Actors are, by definition, theatrical people. Most of us like to be a bit presentational and dare I say, dramatic. So, with the holiday season in full swing, I am attempting to make gatherings more festive by patrolling The Food Network, and various magazines for ideas.
So armed with a copy of Martha Stewart Living, a $75.00 Williams Sonoma pestle and mortar and the unbridled optimism of a young Tiny Tim – I ventured out into the wintry, yet whimsical terrain of a handcrafted Christmas.
God help us. Everyone.
T’was the night before Christmas and in the light of my taper
I was pounding papyrus to make homemade paper.
“I can do it!” I thought, as I sat – stuffing pheasants.
“I’ll go pure Martha Stewart! I’ll make all the presents!”
The first thing to do was a gingerbread house
with caramelized windows and a marshmallow mouse.
But as I melted the sugar on the graham cracker shingles,
I scalded my hand on a candied Kris Kringle.
I had a crystal decanter that was chock full of brandy
for the doorknobs and shutters that would be made of candy.
But the bottle exploded from the heat of the stove
Jack Frost did a facelift, and nipped off my nose.
I started to faint as I bled in the batter,
But awoke when my head hit the blender (now shattered).
It cracked down the side and the syrup did leak
as I pulled bits of crystal from my (now shredded) cheek.
Though hardly discouraged, I assembled my house,
Smiling; “Who needs the windows?” and “f**k the damn mouse”
But my candy cane fence bound with cinnamon sticks
made it look like the carolers were out turning tricks.
The roof broke in half as it started to settle
it was Frank Lloyd Wrong meets Hansel and Gretel.
My gingerbread house was a Breaking Bad shed-
The home of “Snow White and the seven meth-heads.”
It was hardly a house but it wasn’t a failure
For I had just built the first Gingerbread Trailer.
So I embraced the challenge and then without haste,
Carved a small white trash family from Marzipan paste.
Tiny boxers and bras on a clothesline of string
and a petrified doughnut made a good tire swing.
In the front yard, was Martha, awaiting her guests-
With twin cracker babies hanging off of her breasts.
My Martha Nativity had quite hit the skids-
With her cigarette dangling, and her buttload of kids
I hung on some lights, placed it out on the porch-
But the lights hit the brandy and the whole thing got torched.
I can not describe all the warmth that I felt-
As Martha and family all started to melt.
My heart was so full, that it started to sing-
It felt just like Christmas …and that’s a good thing.