Holiday Advice

Well, it's that holiday season! Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and Festivus (for the completely cynical Seinfeld fan) have arrived. Of course, everyone wants to celebrate, have fun, and most of all ...not look like an idiot. After all, nothing hurts worse than hearing taunts like "Bennie doesn't know the difference between a kinara and a menorrah!" or "Tonya's so stupid she thinks Santa Claus is the patron saint of chimneys!" or "Earl's such a nimrod he only asked for underwear for Christmas!"*

So here's some advice on things to avoid during the season of celebration.

• Avoid all jokes that begin with the words, "How do we know Santa's a pimp," and end with the phrase "Ho, ho, ho!"
• Stockings hung above the fireplace should not be made of lace and do not require a garter.
• The menorrah is a symbol of the light God provided Israel, not a cigarette lighter.
• You should dress appropriately for all of the above holidays. A loincloth with a mistletoe sprig for a hat is completely inappropriate attire, especially at Midnight Mass.
• Kwanzaa was not invented by The Reverend Jesse Jackson, President Barack Obama, or Kunta Kinte.
• The gifts of the Magi were gold, frankencense, and myrrh, not gift cards to Romano's Macaroni Grill.**
• Santa does not wear red because he's a "commie."
• In the U.S. people say, "Merry Christmas!" In the U.K., "Happy Christmas!" In Mexico, "Feliz Navidad!" In France, "Joyeux Noël!" Nowhere in the world do people greet each other for Christmas with the words, "Up your chimney with a candy cane!" Not even in the Bronx.
• None of Santa's reindeer are named Barbie.***

* A completely different Earl, I assure you.
**However, the authors of this blog will happily accept any donations of the latter; unless of course you want to send us gold instead.
*** Also, Rudolph's nose does not glow because he's an alcoholic, so stop telling your kids that.

Erin Go Bragh! In Person

The Fandos are going on holiday to Ireland.

Feel free to read that back a few times to let it settle in your head. I know I have.

I intend to post on the details soon but the most amazing part of the process is researching and booking the trip. The Internet listings and prices change positions faster than the Obama Administration, often as you're checking flights. The phone agents are polite but I got disconnected twice before even reaching them. It's that moment of anticipation followed by the disconnection sound on the cell phone that's so heartbreaking.

Nonetheless, it's done. We'll be staying right next to a Manor house (or castle, as some are wont to put it). There's an excellent golf course on the grounds. It's so excellent it's hosting the Irish Open this year (again) and is thus beyond the ole' budget, unless I resort to some midnight gonzo golf. Where did I put those night-vision goggles?

A castle, pubs, Guinness, an economy rental car, bangers, champ, colcannon, Irish bacon, a long transatlantic flight with a change-over at JFK, and a picaresque village next door. Perfect.

And of course, I intend to post from Eire. Maybe. If I get the chance. I'll give it a shot. Promise.

That St. Patrick's Day post is starting to feel quite real...