Mad props to anyone who figured out the title came from Scrooged, one of my all time favorite holiday movies. Right up there with A Christmas Story, or as we like to refer to it, The Kid, You’ll Shoot Your Eye Out Movie.
Before heading off to the somewhat dubious delights of Lapland (at least in Mary’s estimation), we hung a hard right to the Deep South to share the yuletide festivities with the Waring, and thus less reputable, side of the family. It was their turn, whether they liked it or not.
Ah, Christmas in New Orleans, such gay frivolity. Twenty-five cent martinis and turtle soup at Commander’s Palace. Champagne and Oysters Rockefeller at Galatoires. Roast beef po-boys (with debris of course) and beers at Joey K’s on Magazine Street.
And after consuming all that booze and food in the course of your first day back in the Big Easy, well, you’re going to need some help with the resulting hangover and New Orleans has just the facility for you. And $149 for an IV and some oxygen so you can get back up and consume to excess again, is a small price to pay, apparently, for some people. Of course, traditionalists would propose that the proper remedy for too much good cheer the night before would be a Bloody Mary, with extra horseradish and Tabasco. None of these new fangled hi-tech hangover remedies for them, no thank you, sir!
Next, Lapdancing in Lapland, or How I Convinced Mary to Sleep on a Block of Ice, Not Willingly, Of Course.