Working at the morgue I'd usually spend my whole holiday season putting people back together that were in horrendous car accidents that ripped them into shredded beef, or dealing with people that shoot themselves in the face with large caliber weapons ( thankfully I am good at forensic restoration ), or dealing with the leftover trauma of someone killing their entire family because of their own weird holiday depression, soooo I'd usually spend my holiday season decompressing by hanging people from hooks in my backyard ( it was consensual and they paid for it )
Our was always to buy the youngest child an extremely small, very expensive gift. Wrap it in a small box, then inside a bigger box, then a bigger one and so on like a Russian doll. It was a right of passage to watch the frustrated child open up to ten boxes to get to a gold necklace or ring or Knickknack. Once finished and the work was done, my parents (and inevitably I) would say, no that’s so expensive it must have come from Santa. Then ask, “are you sure it was for *childs name*? Maybe we should wrap it back up and send it back to him?” Guess who cried?
My very non-religious parents would blast Go Tell It On The Mountain by the New Christie Minstrels every Christmas morning. It’s worth a listen. Merry merry!!! 🎄
Not Christmas, but New Years Eve since 2012. New Year's eve at midnight, I'd offer sacrifice to the lake. It started when one friend fell in while trying to light fireworks off a Huck Finn raft. We had to paddle out to him in a canoe before he froze to death. The next year, same thing, different friend.
Every year, someone fell, and someone had to rescue them. Rinse and repeat until drunken highschoolers became drunk college students became drunken whatevers.
The obvious lesson is the lake is hungry. Definitely not, don't get drunk on a rickety raft when it's freezing out.
So I figured to mitigate the risk of the lake taking someone. I'd strip down to my undies, and hold the rope swing. Fatness Everdumb offering himself as tribute. Just like the people who take the cold plunge.
Besides, in my own little superstitious way, maybe feeding the lake would act as some magic equalizer. Virgins in volcanoes. Slit throats of goats. Think those except I get to climb back out, and rush to the hot tub, where there'd be a bottle of whiskey and pack of smoked waiting for me.
In case you're wondering, I dropped the tradition in 2020. Same goes for 2021.
Ask nicely, maybe I'll take the plunge and turn 2022 around for us.
The day after Christmas, I play my 40+ year old vinyl copy of Star Wars Christmas In The Stars to mark the official end of Christmas. Everyone hates it so much in my house that it causes a visceral break from all cheer.
As kids, it was my older sister and younger brother who'd stay up way past our parents. Then we'd sneak into the living room where all the presents were, steal our stockings and sneak back into the basement. There we'd open everything and laugh about what we were going to get later. Then re-wrap everything and sneak them back up into place until morning when we'd do it all over again.
The girls in my Catholic grade school wore white robes with blue chiffon scarves around our necks, and tinsel haloes, and sang Christmas carols at midnight mass holding little candles with cardboard collars to stop the wax from dripping on our fingers.
Our family has started the tradition of watching Die Hard every holiday. Apparently my friend made a Die Hard Christmas tree ornament. It's a picture of Bruce Willis crawling inside an aluminum covered box, so it has the effect of Mr. Willis crawling through the vents in Die Hard. My friend put this ornament on the side of the church Christmas tree. When she came back later she found that someone moved the Die Hard Ornament to the front of the tree.
Wouldn’t call it a tradition, but whenever we went to friends or families homes, I would eye the presents and change the tags on gifts. It was important they matched the wrapper and not get caught.
When my aunt got the electric razor, or when my dad got cotton white panties, oh the memories.
Gifts from Santa that were passed on each year. There was a mug with "reindeer shit" at the bottom. And a tin of reindeer meatballs that had to be thirty years old. Those were the most memorable.
