San Diego Unseen: An Urban Portrait
Too much alcohol often leads to holiday tomfoolery, case in point.
- Photo by Kim Lostroscio
Christmas can be ugly, and not just because of the tacky sweaters. For those fortunate enough to have a large group of friends, the holiday season brings a massive battering to the liver and dignity.
Last Saturday, my good friends threw a—you guessed it—ugly-sweater Christmas party. It’s the third holiday party I’ve been to this month with four more to go before Christmas.
I was greeted with a shot of Fireball whisky—a thick, cinnamon-y concoction that doesn’t taste like a terrible mistake. We had our annual Dirty Santa gift exchange, which included a black blow up doll, Depends adult diapers, a copy of the Koran and a Penn State T-shirt accompanied by candy. We are a group of hard-working adults who sustain healthy relationships and love our parents, but we’re also complete weirdos.
I sipped on what would end up being an entire bottle of white wine and did shots of honey-flavored Jack Daniels. There weren’t enough pigs in a blanket to save me from a date with the porcelain gods.
Falling asleep with your face on a toilet seat is not a fetching look. I could feel Baby Jesus grabbing my sweaty face with his cherubic hands saying, “Get it together, bitch.”
I’m not alone. My Facebook wall is covered with status updates cursing Santa Claus or pledging to never drink peppermint Schnapps again.
What is it about this holiday that makes us go Animal House? I just don’t hear about people barfing Manischewitz wine onto their menorahs or pissing themselves during a Kwanzaa drum circle.
I was considering making a survival guide to save others from this embarrassment, but there was only one rule I could think of: Don’t drink so much. But people are masochists when it comes to alcohol, so all I can say is carry a bucket and eventually grow up.
Email Alex Zaragoza. You can also bug her on Twitter.
