This is the last day of Holidailies. Finally. The next time I say I’m going to post every day for two months in a row, would someone just slap the piss out of me? That would be awesome.
Instead, at least for the next while, I will be following this credo. (thanks for the link Margaret! You didn’t leave your URL so I could link to you, but I’d be happy to fix that!) Because I’m just not interesting enough to blog every day and I know it.
I’ve left any thought of New Year’s resolutions to the last minute. I think I’m not going to make any. I don’t see any point in setting myself up to fail and then being pissed at myself about it.
What are your resolutions?
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My final holiday video (thank God). Same Auld Lang Syne by Dan Fogelberg. RIP, Dude.
Today’s post will be almost entirely comprised of the holiday video. It’s Foamy the Squirrel talking from his heart about Christmas.
But first, I did wear my Jesus Hates the Yankees shirt to my mother-in-laws house. Under a sweater.
Ok, so I did show it to her right before we left and she pronounced it ‘ugly’. She meant spiritually ugly, not regular ugly. Then I blamed her son and fled, before she could stab me with a piano.
Got to play Scrabble while wearing my new Triple Nerd Score t-shirt. It’s got powerful mojo, man.
My two stepsons (Pookies boys) are down for the weekend. They continue to grow rapidly despite my repeated requests that they stop it already.
We’re all running up to see my mother-in-law tomorrow. I’ve told her not to cook for us. We’ll see how well she listened. I won’t yell at her too loud if she fixes a ham. And maybe some of her awesome potato salad. Ooh, and some beans.
Then, tomorrow night, I’m kicking their asses at poker.
Then, Sunday, my brother Joel is coming up since he couldn’t come up at Christmas. So we’ll be having homemade fettucine alfredo.
I believe I mentioned that Baby Girl got a holiday gift pack of Jones Sodas for Christmas. I don’t know if y’all have heard about Jones, but along with their regular drinks, they make special flavors for special occasions. Special flavors like Turkey and Gravy and Christmas Ham and Latke. We wisely decided to not to buy the packs continuing those flavors (they do claim that their Chanukah pack is kosher, which I think is awesome), because no one in their right minds would drink those flavors (and if you did get those flavors and drink them, you’re not in your right mind).
Included in Baby Girl’s gift pack were Cherry Pie flavor (she gave it a thumb’s up), Blueberry pie flavor (another thumbs up), Lemon Meringue flavor (she’s too scared to try it), and Apple Pie flavor which she described as tasting like alcoholic butterscotch. I asked her if that was a good thing. She took a swig, grimaced and said she couldn’t make up her mind.
Then she said it was so disgusting that she couldn’t stop drinking it.
I’m not sure I get that.
Maybe she’s one of those people that can’t stop smelling the rotten milk. She probably farts and pulls the covers over her own head.
Little weirdo.
I would try the soda and tell you what I think, but it’s hard to type when you’re driving the porcelein bus.
Oh! Also, Pookie got me a shirt that says ‘Jesus hates the Yankees’, which I plan to wear to my mother-in-laws house this weekend. The combination of blasphemy and trashing her beloved Yankees might make her lose it and stab me with a piano, but it will be worth it.
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In keeping with the soda theme of today’s post; Coca Cola Christmas commerical circa 1984- I’d Like to Buy the World a Coke:
An excerpt from an email I received today (as I’m sure many of you did as well):
“Hey, NaBlo members! Anyone interested in an even bigger challenge than posting every day for a month is invited to head over to the Blog365 group, where members will be trying to post every day in 2008″
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
NO.
I’m actually quite grateful for Holidailies as if I hadn’t been posting every day in December, I might have thought for a moment that signing up to post every day for a year was a good idea. Thanks to Holidailies, I know that I get quite pissy about the whole thing about 50 days in.
See, there is something wrong with me, some kind of enzyme or something, maybe, that will not let me just fucking skip a day already if I have already said I would post every day.
Hell, I rebelled against myself last night and refused to post until this morning and slept badly as a result. I just don’t need that kind of pressure for an entire year.
Here’s a tip: If you’re not much of a drinker avoid the doctored eggnog on Christmas Eve. I had one teeny tiny drink, didn’t even get minorly stupid and woke up tasting eggnog flavored pre-vomit and feeling like my head was going to fall off.
Thankfully, Pooter is not an early riser and I had time to self medicate with coffee, Pepcid and ibuprofen and I was back in top form before he ever woke up.
Pookie got me a shirt that has a triple word score box from Scrabble on it that says Triple Nerd Score. There has never been a more accurate piece of clothing, ever. I do loves me some Scrabble.
Pooter got a RoboRaptor (which he named Satellite), which is only the coolest thing ever.
Pookie got a St. Louis Cardinals tie from Baby Girl which looks devastatingly handsome on him.
And Baby girl got a holiday pack of Jones Sodas with flavors like Cherry Pie and Lemon Meringue.
Of course, we all got other things (especially Pooter. That little shit cleaned up), but those were some of the faves.
Besides being Christmas, today is also my daughter’s 18th birthday. She’s a grown-up. She’s actually been a grown-up for some time now, in terms of maturity. Sure, she has the occasional teenage girl meltdown, but hell, so do I and I’m 38.
