With December upon us, traditional seasonal movies and shows have begun to monopolize the entertainment spectrum within our household. Polar Express, our annual kick-off-the-season film, was scratched off the list last weekend, along with back-to-back animated UK shorts, The Snowman and Father Christmas, and the Netflix Special, A Very Murray Christmas.
Home Alone, Scrooged, and Christmas Eve on Sesame Street, are just a few that are on tap for this Saturday—amongst others.
I’d written previously on my Top Ten Christmas Movies, and despite the convenience (and appeal) of a quick re-blog, there was little value in regurgitating a prior post, especially since my picks remain solid—immovable, like a tongue frozen to a flag pole.
To mix things up a bit however, I delved a little deeper into my psyche, analyzing my selections; what I liked, who I liked, and why.
Which led me down the pathway of a fantastical, wish-upon-a-star, surreal daydream.
Who would I invite (mortality and my lack of wealth and power aside) to a highbrow—VIP, once-in-a-lifetime Christmas Eve dinner party, hosted by me, in my home.
I envisioned the setting.
Vince Guaraldi Jazz Quartet playing in the background,
It would be one for the books, to be sure.
My guest list is intentionally limited to (my personal) Holiday Classics, characters I grew up with and cherish to this day.
(in no particular order)
And to dispel any misogynistic accusations;
And there you have it.
If you happen to be around on the 24th, and you’re so inclined, I may be able to squeeze in an extra place setting—as long as you don’t mind sitting beside cousin Eddie.
Come for 5:30.
And bring wine.
Something tells me these cats drink a lot of wine.
Until next time,