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Dear Loafers Christmas Edition Vol. 2

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Dear Loafers Christmas Edition Vol. 2

Dear Lazy Loafer,

As a girl we lived on the Amite River near a town called French Settlement in Louisiana.  When school got out for Christmas, my two brothers and I would take the bateau (what the rest of y’all call a skiff) down the river to a shallow area with a big stand of cypress trees.  When we got there, I would drive the boat real slow while my brothers shot mistletoe out of the treetops with their shotguns.  Once we had a boatload, we would go home and package it up.  Big pieces went into plastic bags and the little ones my brothers would put into molds then pour liquid acrylic over them to make into belt buckles.  Get it?  Kiss under the mistletoe?    They also made one that you could hook over the back of your belt, if you wanted to tell people to “kiss my a–.”  Then we would go down to the flea market and sell them.  Some years we would make three or four-hundred dollars.

Then, on Christmas Eve, we would always have chicken-andouille gumbo with pecan pie.  Everyone did—gumbo on Christmas Eve was a tradition around there.

Joyeux Noel, chers et cheres!

Carla G.

New Orleans, LA


Dear Lazy Loafers,

When I was a kid we opened our presents on Christmas morning!   NOT Christmas Eve!  Kevin Costner* was right! 

Jerry L.

Gary, IN

*Editor’s Note:  We’re not sure, but we think Jerry is referring this scene in “Bull Durham.” (warning—not completely safe for work or kids).   By the way, Jerry, they’re making decaffeinated coffee these days, buddy.  Give it a try.



When we were little my twin brother and I always wanted to stay up late and catch Santa Claus in the act.  Instead of saying ‘no’, our parents would actually encourage it.  They would make us a big dinner (Mom told us that the more we ate, the longer we would be able to stay awake).  Then Dad built a fire in the fireplace and turned up the thermostat until the house felt like summertime (Dad said Santa would like that because it’s so cold at the North Pole).  They turned off all the lights, and my brother and I hid behind the couch.  My mother “disguised” us with blankets and pillows so Santa wouldn’t see us then they went to bed.  My brother and I would struggle to stay up, but it somehow never worked.  All of a sudden we’d be startled awake by our parents yelling “There he is!  It’s Santa!  Quick, wake up!”  We scrambled out from under the huge pile of blankets, but we were always too late.  We’d just missed Santa.  The presents were under the tree and Dad was standing at the front door pointing at the sun coming up on the distant horizon.  “There he goes!  See him?  Aww, he’s gone now.  You missed him.  Maybe next year, boys.”

Mike W.

Akron, OH


Dear Lazy Loafers,

When I was in my thirties I was dating a Jewish woman who ran the help desk department at a major corporation.  Because the job required someone on call 24×7 and all of her employees celebrated Christmas, she would give everyone the day off while she worked the shift  Pretty nice of her, I thought, although I was a little peeved that I didn’t get to spend the day with her.  She promised she’d make it up to me and said she’d have a surprise.  The next day, I went over to her place and she informed me that she was probably the only woman in the whole world who actually liked pornography.  So we spent the whole day watching—

Travis B.

Dallas, TX

Editor’s Note:  We had to cut this one off.  You should be able to see where it was going.  After all, this isn’t the Penthouse Forum.


Dear Lazy Loafers,

Not long after my husband and I got married, we were roped into having Christmas dinner with his business partner.  I really didn’t want to go, but maintaining the business relationship was important to him. 

My husband was originally from England and, as it turned out, his grandparents on both sides and a number of aunts and uncles had all been “in service”  so when he was growing up his family celebrated “Boxing Day” (December 26th).  To him, it was perfectly normal to work on Christmas and have the big dinner, presents and Christmas pudding (it tastes a lot like a fruitcake, only you set it on fire) the day after.  So I put up with his partner on Christmas, then hubby and I had our own private celebration the next day.

The business became quite successful over the years and spending Christmas at the partner’s house is now an annual tradition.

So is our having the “real” Christmas celebration on Boxing Day, the next morning.

Name & City withheld to protect hubby’s work relationship.


 Feel free to share your holiday memories by contacting us here!


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