Merry Christmas, Chuck! I think I may start a tradition of writing after everyone leaves and Christmas is done. 😊
Working at the morgue I'd usually spend my whole holiday season putting people back together that were in horrendous car accidents that ripped them into shredded beef, or dealing with people that shoot themselves in the face with large caliber weapons ( thankfully I am good at forensic restoration ), or dealing with the leftover trauma of someone killing their entire family because of their own weird holiday depression, soooo I'd usually spend my holiday season decompressing by hanging people from hooks in my backyard ( it was consensual and they paid for it )
Our was always to buy the youngest child an extremely small, very expensive gift. Wrap it in a small box, then inside a bigger box, then a bigger one and so on like a Russian doll. It was a right of passage to watch the frustrated child open up to ten boxes to get to a gold necklace or ring or Knickknack. Once finished and the work was done, my parents (and inevitably I) would say, no that’s so expensive it must have come from Santa. Then ask, “are you sure it was for *childs name*? Maybe we should wrap it back up and send it back to him?” Guess who cried?
I always thought that fur coats were gaudy, so good on you and your brother!
My very non-religious parents would blast Go Tell It On The Mountain by the New Christie Minstrels every Christmas morning. It’s worth a listen. Merry merry!!! 🎄
Not Christmas, but New Years Eve since 2012. New Year's eve at midnight, I'd offer sacrifice to the lake. It started when one friend fell in while trying to light fireworks off a Huck Finn raft. We had to paddle out to him in a canoe before he froze to death. The next year, same thing, different friend.
Every year, someone fell, and someone had to rescue them. Rinse and repeat until drunken highschoolers became drunk college students became drunken whatevers.
The obvious lesson is the lake is hungry. Definitely not, don't get drunk on a rickety raft when it's freezing out.
So I figured to mitigate the risk of the lake taking someone. I'd strip down to my undies, and hold the rope swing. Fatness Everdumb offering himself as tribute. Just like the people who take the cold plunge.
Besides, in my own little superstitious way, maybe feeding the lake would act as some magic equalizer. Virgins in volcanoes. Slit throats of goats. Think those except I get to climb back out, and rush to the hot tub, where there'd be a bottle of whiskey and pack of smoked waiting for me.
In case you're wondering, I dropped the tradition in 2020. Same goes for 2021.
Ask nicely, maybe I'll take the plunge and turn 2022 around for us.
The day after Christmas, I play my 40+ year old vinyl copy of Star Wars Christmas In The Stars to mark the official end of Christmas. Everyone hates it so much in my house that it causes a visceral break from all cheer.
As kids, it was my older sister and younger brother who'd stay up way past our parents. Then we'd sneak into the living room where all the presents were, steal our stockings and sneak back into the basement. There we'd open everything and laugh about what we were going to get later. Then re-wrap everything and sneak them back up into place until morning when we'd do it all over again.
Merry Christmas Chuck!
The girls in my Catholic grade school wore white robes with blue chiffon scarves around our necks, and tinsel haloes, and sang Christmas carols at midnight mass holding little candles with cardboard collars to stop the wax from dripping on our fingers.
Happy Holidays Mr. Palahniuk.
Merry Christmas, Chuck! My sister and I would squeeze the hell out of each other’s hands during the Our Father at midnight mass.
Our family has started the tradition of watching Die Hard every holiday. Apparently my friend made a Die Hard Christmas tree ornament. It's a picture of Bruce Willis crawling inside an aluminum covered box, so it has the effect of Mr. Willis crawling through the vents in Die Hard. My friend put this ornament on the side of the church Christmas tree. When she came back later she found that someone moved the Die Hard Ornament to the front of the tree.
Merry Christmas!
Wouldn’t call it a tradition, but whenever we went to friends or families homes, I would eye the presents and change the tags on gifts. It was important they matched the wrapper and not get caught.
When my aunt got the electric razor, or when my dad got cotton white panties, oh the memories.
Lucky shot I guess.
Happy Holidays!
Gifts from Santa that were passed on each year. There was a mug with "reindeer shit" at the bottom. And a tin of reindeer meatballs that had to be thirty years old. Those were the most memorable.