December 19, 2012
As betches who have anxiety merely thinking about how our vacay isn't for another whole week, we all know this time of year can be seriously stressful. Suddenly there are all these seasonal questions like, To whom should I re-gift the K-mart candle from my tutor who's obsessed with me? How will I make it to 4 Christmas parties on the same day? Where has all the Goose gone? All these dilemmas and I'm still not packed.
So we’re here to provide you with a guide to navigating these weeks without going Carrie Mathison on the
wrong maternal grandparent oldest and richest family member. When it doubt, there’s always Xanax. Tis’ the fucking season.
Every betch knows there's nothing worse than having to endure your distant family members, like your aunt who everyone pretends isn't totally losing it, or your weird cousin who patronizingly lectures you that blacking out on the reg is a sure cry for rehab. Sadly the truth is that you need to see these characters so they have the chance to give you gifts, fucking duh. It's called the Decembetch catch 22.
Hopefully you’ve suffered enough years of Bath and Body Works lotion sets and your extended lunatics have become lazy, and finally made the switch to cash or check envelopes. Family parties are about as exciting as presidential debates, which is why we’ve developed a drinking game to help get you through the Q & A’s about your life. It's called: chug your drink every time someone asks you something.
Once you're at a point where you find yourself either opening presents that aren’t yours, joining in on the "caroling," or initiating a conversation with a toddler by asking, “You still believe in Santa?” you should use your own awful behavior as an excuse to GTFO and go do actual fun shit. Which brings us to...
Going to a holiday party with your besties requires as much instruction as blacking out on a Wednesday. Except for this month you’ll need at least five variations of a slutty elf costume. You may be asking yourself, “But it’s cold, and I thought elves are midgets, not sluts!?” To you we ask, who invited you? Every betch knows nothing provides warmth like vodka, and if all else fails, hook up with a bunch of bros and if anyone dares call you a whore just say you're dressed up as fucking mistletoe. You’ll be the ho ho ho heard round the pregame.
High school reunions and hometown run-ins provide the ultimate opportunity to #112 talk about yourself. As they say, sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name, which I mean, is everywhere, but especially in your hometown. But more importantly, you definitely want everyone to get the chance to hear how amazing your life is. I’m living in NYC, working in PR, but my boss doesn’t really give a shit what I do because Pitbull is one of my clients and he’s like in love with me so I get to do whatevs, like get manicures and my hair blown out on the company’s dime...so what's it like waking up at 6:30?
When it comes to dealing with high school exes, as the saying goes, high school love never dies. And because Christmas is a time of tradition, a casual make out with your high school ex is usually fine and normal. However, you'll probably soon remember how much better you are and memories of your old flame’s tongue techniques will stir like the martinis you had too many of. You will then recall why you dumped his ass.
When it comes to gifting, we naturally turn to Regina George to light the way: We don't send them we just get them.
Still, one of the reasons we love this season is because it taught us that perpetuating well-fabricated lies will get us what we want. Remember when your parents said that some dude in a fat suit was going to bring you presents, but only if you were good? In other words, a classic child abduction story with a yuletide spin. The Santa thing had us going for a bit until we realized that we still got presents regardless of whether we pocketed our lunch money or not. Instead of worrying about the “naughty or nicegirl” list, WASBs soon realized they should've been taking lessons from their JAB besties, who somehow managed to get eight nights of presents just because some fucking oil lasted longer than expected.
And while we obviously don't usually give presents, sometimes we'll do it anyway. Like if your parents have been paying your rent all year and haven't bitched about your credit card bills being too high in a while, then the best way to show your appreciation is to buy them something with their own money, obvi. On the other hand, if you're supporting yourself or merely too lazy to shop for others, you can just be nice to them for the day and say you're giving them the 8th wonder of the world. Then you can spend the rest of your money on the true miracle, you.
Oh, and don't forget to wish your housekeeper a Feliz Navidad. Talk about good tidings for your kin.
So betches, order your skinny vanilla lattes (hold the foam) from Starbucks, instagram your red cup with your name spelled blatantly incorrectly, and be sure to add some fucking Bailey's. And finally, to those religious freaks who don’t appreciate the holiday season for its true purpose aka drinking, getting shit, and not doing work, we say: Christ died for our sins, and we wouldn’t want anyone to die in vain.