|So Long And Thanks For Laughing|
25 Ways to Torture Your Roommate At Christmas
- Claim you were a Christmas tree in your former life. If s/he
tries to bring one into the room, scream bloody murder and thrash
on the floor.
- Go to the mall with your roommate and sit on Father Christmas's lap.
Refuse to get off.
- Wear a Father Christmas suit all the time. Deny you're wearing it.
- Sit in a corner in the fetal position rocking back and forth
chanting, "Santa Claus is coming to town, Santa Claus is coming
- Hang mistle-toe in the doorway. When your roommate enters or
leaves the room, plant a wet one on his/her lips.
- Hang a stocking with your roommates name on it. Collect coal
and sharp objects in it. If s/he asks, say "you've been very
naughty this year."
- Paint your nose red and wear antlers. Constantly complain
about how you never get to join in on the reindeer games.
- Make conversation out of Christmas Carols.1
- Wrap yourself in Christmas lights and roll around in the snow.
- Sing: "All I want for Christmas is my roommate's two front teeth..."
- Give your roommate the gifts from the twelve days of Christmas song.
- Build a snowperson with your roommate and place a hat on its
head. When it doesn't come to life, cry hysterically "it didn't
- Whip your roommate screaming "now Dasher, now Dancer, now
Donner, and Blitzen, etc."
- Tear down all your roommate's Christmas decorations yelling
- Wake up every morning screaming Ghost of Christmas Future, please have mercy on my soul!"
- Tell your roommate you're moving out. Father Christmas is buying you a house on 34th Street.
- Pin a pointsetta to your lapel.
- Make anatomically correct gingerbread people and eat the best
- Put on a fake white beard and insist that all your roommate's
friends "give it a yank."
- Ring jingle bells maniacally saying "every time a bell rings
an angel gets his wings."
- Stand in front of the mirror reciting "How the Grinch Stole
Christmas" over and over in your underwear.
- Smoke mistle-toe. Do what comes naturally.
- Watch your roommate when s/he is sleeping. When s/he wakes up
sing, "he sees you when you're sleeping..."
- Steal a life size nativity scene and display it in your room.
When your roommate asks, tell him/her "I had to let them stay
here, there's no room at the inn."
- When your roommate goes to the bathroom, rearrange his/her
possessions. Tell him/her that Santa's elves must have done it.
Turkeys will thaw in the morning, then warm in the oven to an afternoon high near 190F. The kitchen will turn hot and humid, and if you bother the cook, be ready for a severe squall or cold shoulder.
During the late afternoon and evening, the cold front of a knife will slice through the turkey, causing an accumulation of one to two inches on plates. Mashed potatoes will drift across one side while cranberry sauce creates slippery spots on the other. Please pass the gravy.
A weight watch and indigestion warning have been issued for the entire area, with increased stuffiness around the beltway. During the evening, the turkey will diminish and taper off to leftovers, dropping to a low of 34F in the refrigerator.
Looking ahead to Boxing Day and the New Year, high pressure to eat sandwiches will be established. Flurries of leftovers can be expected with a 50 percent chance of scattered soup late in the day. We expect
a warming trend where soup develops. By early next year, eating pressure will be low as the only wish left after Christmas will be the bone.
Is Father Christmas Female?
I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he's a she.
Think about it. Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing social deal, and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull it all off!
For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. It's as if they are all frozen in some kind of Ebenezerian Time Warp until 3 p.m. on Dec. 24th, when they - with amazing calm - call other errant men and plan for a last-minute shopping spree.
Once at the shops, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco
products, socket wrench sets and mood rings left on the shelves. (You
might think this would send them into a fit of panic and guilt, but my
husband tells me it's an enormous relief because it lessens the 11th-hour decision-making burden.) On this count alone, I'm convinced Father Christmas is a woman.
Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up
Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree,
still in the bag.
Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted, and strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh, amid wide-eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist.
Even if the male Santa did have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would inevitably get lost in the snow and clouds, and then refuse to stop and ask for directions.
Add to this the fact that there would be unavoidable delays in the
chimney, where the Bob Vila-like Santa would stop to inspect and repoint bricks in the flue. He would also need to check for carbon monoxide fumes in every gas fireplace, and get under every Christmas tree that is crooked to straighten it to a perfectly upright 90-degree angle.
Other reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man:
- Men can't pack a bag.
- Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet.
- Men would feel their masculinity is threatened, having to be seen with all those elves.
- Men don't answer their mail.
- Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described, even in
jest, as anything remotely resembling a "bowlful of jelly."
- Finally, being responsible for Christmas would require a commitment.
I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men.
Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous. Definite guy. Cupid flies around carrying weapons. Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers. Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test. But not St. Nick. Not a chance.
|So Long And Thanks For Laughing|