I couldn’t be more proud of the kind of person she’s turned out to be.
She has a good heart, she’s kind to children, animals and old folks, she doesn’t take any crap and she’s got a wicked sense of humor.
Also, pretty soon now, she’ll be able to belch the alphabet.
Your typical southern belle, in other words.
Here are some pictures of my very own Christmas miracle.
Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas, Baby Girl. I’m looking forward to seeing your next 18 years.
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My very favorite Christmas video ever. Bing Crosby and David Bowie. Gold, baby. Holiday gold.
We’ve been wrapping presents until the wee hours of Christmas Eve. We started on Sunday the 23rd, so is that Christmas Eve Eve? Eve squared? CE^2? Anyhoo…
My beloved Contrary is way beyond tired, so I offered to be her guest blogger for the day. I hope y’all don’t mind that I’m not nearly as funny, but I think you’ll chuckle at the videos.
Serious stuff out of the way first: despite the occasional salty language (okay, downright filthy at times), we are Christians who regularly offer thanks that God (not to mention whichever angel is in charge of the occasional “random” bolt of lighting), is not a regular reader of this particular corner of the Blogosphere. If God’s a regular reader, He must be even more forgiving than we thought.
On the other hand (are You listening?), it would be nice to get a couple of carefully targeted bolts from the blue, so that State Farm buys us a new roof. Wink-wink, nudge-nudge, Big Guy!
Anyhoo (again)… Contrary already posted Larry the Cable Guy’s Christmas carols. Just as funny (but a bit less risque) is Mark Lowry, shown here as part of the Gaither Vocal Band.
Here’s the set-up: what must it have been like to be Mary, entrusted with raising God embodied on Earth? If you think it’s hard to refrain from beating a 5 year old who just thinks he’s omniscient and omnipotent, what do you do with one who really is?
Lowry the Preacher Guy, in three takes:
Part 2:
Like Ron White says, “I told you all of that, just to tell you this.”
You’ve heard this song, I’m sure. Everyone who’s released a Christmas album in the last decade has done their own version. The difference is, Mark Lowry wrote it, and those first two videos just explain why he started wondering.
But you have to wonder, on Christmas Eve: Mary, did you know? Really know what you were in for?
Pooter and I were sitting in the drive-thru at Mickey D’s this evening having a chat, when I looked around and noticed that he had unbuckled his seat belt and was standing up in his car seat.
I put the van in park, right where we sat, and stepped back there with him to fix it. While I was stepping and fixing, I was also, well, yelling a little bit. Along the lines of, ‘Have you lost your ever-loving mind?’ and ‘If we have an accident you could be badly hurt, which might knock some sense into your head!’.
As I settled back into my seat, he started crying a little because his feelings were hurt, which usually turns me into a puddle of stupid. This time, though, I told him to just keep on crying because I wasn’t so happy myself.
Just a second later, three police cars go speeding by on the streets, lights and sirens blaring away.
He asked if they were coming to arrest us (where does he get the drama gene?) and I told him that no, we had not broken the law and the police had no reason to arrest us.
Him: Well, maybe they’ll arrest us for saying mean words. (Us, meaning me, of course)
Me: Using mean words isn’t against the law.
Him: Yes, it is.
Me: No, it’s not.
Him: Yes, it is (we’re now deep into the seventh circle of arguing with a kid hell)
Me: No. It’s isn’t. You know what is against the law, though? Unbuckling your seatbelt and standing up in your car seat. That’s against the law big time, buddy. Got anything else you want to say?
Him: Vile woman. (Ok, so he just thought that part)
This is the same kid who argued with Pookie the other day about whether a particular dog was ‘big’. Pooter’s position was that it was a big dog. Pookie’s position was that it was a small dog. My position was that no matter how much Pookie says the kids get their stubborn streaks from me, I know the truth. (I fully expect Pookie to argue with this, as he is very, very stubborn. In case I haven’t mentioned it)
They argued about it off and on all morning. It was hilarious.
I’m not sure where Pooter gets all that righteous indignation, but it’s awesome to behold. If he thinks he’s right, he’s right.
Oh, and it was a short, fat cocker spaniel, which means they were both right, depending on how you look at it.
Over the past several days, I’ve had more traffic than I can shake a stick at. Shame it’s all from people looking for Chuck Norris. Sorry, folks, it’s just that one post, with almost no original content (although I was quite pleased with the title).
So if you came here looking for Chuck Norris, do me a favor and have a glance at the rest of the blog. Sometimes I actually write something original and almost witty. It’s doing bad things to my self esteem to have 200 views of that one post and 12 views of my most current post.
You can understand that, can’t you, Chuck Norris fans?
Also, please don’t show this to Chuck. I don’t want to get my ass kicked so close to Christmas.
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Pooter and I watched A Christmas Carol: The Musical this evening. Pretty much all he took away from it was an uncanny imitation of Kelsey Grammer as Scrooge saying ‘Bah, humbug!’. Between this and his apparent admiration for the Grinch, pre-revelation, I’m a little concerned about what Santa is going to think.
Pooter is gonna end up with a stocking full of reindeer poop if he keeps this up.
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Courtesy of Mandy Lou Who (hee) comes No Doubt performing Oi to the World:
