At Holiday Parties


By George Manley | Dec 12th, 2008

Ahh… the holiday season…always reminds me of time spent with family…

I’ll never forget the time my uncle stripped my brother naked, tied him up with a garden hose, and left him in the snow in the front yard for all the neighbors to see.

I’ll also never forget my brother getting drunk for the first time in front of the family…
Like any good Irish Catholic family, Graham was given permission to have his first drink with the family at Christmas when he was 14-years-old. Graham, a very obedient son, lovingly obliged, and decided this was his opportunity to get drunk like the rest of his older relatives. First he had some beers, then some wine…some champagne…soon he was lifting the vodka bottle to his mouth every time someone was not at the bar making a drink.

Graham proceeded to bump into everything and everyone in the room, which let us all know the little lassie was plastered. My father made him sit at Christmas dinner, even though he couldn’t put any food in his mouth. When he could no longer sit up straight, my father let him go to the bathroom and pray to the porcelain god. When the rest of us were done with dinner, all the men in the family, lead by my father and uncles, proceeded into the bathroom where we filmed my brother throwing up while wearing a beautiful sign we made for him that said “I AM AN EMBARRASSMENT TO MY FAMILY.” Trust me, if Graham had not destroyed that video years ago, you would all be watching it here on this website right now.


The last story I want to tell you is about my cousin Conor…another gentle Irish spirit. Conor, pictured on the right with my cousin Liz (sorry about the quality of the image), thought it would be appropriate to wear a funny Christmas outfit, which he had enjoyed with the family around the Christmas dinner table, out to the bars later that evening.

After taking down approximately a half gallon of whiskey and eggnog, he was feeling a little warm under the collar, so he began exiting the bar to breath the evening’s winter air. Conor accidentally bumped a surly gentleman at the bar; they exchanged a few pleasantries, which ended with the gentlemen calling Conor a f–king elf. Conor, the elf, carefully doused the gentlemen with a full beer, and was promptly escorted out of the bar by a team of bouncers.

Moral of the story?

Don’t dress like an elf, and you won’t be accused of being an elf.

Have fun at your holiday parties this month, and remember Santa is watching.