Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Prissmas is coming! Prissmas is coming!

Prissmastime is almost here. So unclench and get ready for a stream of "I told you so!"

You may not know that each year, for several years now, we've been celebrating Prissmas in April. Traditionally, Prissmas falls on the Saturday nearest Hitler's birthday. We make this reference not because of any affinity for Hitler, but because it's fun to point out that Lady Prisspott shares the same birthday - perhaps even the same year, we can't be sure, (there's an eraser hole in Prisspott's birth certificate).

"What," you ask, "is Prissmas?"

Prissmas is the celebration of the spirit of "I told you so."

You told your dear, dear friend the Dorothy Hammell look went away with the previous century, but did she listen? No. She went and got the awful bob and is now telecommuting until her hair grows out. You've been tactfully supportive and understanding, but now it's PRISSMAS! Call her up and scream "I TOLD YOU NOT TO GET THAT HAIRCUT!" then bask in a warm feeling that's reminiscent of peeing in the pool.

Let's get you started on YOUR Prissmas celebration.

Traditional Garb:

An apron and lei. You can wear other things in addition to the apron and lei, but it's not required.


A dead tree branch, painted pink. Stick it in the ground outside and adorn it with rats and crabs. The original Prissmas tree also had plastic martini glasses and orange ribbon.


Anything that can be cooked in a bonfire that would at first cause one to think, "Hmmm. No. I'm not eating that." But in actuality, really isn't half bad.

Mountain Pies: Two slices of bread, slathered with anything, enclosed in a pie iron and stuck into the bonfire.

Pre-Packaged Stuff: Bags of chips, cookies, easily shared finger foods in burnable packages.


Liquor. There's no explanation necessary. Liquor is liquor. You know what to do. Besides, it'll help loosen your tongue. "I told you those pants made you look . . . fatter."

Beer. For those who have to drive.

Other. It doesn't matter which. In fact, don't even bother. If someone needs to drink 'other' beverages, they're probably not at your Prissmas gathering.


Prissmas Bonfire: It's not Prissmas without a bonfire. And it's not a Prissmas bonfire unless it's secretly doused with gas before some unsuspecting fool lights it (THWOOM!) More than a few eyebrows have been lost in this manner. For many months we've been carting our scrap wood and burnables out to the field at Prisspott Manor and piling high the Prissmas pyre.

The Bonfire Ballet: You set your chairs up around the, as yet unlit, bonfire and chat and gab with your 'friends.' Of course (ala Musical Chairs) there's never enough chairs for everyone, so some have to stand around and chat. THWOOM! You get up from the ground, shield your face from the fire while reaching for your overturned chair to pull it further away from the fire to a more comfortable temperature. (Like, say, Cleveland.) Those without an original chair can take this moment to snag a chair from one of the other people who haven't yet come to. The fire begins to burn down a bit and you start to notice the nip in the air. So you scootch your chair closer. You might take this opportunity to refill your drink - or, if you're drinking from the bottle, to open another. Again - people without a chair can take this refill time to commandeer a seat for themselves. Rinse and repeat.

The Who-Catches-On-Fire-First-Pool (Also known as Flaming Queen): This is probably self-explanatory, given the details of the Prissmas Bonfire. In our circles, we can't actually have the betting pool, because everyone predicts it will be Lady Prisspott. Clearly, she's a crowd favorite, what with the tree incident, and the flaming gas can incident, and, well, these would just take up an entirely different blog entry to explain. Suffice it to say, she's a shoe-in to win every year. (Sometimes, when the spirit of Prissmas hits us, we even try to set her on fire at other times of the year. What fun. Good times.)

Liquor Spitter: Take a swig of cheap, gosh-awful-tasting liquor straight from the bottle. Swagger as close to the bonfire as you (safely?) can. Spit the liquor into the bonfire. The bigger the FWOOSH!--the more right you are when you said 'I told you so.' You'll need others to watch, because after the FWOOSH, you're either getting sick from the icky booze or running around screaming "MY EYES! MY EYES!" like a big sissy.

Walk the Plank: You did it when you were little, why did you ever stop? It's the let's-see-how-this-burns game. Take those little plastic soldier men and afix them to the end of a stick, then put him in the fire! "I'm melllllltingggg!" Empty wine bottle? Most of them melt (some may even explode - or so I'm told by old One Eye). Place it in the perfect spot of glowing embers and argue with the others who try to move it with the stick to the OTHER perfect spot. (The next afternoon, you can collect from the ashes anything that didn't entirely burn up and make jewelry!)

Prissmas Carols: Bore your friends to tears by singing EVERY LAST Prissmas carol in your own Prissmas Carol Book. Here's the first ever Prissmas Carol.

Prissmas is Coming
(To the tune of Christmas is Coming - and can be sung in a round!)

Prissmas is coming
We’ll rub it in your face
Time to bust your chops and
Put you in your place

If you’ve had a lapse in judgement
(A small faux pas will do)
If you’ve made a slight mistake
You know that we’ll tell you
We’ll tell you!

The Burning of the Prissmas Tree:

After you've removed your keepsake crabs and rats, the Prissmas tree is 'uprooted' and with great whooping and fanfare, tossed onto the bonfire. You may even choose to sing O Prissmas Tree.

O Prissmas Tree
(To the tune of O Christmas Tree)

O Prissmas Tree O Prissmas Tree
We’re so much more superior

O Prissmas Tree O Prissmas Tree
You can kiss our posterior

We’ve come to say “I told you so!”
And lift our thumbs up to our nose.

O Prissmas Tree O Prissmas Tree
We know that you’re inferior.

The greatest compliment that can ever be bestowed upon a Prissmas event hostess is -- "You've RURNT Prissmas!" And it must be pronounced 'rurnt.' (It means ruined.) If someone says this to you at Prissmastime, it means you've sufficiently shattered any hopes that some faux pas they've performed over the past year has been forgotten. You've crossed the line then. It's progressed from a frivolous outting of light-hearted, friendly jabs to the true meaning of Prissmas, self satisfaction that you were, indeed, right. And now, everyone knows it.


Anonymous said...

Spitting Cheap Vodka into a fire is one of the only ways one can get the bitter taste of Prissmas out one's mouth. So what if I accidentaly swallow a little.

I especially love to watch Prisspott spit high proof spirits at the bonfire, because (due to a previous condition) she has little control over her bottom lip (bless her heart), and she tends to create a multi-directional flaming spray that rivals a lawn sprinkler from Big Lots. You know the ones that don't work very well... they sort of wave about and randomly spurt like an old man with prostate problems at an urinal. Merry Prissmaz

Anonymous said...

I personally look forward to the inevitable moment when Priss will endanger his life by doing inappropriate things around the fire, like dousing it with gasoline.

Just for shits and giggles, let's string up a zip line over the bonfire and send Priss for a ride in a pair of gasoline panties!

Lady Prisspott said...

Oh, Tammy. The bonfire has been moved to the next weekend. I tried to e-mail you but it keeps getting bounced, it will be May 5th.


Just-Chuck said...

Don't you believe it, T.

It's the 28th.

Anonymous said...

Now Priss, don't get your gasoline panties in a bunch, you know I was mostly kidding. Besides, aren't you fairly flame retardant at this point?

Plus if we get all bitchy now Prissmas will be totally rurn't and we wouldn't want that.