Merry Shitfacemas

Holiday drinking is our family’s way of saying "let's put our differences aside for the time being and drink this bottle of (insert name of alcohol here) out of coffee cups while we pretend to do other functional activities.” I have coined this joyous season “Merry Shitfacemas.” For our family this holiday season has greater importance than any other time of the year because myself, my two brothers and my dad also have our birthdays during this happy time. So not only are we celebrating the most wonderful time of the year (our birthdays) which leads to mass quantities of alcohol consumption, but then we get to throw in Thanksgiving and Christmas for the extra holiday drinking bonus. I will allow you to imagine your own wild times for the birthday festivities. Think midgets, clowns, clown midgets and mini horses. To keep my momentum and stamina going during these occasions I realized that the best course of action is to drink early and often...But allow me to elaborate on the magic that is Merry Shitfacemas.

Now that we are all older and spread out over the country we sometimes have to take our shit show on the road. The easiest thing to do is convene at Grandma’s lake house in Michigan where we have 40 + acres to bring the fuckery. For me, the beauty of Merry Shitfacemas is that it turns into a multi-state drinking bonanza, as I travel the farthest. Because of my extensive training I can usually consume the most alcohol between point A and point 7, so that by the time I get to Grandma's I am almost incoherent. My day typically starts early in Florida with an airport shot (or 3, don't judge) of Gran Marnier and some killer Bloody Mary’s, before getting on my direct flight to Detroit, MI. No layovers for me- that could lead to missed flights,pissed off parents and more drinking. Dad meets me at the airport and then we road trip the shit out of the thumb of Michigan.

My dad has been making this drive for several years (read: since before I was born) so he has a plan, a route and schedule. If you fuck with dad’s road trip schedule bad things will happen. We get to our first stop to have lunch and cocktails- all the waitresses know my dad so shit is on point, i.e. drinks are never empty. Mom is usually almost unconscious by this time and I am barely hanging in, but fighting. We have a nice leisurely lunch where I knock back Scotch and dad gets into the Belvedere. Then it is back on the road. 2 hours later we have the next stop and I am usually hammered enough to allow him to take pictures of me with dead stuffed animals. Last year we had to leave mom passed out in the car at bar two. When she woke up whilst we were boozing and realized she had been left in the car Mom was a not a happy road tripper.

By the time we actually get to Grandma’s it is dark and we are drunk. And when you are in this tiny town in Michigan you need to be drunk, because there isn’t shit else to do and the nearest bar is 26 miles from the house. You go to bed at 8, you get up and go fuck around outside in the snow until you can appropriately start day drinking;when Grandma shakes her glass and says, “who’s gonna make me a cocktail; scotch on the rocks” and the fun begins again.

In between drinking and snow games we open some presents, eat some food and pretty much drink our selves into a light coma for 3-5 days. By the time I get back on the plane to Florida my skin is a little sallow and my liver hurts. But I am full of pork goodness and fuzzy memories of another Merry Shitfacemas fill my head. The residual alcohol and warm thoughts are enough to get me through the next few days until Happy Booze Year.

Merry Shitfacemas everyone!