Undead and Unsure
The devil's dead, and the Antichrist is pissed. That's pretty much the whole thing right there.
Well... there's one more thing: I killed the devil. And the Antichrist is my half sister. (Two more things.) Because Christmas isn't stressful enough, right? Take it from me: if you trick the devil into granting a wish and then kill her while the Antichrist screams at you to stop, family get-togethers thereafter are uncomfortable.
But I was up for the challenge! Of course, the trick is making the family get-together happen at all. Luckily I'd married rich (and dead). And even if I hadn't married rich (note I'm not saying married well), my best friend and gestating roomie, Jessica, was also rich. It's weird that I was dead and lived in St. Paul in a snowless winter with two zillionaires, right? Never mind.
And even after the make-your-own-card phase popped up, there were some cards that just couldn't be made, no matter how much money got pissed away at Archiver's.
Side note: this DIY crap has gotten out of hand. Cards first, but followed by make-your-own pop (which is soooo hard to find, so of course people start making their own), make-your-own beer (see above, re: pop), make-your-own cheese, and make-your-own eggs by raising chickens. In the middle of cities, people are raising chickens! If you don't believe me, check a Williams-Sonoma catalog sometime. Honest to God. It's all right there: make-your-own vinegar pot, $89.95. The Reclaimed Rustic Coop with Painted Chicken, $399.95. (I assume the chicken was painted on the side in case there was any doubt that the coop surrounded by chickens was a chicken coop.) A Backyard Beehive and Starter Kit, $89.95, so you can start your own bees ("Gentlemen! Start... your... bees!"). Make-your-own butter kit: $29.95. Who makes their own butter? When did we all decide we were living in Little House on the Prairie reruns?
Balloon bouquets. A minstrel greeting (good to see that the Renaissance festival weirdos are employable the rest of the year). Cookie bouquets. Singing telegrams (yep, they still do those, and for a surprisingly reasonable price).
Comedy Central sowed the seeds of my sinister plan by running a John Hughes marathon. Remember when the slutty nurse went to Ferris Bueller's house to cheer him up and he was at a Cubs game so she ended up singing to his crabby sister instead (played by Jennifer Grey, who went on to ruin her career with a nose job)? John Hughes: creative genius and comedy demigod.
Success! Family reunion, take one.