Skip to main content

Humor, Holiday Style

If you're in the mood for some stress-relieving amusement, I'd suggest checking out the Butterball Holiday Checklist. I know. Doesn't sound like a document chock full of hilarity. But give it a peek. I hooted out loud at work while reading it (that's what we idiots who don't have sense enough to take a vacay day on Thanksgiving eve do all day).


Among the highlights:

-- The checklist begins two to three weeks before the big day, with planning your menu, creating a list of everything you'll need, and taking inventory to make sure you have things like matching silverware and a gravy boat. Damn. I was already screwed weeks ago.

-- Last Thursday was National Thaw Day! I didn't get the memo. I didn't even buy my bird until Saturday night. Hope it isn't still a turkeysicle tomorrow morning.

-- A week before Thanksgiving...iron your tablecloth and cloth napkins. (This is where I really started to bust a gut from the side-splitting laughter.)

-- Decorate the house with gourds and Indian corn and make place cards. Totally forgot the gourds. I'm such a sucky hostess.

-- Pick out my outfit and iron it. What is with the ironing obsession? What's a few wrinkles among relatives, really?

-- Clear out the coat closet for guest coats. And where, may I ask, am I supposed to put all the crap I clear out of the closet? How about shoving it under the bed? That's classy.

-- And this is my favorite: Get everyone involved! Assign someone in the family to greet guests, someone to take coats, someone to pass around appetizers, someone to share the flask with, someone to make fun of Uncle George with, someone to make sure you don't go after Auntie Edna with the meat cleaver...

The one thing this brilliant checklist didn't tell me? How long to cook the turkey. I guess that's a different checklist.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Ho, Ho, Ho, How Many Times Can I Use "I'm too busy" as an Excuse?

I haven't had time to write. Work, swim meet volunteering, holiday decorating and shopping. But truthfully, I've not been in much of a mood to write anything anyway. Last night we put up the tree and Santa chachkies, and I drank my first egg nog of the season, so perhaps I'll be in a cheerier mood. Also, I have spent some time writing the annual Schoon holiday newsletter. If you happen to get a copy, treat it like a drinking game. Every time I make you roll your eyes, take a drink. Nog, wassail, Everclear. Whatever gets you through. One sure way to assist with merriment motivation is listening to Christmas carols. I'm not going to get into a debate over what truly constitutes a carol. You can "Jesus is the reason for the season" yourself until you turn blue; I generally lean toward the secular end of the holiday tune spectrum. And if you just gasped at my use of holiday instead of Christmas, go suck on a candy cane. It's my blog and my opinions. Deal. ...

Who knew...

'Tis the season for bridal bliss. 'Tis also the season for the accompanying reception dance. And what's a wedding reception without that most unique of all marriage celebration dance numbers: The Chicken Dance. You know the drill. Polka starts, beak-quacking hand gestures, flapping, butt shimmying, and clapping ensue. A fun time is had by all (especially if there's an open bar). What you may not know is that: 1. This oom-pah song's origins rest with a Swiss according player named Werner Thomas who wrote it, most accounts say, in the 1950s. It originally was called the Duck Dance. 2. It is NOT German or Austrian, despite the images its roll-out-the-barrel-ish feelings it might conjure up. 3. A fellow named Norm Edlebeck, who was a bandleader from Wisconsin, introduced America to the Chicken Dance on TV's PM Magazine in 1982. 4. More than 140 versions of it have been recorded worldwide, including Walt Disney Records, together making more than 40,000,000 records (o...

IHATE IHOP Update

Tim went a few rounds, verbally, with the IHOP manager on Sunday and ended up getting our meal for half price. He still had to pay, though. I do not think that these people understand the severity of their incompetence. Or perhaps they just do not care. Someone commented to us that perhaps we should tell the IHOP folks what happened to the last restaurant that did us wrong. Recall the lactating masses who came out in support of us when we were booted from Hoover House restaurant in West Branch because I refused to breastfeed my baby in the bathroom? Remember the stories that ran in every newspaper and on every TV news show in the state -- and beyond? I'd like to point out that the Hoover House (which interestingly enough doubled as a venue for wet T-shirt contests on weekends) went out of business after our little incident. And for those of you who were befuddled and wondering how the police got involved on Sunday...someone from IHOP took the time to run out and write down our lice...