Pass the Xanax

How we survived, I'll never know. This year we vowed "never again" (like we always do) due to the unbearable amount of stress and anxiety that we face when we hear the words, "Are ya'll coming to Grandma's house for Christmas?" We cringe at the thought...immediately our bodies begin to take on some strange new form and a new breed of evil is born. We become, the haters.
Yes, those that you have heard so much about in all of your little Myspace bulletins and gatherings---we are the ones, the ones who are lurking, secretly plotting ways to blow up the universe or Tom's computer...something to make our lives better because of this madness that has entered our minds during this festive season. But, after so many rages and outbursts, we drink a few vodka tonics and knock back a few boilermakers and head out to face the insanity that only we Southerners can know as a "family get together".
After we endured all the Hell we could stand, we did have a little hayseed fun of our own and the bossman showed his sensitive side this year by giving only necessities (hooray!) Here's a shot of him in one of his most prized possessions this year--
The bossman and myself enjoyed seeing some close friends while home on holiday and spending some quality time with the younger sibling who lives in the nuclear waste state. We all had some good laughs with the Playboy Bunny pajama pants, Cousin Eddie hat, and the Wild Animal Band-Aids that Santa brought this year. I'm sure everyone has their own way of dealing with the dreaded family holiday fiasco whether it be complaining of constipation and hiding away in the bathroom, or sitting off in a dark corner and muttering something about a headache, or you can always try what the bossman does, turn on the TV and watch how no one seems to bother you!
Merry Christmas from the next best thing to the Griswolds...