Christmas is a time of magic and celebration, a time for thanks and good cheer. It's not just the season to see your coworkers make awkward passes at one another at the annual office party, but it's the time of year we drag ourselves from the normal, cruel icebox of winter to warm up by the fire with a stein of vodka-laden cider and the company of that drunk uncle that's gonna try so hard to remember all of those racist jokes he learned at the strip club.
We've both had some great Christmas memories across the years, but today we each wanted to share with you our number one fondest Christmas memory.
Brandon's favorite memory:
Christmas Eve was always the most thrilling night of the holidays when I was growing up. Having always had a mild phobia of strange intruders in my home--especially ones driving suspiciously large vehicles and offering gifts--I never quite rested easy in my bed, knowing that Santa would be breaking in at any moment. So I stayed awake, waiting. And although I always seemed to miss him, one year... one dreadful year, I caught the bastard. And I instantly regretted it.
See, come Christmas I was pretty excited to finally meet Santa.
But when I marched downstairs I saw something unspeakably horrific...
I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus.
And at that moment... I knew I had to kill the sumbitch.
I spent the next year meticulously planning his demise. Training my mind AND my body.
(God, I was in such great shape at 6 years old. What happened?)
And 364 days later, when that cheating bastard finally returned, I made sure to give him a Christmas he never forgot...
That was also the Christmas my father spent in the ICU, and the same Christmas that my mother told me Santa wasn't real. But if he's imaginary, then who did I beat up? And so 20-something years later I never actually found whose arms and legs I broke. Dad wasn't there (he was too busy convalescing in a full body cast that day), and Mom doesn't like to talk about it. So I guess we'll never know.
But that day I got the most precious gift of all: the gift of becoming a man.
Bryan's favorite memory:
When I was a kid, Christmas morning was something I dreamed about all December long. Not because of that church crap or my stupid family or some baby that was born (or whatever), but because of the sweet, sweet loot I'd make out with. Yes, Santa always brought me the most delightful presents, and I was never left disappointed. Well, except that one year, when there was a gross miscommunication on my part and it wasn't Santa that came...
And it was the gayest Christmas ever.
To all of our readers, have a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hannukah, a Bitchin' Kwanzaa, an awesome day off... whatever the hell you choose to celebrate. Just make sure it's a better day than either of ours was.
Cheers and stay classy, friends,
Music: Hayden James
Beer: Beer Boy Bryan's Christmas Homebrew