Festivus

Festivus

Welcome to
the pinnacle of seasonal spite

We trade fruitcake for common complaints and eggnog for existential dread. If you've ever wondered why December feels like a forced march through other people's joy, Festivus is your escape hatch.

Hosted by the unyielding Kelly —Empress of All Things — this bash kicks off at 7 p.m. and ends when we’ve unpacked all grievances and the feats of strength devolves into chaos. No gifts required. Bring your grudges instead.

A Dash of Festivus Lore

Picture this: It's 1997. Seinfeld is wrapping its ninth season, and Frank Costanza, patron saint of passive-aggressive dads, declares war on holiday commercialism.

Out go the trees, the tinsel, the relentless cheer. In comes the aluminum pole (functional, unadorned, and utterly indifferent to your feelings) and rituals designed to air out the year's rot.

Festivus isn't about redemption; it's about recognition that your neighbor's inflatable Santa is a cry for help, and you're not wrong for resenting it.

"The Strike" episode, where Festivus miracles happen only if you're lucky enough to dodge the feats of strength, inspired us. We've embraced the spirit fully, including the pole and spaghetti dinner, because carbs fuel contempt.

You Asked. I Barely Answered.

  • We handle the heavy lifting, or should I say, the heavy saucing? Expect a traditional spaghetti dinner, complete with bread, salad, appetizers, and dessert to round out the regret buffet.

    Note: The sauce packs sausage, because vegetables alone are a grievance waiting to happen. If that's your kryptonite, ping the Empress ahead of time for a sausage-free alternative. No judgment, just efficiency.

    You're encouraged to BYOB; sodas, wine, or liquid nitrogen if you're feeling festive. (Pro tip: My nephews once offhandedly griped about the spaghetti. They still show up. Blood is thicker than marinara, apparently.)

    Latecomers? You'll have prime time to slink in during dinner, where the shaming is swift but the portions generous. We eat first, so no one starves while plotting revenge.

  • Ah, the heart of Festivus: that glorious moment when we acknowledge the tiny injustices that make life a slow simmer of irritation.

    As you twirl your pasta, jot down 2-3 grievances, anonymous, of course, because direct confrontation is for New Year's resolutions. Toss them in the bag.

    Once everyone's sufficiently fueled and festering, we pass it around. One soul draws a slip, reads it aloud, and the group guesses the author. Backstories optional (and often hilarious), commiseration mandatory. It's therapy without the copay, or a roast without the consent.

    To spark your spiteful genius, here are some past gems (anonymized for plausible deniability):

    • "Camping is just making fun of homeless people. I won't be a party to this farce anymore!"

    • "Telling me you're funny only tells me you're delusional. Let other people tell me you're funny, then maybe I'll consider it."

    • “People who say ‘I’m not like other girls’ are just announcing they peaked in high school and have been coasting on borrowed personality ever since. Die mad about it.”

    Expect laughter, nods of solidarity, and the occasional "Wait, that was me?" No topic off-limits, unless it's about the Empress's infallible decisions.

  • Post-grievances, we pause for bathroom breaks, drink refills, dessert skirmishes, and last-ditch meatball grabs.

    Then: the main event. I, Kelly, Supreme Empress, declare the teams; maybe boys vs. girls (if the numbers cooperate), house divided like a bad divorce, or captain picks à la grade-school dodgeball. Fairness? That's for holidays with reindeer.

    The battlefield: Christmas movie trivia, drawn from these sacred texts. Brush up if you dare; ignorance is no excuse, but preparation might spare you a point deduction.

    • It's a Wonderful Life (1946): The one where suicide gets interrupted by an angel getting its wings. Stream on Freevee (free with ads, because irony) at amazon.com/gp/video/detail/B001N8R0C4 or Prime Video .

    • The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992): Kermit as Tiny Tim's dad, because puppets understand Dickens better than most humans. On Disney+ .

    • National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (1989): Clark Griswold's quest for "the egg-laying, gift-giving, eggnog-slurping Griswold family Christmas" ends in felony-adjacent arson. Catch it on Hulu .

    • Seinfeld: "The Strike" (S9E10, 1997): The episode that birthed Festivus, complete with fake holiday excuses and Kramer's mullet. Stream on Hulu .

Rules? What Rules?

(Empress Edition)

I award points as I see fit. My logic is circular, occasionally broken, and always final. Question it? Instant deduction. One year, a peasant dared point out an "obvious" typo on a slide, demanding a point despite their wrong answer. I subtracted one for the suggestion. They argued. I subtracted another.

Lesson learned: The Empress types what she types.

Teams roll dice for first dibs. Your squad gets 3 minutes to huddle and deliver an answer. Wrong? The opponents get a chance to steal the point; 3-minute timer. No extensions, no appeals. It's less game, more gladiatorial whim.

The Inevitable Wind-Down

Once a victor emerges amid gloating and groans, we descend into casual chatter. Linger until exhaustion claims you, boredom with my radiance sets in, or the clock hits 11 pm. The winning team claims a year of ritual mockery over the losers' trivia ineptitude in this wholly pointless arena. What more could a soul desire? Bragging rights in a void.

Questions? Add them to your grievances next year.

Festivus for the rest of us.