and the Grinch. Bing Crosby, Bob Hope and Perry Como are there and all the Munchkins from Oz are singing backup. At that moment Santa makes a low pass over the yard in his sleigh, waves at you and into your hand drops a winning lottery ticket.
Can Christmas really be this great? Sure it can Lamb Chop, just follow these pointers click your heels and believe. Merry Christmas!
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