One time this happened...

New Year's Eve was unfolding like every other year, with the same tired routine: eat my mom's mediocre meatballs, pretend to have fun at my cousin's friend's open-bar apartment, and attempt to will the crowd into a decent countdown without anyone shouting "Ten seconds!" like I do. In an ill-fated bid to participate, I tried to dance, resulting in me bumping into a lamppost, a bewildered cat hissing at my knees, and, unfortunately, a minor scuffle with a flailing umbrella over control of the last slice of mediocre pizza.

This past Christmas, my family managed to fit a small tree in the laundry basket, its branches jutting out like tiny arms, and placed it on my grandma's cluttered kitchen table - we'd convinced her she was too old to handle the holiday frenzy. We made her decorate it herself, with me standing by 'just in case,' my aunt piping up at every choice, 'No, no, grandma, the sparkly balls are on top of the garland!' but I was mostly just there to hide our glee as grandma meticulously balanced a glittering snowflake on the tip of a branch – it immediately tipped off and landed in a forgotten pile of last year's lottery tickets.

Misteltoe incident - December 23rd still seared into my brain, and for the love of sparkly tinsel, please don't ask about Santa's mustache.

My family has an annual Easter egg hunt tradition where everyone has to dress up in their best, albeit ridiculous, Easter bonnet – and last year, I really blew the whole shebang. I spent hours crafting a magnificent, glittery, neon pink, unicorn-riding, Easter basket-hat monstrosity only to faceplant into it within three seconds of the hunt starting.

The fluorescent lights of the church stage reflected off my shiny balding spot as I awkwardly handed out tambourines to a room full of expectant children. I was 'Mr.

I once accidentally sang 'Jingle Bells' with a tone-deaf crooner rendition in the school choir at our holiday talent show - in front of hundreds of people, most of whom I'd never met. My friends, who'd always claimed I could "totally hit the high notes," promptly abandoned me as I warbled awkwardly off-key.