You know it’s Christmas when...
- Your husband makes a Jell-O mold in the shape of a fish and everyone is too scared to touch it. Luckily, that shit disappears down the sink when you run hot water over it.
- You are at a party wearing an ugly holiday shirt and the man you are talking to compliments your shirt and then his eyes never leave the shirt and you realize he’s trying to check out your boobs but struggling to find them because you were never blessed with boobs, but the guy keeps looking nonetheless because he’s too drunk to do anything else and he still thinks that Christmas Miracles happen. (They do not—at least not this year.)
- The Christmas Eve dinner at your in-law’s house looks like this: tabbouleh, bean salad, brie, fine European chocolates, German cookies, red wine, and beer.
- The Christmas day dinner with your mother’s family includes the following: baked pineapple casserole with cheddar cheese and Ritz crackers (I know); ham rolled with cream cheese (no, seriously, these still exist); a seven-layer salad that contains both mayonnaise and sour cream (don’t even); a congealed salad that contains nuts, pineapple, and shredded cheddar cheese (I wouldn’t); and a ham salad (just plain wtf? man).
- And nothing really says Merry Christmas like hitting your 5-year-old niece in the face with a Frisbee on the first day of Special Family Time Together With the In-laws. During the ensuing tears and repeated exclamations reminding me of what I had done to her, I finally said, “I know what I did to your face, so don’t tell me again because all you are doing is making me feel bad about myself.” You know, because it is all about me. And for those of you who think I am a heartless, childless bitch: my niece was just fine. In addition, I’ve held a total of three small children over the last week and I didn’t break any of them.
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