I used to cry when Christmas ended. It was too sad for me, the thought of the holiday I looked forward to all year already being in the past, even though I was still in the throes of it. When the big day would wind down, I’d take my new toys to the bedroom and sob. Dad would be putting away the camcorder; Mom, cleaning the torn gift wrap; and my brothers, out in the snow. The tree would still be lit, and leftover food would be lukewarm on the counter, yet my insides would already be in turmoil. Where would all the excitement and joy go when the artificial tree was stuffed back in the basement? I was an emotional kid, who turned into an even more emotional adult—one who mourns the good times as much as he mourns the bad. Perfect days end with me wiping up the same tears that result from the crappy days. I feel lucky that most of my December 25ths found me in bed eulogizing a wonderful season and not upset that nothing in my life was as festive as Rankin/Bass.
The holiday season sucks for a lot of people, I get that. I’m not here to change your mind. I know plenty of people who avoid the red and green lights like a plague, treating them more like black-and-blue bruises, pain they must endure until they’re healed in January. This book is for those people just as much as it is for the people who start singing “All I Want for Christmas Is You” in August. Many of you may not celebrate the customs and traditions set forth throughout these pages because of your religion or otherwise, but I hope you’ll still find moments you recognize, like chaotic family gatherings or Halloweens gone wild. Let this be my Xmas (in the nonreligious sense) card to all of you. If you’ve had a handful of horror holidays, consider my tales trauma bonding. If you’re a mean one (Mr. Grinch), so be it. Let these fables be a balm, an escape from the solitude of your wintry fortress. Let me be your Cindy Lou Who. The Santa to your elf. The ghost of Christmas past. Your unlikely angel! Turn on the leg lamp, and let me lasso you the moon.
Lips often curl upward when people cry, the same direction they go when you’re smiling. There’s a brilliant scene in the movie Jerry Maguire when Tom Cruise’s character, Jerry, proposes to Renée Zellweger’s Dorothy. She’s wearing sunglasses, so you can’t see her eyes. He asks her if she’ll marry him, and her lips curl up, but Jerry (and the audience) doesn’t know if she’s happy or sad. When he removes her sunglasses, we’re relieved to see in her eyes that she’s thrilled. My point is sad times sometimes look like happy ones and vice versa. Christmas is like that. We look back fondly on tough times and romanticize the worst moments.
Sometimes it rains in December and snows on Halloween, but Hallmark wouldn’t dare show us that. Either way, we muddle through and hope we find some laughs along the way. If you’re someone who rejoices with the season, then rejoice with me as I tell you about my favorite tales from October to January. Light the fire, pour yourself some hot cocoa or eggnog, turn on the jazzy jingle bell music station, and read along under a cozy blanket. Don’t be like me and cry because it’s over; cry tears of laughter while it’s happening. Don your gay apparel, and join me for the jolliest bunch of unhinged, unfortunately true-ish* stories.
* Names, locations, and other details have been altered to protect me from the wrath of loved ones.