Thursday, January 2, 2014

Happy New Year!

If I had green fur, I would look just like the Grinch.  Around the holidays I have the same scowl and roughly the same body shape.

Yesterday I took down all the Christmas shit and loved every single minute of it.  Goodbye stupid tree, goodbye happy little decorative snowmen.  See you in eleven months.  Or maybe even eleven months and two weeks if I can get away with it without the kids complaining.  A tree that looks so beautiful on December 10 looks like a cluttery, tacky piece of garbage on December 26.  There is something very satisfying about throwing all that crap in a box and vacuuming up all the needles.  

Even though I'm a Grinch, I do have a few funny stories from the holidays this year.

 - My dad was bringing a cash donation to the Food Shelf one day, and he was wearing his "everyday" jacket and shoes, meaning he was wearing an old ratty jacket that nobody has any business wearing when the temperature is below 40 and it is past 1985, and his shoes had holes in them.  When he got in to the Food Shelf, the lady took one look at him and said "I'm sorry sir, but we aren't distributing today."  I'm still laughing about that one.  I got him overalls for a present, which isn't going to help his case with the Food Shelf lady.  

- My brother-in-law Lorin told my dad that the deer my dad shot last month during hunting season was one that Lorin had non-fatally wounded three days prior to my dad killing it.  We were all stunned by this revelation.  Why wouldn't Lorin tell my dad this anytime in the month before Christmas?  How does he know it was the same deer?  I'll tell you how he knew it was the same deer:  he said that when it was hanging in the garage waiting to be butchered, Lorin had a good look at it and recognized its face.  I don't know if Lorin has any business hunting deer if he can recognize their faces.  That seems more like murder.  

- I was playing Barbies with my niece Millie who is three and I was making my Barbie complain about the ridiculous hooker shoes she was wearing.  Here is how our high-voiced, Barbie conversation went:

My Barbie:  My feet hurt from these streetwalker shoes, I wish I was wearing slippers.
Millie's Barbie:  Yeah, where are my God Damn slippers?

I almost died laughing.  

Milz.  She tells it like it is.


  1. The coat my hubby wears makes him look like a hobo, too.

    I'm taking down the Christmas today, I can't wait.

  2. Milz is not 3, she is 2 1/2.


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