Helping you effing deck the halls

My fellow inebriates,

I have neglected you this year.

For most of 2018 you’ve been left to your own devices to select the most badass wines, beers, spirits and liqueurs.

I have no excuses, except for being dumb, perpetually drunk and decidedly not opposedly thumbed. So you have my deepest apologies, and those of my parents, who really suck for letting my blog lapse. I mean, they have thumbs.

For you, my wonderful readers, a Christmas gift:

Fuckering lights

Basking in Festivus with underpants on my head

My Fellow Inebriates,

The LBHQ computer got a brain transplant this week, and for the few minutes while it waited for its new hard drive, I was not the dumbest thing in the house. I could use a brain transplant myself, or at least an infusion of neurons to keep the existing two company. Then I wouldn’t keep forgetting stuff—like the presents I received last month.

I always hope for one present, but this year I got three, the first a Festivus gift from Sips of Jen and Tonic:

Vinderpants!

vinderpants

Wrote Jen:

I am going to be giving him (it’s a him, right?) Vinderpants as well a wine bottle opener. Vinderpants are underwear for your wine bottle! I actually saw these two years ago, and have been dying to give them to someone. Never had the perfect moment until now. It’s definitely something I would own, and is liquor-related.

I got confused, however (even though Emily and Ashley had fully explained Festivus) and waited by the mail slot for a while. Then one of my neurons figured out that the Vinderpants were a virtual gift. Ahhhhhh! So I made my own Vinderpants and toasted Jen.

DSCN3004DSCN3006DSCN3007

I’ve never received such a thoughtful, appropriate, and well-targeted gift.

Oh wait…my Nana & Papa got me this:

An LB-sized bottle of Scotch!!DSCN3003

Yeah…that was pretty awesome. It’s even nicer than the LB-sized mezcal with the worm I got a couple of years ago.

And would you believe it, Santa brought me one too. YES, I STILL BELIEVE IN SANTA, DAMN IT.

Of course I’m not hedging my bets. Not really.

My Fellow Inebriates,

I was still recovering from my parents’ insensitive revelation that Santa’s been pretend all along, when my friend Scarybear went all apeshit at me on FB.

Scary thinks there’s no way anybody’s parents could ever deliver the swag Santa does.

I had thought that too, especially about my parents, who are always chasing clients for payment, saying the sky is falling and that we’ll be on bread and water soon.

I really want to believe that Santa’s real.

But it’s hard not to compile evidence now that the belief bubble’s been popped:

We have no chimney. How does he get into our house without doing a B&E?

"Magic."

Santa’s everywhere. Lots of them are fake. Maybe all of them are fake.

"Those ones are fake. The real one's real."

Why do my parents get sneaky and secretive just before Christmas?

"I don't know. Because tax season's coming?"

This is a honking big planet. How does Santa do it all in one night?

"IT'S MAGIC! MAGIC! IT'S MAGIC, YOU RETARD!"

I think Scary would be a good fit for the Tea Party. He’d probably be a good Flat Earth guy, too, if Star Trek hadn’t won him over already. His suspension of disbelief transcends any and all inconvenient information, leaving him free to believe whatever the hell he wants, and, just like all good believers, he knows it’s unquestioning faith that anchors the whole thing.

But what if he’s right? What if Santa’s for real and I’m going to miss the boat with my cynical questioning? OMG.

Okay, well, if I’ve messed everything up with Santa, there’s still another guy…and he comes tomorrow. YEAH!! Hanukkah Harry!…

Dear Hanukkah Harry,

I have a bad feeling I’ve been blacklisted by Santa, so I’m wondering if it’s too late to become Jewish. I’ve heard there are a few hoops to jump through, but maybe I can do them after New Year when I have more reading time.

I hear you visit for eight days rather than one, Harry, which makes me wish I’d known about you sooner. I’m really sorry I’m not Jewish yet, but if you don’t mind my waiting until next year to contact a rabbi, here are some little requests:

  • Day One: Smirnoff vodka
  • Day Two: Macadamia nut liqueur
  • Day Three: California Cult Classics Chardonnay
  • Day Four: Case of Cariboo
  • Day Five: Chairman’s Reserve Spiced Rum
  • Day Six: Blue Curacao
  • Day Seven: Bacardi 151
  • Day Eight: Jagermeister

I’m not really sure how you operate, Harry, or whether it’s cool to ask for Hanukkah booze. (I know it’s okay to ask Santa because he often looks inebriated.)

Lastly, if you know Santa, please don’t tell him I asked for all this stuff because I don’t want him to think I’m hedging my bets. Which I’m totally not—I asked for different booze from you—so it’s all good, right?

Cheers, Harry, and thanks for reading my last-minute letter. I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you before. Sometimes my parents keep valuable information from me.

Yours truly,

LB