Oh, what a wonderfully fucked up Christmas this has been. Hope you enjoy walls of unreadable, impenetrable text!
Well, for starters, I woke up this morning, and umwrapped my present from Mom: a martini shaker, CDs from The Dresden Dolls and Sleater-Kinney, and itunes money. As much as I complain about her, and tell everyone that she has herpes behind her back, but at the end of the day, my mother is fucking AWESOME.
After a two-martini breakfast (which quickly turned into three-martini, and subsequently, a four-, five- and six-martini breakfast), we went over to Dad's house. I hate to say it, but it's best to set your standards low. I love him, but he's living proof that money can't buy you class. He's one of those people that you can pretty much send him the exacts specifics of what you want, and he will STILL completely fuck it up.
Case in point, I ask for an iPhone, since my cell phone is so goddamn old, it will occasionally remark "Meh, it's a living". But he tells me that he can't get the iPhone, since I can't get out of my contract, so he'll get me something similar. And you know what? That's totally fair, that may have been asking for a little too much. So I open my presents, and every single thing I get is clothes. Now, I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth, I LOVE clothes, but the only problem with this is that THEY'RE ALL LARGE. Come on, you see me every other week, do I look like a large?I disappear when I turn sideways. I'm a size 28, and he bought me size 35 jeans. Thankfully, he kept the tags, and I'm a hell of a shopper. This is why Godtopus invented Boxing Day. I love shopping anyways, at least this gives me a reason.
After this, we went to my Aunt's house for a big ol' family reunion. Now, I should probably tell you now that taking an irish family and putting them all in a room fully stocked with alcohol is rarely a good idea. Feelings will be hurt, laughs will be had, someone will be shanked with the neck of a broken beer bottle...And that was my elementary school grauation.
One family tradition that takes place when we've all consumed massive amounts of the hooch is the telling of stories we've already told the last hundred times we celebrated this drunken tradition. And occasionally, we will have new ones. For example, while Christmas shopping, my brother and cousin were searching for a parking spot, when some lady (whom shall from here on be known as Crazybitch McGee) decided to walk directly in front of their car, instead of, you know, NOT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. So they try to go around her, but this apparently pisses her off to no end, so Crazybitch McGee walks up to my cousin's window (he's the one driving) and yells at him. At this point, he turns to her, and point blank, one goddamn foot in front of her face screams (and I quote) "SUCK! MY! COCK!".
Once the telling of drunken, incoherent stories was finished, we moved onto a new tradition, a re-gift exchange, where we take random shit lying around the house and trade them up amongst each other. Apparently, it was supposed to be something cheesy, but I didn't get the message, and gave away my DVD of the first season of The Office. So I lost that, and in exchange, I got a fucking werewolf mask. Weeee.
And in what is easily the most awkward Christmas moment ever, I learned that my cousin also listens to Santogold (best album of the year). So then my uncle starts talking about one of the songs, Unstoppable, so he has me go and get my iPod to play it for them all. So I go from adult to adult, playing some Santogold for them. Have you ever stood two feet away from a muscular, forty year old army man screaming "EH-EH-EH-EH! YOU DON'T LIE!" in a crowded room? I wouldn't reccomend it.
Well, that's how it went. All in all, it's been a weird day, but you know what? I got to spend time with family, and if this makes me sound like a weenie, so be it, but as much as they drive me insane and make me wish that I had been adopted, they really are the people I care most about. I'll lead you out with some Santogold, Unstoppable. Let the visual image above settle in while you watch this.
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5 comments:
Haha, if it didn't happen to you it would be unbelievable. But knowing your family it is sooo believable. Just think, if you were a standup comic, you would have an endless supply of material :)
beats my Christmas hands down. Like you though Boxing Day is full of sales and I had a hoot shopping today.
I hear you on the clothes thing. My grandmother still buys me children's sizes. I'm twenty-goddamn-three! And not a midget!
And you don't have to be Irish to get fucked up and tell stories you've told a thousand times before. We're scotch/english/swedish, and we do that shit too.
In the middle of our big fancy Christmas meal, my mum told us all a story about how she got called to my brother's preschool once when he was three because he told a teacher to go fuck herself. And then she got called to school the next day because he stabbed a kid with a pencil.
My brother is far less psychotic than this story would indicate. Really.
Matt: Actually, I'm doing a tell-all. I will not be kind.
Robert: I like the sales on Boxing Day, but I think if I have to face down yet another mob of elderly shoppers choking the flow, I may have to kill someone.
Marra: Seriously, there should be a rule: Unless you know the exact sizes of a person, you should never buy them clothes. Ever.
Sarah: I can sympathize. Out of all the stories told, they seem to enjoy singling me out the most. A-holes.
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