Here you go faithful reader, a lesson in Venezuelan holiday traditions:
On the Venezuelan side of the family, we celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve. It’s a tradition handed down from one Indian to another to another many many full-feathered moons ago. That means that because every member of my family is single, childless, and broke, we get very drunk and lament the state of our sad little single childless lives.
You’d like that wouldn’t you, oh couple-whoring, child-bearing masses?
Well tough. Instead, our traditions are deeply rooted in stuffing our faces on hallacas and tequenos, dancing to gaitas, playing trivia for QT gas cards (class-ay), not going to church, not saying the words Santa/donkey/manger once all night because we don’t have to, drinking to our heart’s content because there is no significant other there to tell you that you are about to/are making an ass of yourself, and ending the night huddled in mom’s garage smoking cigarettes and talking smack about all the people that don’t smoke who are still inside drinking and eating.
It’s what we do best. It’s why I’m proud to be a halfie. It’s the only reason I even agree to still celebrate Christmas year after year.
So Fleas Navidad, everyone. Have fun waiting for your gifts until the 25th.