So on the week-end, these four yahoos decide to go buy gingerbread houses and decorate them.
They bought two kits, and the original idea was for everybody to work on both, but when they got them back home Eve said she suddenly realized she didn't want Marianna or Alison anywhere near her gingerbread house. This is because Eve and Davis (partners in cooking class) are neat, deliberate, detail-oriented people in nearly every respect, while Marianna and Alison are, let's say, a little more into freestyling.
So Matt and I picked up the three girls that had to be driven home, after some drinks around a Christmas tree with friends, so all of this was doubly hilarious.
Alison: "You know what, I'm not even embarrassed about our house, because your house is, like, the kind of house that nobody ever buys because it's too intimidating, because it has, like, nine bathrooms and you can't just relax in it."
Davis: "The houses are literally the exact same size."
Alison: "I know, but yours is too perfect. Ours is just nice and relaxed and cozy."
Davis: "It's cozy because you ICINGED OVER THE WINDOWS. Nobody could sell yours because it's ILLEGAL TO SELL A HOUSE WITHOUT WINDOWS."
Before this, at the aforementioned Christmas tree music-listening session, everyone was calling out their favourite Christmas songs and then songs in general, while the man of the house used the ipad and tv to play the songs in question and everyone either enjoyed them or, more likely, mocked them and went into detail about why they were the worst examples of so-called music ever to litter the cultural landscape. (I know. I'm not sure how we all stay friends, we're basically horrible people who often bring out the worst in each other). So there was some back-and-forthing on Roger Whittaker, several versions of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, a near-violent stand-off involving Take On Me, and then Collette said her favourite love song was Beth by Kiss, because she'd heard that one of the band members wrote it for his wife while stuck in a long songwriting session, and it was the most realistic kind of love song. So then naturally someone said "and now should we look up the history of that song and ruin it for you forever?" and I TOLD her not to do it, but she did. And Song Facts said the wife of the guitarist was always interruping their practices asking when he was coming home, and the song was written (imagine this read by Collette in a deflated tone:) "as a joke directed at him."
Giving your friends a hard time about the things they love: it's what Christmas is all about, right?