Jorie and I accidentally went to the party as twins, as did our boyfriends.
Why take a nice picture you could cherish forever, when you could just be duck-lipped hambones?
Saturday: Sufjan Stevens' Christmas Concert
Officially dubbed "The Surfjohn Stevens Christmas Sing-a-Long Seasonal Affective Disorder Yuletide Disaster Pageant on Ice," getting tickets to this show at the Metro was a Christmas miracle in itself. Once the opening comedian was finished doing her combination of Molly Shannon characters and Steve Martin gags (why didn't I understand it? Can someone explain that to me? I'm serious), Sufjan and his merry band swarmed the stage with all the "low-budget props" promised in the show description:
Costumes, such as this Super Chicken
And other costumes, like this Christmas Unicorn made out of balloons and garland
... which was apparently very good for climbing
This "Wheel! Of! Christmas!" dictated which carols the audience would sing together. Not pictured: the inflatable Santas and unicorns which periodically bounced across the crowd.
Snow!
The whole thing was a treat, especially when I discovered that I actually know most of the words to "We Need A Little Christmas," and when Sufjan made amends for skipping "It's Christmas, Let's Be Glad" by performing "Sister Winter," which some stranger kindly filmed for you:
The evening ended with my very late arrival at my old improv class' holiday party, where I snuck in this picture with my longtime classmates/longtime bros, and also snuck "yes, and" into every conversation like a big comedy nerd-jerk.
Sunday: The Music Box Christmas Show
If you give a mouse a cookie, or a lady like me a ticket to a double feature of "White Christmas" and "It's A Wonderful Life," she's going to want wintry drinks at Guthrie's to go with it.
Some boozy cider for the gentleman
More cider and hot chocolate with Frangelico for Emmy and me
and Scattergories for all!
Oh, my heavens, that Music Box Christmas Show. It is the highlight of my year. It is the home of my heart (along with the state of Wisconsin and the sale section of any Anthropologie). It is worth a trip to Chicago next winter, if you don't live here. It's ideal, absolutely ideal.
A chamber quartet croons in the lobby while everyone loads up on popcorn and jingle bell bracelets before joining Santa and the theater organist in some carols. Eventually Santa takes a lap around the rows while haphazardly throwing candy around. Even the parody of "White Christmas" about Chicago landmarks -- "a mint by Frango, the smile of Uncle Mistletoe" -- is completely charming when you're surrounded by people just as excited to sing along to "Sisters" as you are.
Hup-de-do!
Now, it's not perfect. I can't condone the way everyone hisses at Emma when she sets the whole Betty-goes-to-New-York plotline in motion -- for heaven's sake, the busybody makes a mistake! Do you want a plot for this musical or not? -- nor can I approve of the hissing at Betty that follows, even when she's on her way back to Vermont, you jerks. But a few hours later, I just can't top the feeling of hissing at Mr. Potter and then immediately sobbing through the end of "It's A Wonderful Life."
My gent, my pooch, and I finished the weekend with a Mini-Christmas at home after the show.
A new kong!
I'm pretty sure Z has given in to the charms of his new Herschel backpack
My new unicorn skull has no right to be as attractive as it is. Yet it's white, it's glass, it's gold, it's macabre, and therefore it fits right in with everything else I own.
A weekend like this could make a gal believe a Christmas pun is a good idea after all.
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