Party Like it's 2020

‘Tis the season to be jolly, but that is proving a little harder this year, because 2020 ‘tis not the year of the Christmas party, or any other party, for that matter, except perhaps the communist party, because commies are the worst, and so is 2020.

Chances are, your annual Christmas get-togethers have been torpedoed by COVID, just like your job, your children’s education, your favorite sports, your waistline, and your sanity. Well, that doesn’t mean the fun has to stop! It just means it’s going to be a little different this year.

Here’s how to handle the cancellation of each type of Christmas party.

1) The Annual Extended Family Christmas Party

Look, we’re not going to lie to each other, here. You’re sad about this one, and also a little happy about this one. Yes, you will miss the good food and the five to ten people you were looking forward to seeing, but you will not miss Uncle Eddie cornering you for half an hour to talk about his enlarged prostate. Schedule some cocktail hour Zoom calls with the select few and drink a toast to Aunt Edna’s new hip.

 

2) The Neighborhood Christmas Party

Depending on your neighbors, you may or may not have been looking forward to this one. Never fear, there is good news here for both sides. Schedule a night (weather permitting) for everyone to put some lawn chairs out on their own driveways and huddle around the portable fire pit or barbecue. If you actually like your neighbors, you can then wander down the sidewalks and visit with them from an appropriate social distance. If you weren’t too thrilled about the party in the first place, you can stay on your own driveway near your own fire, pound the eggnog, and politely request that all passersby stay safely on the sidewalk. If they don’t comply, repel them with flaming marshmallows. Ho ho ho.

 

3) The Casual Social Acquaintance Christmas Party

You got put on the guest list for this one years ago when a friend of a friend suggested adding you, and you’ve been stuck reluctantly going to this party full of randoms ever since. Reply to the cancelation notice with “regret” while casually mentioning that you converted to Islam during your recent time in prison, and happily kiss this one goodbye.

 

4) Your Company Holiday Party

This is a blessing for everyone involved. Your spouse won’t have to endure the small talk hell that comes with this dreaded event, and it’s very hard for you to get fired because you had one too many spiced rums and peed in the potted plant at home. As long as the holiday bonus check still finds its way to you, this is a win all the way around. Just remember, when you get drunk at your own house, you won’t have access to the full-size office copier, so you’ll have to take pictures of your butt with your phone and get them to your coworkers via text. Cheers!

 

5) Your Spouse’s Company Holiday Party

Again, this cancellation is a huge blessing. Your spouse won’t have to fret all night about your inevitable embarrassing behavior, and you won’t have to get drunk with all the other uncomfortable spouses who don’t want to be there. Just keep your fingers crossed for that holiday bonus, fire up Netflix, and sip some eggnog on the couch with your honey. And for this one, once the whiskey you put in that nog kicks in, you can take pictures of your butt with your phone and text them to your spouse.

 

6) Your Small Christmas Party with Your Group of Good Friends

This one is not canceled. These are the people you’ve been hanging out with this whole time. Light the yule log and get your jolly on. Merry Christmas, y’all!

See you soon,

-Smidge

 

Copyright © 2020 Marc Schmatjen

 

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COVID-19 Shutdown Forced Homeschool Parent Log - Day 61

Forced Homeschool Parent Log – Day 61

Everyone is still here. In the house. With me. All day. Every day. All of the minutes.

I had high hopes when the stay at home order was first announced. I was going to be sooo productive. Oh, the books I would write. Oh, the to-do lists I would smash. What great shape I was going to get in.

I laugh now, thinking about the optimistic, starry-eyed kid I was back then. Boy, was I fooling myself. I have a hard time even scheduling a shower now. Or at least, a hard time summoning the will to shower.

I exercised pretty regularly those first few weeks, if twice can be considered “regularly.” Those days are long gone. Cardio now only comes in the form of walking up the stairs in our house. I limit my trips between floors as much as possible each day because there are seventeen damn stairs and they are tiring.

I have toyed with the idea of moving my computer downstairs and just sleeping on the couch to eliminate the stairs altogether, but the computer looks heavy. And there are a lot of wires and stuff. Never mind.

My days have been whittled down to one single to-do item – get Son Number Three to log onto his ten A.M. school video call every day. So far, we are batting less than .500. The other two boys may also have school meetings they are missing, but I lack the energy to get involved, or even care.

My wife might want to help with our own kids, but she simply can’t. She’s in charge of attempting to get her high school math students to care about their own online learning. It’s a lot like trying to get a colony of baboons to care about online learning. Most days you’re just ducking the flying poop.

Organized meal planning and preparation has ceased. We have lapsed into unscheduled free-range grazing. We would buy larger clothes if any stores were open, so we exist only in sweatpants.

Despite their blank stares and drooling, the boys have somehow caught on to our ruse of keeping them away from us by getting “high COVID readings” on my old Blackberry phone I told them was my “COVID meter.” My wife and I are now forced to leave the house if we want to get away from them, but that’s a lot of work. Noise-canceling headphones are now being used instead.

