Since Christmas is only one day in the future, here’s a glimpse of me during a Christmas past. Back in 1983, when I still lived in New York, I had a day job working near Grand Central for Carlton Importing, the company that imported St. Pauli Girl and other beers. For their annual Christmas party, they had me dress up as Santa, and had another employee, Ruthie O’Connor, wear one of the St. Pauli Girl outfits we kept around the office that we shipped when bars hosted St. Pauli Girl nights.

Here we are before the party that long-ago December. I have no idea whatever became of Ruthie, and since it’s such a common name, I doubt I’ll ever find out.

But the fact that I was large and had a beard (though not a fluffy white one) wasn’t the only reason they shelled out for a high-end Santa suit. (I seem to recall the outfit costing several hundred dollars to rent for the day even then.) I was also expected to provide some entertainment.

I was quite a juggler in the mid-’80s, often bringing my balls, rings, and pins to the office so I could practice during my lunch hour. Someone had the idea that if I dressed as Santa, I could juggle three bottles of beer, one of each of our brands—St. Pauli Girl, San Miguel, and Nordic Wolf Light—to liven up the Christmas party.

Here I am doing just that, while offering up some patter about the relative sales of the brands.

I was afraid that a bottle might explode while I was juggling and ruin the presentation, and suggested to my boss that perhaps I should juggle decorated pins instead, but he told me not to worry about it, and to simply have a good ad lib ready just in case.

Luckily, nothing exploded in midair, and I never dropped any of the bottles. No one dared try to drink them after that, though.

So if you ever wondered what I’d look like coming down your chimney, well, there you have it.

Merry Christmas, all!