By Kate Belton
Please note: Kate’s drunk advice does not reflect the views of those at Loose Lips Magazine. Reader Discretion is advised.
My partner is a mega-grinch and it bums me out. I used to love Christmas, and his negative attitude has turned me into a bit of a Grinch myself. How can I make him see the magic of the holidays without adding to the pressure?
Dear Mrs. Grinch,
Okay, so it sounds like you’re dating the grumpy dad from the movie Elf. And, spoiler alert, by the end of the movie, he becomes a Christmas believer! SO all you need to do is just go full blown elf on him. Wear nothing but Christmas sweaters, drag him to the mall for photos with Santa, just really lay it on thick. Tinsel on everything. I mean it. You literally need to become Christmas. If it’s important to you, it should be important to him. Christmas is a magical time of year, and he needs to stop being a douche for 5 minutes because there are SO many other more deserving things to be a downer about; like global warming or how overrated avocados are. Being a grinch is not cute; he should love it if he loves you… unless he’s Jewish in which case you’re being super insensitive.
I’m in a bridal party with a bunch of women I don’t really know. They’re more materialistic than me and make way more money. I want to support my friend—without going broke or flying off the handle. Help!
I assume you’re either hilarious or have like a weird all access deal with the Vancouver Aquarium where you get to pet the otters any time you want.
Those are literally the only two reasons rich people are friends with poor people.
We all know “materialistic” is just a thing poor people call their rich friends who have better stuff than them. HOWEVER, I totally understand where you’re coming from because I too am frugal* (*have no money.) I once attended the bridal shower of a friend who was proposed to on a horse and carriage in Central Park, after her fiancé flew her to New York on a private jet. I don’t know why we were friends besides the fact that I provided comedic relief, and in case of emergency and could physically carry her and all of her tiny rich friends out of a fire on my back.
Anyway, the key here is to fake it ’till you make it. I know you’ll have to do a lot of outlandish things when comes to bridal shower duties, but there are easy ways to pretend you have more money than you do, and you can do it in three easy steps:
#1: Dye your hair blonde. I don’t know why, but blondes have more fun(ds). I think maybe because it signifies you can afford to get outrageously overpriced “foils” every 3 weeks? Just pour some peroxide on there. Your materialistic friends will ask you where you got it done. Make something up that is one syllable and minimalist sounding: “Fraiche” “Blo” or some French number like “Trois” are good choices. Say it’s in Kits.
#2: Get a credit card from the Bay. They’ll literally give anyone a credit card with a $5,000 limit. Pay for your bridesmaid dress with this card. Whatever you do, DO NOT take the price tag off this dress. Wear a plastic poncho over it at the reception to avoid spills/tears/vomit (I’m not sure what your friends are like,) and then return it the day after. If anyone asks about the poncho just shrug cutely and say “Vancouver, amiright?” V important to never use that credit card again even though you’re poor, k girl? That interest is worse than bangs in the summertime.
#3: Don’t get her a wedding gift. “WHAT??” you may ask, but trust me on this one, I’m literally saving you hundred of dollars while also laying down some anti-establishment realness. People these days don’t need wedding gifts. We don’t save up anymore, if we want something, we buy it. Credit and forget it. Which is why I implore you to do this: buy a card, something classy. Sign it with “I know I shouldn’t have, but I had to. I hope you love your gift and have it for years to come xoxox I know it was expensive but I love you”.
Put the card in an envelope. Then, I want you to get some fancy wedding wrapping paper, and rip off a square about 2×2 inches. Put some tape on this paper, and stick it to the envelope, as though you had stuck a card to a super expensive gift. VOILA, you have now given the gift of “omg I can’t believe we misplaced that gift.” Maybe you got her a Vitamix? Maybe you got her a flatscreen? Maybe you got her a fucking pony? No one will ever know because the card clearly became detached from the gift.
You’re welcome, and see you at the aquarium.
Growing up with divorced parents as a kid wasn’t so bad: my parents split time between Christmas eve and Christmas day, and I got double the presents. As an adult with a partner, it’s exhausting. We have three or more obligatory holiday events to go to, presents to buy for nieces and nephews and parental units and grandparents. I want to quit Christmas and run away for the holidays! Can I?
Dear Child of Divorce,
OKAY you realize you literally just described the plot to “Christmas with the Kranks,” right? And do we remember how it turned out for ol’ Tim Allen? Of course not because that looked like a garbage movie and I didn’t watch it. But they probably skip Christmas and then feel bad about it. I know spending time with people who love you is a super daunting task, not to mention buying them gifts to show them you care! But, I can assure you, skipping Christmas is a bad call. Not only is it a dick move, but think of all the presents you’ll miss out on and how many delicious baked goods you won’t get to shove down your gullet! So many. The point is, one day you’ll reach a time in your life where you won’t have your parents anymore. Or step parents or whatever because they’re getting older and will die for sure. Everybody dies. Then you’ll get to have a nice quiet Christmas all alone. So just grin and bare it through these next few years and look forward to that!
Kate Belton is a stand up comedian who is currently attempting to navigate her late 20s to become a grown up. If her mom asks, it’s going GREAT.