The boys desperately need haircuts. They have passed the point of “shaggy” and have moved into “downright embarrassing.” Perhaps if they would shower more, the unkempt eagle’s nests that are being called hair would look a little better, but sadly, we may never know. I don’t even have the drive to take my own shower, let alone harp on a teenage boy long enough to get one to wash himself. I’m just doubling up on the weekly pool chlorine and hoping for the best.

That’s all for now. Just trying to stay positive and looking forward to Day 62, or Armageddon. Either one will do.

Nap time now. Boys, go downstairs and get me a snack! Boys! Boys?

Dammit, I think they got ahold of our noise-canceling headphones again.

See you soon,

-Smidge

Copyright © 2020 Marc Schmatjen

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Ask Smidge - The Viral Edition

As you know, America, and dare I say, the entire civilized world, is currently panicking about the coronavirus. Trustworthy answers are scarce, so naturally many of you have turned to the only truly trusted source for information left – the Ask Smidge advice column.

Our asksmidge@gmail.com inbox has been overflowing with questions from concerned citizens, like yourselves, who just want straight answers about the dangers we face from this hideous, devastating, completely unique in every way, threat to our very existence.

You ask, we answer! (As always in a fact-based and completely non-controversial manner.)

Smidge,

What is the name of this thing? Is it the Corona virus, the coronavirus, the novel coronavirus, or COVID-19?

Curious in Coeur d’Alene

Dear Curious,

It’s all of them. It actually started as four different viruses that were all ganging up to take over the world. When they meet, they form a totally new strain. There are actually six million different strains now, they’re just not telling us. And speaking of names, Coeur d’Alene translates to “heart of an awl.” Love your city, but that name is kinda dumb.

Smidge,

Why are they calling it the “novel coronavirus?”

Confused in Carson City

Dear Confused,

They call it that because each day someone sends you a novel on how to wash your hands. They are considering renaming it the J. R. R. Tolkienvirus.

Smidge,

Why are people hoarding toilet paper? I don’t understand the connection between the flu and toilet paper.

Shopping in Sheboygan

Dear Shopping,

There is no connection. These people are also buying and hoarding paste as well as toilet paper. They are making large toilet paper forts inside their homes, then they sit in the forts and eat paste. And their boogers.

Smidge,

I have been to five stores and can’t find any toilet paper. What is the matter with people? And where can I get some TP?

Frustrated in Fargo

Dear Frustrated,

I feel your pain. The stores are all sold out, but the good news is that the CDC and the WHO (the band, not the health people) both recently endorsed looting and pillaging at this time, as long as proper “social distancing” rules are observed. Stay safe out there!

Smidge,

Why are stores sold out of soap? Shouldn’t this coronavirus thing maybe account for a small increase in soap purchases? Didn’t people wash their hands before this?

Soapless in Seattle

Dear Soapless,

No, most people are gross. This situation is many people’s first encounter with soap. Case in point, they tested a bunch of McDonald’s order touchscreens and every one of them tested positive for fecal bacteria. And boogers. If you see someone hoarding toilet paper and soap, you can have some fun by telling them that you heard peeing on an electric fence is the best way to become immune to the coronavirus. Enjoy!

Smidge,

I’m getting conflicting information at my local bar. Does the Corona virus come from Corona beer?

Switching to Pacifico in Pacifica

Dear Switching,

No, Corona beer does not carry the virus. Not the beer itself. The bartender who handed you the beer after eating at McDonald’s carries the virus.

Smidge,

Are the people who want their Instagram posts to go “viral” the same people who can’t understand why politicians can’t stop the coronavirus?

Wondering in Waikiki

Dear Wondering,

Yes. They are toilet paper fort-building booger eaters.

Smidge,

My stock portfolio is taking a major hit with this whole thing. What can I do?

Worried in Wichita

Dear Worried,

Sell everything and dump it all into any company that makes toilet paper, hand sanitizer, or soap. Hurry.

Smidge,

Should we continue to shake hands with each other? I want to be careful, but I don’t want to be rude.

Cordial in Cambridge

Dear Cordial,

No, stop shaking hands immediately. But not because of the coronavirus. Because half of the country is out of toilet paper and soap.

Smidge,

They just canceled school for an entire district near us, and our school district just canceled every non-classroom event, including outdoor sports. This is madness. What on earth are we doing? What has happened to common sense?

Frustrated in Fairfield

Dear Frustrated,

Don’t worry. We’re planning on holding a mandatory meeting of all school district administrators soon. We’re holding the meeting on a cruise ship.

Smidge,

What ever happened with the swine flu, the bird flu, SARS, MERS, that Zika virus, and acid rain?

Questioning in Queens

Dear Questioning,

What a great question.

Stay safe out there, folks. Wash your hands as often as you can with rum, tequila, or lighter fluid, and stock up on coffee filters and fast food napkins. (Just not the ones from McDonald’s!)

See you soon,

-Smidge

Copyright © 2020 Marc Schmatjen

Check out The Smidge Page on Facebook. We like you, now like us back!

Also visit Marc’s Amazon.com Author Page  for all his books. Enjoy!