Oh my goodness, look at this party. I told myself that I would not come to it anymore. Why do we celebrate New Year’s as a holiday anyway? It is basically when people lie to themselves and say that next year will be great. “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.” Good, if I keep saying that to everyone I see maybe they will leave me alone. Family parties are awful in a way. I mean as being a college-aged person, I just walk around and have people tell how tall I’m getting. Then I get to have the exciting conversations forty-seven times.
“Where do you go to school again? Where is that? What are you studying? And what do you want to do with that?” And blah, blah, blah. I know they mean well, but and nicely worded email would save a lot of time. But that’s not all of it; certain aunts and uncles and traps. Like the ones that talk at you, not with you. Yeah, every year they get me. They start off the conversation with something nice and heartfelt and you're like, “OK I like this and where it’s going.” Then they say something like “In my day…”, “People today are…”, “When I was kid…”, and boom, 20-minute lecture minimum. Sometimes the lecture lasts the whole party, other times you can tell that they have nothing else to say but they kept grasping at straws. They will sprinkle in “Oh that reminds me…” Really? Does it? Does it?! We were talking about goals to become an accountant, in what world does that remind you about your cat Chairman Meow or the time when you were a kid and you saw a dog? And why is it that it's even a story that take more than one sentence? How cool was this dog that you remember it a thousand years later?
Once you break free of the relatives that tell too many stories you inevitably run into him or her. You know who I mean: the aunt, uncle or cousin that your parents have to prep you for before the party. Like “your cousin just lost his dog and is taking it pretty hard.” And you run into them and all you can think is “Dead dog, dead dog, for God’s sake whatever you say don’t say dead dog.” Or the relative who clearly dyes their hair and no one can call them out on it. Hmm… the last time I saw you, you had silver hair and now it’s bright orange? Nope! Nothing strange about that. It’s totally normal. Or perhaps you see the uncle that is clearly wearing a toupee and again you cannot point it out or even look at it. But I mean come on, it looks like a possum died on your head. Keep a drink in your hand for when you see a relative but have nothing to say to them. After the initial hello, it is just a bunch of standing and staring until one of you attempts and fails at conversion or just the classic, "See you around." The drink is a way to quietly sip something to keep busy.
The only bad part about being a bit older but still being young is the little ones. My goodness how they multiply. An Irish Catholic family breeds like rabbits. Kind of like with cars, how every year there is a new model. There is always a kid who I have not the slightest clue what their name is, at all. The little ones run around parent-less and I'm stepping over them like a test I did not study for. However, I am not old and cannot blame it on old age. I am in the prime of my life, so I should be able to remember these names. The worst part is when it’s a family and you know the names of the kids but you have no idea which one is which. OK, their names are Fred and George. Is Fred the tall one? Or is George the one with glasses? Wait, neither of them is wearing glasses. Holy crap, they are walking over here. OK, you got this, just like you have been practicing. Avoid names, say buddy, partner, or buck-a-roo a lot. Buck-a-roo? Man, I might be older than I think I am. Geez, whatever you say don’t say that.
“Hey, buck-a-roo!” Darn it!
Then, after a few years, they get smart and they children themselves realize you have no clue who they are, those doo-doo heads. “What’s my name?” Shoot. No idea.
“I want to say Natalie?”
“Natalie’s my mom’s name.” Oh, snap. She is right, that’s probably where I got that name from. But props for getting the parent right, huzzah! Back to the problem at hand, what would Natalie name her kid? I don’t really know Natalie that well. Oh, no, it’s talking again. “How old I am I?” Crap. Help! Someone save me! I have been outsmarted by a… a… yeah, I have no idea how old you are… seven? Maybe, help.
That’s it. I will just sit in my corner and say nothing. Most of the people in the corner are the dates. The boyfriends or husbands who I do not know them nor their name. Girlfriends and wives that are brought to these things normally stay with the person that brought them. But on the other hand, if there is a sports game on the people who do not know anybody all congregate around the TV. Sports is the common denominator of all male conversation. Therefore, one does not need to remember these guys’ names in order to talk to them.
Man, when all is said and done, I get to see the cousins I get along with. Play with the small children I recognize and exchange gifts. The holidays are not complete without my family. Quirks and all, I love them so much. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, I can’t wait for next year’s party.
