Happy Festivus for the rest of us! I was reminded of Festivus, which falls on December 23, when I saw a Seinfeld meme about it today on Facebook.

Seinfeld made Festivus popular, but the fake holiday was originated by the father of one of the Seinfeld writers.

I was reminded of Seinfeld yesterday while in Target. I was in line at one of the registers when I heard a guy in line at the next register say to his girlfriend, “I couldn’t find you anywhere, so I was walking around saying, ‘I lost my fiance! I lost my fiance!'”

Without even thinking, I said out loud, “Maybe the dingo ate your baby.” The girlfriend looked over at me, obviously thinking, “I hope she isn’t talking to us.” The boyfriend, however, without missing a beat said, “It’s from Seinfeld” and went on describing his nightmarish search for her throughout Target.

I liked the fact that he thought my comment was rational. What was weird was that he didn’t even laugh.

But back to Festivus. It’s time to air grievances, per the Festivus tradition. Here’s mine: I baked cookies on several nights this week. Not a single one of them looked like the pictures in the recipes I found online. I really think we need to demand honesty from recipe writers. Or, they could adopt the meteorologists’ tool of giving a probability of success: “If you follow this recipe exactly and light the cookies in the way they’re lit in this picture, there is a 59% chance that yours will look like mine.”

Here is what my pinwheels should have looked like, according to the recipe:

What mine looked like:

Here’s another example of a cookie I made. This picture is what it was supposed to look like:

And here’s what mine looked like.

I admit I didn’t roll mine in powdered sugar, but that’s the only change I made to the recipe. As you can see, mine spread all over the place and then they all stuck together, even though I did cool them on a rack before putting them in the tin.

I told my sister about my baking failures. She sounded really sad for me, until I told her that I just don’t care that I didn’t succeed. I don’t even care that I attempted to make cookies, so there was no need for the platitude, “At least you tried.”

And that’s when she told me about the “We Do Not Care” club, founded by Melani Sanders on Instagram. I checked it out right away and joined right up. I know I’ll excel at being a member of this club. They’re big on the airing of grievances, which, coincidentally, is part of Festivus.