Problem: You notice a friend — she of the infamous low tolerance — has begun to slur her words and adopt a seaworthy sway.
Solution: Request a sip of her drink (“It looks so delicious!”) — only to never return it. Repeat as many times as necessary. We promise she won’t notice (and may even thank you for preventing that topless camera-phone shoot she had planned).

Problem: Turns out you’re the one who had a few too many. And you’ve got the nauseated feeling and resounding headache to prove it.
Solution: One of our interns divulged her never-be-hungover-for-work secret. (We don’t judge.) Chug an electrolyte-fueled bottle of Pedialyte before bed to cure any kind of post-tippling pain.

Problem: Thanks to one overly animated gesture, you’ve taken down the entire tree.
Solution: Bow gracefully and apologize — then ask a few giggling guests to help you spruce up. Remind them that at least you’re not Katherine Heigl playing out a painful Christmas rom com scene. (No one likes Izzie Stevens.)

Problem: Three trips to the punch bowl and one misguided karaoke duet later, you’ve somehow inappropriately grazed your now horrified-looking co-worker.
Solution: A casual laugh followed by “The holidays always get me feeling a little sentimental” should do the trick.

Problem: Delusions of baking grandeur and a broken oven timer mean your pear-tart crust has been singed beyond repair.
Solution: Scoop the tart filling into martini glasses and top with ice cream. Then grab a candy bar from your chocolate stash (yes, we know about that) and use a veggie peeler to shave the finishing touch on each.

Problem: Thanks to Conversation Killer Steve and Sally Stares Blankly, you’ve officially run out of discussion topics.
Solution: Always memorize a few fun facts beforehand with help from Encyclopedia of the Exquisite or Learn Something Every Day. If all else fails, we suggest pointing out that the average chocolate bar contains eight insect legs.

Problem: Your black cocktail dress looks stunning. The white deodorant lines stretched across your rib cage? Not so much.
Solution: Politely excuse yourself before running to the party-thrower’s closet. Reach for a pair of nylons or a foam hanger covering from the most recent batch of dry cleaning and rub away (literally).

Problem: You know you want seconds (and thirds) of Nana’s pound o’ butter mashed potatoes. You also know you’d like your pants to button.
Solution: Make elastic waistbands your new best friend. Caught in a (zipper) jam? Rubber bands and hair ties come in handy for last-minute looping and temporary binding.

Problem: Someone’s been stabbed! Okay, fine. They just cut themselves while carving the holiday bird.
Solution: A pro wardrobe supervisor pal of ours swears that a combo of ice cubes and spit removes blood stains. For some reason, though, the saliva and blood must belong to the same (wounded) individual. We suspect it has something to do with enzymes and witchcraft. Helpful backup: hydrogen peroxide.

Problem: Your heavy-handed hostess has infused nearly every course with an abundance of garlic.
Solution: The standby tip for close talkers: What garlic giveth, ginger, basil, mint, and parsley taketh away. If none of these garnishes is handy, swig a bit of whiskey — but not too much or you’ll have a whole other odor issue.

Problem: Four festive cocktails in and you seem to have lost track of your coaster. Not so easily missed? The giant water stain in the middle of the coffee table.
Solution: Sneak into the pantry, grab a jar of peanut butter, and ring around the rose-colored wood stain. Let set for several minutes and simply wipe away.

Problem: Who can resist J.Bieb’s infectious holiday jams? In the midst of an impromptu dance party, you accidentally spill red wine on the carpet.
Solution: Nothing that more booze can’t handle. Swipe your neighbor’s glass of white and pour a small amount over the affected area. Blot dry with an absorbent towel before sprinkling with a dash of salt to prevent the red stuff from spreading and settling.

Problem: You’ve managed to lose a contact lens while oohing and aahing over the fresh-from-the-oven turkey.
Solution: Offer to take over basting duty while squinting around for your plastic pal. Pray it’s stuck to the outside of the pan (like ours was). Otherwise, we got nothin’.