Stuff Our Stockings with Christmas Horror Stories

Now that we have safely arrived at our destinations the real fun begins. It's time to terrify with your tales of holidays gone horribly awry. The tree is up, let's set it on fire with a candle from the Menorah!

Misery loves company and just like we drowned our bad experiences from Thanksgiving in sorrow stew, we're doing the same thing for Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice, and any other holiday in December where one is tortured by family.

But this time of year brings it's own special brand of hell. Along with the ache of awful gifts and the pain of disasters in the kitchen, we also get to talk about awkward office party hookups, sloppy secret santas, and all that holiday cheer turned into corrosive, deadly venom. And don't forget that time that drunk Aunt Nora had one too many glasses of egg nog and tried to give Uncle Teddy a BJ in front of the whole family!

I have a Christmas horror story. About six years ago I got to my parents' house a few days before Christmas and I could tell something was wrong with me. For days I was telling my mother (who loves Christmas more than whores love penicillin) that I thought I had appendicitis or something and she kept telling me that I was making it up and to not ruin Christmas. After gifts were exchanged and the holiday meal was finished, I got a horrible shooting pain in my side, like I was the baby Jesus and someone was trying to nail a stake into me. Finally, I forced my mother to take me to the hospital, where they discovered I was passing a kidney stone and it was now too late to do anything about it other than wait through the horrible, blinding, vomit-inducing pain. Luckily, morphine was involved and my mother's punishment was trying drag all six-plus feet of me to the car while I was dosed out of my mind on pain medication.

Now, come on, I know you can do better than that. Leave your best tale of Yuletide woe story in the comments section. We'll decide the winner next week so there is time for everyone to share the fresh trauma that occurs over the weekend. Whoever has the best tale of the worst holiday will win a nice fancy bottle of champagne (Standard Contest Rules apply) so that you can at least enjoy New Year's Eve since your holiday was such a bust.

So go make your list, check it twice (proper spelling, punctuation, capitalization, and such go a long way) and let the airing of grievances commence.