Stacey's Rules for Christmas

There are rules in my house for the holidays. (Actually, they’re not so much in my house as in my head.  I do take them with me wherever I go.) Here’s what you have to do if you want to celebrate the holidays with me:

• We do not talk of weight or diets during Christmas week. There are no “I shouldn’ts” or discussion of Weight Watchers points during this week. You have your whole life to diet. This type of food only happens once a year.
• We do not yell at the cats for destroying the tree. It’s their house, too, and they’re not allowed to go outside. You’ve just brought a giant, six-foot cat toy into the house. If they want to chew on the pine needles and barf up green hairballs later, by golly, you will LET them!
• We do not play holiday music in my presence unless it is Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. The exceptions to this are limited, and come down to:

1.  “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” by Band Aid.
   
2.   “Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy” by David Bowie and Bing Crosby. (Note: ONLY this version is allowed. And no more than twice a season.)
   
3.  “Wonderful Christmas Time” by Paul McCartney (no more than once a season).
   
4.  “You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” by Thurl Ravenscroft (most fun name EVER!)—however, if you compare me to the green, cranky one, I will stab you in the eye with a fork three sizes too small. Like a cocktail fork. Whatever. It'll hurt, that's all.

Note: I have been known to break up with radio stations forever for starting their holiday music crap right after Thanksgiving (it was nice knowing you, 106.5 WBMW).

• If you want me to bring food to a holiday gathering, you have two choices:

1. spinach dip in a bread bowl
   
2. cookies (probably snickerdoodles)

There is no wavering from this list. If you call me a week before your scheduled event and ask me to bring a fancy pesto-puffed-pastry tree with dipping sauce that you’re just sure I’m talented and creative enough to make, you will get a bread bowl filled with spinach dip.
Or nothing. You might get nothing. A pesto tree? Are you kidding?

• Step out to the left, please. When the car stops, please step out to the left. (Wait. I think that's the rule for the old Mr. Toad's Wild Ride at Disney World. Disregard, please.)
• You are welcome to wish me a Merry Christmas, a Happy Holiday, a Fabulous Festivus, a Happy Chewbacca, or whatever you wish to say to acknowledge the season. This is the one time of year when I will not be offended by your religious views. Knock yourself out.
• Do not ask me to watch holiday specials with you. I do not like them. You cannot change my reaction to them. I will not enjoy them. I will heckle them. You will get angry and call me a Grinch. I will impale your eyeballs with my above-mentioned cocktail fork. It will end badly.

Follow these rules, and we'll get along fine. I hope you have a wonderful holiday this Christmas. Happy Chewbacca, everyone!
__________
This week from The Storyside:
My Favorite Funny People: "Light Reading" by Stacey Longo (hey, that's me!)
Festive Book Review: "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Krampus" by Rob Smales